Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
I n the days since taking Oakley to two of the most important places in her life, Clementine caught herself smiling. She’d wake up and feel her lips stretch to the side, catching herself before it turned into a full-blown grin. Other times she’d be kneading dough and feel her mouth twitch, but stop it before it spread any further. It was annoying, because she was trying her level best not to think about or crush on the man. Her brain didn’t seem to get the memo. Nor did her heart. Definitely not with his words still floating around in her head— “you are fascinating and not to mention beautiful, so I come there with the hopes of seeing you.”
However, her mood was slightly shaken up after the family call that weekend. Like her mother, Clementine thought that her brother and sister-in-law might be announcing that they were pregnant or thinking about it. Instead, they dropped a different kind of bomb—they were moving to India for a few years. Sandra, her sister-in-law, had the opportunity of a lifetime, but it required her and Callum to relocate to India. Even living a few states over, they were close enough to visit, but now they were moving timezones and countries away. It was the first time someone in the family was going to be living that far away and it was unsettling.
So not only was she unpacking the family news, she was also navigating the way the evening with Oakley made her feel. Thankfully, she wasn’t drawing attention to herself at work. Grover, on the other hand, had definitely noticed and hadn’t stopped texting.
Grover
Think I’m his type?
Clementine
Aren’t you everyone’s type?
Grover
Good answer, my darling Clementine. But no, seriously.
Clementine
Would you like me to find out?
Grover
There doesn’t seem to be any point, because as much as I wish for him to be interested in me…we both know you’re all he can see.
Clementine
I know you’re a romantic and all that, but calm down.
Grover
You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, darling.
You’re probably more his type than I ever will be.
That got her mind wandering again. She had felt his eyes on her more than not, and she liked the way it felt to be looked at by him. Clementine knew that most people saw her like a puzzle to solve. She couldn’t be that hard to read, right?
Every day since their first food adventure, he would come into the bakery to pick up donuts and make polite conversation, but leave before it got the attention of her staff. Surprising herself, she was often tempted to ask him to stay. She wanted to serve him another filter coffee and show him what it paired with best. Even with her crush on Xander, she’d never gone this far. He didn’t know about her filter coffee preference or that she tried to make a donut inspired by it once. Because the thing with Xander was one-sided, she knew that now. He liked talking about himself, very rarely asking her questions. Whenever she thought about him of late, Clementine didn’t know what had prompted the crush. He was handsome, had a nice smile and charmed the heck out of her.
This is why she didn’t always trust the part of her brain that developed those feelings, because it seemed like there was never anything more than a surface-level attraction.
Crushes and infatuations were for teeny-boppers, not badass boss babes like herself.
That’s a brilliant way to block out the feelings.
Fortunately, she had a lot of work on her plate to keep her distracted. Clementine prided herself on taking on only as much as she could handle, delegating as was necessary. When it came to wedding cakes, she was always the primary on the creations. Which was what she was doing that day with Roscoe. After Frankie’s last visit and the couple deciding they wanted a three-tier cake with different flavors—Chocolate Chai, Raspberry Champagne and Chocolate and Hazelnut Praline—she had her work cut out for her. It wasn’t impossible, but she had never worked on three contrasting flavors in one cake before.
“Are you sure we should split the chocolate layers with the raspberry one?”
Roscoe looked at the flavor profiles they’d mapped out on the whiteboard in the kitchen. “Without tasting it, I feel like I can’t really make a call.”
“How about we start with buttercream on sponge cakes so we’re not making multiple versions of the same thing?” she suggested.
“That’s a good idea.”
Thanks to the kitchen being almost as large as the front of the bakery, multiple things could happen at once without causing havoc. She had designed the kitchen before she even knew what the rest of the bakery was going to look like. She’d done so much research, visiting other kitchens to get insight into what a good space looked like. Then she had spent months with Mack’s artistic eye to build something that would be spacious, bright, comfortable and good for working as a team.
That was Clementine’s whole thing—she wanted every member of her staff to feel like they were a part of the business. It might be her name in magazines and on people’s lips, but without her team and staff, she wouldn’t have Pretty Baked. She only opened the bakery once at least two people were hired and had worked together for at least a month. She didn’t have time for drama and fighting. She wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page and cared about baking as much as the next person.
She was also careful to never refer to them as a family , because that was the worst thing any boss could do. They were a team and they worked like it. They were also friends. But never family. She’d been in enough kitchens where the minute the F word was dropped, you were taken for granted. Clementine wouldn’t let that happen to her staff.
So while she worked on the buttercream and sponge cake on one side of the kitchen, Freya and the others worked on a new batch of cupcakes. The speakers pumped out Noah Kahan’s latest album, making everyone either hum or sing along. The kitchen smelled like heaven as well, which was definitely a win in her column. She and Roscoe switched duties until they had three palm-sized sponge cakes, each of them smothered in buttercream.
“Here’s the deal,” she announced as everyone gathered around their work station. “We’re not telling you what’s what. What we want you to do is taste them in whatever order suits you and mark your votes on the board.”
The whiteboard also didn’t mention the flavors, just the numbers that she and Roscoe had assigned each cake. As she took a step back from washing her hands, Luna appeared with a smile. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that smile—Oakley had arrived—but Clementine still rolled her eyes as she untied her neon green bandana. Smoothing down her dark gray coat, she walked out to find him staring into the display case. He’d already been there first thing in the morning, packing up a box of donuts for his work day. She’d been too busy then to acknowledge him beyond a wave.
Now, she had the chance to admire him, take in the way the dark T-shirt hugged his biceps and his black jeans fitted to his legs. In an unanticipated move, her brain started to strip him naked, but she stopped it quickly with an aggressive shake of her head. Friends, remember? Calm the fuck down . She let her eyes linger on his tattoos, the surfboard and chevron peeking through the lilies wrapped around his arm.
When she looked up, he was watching her, an amused smile gracing his mouth. Huffing at his expression, she put her hands on her hips.
“Didn’t you already clean out our donut supply this morning?”
His smile faded into a frown as he said, “What happened to the orange one from this morning?”
“Haven’t made anything with orange in a while.”
“No, your coat. It’s a dull color.”
Her eyes widened as she looked down at herself and then at Oakley. The fact that he’d been paying attention to her clothes was startling. One of the first things she decided was the softer tones for the bakery decor and aligning their uniforms to those shades just made sense. It wasn’t as boring as the standard white jackets and she wanted her staff to be able to express themselves in some way.
More importantly, Clementine didn’t realize she’d changed coats, because it was normal when working with buttercream. But he noticed and remembered.
“I uh…I like the pastel coats,” he said softly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “A client canceled, so I thought I’d swing by and, uh…see you.”
She rolled her lips to hide the smile. “Here I am.”
“There you are,” he said softly, voice a little scratchy as he looked her over unabashedly. She hated to admit that she liked it. A lot.
“So…what did you want to see me about?”
“Right! I’ve got some ideas for donuts.”
She didn’t bother to hide her smile this time and nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “All right, let me hear them.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and thumbed through it almost nervously. She watched him, the way his big hand held the tiny device. What would those hands feel like on me? The thought shocked her enough that she had to look away.
“This is kinda stressful,” he mumbled and glanced at the display that had a handful of donuts left. “What flavors are these, Luna?”
Clementine rolled her eyes and to the young woman said, “Don’t answer that.”
“Jeez, okay. Look, I’m no expert and I don’t even know if these make sense or if you’ve made them before, but I like these flavors and maybe you might too.”
This fumbling and rambling was annoyingly cute, which was another problem. She wanted him to be like every other guy she met, a guy who was only trying to impress her to get her into bed and nothing else; a guy like Xander. Instead, he listened and stepped back when she felt like he was pushing too hard.
Oakley adjusted his glasses and hummed before saying, “Um, okay. Uh…Apple Cider, Baked Lemon, Maple Glazed with Bacon, Key Lime, Chai Spiced, Carrot Cake and uh, Banana Bread.”
She waited until he’d put his phone away and arched an eyebrow. He shuffled on his feet, blush deepening as he adjusted his glasses again. Then his hand moved to rub the back of his neck, drawing her attention to his bicep. This man. He either knew the kind of physical effect he could have on someone, or he was totally clueless. This only endeared her to him even more.
“So, what do you think?”
“You missed one.”
“I did?” He pulled his phone out and shook his head.
“I’m surprised it wasn’t on your list.”
“Which one?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
His eyebrows dipped. “What about the rest?”
“I like them. I’ll share it with the team. We’ll see what sounds good and doable.”
“Really? I thought you’d make decisions around here.”
Clementine shook her head. “There’s no point asking bakers to make something they’d never eat. Where’s the fun in that? Does your boss tell you what to do?”
“Nope. She trusts me.”
“Exactly. I trust my team and they trust me.”
He watched her for a minute and then nodded, the smile returning to his face. “That’s it?”
“Are you expecting a certificate or trophy or something?” He laughed, shaking his head as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “Maybe next time you swing by you’ll find something waiting for you.”
“Like tomorrow?”
She didn’t bother hiding her smirk as she backed away. “You’ll just have to find out. Thanks for coming to see me, Oakley.”
“Always,” he said softly, the most beautiful smile playing on his lips.
She turned around and walked back to the kitchen, shaky hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat. Her staff were still pondering over the cakes, so Clementine took a few minutes to hide in her office and get her breathing back under control. All Oakley did was show up with a list of donut flavors he thought would be interesting. And her body was fucking betraying her. Once she was steady, she returned to where Roscoe was staring at the whiteboard.
“What do we have?”
“Chai, Hazelnut and Raspberry,” he said. “Everyone insists that the chocolate needs to go one after the other, so the raspberry can come on top or last, but not in the middle.”
“Well, that makes sense. The raspberry could be too tarty of a break between the chocolate. All right, we’ve got our cake.”
“Dig, we had a deal. Rinse out the dishes and you can have a cookie,” Mack told his kid who was pouting and stomping around the kitchen.
Clementine watched in fascination as Indigo begrudgingly climbed onto the stool in front of the kitchen sink and got down to work. Mack was a damn good father, even when he was running on fumes. Years ago, when they’d moved to Wildes, they made a plan to take turns hosting each other every two weeks. Between raising a nine-year-old and working through his artist’s block, her best friend was clearly stretched too thin. When she called earlier in the day to see if he wanted a raincheck, Mack insisted she come by. And to bring Indigo’s favorite cookies.
“Are you okay, buddy?”
Mack groaned from the other side of the kitchen table before knocking back a large gulp of his beer. His nail beds were crusted with paint, flecks of red and yellow decorated his arms and there was some in his hair.
“I sort of had a breakthrough. But it also kept me up all night.”
She gasped, sitting up in her chair with wide eyes. “What?!”
“Wanna see?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” she asked with a snort.
“Ew, Tiny, that’s gross. The Pope shi—poops on a gold toilet,” Indigo announced, wincing at Mack’s glare. “Dad, I’m done. Can I have a cookie now?”
He hesitated, pretending to look over Indigo’s work and then nodded. “Yes. And thank you for doing the dishes, Dig.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for the cookies, Tiny.”
“It’s my pleasure, you little rascal.”
Indigo grinned, snagging a cookie and then a second one before they ran off to watch television. She laughed at Mack’s exasperated expression, but followed him to his studio.
“We should probably stop talking about the Pope shitting in the woods around them.” Mack sighed, pushing the door to his studio open. “Their teacher called me the other day and said that Indigo’s got some weird sayings and she’s concerned that they might be watching too much television.”
The teacher wasn’t wrong, because while she and Mack were careful not to curse in front of Indigo, they picked up a lot from what they watched. “Well, they watched The Big Lebowski . Which now that I think about it was probably not a good movie for Indigo to be watching. “
Mack shrugged and flipped on the lights in the room, drawing her attention to the covered canvas in the center. The floor was littered with drop cloths and old newspaper, paint covering almost every inch. Stepping towards the canvas, he glanced at her with a nervous smile.
“Be gentle with me, okay?”
She rolled her eyes and when he ripped the cloth off, her eyebrows flew up into her hairline. The background was a mix of blues and greens, thick and textured, and all she wanted to know was how Mack had done it. Her eyes moved to the figure in the center—the face was incomplete, but the slim naked body with dark wavy hair tumbling down shoulders was half-turned towards the background. In all the years she’d known Mack, he’d never drawn people before. By the looks of it, he’d found a new muse.
“This is stunning.”
“I know,” he admitted softly and she glanced at her best friend to find his eyes fixed on the painting as well. “I saw her at the park the other day, she was alone and smiling as she stared at the sky. Hooked me instantly.”
“Are you planning on keeping her faceless?”
“Haven’t decided yet. Not sure I’m talented enough to capture her beauty, you know.” He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and she watched him closely. With a heavy sigh, he covered the canvas and offered her a small smile.
“I hope you’ll finish it, because it’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks, Tiny,” Mack mumbled, pink tinting his cheeks.
“I’m glad you found something to get you back into the groove. I was starting to worry about you.”
Mack laughed, turning off the lights and leading her out of the room. Indigo was in the middle of stealing another cookie when they returned to the kitchen. Before they could stop the kid, they were running off with a loud cackle. She snorted at the joy and then helped Mack clean up.
“Maybe I don’t bring cookies next time,” she said. A mix between a sigh and a laugh came out of Mack and he dragged a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you get some sleep. I’ll get Dig into bed.”
“You sure?”
“I’ve been doing this since they were two, I think I can handle our cookie thief.”
Mack smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t know what we’d do without you, Tiny.”
“Right back at you.” She squeezed her best friend.
Once he’d dragged himself to bed, Clementine cleaned up the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and putting the cookies into a different container that Indigo would not find. Then she got Indigo to help her pick up their things, because there was no way was she leaving the mess waiting for Mack to find in the morning. Then she forced Indigo into the shower to wash off the day before helping them into their pajamas. Once both MacArthurs were tucked into bed, she let herself out of the house.
Driving home, she thought about how Mack had raised Indigo all alone for so many years. How heartbroken he’d been when he came back from Scotland with the baby. Now, he’d seen a woman who caught his attention and inspired him to paint again. Then her thoughts drifted to Oakley and she huffed in frustration. Feelings were so pesky and she honestly didn’t like them. They made you do stupid things and behave like an idiot. She didn’t have the time to understand or navigate all of that. She just wanted to bake, live and get through the day.
Oakley was unknowingly dismantling all of that.
She was annoyingly letting him get away with it.