It’d been a long time since someone had worried about me.
"Promise."
Zale grinned, and my traitorous heart cantered before launching into a full blown gallop. "Good. Same time tomorrow."
He grabbed his coat. "Hawthorn? I enjoyed working together tonight."
Then he was gone, the bell chiming behind him.
I stood in my empty bakery, surrounded by hundreds of gingerbread pieces and the lingering scent of honey and lemon. My thumb still tingled where it had touched his jaw.
My wolf was pacing, telling me we shouldn’t be apart.
And my heart was not listening to reason.
My wolf agreed and for once, I didn't have the energy to argue with him.
FIVE
ZALE
I woke up and groaned. Had someone snuck into the room and jumped on my chest, then wrung my neck to finish me off?
My throat was raw, my head pounded, and when I tried to sit up, the room spun around. I collapsed back onto the pillow, trying to summon the strength to get out of bed. Of all the times to get sick, why now with Christmas looming?
It was 1:45 a.m. and the alarm was about to go off. I had fifteen minutes until I needed to leave for the bakery.
I could call or text Hawthorn and tell him I couldn't make it. He'd probably understand. But the thought of letting him down and leaving him to handle the Christmas rush alone, didn't sit right.
It was a cold.Many people didn’t have the option of staying home when they caught a cold. I could push through.
I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on layers of clothing before heading out into the freezing pre-dawn darkness. The walk to the bakery had never felt longer. Every breath burned my lungs, but I kept going.
When I reached the back door, I was shivering despite my coat.
Hawthorn sniffed when I walked in and furrowed his brow. Of course he could scent my sickness. It was a shifter trait. Not that shifters caught human ailments often, but due to some genetic quirk, my family were susceptible to colds and flu.
"You're sick."
“It’s a cold." I hung up my coat and my hands shook. "I'm fine to work."
"You look terrible."
"Thanks." I managed a weak smile. "That's exactly what every guy wants to hear." I avoided the mirror in the back room and made sure to wash my hands thoroughly.
Hawthorn didn't return my smile. "You should have stayed home."
He was right but I should have done a lot of things, one of which was not getting turned on by my sexy boss. Not that I was right at this moment because my chest was congested and there was an imaginary band tightening around my brow and giving me a headache.
"You need help with the orders." I tied on an apron. "I'm not leaving you to do everything alone."
He sighed. "Fine. You’re on light duty only. No heavy lifting. And if you feel worse, you tell me immediately."
"Deal."
I was doing okay for the first hour. I measured ingredients, prepped baking sheets, and kept my distance when he needed space. But the warm bakery combined with my fever was making everything fuzzy around the edges.
"Zale." Hawthorn's voice cut through the fog. "The flour."
