11. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Scarlett
Steven had to have seen what I left him as soon as he reached his door, and yet there aren’t any alerts on my phone. Shoving my phone in my apron pocket, I bolt the door and flip the sign from open to closed.
I pull out the trays in the display case, stacking them one upon the other while leaving any that still have treats for another trip.
Glancing at my phone one last time before heading to the kitchen, I force myself to ignore the sinking feeling that’s about to swallow me whole.
Pushing the disappointment down, I switch my attention to Millie’s questionnaire and what she’s looking for in a romantic relationship.
Some of the qualities on her list would definitely fit Steven, but I don’t know if Millie is his type. Especially since she’s his mom’s employee.
The three of us went to the same school, but Millie is a few years younger and didn’t hang out in our circle of friends. It wasn’t until she started working at The Bleacher Bean that I really got the chance to know her.
Millie is your girl-next-door type, pretty in that cute way, friendly and kind. I’ve come to like her, but is she the right fit for my best friend?
The thought lands like a bad batch of dough, heavy and sour in my gut. The truth is I don’t want him with her. In fact, just the thought of him dating or kissing anyone makes my stomach turn.
For the thousandth time, I recall my promise to Mr. Bennett and wonder if maybe I misunderstood what he was asking. Could he have meant something completely different?
Like could I have been on that list?
One of the trays slips from my hands, and a clatter echoes throughout the bakery. I bend to pick up the one on the floor just as I drop the others in the sink. I pour some dish soap in the water, and let the sink fill up a bit before washing them.
I didn’t misunderstand a dying man’s request. He asked me to find his son his perfect match.
But what if I did?
What if I’m Steven’s perfect match?
The thought of being able to tell him how I feel- that I want to be with him sends a warm rush through me, like the perfect batch of cookies. But then the usual weight crashes back in, pressing on my ribs until it’s hard to breathe.
A soft knock pulls my eyes from the trays in the display case to the door. My breath catches when I see Steven standing outside.
“Do you want some help?” He mouths.
My cheeks pull up as I unbolt the door, and Steven’s lopsided grin hits me low in the stomach, warm and sudden.
“You know how much I enjoy putting you to work, Bennett.”
“And yet closing with you never felt like work. What have you finished?” The bolt on the door clicks, and his eyes sweep the half-finished shop. “Not much, I see. Always slacking, James. How have you gotten along without me?”
“Hey,” I nudge him with my hip, and chuckle as I make my way back to the display case to start pulling out the remaining trays. The weight of Steven’s gaze lands on me, and I’m suddenly warm. “I just closed five minutes ago.”
“Do you have to make anything?” He juts his chin toward the treats.
“Nope.” I shake my head dramatically, making Steven laugh. “I did all the baking earlier. I’m good with stuff for the next two days.”
“Then I’ll start wiping down the tables and sweeping.”
Both of us move to the kitchen, him for warm water and a rag, and me with the trays. Standing by the counter, I pull out the storage containers and start placing the remaining treats in them. Steven fills up a small bucket with water.
“Thank you,” he says, and I pull my brows together. “The dog in my jersey.”
“Did you like it?” My gaze falls to my hands, and warmth blooms across my face.
“I loved it.” Steven says, just as he slides behind me on his way back to the front of the bakery, and my breath hitches as he brushes against me. Stopping at the door frame, he says, “It reminded me of the one you gave me before I went to Florida.”
My gaze whips to him, and a question lingers in his eyes as clear as day.
Does it mean what I think it does?
“Yes!” The voice in my head screams out. But all I say is, “I’m glad you got the connection. I do like these colors much better, though.”
A hint of something I can’t read crosses his face, but then he gives me a crooked smile. “Well, you’ve always been a Wolverines fan. You bleed orange and blue.”
“When we have four teams in our state with the same colors, how couldn’t I? Not to mention all the men in my life I love have played for them.”
Securing the last container, I glance up to find Steven still standing at the threshold watching me.
My lips curl up, and my hands rest on my hips. “If this is how you’re going to be working, Bennett, we’ll be here all night.”
He blinks a few times.
My brows knit together. “Why are you staring at me like that? Are you okay?”
“What? “Yeah, I’m fine.” He runs a hand through his hair and turns to head out front, wiping the first table he comes to.
Grabbing the broom, I start sweeping.
“Has Ryan stopped in since the other day?”
The broom stops mid-sweep. Remembering what happened the last time Ryan was here.
“Scar?” Steven asks, moving on to another table.
“I am happy to report he hasn’t been back.” My throat works. “Guess we were convincing.”
“Guess we were,” Steven murmurs. The air between us thickens.
“What about Declan? Have you seen him lately?”
My forehead pulls, and I stare at the broad shoulders of the man who just dropped a bombshell. He’s casually wiping the tables, like Declan Graham is normal everyday conversation.
“Declan?”
“Yeah. Have you been talking to him?”
“Steven Bennett, what in the world are you talking about?” I ask, leaning against the broomstick.
Steven tugs at his collar but doesn’t look at me; he just keeps moving from table to table.
“Actually, I saw him at The Bleacher Bean today. Did you know that Millie is his best friend’s cousin?”
“Millie? Mom’s employee?” He shakes his head, but the table he’s wiping down starts to wiggle. “I find it impossible to believe that he actually has friends.”
“Has he been giving you a hard time?” Given the history between the two of them, it’s more than likely. And so at odds with the Declan I saw interact with Millie.
“Always. Not to mention his locker is next to mine,” He grumbles.
“Isn’t it normal for players on the forward line and back line to be next to each other?” Pushing the broom, I work to sweep the opposite side of Steven.
His grip tightens on the rag, and when he dips it in the bucket, he splashes water all over the place. “Hey tiger, take it easy on the table. I’m pretty sure it hasn’t done anything to you.”
When he sees the table wobbling, its feet popping off the floor, he eases up on the pressure and exhales heavily. “Sorry.”
Looking at him, his shoulders are pressing against his ears. Starting to push the broom across the floor, I remember the last time I saw Steven like this.
“Is it safe to say that he hasn’t changed?”
“Oh, he’s changed, alright.” Steven clenches his jaw. “He’s worse.”
The table starts to wobble again, and I place a hand on his wrist, gently grabbing the rag. “Why don’t I wipe down the tables and you can sweep the floors?”
Not looking at me, he lets go and takes hold of the broom.
“Do you think you’ll be able to come to some kind of truce?”
The only response I get is the loud scratching on the floor.
His mouth is drawn in a tight line, and he’s sweeping as if the floor did him wrong. I dip the rag and wring out the excess water. “Are you okay?”
Raking a hand through his hair, he drags out a ragged breath. His weary green eyes meet mine. “What if being traded to the Wolverines was a mistake? What if I can’t figure out a way to work with Dec? Can’t trust him on the ice?”
His shoulders are hunched over, and he looks so defeated. A tightness grips my chest, and before I can think better of it, I close the distance between us. Wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my cheek on his chest, his heart thrums under my cheek.
“Steven, you know better than anyone that sometimes stuff just goes sideways. But it always passes.”
His arm slides around me, pulling me close. When his chin rests on my head, the last wall I’ve been holding up crumbles. I snuggle closer. Letting myself give in to the need to hold him, while letting him take some of my strength.