Chapter 7
SEVEN
HOLLY
Walking towards the bakery door, I try to juggle the boxes in my arms and tackle opening the door without dropping them.
I’m laden with boxes of cupcakes ready for the school fete up at the Hinton Institute.
They hire me every year to make the cakes for the event, when they open their doors to the public and prospective students.
I should really make several trips to my car, but in my chaotic decision-making, I decided that I could manage them all in one go. That is something I am beginning to question now.
“Holly, do you need a hand?” Tina, one of my bakers, asks from the back of the bakery as she watches me balancing on one leg while pushing open the glass door with my other.
“No, I’ve got it. Thank you!”
She doesn’t look convinced, and she’s right not to be, as I don’t, in fact, ‘have it’.
Foot slipping, the heavy glass door swings towards me at speed and I do the only thing I can.
I catch it with my arse. Sticking my bum out, the blow is cushioned by my ample behind.
Bum shuffling backward out of the bakery, I smile at my staff and pretend everything is fine.
Finally, I’m outside, the door swinging shut. Taking a deep breath, I enjoy the feel of the breeze cooling my burning cheeks. I’m friends with everyone that works in the bakery and they know me well enough to be used to my behaviour. At least I didn’t drop the cakes.
Turning, I start towards my car, only to smash into a rigid chest.
“Oh shit!” Bouncing back, I fall to the ground straight onto my ass. Several boxes tumble off the top of the stack in my arms, sliding to the floor. Thankfully, I’m close enough to the ground that hopefully the damage to the cakes is minimal.
“Damn it, are you okay?” A deep, male voice asks, his silhouette blocking out the sun as his shadow falls over me.
The man kneels at my side, taking some of the boxes from me and stacking them beside us so he can check me over. He seems to be examining me for injury, but I’ve been struck dumb by how insanely handsome this person is.
His dark skin is smooth and unblemished, his thick dark brows framing his perfect almond-shaped eyes.
The brown of his irises is almost amber in colour and must make them look like they’re glowing when in direct sunlight.
Not to mention his straight, perfectly white teeth.
He looks as though he’s stepped off a photoshoot: he’s wearing a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a white T-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans.
I’ve never been jealous of a piece of clothing before, but seeing how his T-shirt is stretched over his clearly muscled chest is bringing up new feelings.
His brow raises and I look at him in confusion. “Miss?”
Damn it, I’ve been staring and now he thinks I’m crazy. Shaking my head, I laugh and raise a hand to my head. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Oh shit, the cakes! Gasping, I shift positions, kneeling on the concrete to sift through the boxes, checking each of them for damage.
“Let me help.” He leans over to help pick up some boxes. I want to protest but he already has most of them gripped in his muscled arms. Sighing quietly, I hurry to pick up the final boxes. Only a few of the cupcakes are damaged and I can fix them up when I get to the Institute.
“Thank you.” I gesture to my yellow Beetle parked up in the space opposite the bakery. “That’s my car, if you could–”
He’s already moving before I even finish what I’m saying. Hurrying across the quiet road to catch up with him, I fish my car keys from my pocket and open the doors.
Leaning inside, I place the boxes on the back seat, making sure they are secure and not going to move in transit.
Movement the other side of the car grabs my attention, and lifting my head I come face to face with the handsome stranger putting his boxes in the other side.
We are so close that I can feel his breath on my cheek.
All it would take for me to kiss him would be to pucker my lips.
What are you doing, Holly? I jerk back, ignoring the flash of interest in his amber eyes and fight off the blush I can feel staining my cheeks.
What has gotten into me lately? Maybe Ash is right and I need to get laid.
Get Jake out of my system and then I might stop fanaticising about every good-looking man who comes into town.
“Thank you so much for your help, Mr…?” I trail off, awaiting his response. I don’t know why I care when I will probably never see him again. Most likely he is here visiting someone or just passing through, so it really doesn’t matter. However, it feels really important to me to learn his name.
“Elliot,” he smiles as he speaks, showing off those teeth. “Elliot Greenham.” His eyes glitter with amusement. “It was a pleasure to bump into you, Miss…?”
A smile pulls at my lips and I find myself answering before I’ve even thought through if this is a good idea or not. “Holly.”
His head tilts slightly to one side, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Holly…” he seems to test the word on his tongue, his gaze flicking over to the building behind us. “Do you own the Holly and Ivy Bakery?”
Huh. Not where I thought we were going with this conversation, but seeing as I just walked out of the bakery it makes sense. Smiling, I nod slightly. “My sister and I do, but I am the manager.”
His whole demeanour changes, going from casual knight in denim armour to formal in a second.
“I was actually on my way to see you.” His smile is perfect, but it’s lost its cheeky, flirty edge.
“I’m opening a business next door to your bakery, and I wanted to stop in and say hello.
” As if to punctuate it, he holds out a hand towards me, ready to shake.
“Oh.” Staring down at his proffered hand, I feel my brows raise with my frustration. Slowly, I lift my gaze and pin him with a disapproving look. “So, you’re the one who’s tearing the shop apart.”
He seems confused at my sudden change of attitude. Closing the car door, he walks around until he’s just inches from me, leaning up against the back door, arms crossed over his chest. “The shop was falling apart and hasn’t made a profit in years.”
I knew the DIY shop had fallen on hard times, but I hadn’t realised that Mr Renolds was only retiring because the business wasn’t viable any longer.
Having worked in retail for years, I understand what it takes to keep a business afloat, so I sympathise.
What I don’t like, however, is a yuppy from the city coming in and tearing it apart.
The town has faced a lot of change thanks to the Hinton Institute, and having yet another local store being torn down is a tragedy.
Clicking my tongue, I also cross my arms, mirroring his position. “And what are you planning to do with the shop?”
“We are turning it into a gym and health-food bar.”
“For soufflé’s sake.” Throwing my arms up in the air, I turn and start to get in the car.
A gym and health-food bar. Fantastic, exactly what we need here.
What was it he said? We. Yes, I remember now that Ashley said it was a group of friends who had bought the shop.
Brilliant, that’s just more of them trying to turn our rustic town into a miniature city.
Soon enough, all of the locals will be priced out of living here.
Climbing into the car, seething, I strap myself in and slam the door shut, only to find that it’s opened again half a second later. Blinking in surprise and outrage, I stare up at Elliot. Is this guy serious?
Bracing himself against the doorframe he leans in slightly, filling the small space. He’s frowning, but it doesn’t take away from how handsome he is. If anything, it only makes me want to misbehave so he keeps looking at me that way. “I don’t understand the problem here.”
His biceps bulge as he holds himself in place and I have to clear my throat before I can speak. “Well, ignoring the fact that you’re tearing down a historic part of this town and building something for the city folks to come and engulf us, you’re also going to be in competition with me.”
He stares at me in silence for a heavy heartbeat, until one of those brows slowly lifts. “There was a lot to unpack in that statement, but we’ll start with the latter.” He licks his lips and shakes his head slightly. “I don’t think our clients will be regular customers in your bakery.”
The way he says it makes my blood boil, as though his skinny gym-going twigs are better than anyone who might visit a bakery – who might visit my bakery. How dare he?
“Exactly!” I snap, baring my teeth. “A health-food bar?! You are going to war against sugar and you think it’s not going to affect my business?
” Snorting, I gesture widely, seeming to get more animated the angrier I get.
“You will be campaigning the streets for business. Who is going to walk past a gym and go into the bakery? You are inadvertently shaming people.”
Elliot looks as though he can’t believe he’s having this conversation but is finding it amusing. Well, you just wait, buster, I’m only just getting started.
“According to you, it will bring city folk here,” he points out, the hint of a smile on his lips. “That’s more potential customers for you.”
“And according to you, none of your clients are going to want my products!” I counter, his stupid smile leaving me seething.
I’m practically shouting and I can feel the gaze of the bakery staff watching on with interest. This needs to end before I do something to embarrass myself.
“Look, I have somewhere to be. Thank you for your help today.”
Leaning over to reach for the door handle, I get so close to him I can smell his woodsy cologne.
His whole body seems to react to having me so close and I can’t help but pull back a little to watch his pupils dilate.
Just what does he think is about to happen?
Clearing my throat and pretending that he’s not affected me in the least, I slam the door shut, almost trapping him in the process, but I don’t care.
He manages to get out of the way and steps back as I throw my car into reverse.
Driving away and ignoring his figure in my back mirror, I take several deep breaths and try to convince myself that I’m not running away.