Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
I arrived at the bakery with the rising sun, ready to work. I pushed any thoughts of the late-night beach encounter out of my mind. The work crew wouldn’t be in for several hours, and I wanted to get a lay of the land. The front facing side of the bakery has been largely demoed, and they would be starting on the kitchen, likely installing state-of-the-art equipment. It would be pretty nice to try it out when the time came, but until then, I wanted to work on a few recipes that had come to mind. And it was pure happenstance that my creative juices—ew—started flowing after our chance rendezvous that meant absolutely nothing.
The front door was unlocked, so I imagined that Jared was inside or nearby. And the fluttering in my stomach could have been mistaken for excitement, but it was definitely angsty. Right?
I moved slowly through the front room, taking in the empty space an d the stringent scent of heavy-duty cleaning products. The sun rays slanted across the old flooring from the tall windows. With all the old stuff out, I could so easily picture the cherry wood floors, the eclectic artwork, the comfy chairs, the bookshelves full of beach reads, the board games, the corner set up for a guitar player. The whole vibe of the place felt like I could settle in and stay there forever. Jared could deal with whatever decisions I made. My goal was to bring people in and encourage them to never leave. I would have to get some coloring stuff for kids too. For the first time, I let myself get carried away in the planning. I may only have been there temporarily, but I was going to make the best of it, damn it.
In the back, a lot of the large equipment had already been removed, leaving vacant spots for new stuff to be installed. I dropped the few ingredients I had brought off in the walk-in refrigerator. I wasn’t ready to start unpacking in the pantry without Jared’s okay just yet.
Once again. those pesky butterflies took up residence. I made my way to the office where he sat on his folding chair. The early sun on his back highlighted the dust mites playing in the non-breeze.
“Cozy,” I said, as I set my own laptop, journal, and binder down across from him. I planned on placing orders today, so we had to share the office space whether he liked it or not. The office that I had been so jealous of was mine, at least for the time being. The spark of creativity that I felt the previous night only blossomed with the view of the beach and the warmth of the sun. For a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, I coul d be that person of my vision who baked things and kicked ass.
I took a deep breath. Only I could make that a reality. And I could only make that a reality by bringing this guy down, although looking at him in the sunlight made my feelings just a little warmer. How the hell did simple sunlight have the power to change everything?
I pulled my folding chair from beside him to the other side of the table. I didn’t sit though. I couldn’t waste my creativity on the most soul-sucking part of the job—talking to vendors on the phone. Without a word to Jared—and despite feeling his eyes on me—I left the office and returned to the kitchen, retrieving my ingredients and setting them on the stainless-steel counter.
After washing several pots several times, I set to work on the stove. I wanted to make a bread pudding in a sandcastle mold with a hard caramel sauce shell topped with crème anglaise. It could be eaten warm or cold. At The Lobster Tail, we only ever used caramel candies melted in a pan with some butter to make caramel sauce. But I wanted everything for the bakery to be fresh and homemade. It would be a challenge to get the right consistency.
I felt Jared behind me. You can do this, Jenna, I told myself, trying hard not to turn around and yell at him for invading my space. I wouldn’t get dragged into an argument today. Today was a day for creativity and dreams and baking. Jared could go screw.
“Whatcha workin on?” he asked, peering over my shoulder with an exaggerated curiosity. So much for that .
I turned my body in an effort to block his view of my saucepan. It didn’t do much since he stood a full head taller than me. “You know, I’m not telling you.”
“Looks like a caramel sauce of some kind,” he said, and I shifted my hip so it nudged into his side causing him to stagger back slightly, although I couldn’t tell if it was because I had actually knocked him off-balance or if he was exaggerating again.
“Maybe you should focus on your own menu instead of trying to prevent me from working on mine,” I said.
“Or we could help each other so we both succeed,” he said with a lifted eyebrow.
“Absolutely not. There is only one winner here. I don’t want any of this fake camaraderie bullshit,” I said.
“I just think your sauce could use a little flour to thicken it up,” he said, grabbing an open bag and reaching in to pick out a pinch.
“Don’t you dare!” I held up my hand to ward off his meddling.
But he had already grabbed a handful of flour, and his fist bumped into my outstretched arm. He could have held onto the flour when our arms collided, but instead, he released the flour directly into my face.
I sputtered out the powder that coated my lips. “Are you a child?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I thought we were enemies. Aren’t I supposed thwart?”
“No, I am supposed to thwart,” I said before I heard myself sounding completely asinine. “Oh my god, why do you make me like t his?” I lifted my hands in frustration before brushing the flour off my face.
“Maybe I just bring out the best in you?”
“The best in me? Are you out of your mind? Look at me! You make me angry and impulsive and…”
“Creative and driven and a little bit selfish?” he asked.
“Those aren’t compliments!”
“They are when you haven’t let yourself be like that since you were born,” he said.
“Do not act like you know me,” I said, turning to face him pointing my finger in his chest, as usual he stood too damn close. Why did he think he had a right to invade my personal space all the time? I could feel the heat coming off him and smell his cologne. His full lips pulled up into a half-smile as he leveled me with his piercing gaze that always made me feel vulnerable and exposed. “You don’t know anything about me,” I said with a little less gusto than I had the first time.
His insights were unfortunately becoming a habit. I was regretting pointing my finger again as I was tempted to spread my palm flat and see what the muscles underneath his shirt would feel like. The memory of our kiss once again floated to the surface. The way his hands had gripped my hips and neck. The way his lips pressed to mine firm but gentle. The way his body pressed against the length of mine. This man was everything I hated on every level. He was arrogant and selfish and thought the world owed him. He didn’t take anything seriously and wanted to spread his corporate greed to my little town. Yet, standing with him made me forget that too easily.
“You smell that?” he asked. The thick, heady tone of his voice didn’t match the words he said.
I couldn’t smell anything. The world had fallen away as I let myself get lost in the sensation of him. But then my sense of self-preservation kicked in and alarm bells clanged in my head.
“Shit!” I shouted. The caramel sauce I had been testing was a black bubbling mess that sent pillows of smoke to the ceiling. I pulled the pan from the stove and dropped it into the sink, letting the water harden the burnt mess. “Damn it! You did that on purpose!” I turned to him.
“How on earth did I burn your caramel?”
“You threw the flour at me and distracted me,” I said.
“A good cook doesn’t let herself get distracted in the kitchen.,”
“You know what?” I said, and before I finished my thought, my hand moved instinctively without the permission of my logical brain. I yanked the pull-down faucet from the sink and turned it in his direction so water sprayed all over his face and shirt. My frustration dissipated as the water made his t-shirt see-through, all of his muscles perfectly on display.
He shouted, holding up his hands. “Oh, you wanna play that game?” he asked with a wide grin as if the only thing he liked doing in the kitchen was goof-off, and he had finally been given the green light. He grabbed the plastic tub from the other sink tha t was filled with warm sudsy water and launched it over my head before I had a chance to run.
“You little shit!” I shouted as I launched after him. He had tossed the bucket and was skittering away across the kitchen. “To scared to face me?” I shouted after his retreating back.
He threw himself out the back door and down the steps to the beach. He looked like he was moving at a leisurely jog while I was huffing and puffing to catch up. When he made it down the backsteps and onto the sand, I leaped off the steps and onto his back, he stumbled before falling into the sand with my arms around the back of his neck and my legs wrapped around his torso.
“Ha!” I shouted in triumph from my position on top of him before he pushed himself, and me, up from the ground and rolled onto his back, pressing me against the sand. I squirmed as he turned himself over so he could face me. I pushed ineffectually at his chest before he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pinned my arms above my head while trapping my lower half beneath his hips. I wriggled against him, trying to get free, before I realized with sudden mortification exactly what I was wriggling against. I froze, my face burning a bright red, as I finally looked at him.
His chest heaved with the effort of running and wrestling. We were both covered in flour, water, and sand, but somehow, the mess only made him look more ruggedly, casually handsome, which I didn’t think was possible. I swallowed hard past the growing lump constricting my throat. He didn’t say anything. He just held my arms above my head as he stared into my eyes and studied my face, his gaze lingering a little too long on my lips. My stomach tightened and heat spread through my whole body.
I hated this man, right? For some reason, I was having a hard time remembering exactly why as the weight of his muscled body pressed down firmly against me. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he thinking? Why did I suddenly desperately have to know the thoughts that left his eye dark and hungry?
“Am I … interrupting something?” The voice came from somewhere behind Jared. It was a voice I didn’t recognize, but Jared instantly stiffened and pushed himself off me.