Chapter Six
Belle
Saturday morning, my body officially hated me.
I woke up with my alarm blaring and the sensation that I’d been hit by a truck made entirely of rolling pins. My calves screamed when I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My hands were stiff, and my fingers were swollen from hours of piping icing and shaping dough the past three weeks.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to Salt snore at my feet and Pepper with his head on my pillow.
I knew this was going to be the only peaceful part of my day, and as much as I wanted to just stay in it, I had tons of gingerbread to make.
“Okay,” I muttered. “We’re doing this.”
Because what choice did I have?
I dragged myself up, pulled on leggings and a sweater that still smelled faintly like sugar, and tied my hair into a knot that didn’t care about appearances. Coffee went into my travel mug. Dogs went onto leashes.
Outside, the world was still sleeping.
Christmas lights blinked from every storefront as we walked the few blocks to Cookie Haven. Salt trotted like a professional escort. Pepper zigzagged, convinced every snowdrift held secrets.
The bell jingled as I unlocked the bakery door, and warmth hit us instantly. The smell of yesterday’s baking still hung in the air.
I flipped on the lights and stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Just breathed.
“Alright,” I said to the dogs. “Let the chaos begin.”
I let them off their leashes and got to work.
By ten a.m., the bakery was slammed.
I barely had time to think, which was good because thinking led to worrying, and worrying led to spiraling, and spiraling led to mistakes. I moved from station to station, directed Marcy and Jessa, boxed orders, answered questions, and smiled until my cheeks hurt.
The doorbell rang constantly.
Each time it did, a little jolt of anxiety shot through me.
But he never came back.
The loan shark.
I told myself that was a good thing.
I told myself it meant he’d moved on to some other poor sucker for the day.
Maybe Saint had scared him off the other day.
Around noon, my vision swam.
Just for a second.
I gripped the edge of the counter until the room settled, then straightened like nothing had happened.
Marcy noticed anyway. Of course she did.
“Sit,” she ordered, and shoved a stool behind me.
“I don’t have time,” I protested.
“You’re sitting,” she said. “Or I’m tying you to that stool with baker’s twine.”
I sighed and gave in as I lowered myself down. My legs trembled like they’d been waiting for permission.
She pressed a bottle of water into my hand. “Drink.”
I did.
She softened a little. “You’re doing too much.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
I laughed weakly. “That’s where you’re wrong.” Marcy didn’t know about the loan shark. No one did.
The bell jingled again.
This time, something in my chest loosened.
Saint stepped inside, snow clinging to his jacket, a paper bag tucked under his arm. He scanned the room automatically, and his eyes found me instantly. He moved around the register and came right back into the bakery like he owned the place.
Relief washed through me so fast it startled me.
“Hey,” he said, voice low, steady.
“Hey,” I replied.
He took one look at me and frowned. “You should be sitting.”
“I already am,” I laughed.
“Good.”
He set the bag on the counter and pulled out sandwiches, chips, and a coffee. “You’re eating.”
I stared at the food like it might be a trick. “I don’t need—” I wasn’t used to anyone taking care of me. I mean, sure, Marcy forced-fed me water and homemade granola bars, but only because I signed her paychecks.
“Don’t care what you think you don’t need,” he said. “You need fuel.”
I opened my mouth to argue.
Then closed it. “Thank you,” I said quietly. I knew there wasn’t any sense in arguing with him.
He nodded and leaned against the counter while I ate. Didn’t rush me. Didn’t comment. Just stayed there.
Marcy, Jessa, and Owen worked as a team to hand over ordered houses and fill boxes with goodies from the bakery case. I felt useless sitting there just eating, but I knew Saint wasn’t going to let me up until I finished my food.
“Busy?” he asked.
“Insanely.” And here I was eating. Gah.
He watched Marcy and Jessa move around filling orders while Owen rang up a customer. “You’ve built something good here.”
The sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten.
“I feel like we’re running around with our heads cut off,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m constantly one step away from everything falling apart.”
His jaw flexed. “It’s not.”
I shrugged. “Feels that way.”
He didn’t argue. He just nodded, like he understood that sometimes reassurance wasn’t enough.
When I finished eating, my hands felt steadier. My head clearer.
“Okay if I come by later?” he said casually. “After you close.”
“For what?”
“Dinner. Again.”
I hesitated. “Saint—”
“Just dinner,” he said. “I know you’re exhausted, doll. I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
I searched his face for pressure and found none.
“Okay,” I said.
His mouth curved slightly. “Good.”
*
We closed at six ten.
The bakery looked like a battlefield, with flour dusted over every surface, empty boxes stacked high, and the last of the orders finally gone.
Marcy stretched and groaned. “We survived.”
“Barely,” I said.
“And we’re not cleaning this up until tomorrow,” Jessa said as she rolled her shoulders. “I’ll come in half an hour early,” she promised.
“Same,” Marcy agreed.
I normally would have argued, but I was so done. Thank God we only had three more days.
Marcy grabbed her coat. “Go home. Rest. Let Saint take care of you.”
“He’s coming over for dinner, not to take care of me,” I argued.
She eyed me. “I don’t have it in me to point out the obvious, Belle. Just go home, and don’t stay here to clean up.”
“I promise.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’m not leaving until I see you leaving.”
“Salt, Pepper,” I called. “Time to go home, boys.” They both raced to the counter where I put their leashes. I hooked them on their collars, checked to make sure all of the ovens were off, and headed out the door.
Marcy locked it behind me. “Now go walk over to that hunk of a man and don’t think about the bakery for the next eleven hours.”
“Hunk of a man?” I asked, confused.
“Belle.”
My heart leapt at the sound of Saint’s voice. Pepper let out a happy bark, and Salt’s butt wiggled like Saint was his new best friend.
“Night,” Marcy and Jessa called.
Saint jogged across the street, and as soon as he stepped onto the curb, Salt and Pepper attacked him.
“Boys,” he cooed. “Did you miss me?”
I had to bite my lip to not say I did.
“I thought you were meeting me at my house?” I asked.
“I know you walk to work, and I figured you would be too tired to walk.”
Something about the way he said it—simple, certain—made my chest ache.
I was exhausted, and I did not have it in me at all to walk ten feet, let alone four blocks.
The ride to his place was quiet, with the dogs settled in between us on the bench seat. Pepper sniffed the air, and Saint patted his head. “You smell the pizza in back, buddy?” he laughed.
When we got inside, warmth wrapped around me instantly.
“You can take your shoes off and get on the couch,” he said. “Dogs too.”
I laughed and kicked my shoes aside. “The boys need their dinner, too,” I said.
“Get on the couch, and I will take care of everything,” Saint ordered.
“How are you going to take care of everything when you don’t know where their food is or how much to feed them? And they are also going to need water. And then they’ll need to go outside.”
Saint pointed at the couch and walked into the kitchen with the pizza balanced in his hand. “Sit down. You can tell me where everything is and how much from the couch. You have five seconds to sit down before I make you sit down.”
I huffed but walked to the couch and flopped onto it. “Their food is in the container in the pantry. They each get a cup and a half, but they might not eat it right away because they free-feed.”
“Free-feed?” Saint asked from the kitchen.
“They eat when they are hungry. I normally always have food down for them when we are home.”
“Makes sense. You’re smart boys, huh?”
“I’m assuming you are talking to the dogs and not me,” I laughed.
“Yeah, doll.”
I heard the pantry door open and the tippy tap of Salt and Pepper’s claws on the tile as they followed Saint around. The food clattered into the bowl, and then silence. “Should I take them out now if they don’t eat?” he called.
I chuckled. “If they want.”
“Am I supposed to ask them?”
“I mean, you can, but they are always up for going outside even if they don’t have to go to the bathroom,” I pointed out.
“Should we go outside, boys?” Saint asked. Pepper let out a howl, and Salt loudly stomped his paws on the floor. “Let’s get your mama set up with the pizza, and then we’ll go out.”
He walked back into the living room with the pizza and both dogs on his heels. “What do you want to drink?” he asked.
“I think I have one soda in the fridge.”
He set the pizza on the coffee table and walked back into the kitchen with Salt and Pepper on his heels. “I gotta get you some groceries, babe,” he called as I heard the fridge open. “I don’t think a person could live off what you have in here.”
“Once Christmas is over, I’ll go to the store. Right now I just don’t have time to do much of anything,” I promised.
He walked back into the living room and set the soda down beside the pizza. “Start eating while I take the boys out.”
“I think you like ordering me around,” I laughed.
“It’s called taking care of you, doll.” He pointed at the pizza. “I expect at least two pieces missing by the time we come back in.”
I gave him a salute and flipped back the lid. “I’m not even going to ask how you knew mushroom and sausage is my favorite.” He more than likely asked Marcy, just like he had with my coffee.