"How's this?" Zale held up a rolled croissant.
I inspected it. The roll was tight and almost perfect for a first attempt. "Good. Keep going."
Pleasure flashed across his face for a second, but I caught it. Heat unfurled in my chest, confusing me enough to make me breathless.I turned away before I could analyze what had happened.
By four-thirty, we'd moved into the main baking push. Zale followed my terse instructions without hesitation, anticipating what I needed before I asked. When I said "oven," he already had the door open. When I reached for a pan, he was sliding it into position.
We moved around each other in the small space. His shoulder brushed mine as he reached for measuring cups and our hands met reaching for the same bowl. Each touch sent heat through me that had nothing to do with the ovens.
It should have been annoying, having someone in my space. Instead, my wolf was practically purring.
"You've really never worked in a bakery before?" The question came out before I could stop it.
Zale looked up from the muffin tins he was filling. "Never. Why?"
"You're not terrible at this."
His smile could have lit the whole damn bakery. "Was that a compliment?"
"It was an observation." But there was a warmth spreading over my lower region and I didn't like it one bit.
"I'll take it." Zale went back to the muffins, still grinning.
I needed to get my head straight. This was temporary. He'd said that he was just passing through. And even if he wasn't, I'd learned my lesson about relationships. Expecting anyone to understand the life of a baker, the brutal hours and complete devotion required led to resentment and heartache.
Roland had tried. We'd made it four months before he'd sat me down with tears in his eyes and told me he felt as though he was dating a ghost. I was never around for dinners or evenings or normal couple things. I smelled like yeast and fell asleep on the couch more often than in bed.
After him came Martin, who'd lasted two months. Then Jackson, who'd made it six weeks before calling it quits.
I'd stopped trying after that. The bakery had to be enough.
"Hawthorn?" Zale's voice cut through my thoughts. "The timer."
I blinked. The bread timer was going off and had been for who knew how long. I swore and grabbed my oven mitts before pulling out the loaves. They were darker than I liked with the crusts a shade too brown.
"Sorry." Zale looked worried. "I should have done something."
“It’s not your fault." I set the loaves down to cool more roughly than necessary. "I got distracted."
By you, my brain supplied unhelpfully,and how you fit into my space as if you belong here. And there’s your scent, your smile and how my wolf has decided you're someone I need in my life.
I shut that thought down hard.
"Why don't you take your break?" My voice was harsher than it should have been. "Fifteen minutes. There's a table in the other room."
Zale hesitated. "Are you sure? I can keep working."
“Take a break now."
He did as I asked though his face was a mask of confusion. I braced my hands on the counter and took a deep breath. I was fine. After the one-week trial, he'd move on and everything would go back to normal.
My wolf whined his disagreement.
Be quiet.
When Zale came back, he brought me a fresh cup of coffee without asking and our fingers brushed when I took it. His scent washed over me. I wanted to lean in, press my nose to his neck and breathe him in until I was drunk on him.
But I pulled back and took a sip of the coffee to give myself something to do.
