"So have you."
"I'm used to it."
"Doesn't mean you don't need to stop for a while.” He was already heading to the front. "I saw some apple cider earlier. Want some?"
Before I could answer, he was gone. I looked down at the hundreds of gingerbread pieces cooling on racks around us. We still had a way to go but we’d made a huge dent in it.
Zale came back with two mugs of heated cider that smelled of cinnamon. He handed me one and leaned against the work table next to me. My mind wandered and imagined what lay under his clothes.
"Thank you for helping with this.” I sniffed the cider. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to." He took a sip of his drink. "Besides, this is fun, in an exhausting, flour-everywhere kind of way."
I almost smiled. "You have a strange definition of fun."
"Maybe.” His eyes met mine. “Or maybe you've forgotten what it's like to enjoy the work instead of just surviving it."
The words hit too close to home. I’d stopped loving what I did and it had become a back-breaking chore instead of a passion.
I ran my gaze over his cheeks flushed from the heat of the ovens. There was a streak of molasses on his jaw. But he appeared to be completely at ease in my space as if he belonged here.
My wolf was absolutely certain he did and was yammering in my ear about him staying long-term.
"You've got something on your cheek." I reached out without thinking and my thumb brushed off the molasses.
Zale's sharp intake of breath cut through the quiet. His eyes widened and his lips parted. We were so close I could count his long eyelashes and his honey and lemony scent wrapped around me, making me its prisoner.
I should get back to work. This, whatever this was, was a terrible idea. He worked for me and he’d be out of my life in a few weeks. I'd sworn off this kind of complication.
But I couldn't move. My hand was still on his jaw, and he was leaning into the touch. His gaze dropped to my lips and traveled over my chest and lower still. Heat floodedthrough me.
The phone rang and we jerked apart. The moment was shattered and my wolf howled and threatened to take his fur. He hoped Zale’s beast would do the same and they could hunt together.
I grabbed the phone with unsteady hands. My heart was pounding in my ears. "Hawthorn's."
A customer asked about an order. I went through the motions of confirming details but my mind wasn't on bread. It was on the man standing three feet away and how much I'd wanted to close that final distance and kiss him.
When I hung up, Zale was staring at the gingerbread pieces as though they held the secrets of the universe. He was also breathing a little too fast.
"We should finish up.” I didn’t trust myself to be with him in the same room much longer. "It's getting late."
We worked for another hour, but the easy rhythm from before was gone. Now I avoided any accidental brush of hands and I fought the urge to get close to him.
By eleven, we'd finished all fifty houses and they were packed with piping bags of royal icing and containers of candy for each family.
"You should go home.” I started cleaning up. "Get some sleep."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine. I don’t want to face dirty dishes when we walk in tomorrow.
"Hawthorn." Zale put a hand on me. The touch sent a tingling warmth up my arm. "You need sleep too."
The heat from his hands surged through me and my wolf sat up and paid attention.
"One more hour," I conceded. "Then I'll head upstairs."
"Promise?"
