8. Christopher
eight
Iwrap up a quiet late afternoon in the bakeshop, but I feel more electrified than my usual peaceful, winding-down mood. I double-check all my preparations for the next day and verify our orders for the third time.
I bring out the training material for Pierce: her manual with my annotations and target dates for completion. She’ll be done on time if she progresses at twice the average time, which is doable. I dig out baking clothes from our uniform closet, fold them in a neat pile, and stack them next to her manual. I write her name on the cover, and my heartbeat picks up like I’m a fucking teenager. Get a grip, Wright.
I check the time. It’s only six p.m. Emma called to invite Skye for a sleepover tonight, and I dropped her off an hour ago.
The house always feels empty without my daughter. The huge Victorian is too big for the two of us to begin with, and there’s nothing I can do about that. It’s where my bakery is, and it’s a great location. It’s just… huge. And right now, empty.
Ems invited me to stay for dinner, but it didn’t feel right to leave Alexandra alone, so I came right back.
And on the way I realized it didn’t feel right to be alone with Alexandra either.
So at first, I was relieved to find her note on the kitchen counter about her going out for dinner with Grace.
And then I got pissed.
And now I don’t know what to do with myself. Which means, I’m headed to Lazy’s, my best friend Justin’s pub.
I shower again and put on a clean shirt.
As I push the door to Lazy’s, looking forward to some quiet guy time with Justin, there she is.
Her head is tilted back as she laughs wholeheartedly at something Grace is saying. Her delicate neck is the first thing I see, her mouth wide open the next. She straightens in her booth, and her laugh dies as our eyes lock. I nod curtly and make my way to the bar. And nearly trip over Justin’s dog, Moose, who’s laying in his usual spot smack in the middle of the way. Moose lifts his head and squints at me. I squat and pat him. “Sorry, buddy,” I say. He grunts his forgiveness and lays his head back on the floor.
Justin hasn’t picked up on this, and it’s just as well. He pours me my usual draft IPA. “Shane made a mean pulled pork tonight,” he says.
“What’s it come with?”
“Some dude’s fancy bun.”
Huh. I was wondering why they ordered brioche buns from me yesterday. “Guess I gotta try it then.”
Shane is Lazy’s chef. He used to work for the fancy restaurant next door, and since he left to work for Justin, he’s been doing a heck of a job with all the comfort foods that are the staple at Justin’s establishment.
“You got it,” Justin says. “Grace and Alex are over there,” he adds, pointing with his chin. “I’m about to bring them their soups. Should I set you up with them?”
He knows Alexandra by name already?I pull a bar stool. “I’ll stay right here.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Whatever you say.”
The place is filling up, but all I can hear is Alexandra’s laughter and voice. She isn’t loud, far from it. It’s as though her voice is on a frequency that hits me just below the ribcage and radiates from there.
I’ve never felt that way about a woman.
My food comes out quickly, but I’m not hungry. I stare at it. Then take a bite. It melts in my mouth. The flavor of the meat is enhanced by the brioche bun, which also has the perfect soaking capacity.
Bread making is an art. A passion. It’s not a hobby, at least not in my bakery. Alexandra is going to find out pretty soon.
There’s something off with her story. I have the gut feeling she’s not telling me half the truth of why she’s here. I hate liars, but for some reason, she’s giving me a different vibe. Like she doesn’t really have another option than to play her cards close to her chest.
I need her to succeed, but not at the cost of her well-being. If she finds out this is too much for her and she walks out on the apprenticeship, then so be it. I’ll deal with the financial consequences.
Although the walking out would sting for other reasons.
She’s kind and helpful. Smart and funny. Sassy. Sexy as hell.
She has a magic touch with Skye.
She’s a gem of a woman.
I’m fucked, right?
Yeah. I’m fucked.
“Something wrong with the pulled pork?” Justin says, interrupting my thoughts.
I zap out of it. “It’s delicious.” I take another bite and then another before it gets cold.
He frowns and leaves, shaking his head. When he comes back a few minutes later with a tall glass of iced tea, he talks my head off about an outdoor restaurant section he wants to put together for the fair this summer.
At the mention of the summer fair, I have an image of Alexandra in a sundress, the gentle breeze showing her thighs, the sunlight playing in her hair, her laughter cascading down my body. But she’ll be gone by summer. I tune him out and agree to whatever he thinks I should be doing on my end.
“So… Alex, huh?” Justin says after a long pull on his drink.
“What about her.”
His eyes stay zoned in on me. “She’s hot.”
My jaw clenches.
“You don’t think so?” He says when I don’t answer.
I force a shrug. “She’s my employee.”
“So?”
“So what?”
He looks her way. “Where’s she staying?”
I narrow my eyes on him. “How so.”
“Where does she live? She from around here? Never seen her before.”
“You know where she’s staying.”
“Won’t believe it until I hear it from you.”
Justin and I go way back. We have that kind of friendship where I don’t need to tell him anything. He knows when something’s up with me, and what’s up, without me needing to tell him. It’s half because we go way back, half because this is a small town, and half because he’s the pub owner and bartender on top of having grown up on a local farm.
I know, that’s more halves than you need to make a whole, but it doesn’t even begin to cover everything that Justin is.
He produces a notebook. “I’m taking bets on how long it’ll take you to get in her bed. Wanna see the odds?”
Yeah, he’s also half asshole.
I pretend to grab the notebook, expecting him to keep it out of my reach, but he lets me take it. I flip it open to make my point that no one cares but him, but there it is. Three neat columns, with the names of my friends on the left, a date in the middle, and a dollar amount on the right.
Make that total asshole. “You gotta be kidding me,” I say as I throw the notebook on the counter like I don’t care. “You guys need to get a life.”
“We need to get a life?”
I nod. “You guys are sad.”
He smacks his lips. “You know what’s sad? Let me tell you. That girl over there has been looking at nothing but you since you got here, and you’re not going to do a goddamn thing about it.”
“You’re right about that. Not a thing.”
“And why is that?”
“Told ya. She works for me.”
“Lot to unpack in that answer.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He moves to my side of the bar and pulls a stool close to me. Then he leans over. “You coulda said she’s not your type. You coulda said it’d be weird for Skye. Hell, you coulda said she’s got bad breath.” He looks at me, like he’s giving me a chance to say something. “But no,” he continues. “The only lame-ass excuse you could come up with is that she works for you. And that’s not a reason at all to not be interested.”
He grabs the booklet from the bar, a pen from his pocket, and scribbles his own estimate of how full of shit I am.
It’d be fun if I was the kind of guy who was fine with casual relationships. Someone like Justin, for example.
But I’m not like that. It took me a while to get over what happened with Skye’s mother, and I didn’t even like her that much.
I can only imagine what it would be like to have a woman like Alexandra, only to see her leave.