Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
RACHEL
T his is so weird.
Nick Henderson is here in the back area of my bakery, helping me make cookies. It’s like one of those bizarre dreams you wake up from and laugh at the improbability of it all.
I focus on scraping down the sides of the bowl, and there’s that prickling sensation running over me, like a physical awareness of him in the room. It’s not necessarily unpleasant, but mostly unnerving. Especially after Jae’s comment yesterday.
He couldn’t take his eyes off you, Rachel.
She was probably seeing what she wanted to see.
But I swear I’d felt the same sensation when we were fourteen years old, together in Mr. Locke’s math class. I’d turn around, sure he’d been looking at me, my neck tingling with intuition, only to find his attention elsewhere. Had he just looked away?
God, how egotistical does that sound?
We’d had an English class together, too, but we were seated on opposite sides of the room, him further up than me, so he couldn’t see me. I’d find myself staring at his back sometimes, not nearly as broad and muscular as it is now, or at the nape of his neck where the hair curled up, longer then.
He’d caught me staring at him once, and I swore there was something sharp and electric in his gaze.
I’d never looked at him again.
“I think I’m finished with this,” he says, gesturing to the bowl of dry ingredients.
Right. The cookies. That’s what I should be focusing on. Not memories of things best left forgotten.
“Yeah, let’s mix it in with this. Slowly,” I add, when he carries the bowl over and looks like he’ll dump the whole thing in.
He’s immediately more careful, pouring in only a small amount and waiting for the mixer to blend it before adding more. This close, he smells like cedar and clean soap. I unthinkingly inhale before I catch myself and turn away.
“I’m finished with the eggs,” I announce, as if that wasn’t obvious. “I’ll, um, get started making the cinnamon sugar. You can keep doing exactly that.”
I move to the island in the middle of the kitchen, releasing a breath to calm myself.
When the dough is finished at the mixer, I have him detach the mixing bowl and bring it over while I set up a mini-assembly line for us.
I scoop the dough and form it into a ball, then hand it to him to roll in the cinnamon sugar mixture and place on the parchment-lined baking sheets.
The work is monotonous, but neither of us speaks. Usually, I put an AirPod in and listen to a podcast or audiobook while keeping an ear out for anything major going on up front, but it’s almost as if I’m afraid to breathe with Nick next to me here like this. Like I can’t let down my guard.
That’s become true for a lot in my life lately, though. After Kyle—
Nick turns to me sharply. “What’s wrong?”
I look up at him, startled at the intensity in his dark eyes. It’s then I realize the sound of distress I made thinking about Kyle.
“Nothing,” I murmur. It’s been five months. I should be over this.
The double doors open and we both turn, finding Sydney in the doorway.
“Help has arrived,” she says, grinning as she grabs an apron from the hook and puts it on.
“It’s your day off,” I say, looking at the clock. It’s only nine and she knows I’m a stickler about us taking our days off. We already work a six-day week now that Mom and Dad aren’t here.
“Who came in yesterday on her day off?”
I open my mouth and shut it. Damn it. I hate it when she’s right. “That’s different,” I still try to argue. “That was an emergency.”
“And so is this. Now where do you need me?”
I sigh, knowing there’s no use in bickering. Sydney has a PhD in stubbornness. “We’re making snickerdoodles. You can start on the second batch of 125. I have the ingredient amounts there and the butter softening on the counter.”
She nods and grabs another bowl for the stand mixer to cream the butter and sugar. “All right, Nick. You’re officially released from conscription.”
“Oh.”
I glance over at him, finding him looking at me.
“I don’t mind staying,” he says in a low voice, so only I can hear him. “If you need me.”
“I…” I have the sudden strange urge to agree. Even though I only took him up on his offer out of necessity. Even though I’ve barely talked to him. Even though my skin is prickling again as he watches me with that dark gaze, waiting for my answer.
I shake my head. “You’ve done enough. You should enjoy the rest of your day off.”
He waits for a beat, then nods, like he’s accepting his fate. As he removes his gloves and apron, he says, “Thanks for letting me help you.”
I’m taken aback for a moment, not only by his words, but the sincerity behind them. He sounded like that yesterday, too. “I should be the one thanking you.”
One of the corners of his mouth lifts in a smile. “I’ll see you around.”
There’s something final about the way he says it, like it’s more than a casual goodbye, and I stare after him as he crosses the room to hang up his apron.
“Thank you again for yesterday,” Sydney says before he leaves.
“Yeah, no problem.”
And then he’s gone.
I finish up the last few cookies, then stick the baking sheets in the oven.
“I thought Hailey was pranking me when she said you let him back here,” Sydney comments, walking over to the cooler to get the eggs.
“Why?”
She pauses at the door. “Because you’ve always been weird about him.”
I focus on measuring out the dry ingredients for the next batch instead of responding. Is that true?
Actually… I don’t want to think about that. Don’t want to think about Nick at all.
He’ll come in once in a while to get a danish, maybe we’ll make polite conversation the same way we did today, and that’ll be it. There won’t be this… unsettled feeling anymore.
Works for me.
“Is this working now?” Jae peers in to the oven that had malfunctioned last week, as if she knows what she’s looking for. “It won’t blow up in my face, will it?”
I sigh. “No. I got a technician to come out and fix it.” It was a hefty bill, but worth it for the peace of mind rather than going the DIY route.
She makes a hmm sound, as if she’s skeptical, but I ignore it.
I’ve never actually invited Jae into the back area of the bakery, she just invited herself in one day and that was that, but I’m glad for the company.
I take the croissant dough for tomorrow out of the chiller and unwrap it from its cling film, rolling it out on the floured workstation to form a long rectangle.
“Didn’t you do that already?” she asks, peering at the dough over my shoulder.
“That was the second turn,” I tell her. “This is the third one.”
“Turn to what?”
“To laminate it. It’s what makes the layers.”
“If you say so.” She leans against a free counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, I have some news.”
“Okay.” I fold the dough in thirds and wrap it again, labeling it so it’s ready to go tomorrow morning for shaping and proofing.
“I signed us up for a fundraiser.” She says it with too much gusto, her smile both overbright and devious.
“Why do I get the sense this is a bad thing?” I grab the dough and bring it to the cooler, then check my list for what I need to do next. “And why would you sign me up for something without asking?”
“Because I knew you’d say no,” she replies, with no trace of shame. “And like I’ve been saying, you need to get out of the house more. Go do something. Meet people. Live your life.”
“My life is fine. Seriously,” I add when she clearly doesn’t believe me. “You happened to move here at a… rough time.” As in, directly after my life imploded and Kyle moved out. “But things are back to normal now. It’s not like I led an exciting life even before… you know.”
“And that’s why you have me now. To make it more exciting.”
Okay, but Jae’s version of exciting and mine are vastly different.
I sigh, knowing she could give even Sydney a run for her money in the stubbornness department. Resistance is futile. “Okay, fine. What’s this fundraiser we’re doing?”
She hops on the counter, wiggling in her excitement. “We’re making pancakes.”
My brows narrow. “What?”
“At a pancake breakfast. People buy a ticket for it.”
I glance around, unsure what she’s talking about. “At the bakery?”
“No.” Her eyes twinkle with delight. “The fire station. And maybe you’ll run into Nick.”
I nearly laugh, until I realize she’s serious. “That’s not funny. You didn’t really…” Oh my God, she’s not laughing. “You didn’t,” I repeat.
“I did.” She’s still smiling, with no clue she did anything wrong. “He was cute. You should—”
“Jae, swear to me you’re not joking.”
Her smile falters. “I’m not joking.”
“Shit.” I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, pacing in front of the workstation.
Nick said he’s doing fundraising for the fire station. He’ll have seen my name on whatever signup thing Jae did. It was already so awkward last week and now he’s going to think I signed up. That I’m stalking him or something.
Or worse—interested.
Jae laughs, like I’m being dramatic for comedic effect. “You said you don’t have history with him, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about, right?”
I stop my pacing, glaring at her. “Well, I was obviously lying.”
“Obviously,” she agrees.
Oh, so she knew and, what? Wanted to call my bluff? Fine. If she wants the truth, here it is.
“When we were fifteen, Nick set off a firecracker right out there.” I point toward the back wall that faces the alley. “He burned down half our bakery.”
Jae’s eyes bug out, her mouth opening in shock, but nothing comes out.
“So, yes, there’s history.”
“Rachel, oh my God,” she finally chokes out. “Why didn’t you say something?”
I wave my hand at her. “Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”
“Of course I would. When I saw you two, I thought it was romantic tension, not you burned down my bakery tension.”
I sigh. “I’m not mad at him or anything. I just… haven’t spoken to him since.”
“You’re not mad at him? I’d be mad as hell.”
“He didn’t do it on purpose.” It had been one of those freak occurrences, like a perfect storm.
And add to it that his mom had recently died, leaving him alone with his dad—who I heard completely shut down afterward…
I don’t know. It felt wrong even then to be angry, especially when he was so remorseful.
He’d completed hundreds of hours of community service at the fire station after juvie.
Then dedicated his life to fire safety by becoming a firefighter.
Not that I kept tabs on what he was doing or anything.
“I don’t interact with him, is all,” I continue. “After everything that happened.”
“Rachel, I’m sorry.” She hops down from the counter and comes over to hug me.
Jae always gives the best hugs, putting her whole body into it and swaying side to side.
It’s impossible not to feel better afterward.
“I’ll go down there and explain it was a mix-up signing you up.
That I didn’t realize it conflicts with your schedule or something. ”
Would that make things worse calling attention to it like that? Like I changed my mind and don’t want to do it now?
I groan. “No, let’s get it over with. But you’re never volunteering me for anything ever again.”
She makes an X motion over her chest. “Cross my heart.”
I nearly laugh aloud. Sure, she seems contrite now. But she’ll conveniently forget when it suits her next. “How do you always manage to get away with this kind of stuff?”
She compresses her lips, but still can’t fully hide her smile. “It actually takes more work than you’d think.”
Yeah, I believe it.
I have more dough to make, but I go in the walk-in cooler for a moment by myself, resting my forehead against the metal rack.
So, I’ll be seeing Nick again. Not a big deal. I’ve seen him plenty around town over the years. And after last week, I’ve even talked to him. This pancake breakfast doesn’t have to be anything different. A courteous hello and goodbye. Maybe some civil head nods and respectful smiles. I can do this.
Maybe it’ll be good, even. Like I thought when he last left the bakery, a chance to get rid of that unsettled feeling. Plus, it’s only one day.
What do I have to lose?