Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
P retty much everything about Clementine fascinated Oakley. Her prickly personality was at the top of the list, he loved how she didn’t filter her thoughts. He wondered if others got upset or angry with her, but he had figured that she wasn’t saying it rudely. She was just stating things the way they were and wasn’t going to apologize for any of it.
Plus, she’d implied in a roundabout way that people were too much.
Yet, he saw a different side of her that evening.
Starting with the fact that she wasn’t wearing her standard pastel shaded chef’s coat, instead dark pants hugged her ass and thighs, paired with a gray T-shirt that clung to her breasts. He’d always prided himself on being someone who didn’t stare at physical attributes of other people. She had been testing him since they got to the shelter. When she shrugged out of her coat, it had taken Oakley a few minutes to gather himself. Then she’d walked right into him and he’d felt her warm body against the tips of his fingers and he almost lost his mind.
The thing that really did kill him, though? The dip at the base of her spine, before it curved over her full ass and down to those glorious legs.
Ms. Wilder caught him staring a few times. But he wouldn’t apologize for being spellbound by Clementine. Because she held back in previous interactions, he thought of her as tightly wound. At the shelter, she seemed so relaxed. Her shoulders weren’t pressed up against her ears and she smiled a little more freely, even if they were brief.
Oakley wanted to get into her head so badly, under her skin and burrow into her soul to figure this woman out. He didn’t know how to define his feelings, because could he really feel this way about someone he barely knew? It was a crush, a fascination and if he allowed himself to think about it deeper, an infatuation.
In one evening, he’d seen different sides of Clementine and if he wasn’t already so completely drawn into her orbit, that would have done it. The slightly annoyed woman at the bakery when he showed up, with her clipped responses. The charitable one who brought leftover baked goods—and made fresh ones too. Then the one who was charming and joking around with people at the shelter.
In San Clemente, he would ride around on the back of his friend, Austin’s, bike as they offered free haircuts and clean-ups for the unhoused. It was one of the few things that he had enjoyed when he was still living there. They would put out chairs, let the folks choose their music and clean them up. For an hour or so every weekend, they would make conversation with people others ignored. When the job was done, they would give them some money or take them for a meal, whichever they preferred. Even when Austin was busy, Oakley would ride around town and make sure that people knew he was offering the same services. It was a little way he could give back to the community. Seeing people happy? Best feeling in the world.
Knowing that Clementine did this regularly made him like her even more. Plus, he got to interact with interesting people in one evening and he would never take that for granted. Putting a small smile on someone’s face because of a good meal, haircut or shave was an incredible feeling. And he admired Ms. Wilder for using her name and money to do something like this for those that couldn’t.
The whole evening, his attention shifted between Clementine’s smiling face and filling soup bowls. It was a miracle any of the hot liquid landed in the bowls. Which meant that Jim and Toby had caught him in the act of staring at everyone’s favorite baker.
“If you keep staring at her, young blood, she’s going to stop smiling.” After a pat on the back, Jim had asked, “What are your intentions with our favorite baker?”
“At this point, I just want to be her friend.”
“Let me guess, she’s not interested.”
He frowned at the two men who were grinning widely. “Has this happened before?”
Jim nodded and finished peeling the foil off the other dishes of food before returning to their little huddle. “Ms. Wilder has been introducing her to people for years, but nothing ever happens. They’re all absolute duds and certainly not worthy of her.”
Is there anybody that’s worthy of her?
“I can’t tell if you think I’m a dud or not,” Oakley mumbled, adjusting his apron.
“She’s never brought someone here before, so maybe you’re on the right track.”
“Well, she had no choice but to bring me with her. I think I messed up her plans a little.”
When she’d told him to come by the shop that week, Oakley hadn’t thought he’d be busy with work or looking for NA meetings in town. He’d been putting it off since he arrived in Wildes, but after a session where his therapist reminded him it was important, Oakley had been doing his research. Finding meetings wasn’t the hard part. What took time was finding the right one. He’d go to morning and evening sessions, depending on when he could find the time, and all week he’d been visiting different ones. There were two in Wildes and a couple in the towns over. Driving back and forth meant that he couldn’t swing by the bakery in the mornings, but also got home really late. He hadn’t intended to leave Clementine hanging, but it happened that way.
Jim’s forehead wrinkled and Oakley felt like the man might swing a punch. “If you hurt her, young blood, I will turn you into a dud.”
Then he was gone and Oakley frowned. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said. He snuck a glance at Clementine and turned to Toby. “What do you think, do I have a shot?”
“Quit staring at her like a lovesick puppy and maybe.”
Easier said than done, my man.
Mugs of steaming dark brown liquid that smelled of cocoa were set on the table after Clementine agreed to his plan to get to know each other. He smiled, which earned him another eye roll, and looked up at Grover.
“Did my darling Clementine tell you about The Hive?” he asked.
Oakley shook his head and snuck a glance at his beautiful companion, who was slumped back in her chair, hot cocoa held between both hands.
“Wonderful,” the owner said and put his entire focus on Oakley. “The Hive was meant to literally be my special place. But my ex insisted that I turn it into a business. So it’s a second home filled with my favorite things for others to enjoy. We’ve got books and food, there’s a small music room in the back and I’ve got a couple of rooms in case people want to stay the night and experience the space even further.”
“You do all of this on your own? That’s amazing.”
“Well, Clementine has been helping me with the menu and on days when she’s not extra prickly, she assists with the bookshop.”
Oakley chuckled and looked at Clementine, surprised to find her watching him. He lifted his hot cocoa and took a sip, turning back to Grover.
“While I won’t subject you to my basic cooking, I do like books and I’m decent with art. So if you need my assistance in any way, happy to help.”
“Art, you say…”
“He’s a tattoo artist,” Clementine offered from her perch and Oakley nodded, setting his mug down to tug up his sleeve.
“These are beautiful,” Grover said with a happy sigh and added, “I might have room for some art. Come by without this grump and we’ll talk about it.”
He nodded, but knew that the only way he’d ever return to The Hive was if Clementine was by his side. Grover clearly saw that as well, because he laughed and patted him on the shoulder before stepping back.
“Your food will be ready soon, enjoy!”
Then he was gone, leaving them alone again.
“Do you eat everything you bake?” Oakley asked.
“That’s a dumb question,” she shot back, eyebrows dipped low.
He fought back a smile at her expression. “I’ve seen interviews with chefs saying they never eat their own food.”
“They’re missing out. They’re all idiots. Everyone should eat and enjoy the stuff they make, otherwise what’s the point?”
“I agree. So, what’s the favorite thing on your menu?”
She narrowed her eyes, neatly trimmed nails tapping against her mug he was sure was empty. But he didn’t break eye contact; Oakley wanted to see if he would be able to push her a little outside her comfort zone.
“It’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Answer that one and you can have a turn.”
She sighed heavily and he rubbed his lips together to hide a smile. “Probably the chocolate and oatmeal cookies. Or maybe the rocky road fudge.” Then her expression shifted, every line and wrinkle smoothed away as her eyes lit up. He exhaled at the look of joy on her face and before he could commit it to memory, it was gone. “Actually, the double chocolate fudge. It’s the one thing that runs out every day, along with the donuts you keep taking.”
“Can’t help that you make the best donuts I’ve ever eaten.”
“How many places have you eaten donuts at?”
He pursed his lips. “Two. Randy’s in Inglewood and yours.”
“Well, obviously mine is better than Randy’s,” she said with a scoff and waved him off. “What’s the most overrated kind of food in your opinion?”
“Wow, no soft lead up, huh?”
“I didn’t know there were rules to getting to know each other.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No rules…uh, most overrated food? Everything served at Thanksgiving.”
“Elaborate,” she said. Grover set their food in front of them and she offered him a soft thank you .
“Right. So, you know how it’s all about combining sweet and savory? I hate it. Cranberry sauce, marshmallows, sweet potatoes; none of it makes sense to me.” He couldn’t even focus on what she had ordered for him, because his brain was full of disgusting Thanksgiving food spread out on a table. His parents had stopped doing it because he had physical reactions to the food, and every year they substituted with something else.
After his family was gone, Oakley struggled to attend Thanksgiving meals with friends. But he did it, in memory of his parents and also to be polite. Or as polite as someone could be while dry heaving at the smell of turkey and the sight of green beans.
“Thanksgiving food is overrated,” she said, gesturing with her hands. “The turkey is always too dry and the sauces are weird. And what is up with the marshmallows on the potatoes?”
His eyes widened as he stared at her, because this was the most animated he’d seen her. But also because… “I need a minute to process the fact that we agreed on something.”
“We agreed on the fact that I make the best dessert.”
He shook his head, chuckling. “ We never said that.”
“Considering you’re at my bakery every single morning, I’ll take that as your word.”
“I show up every day hoping to see you,” he said simply and only because he was watching her closely did he see her eyes widen a fraction. Clearing his throat, he smiled. “Though, your desserts are pretty fucking good.”
“That’s not as good a save as you think it is.”
He snorted and finally looked at his plate. “Holy shit, what is this?”
“Try it first.” He looked at her mountain of food, which made her frown as she said, “What?”
“Why didn’t you order that for me as well?”
“Because it’s just a breakfast plate. I’m supposed to be introducing you to food in Wildes, right?”
He shrugged, but smiled, because she was right. You could eat a breakfast spread anywhere, including at night, but whatever was in front of him was clearly unique to The Hive. Oakley picked up his sandwich and figured out the best way to eat it. Biting into a corner, he groaned when all the flavors filled his mouth. The beef was tender, the amount of butter, dressing and sauerkraut created the perfect balance. Not to mention the melted cheese.
“If food could make you orgasm, this would be it,” he mumbled with his mouth full, not even caring how inappropriate or ridiculous he sounded. Oakley couldn’t even open his eyes, because every time his teeth sank into the bread, beef, cheese and dressing combo, he got another hit of something delicious.
“Would you and the sandwich like to get a room?”
His eyes snapped open as he froze mid-chew and found her watching him with an arched eyebrow, like she was mocking him. He finished chewing and swallowed, setting the rest of his sandwich down before clearing his throat. “So, what were we talking about?”
“Obviously that sandwich is a winner.”
“Never eaten a Reuben that tasted so good.” He popped a chip into his mouth and eyed the sandwich that was still left. “This might actually become my comfort food, though.”
Her mouth lifted in a half smile. “What was your comfort food?”
He was a thirty-three-year-old and talking about his comfort food was embarrassing. “No judgment, okay?” She tilted her head and he sighed. “Cereal. I’m not too picky, but I love Rice Krispies and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. There’s something so comforting about crunchy bits in cold milk. But only on really hard days,” he added. “I think if I could cook, I’d probably master the art of making grilled cheeses.”
“Grilled cheese is always a good choice, as is cereal.” She leaned back in her chair, eyes never leaving his face. Heat spread up his neck and cheeks, and he looked around, trying to distract her as much as possible.
“What?”
“You’re intriguing.”
He snorted. “You went from not wanting anything to do with me to I’m intriguing?”
“I never said I didn’t want anything to do with you. I’m just careful about new people.”
He was taken aback by her candor, but at the same time, he appreciated that Clementine wasn’t beating around the bush. While she’d dropped hints about not being comfortable with people and that dating was a chore, he knew that it was a treat and an honor to have her attention. Oakley was sure that her personality and behavior might seem abrasive to some, but he was drawn to her.
“Do you feel less awkward now?”
“Eh.” With that, she returned to her food. He watched her for a long moment, as she ate a little bit of everything on her plate and then did it again. This woman was fascinating in a way he didn’t expect and he never wanted to stop learning about her.
The rest of their meal was spent asking silly questions, all with food as the base—one food you could eat forever? If you were stranded on an island, what’s the one food item you’d want? Gun to your head, what would you force yourself to eat? What’s the most disgusting flavor? And weirdly enough, he had answers for all of them. He even got her to snort a few times, but she always caught herself and covered it up quickly. He felt comforted in knowing that she didn’t dislike him, but wanted to know if she could ever like him.
As he dragged his finger through the last bit of sauce on his plate, Grover popped up, startling both of them.
“Can I get you two anything else? Slice of pie? The blueberry is especially good today.”
Oakley glanced at Clementine briefly and said, “We’re good, man. Thank you.”
Grover looked between them and walked away with a smile. She arched an eyebrow. “You should probably have tried dessert here to see which is better.”
“ Wow . I knew you were upset with me for that comment.”
“I don’t get upset. I understand needing to experiment.”
Oakley chuckled at her deadpan tone and expression. “Your desserts are amazing .”
“Liar.”
“What?” he gasped dramatically, hand over his heart. “I love your desserts.”
“But it’s not the best.”
“It’s the best of what I’ve eaten in the last…three months?”
She stared at him for a really long time and then shrugged. “Fine, whatever. So you don’t like Thanksgiving food, would eat cereal or grilled cheese to make yourself feel better and that Reuben gave you an orgasm.”
“Jesus,” Oakley said, choking on his laugh.
“Right, and my dessert is amazing, but not the best.”
“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”
“Nope.” This time when she smiled, he felt the full force of it. It was stunning and life changing.
“You’re still going to be my food guide, right?”
“I know that was a way to get my attention and you don’t really mean it, and that’s fine. We can be friends, I’ll make your donuts without having to force ourselves to spend time together.”
Wait, what?
“Hold on,” Oakley said, frowning as he leaned forward. “Yes, it was a way to get your attention, but I do want to spend time with you.”
She peered at him, like she was trying to read his thoughts. He leaned back, as if that would protect him from her magical powers.
“Why?”
“Why…what?”
“Spending time with me. Why?” Oakley frowned and she rolled her eyes, adding, “There’s nothing confusing about the question. Why do you want to spend time with me? You’ve already eaten every donut we’ve ever made.”
“Is that what you think I’m coming to the shop for every day?” he asked, scoffing at the suspicious look on her face. “Sure, you do make great desserts and your bakery is such a happy place. But you are fascinating and not to mention beautiful, so I come there with the hopes of seeing you. Does that sound creepy?”
Her expression was blank, but her eyes spoke volumes. She was startled by his admission and if Oakley was being honest, he was shocked by his confession too. He reached for his water, took a big gulp and shook his head, trying to backtrack.
“That did sound creepy. What I meant was that I think you’re beautiful and sure, that’s why I wanted to be friends with you. To maybe one day ask you out. But you said you don’t date, so what’s the next best thing? Be friends. I know I come on a little strong and I can be a lot, but I’m not pulling a fast one on you. I’m a good guy, I swear. Which I know is what everyone says, but I have no ulterior motives other than to spend time with you,” he said. Then exhaled loudly, rubbing his jaw. “Too much?”
“A little,” she admitted softly and then dropped her attention to the table.
“Clem.”
“What?”
He smiled, still watching her curiously. “You know that I’m not going to force myself into your life or insist you be my friend, right? If this is…if I am too much, say the word and I’ll leave you alone. I mean, I’d miss your donuts, but I’d walk away.”
“You’re fine.”
“Cool,” he said softly, already knowing that fine in Clementine speak was probably the best kind of compliment.