Neither of us mentioned how we were both breathing a little harder.
The morning rush started at six when I unlocked the front door. Zale stayed in the back like I'd instructed, prepping the next round while I handled customers. Mrs. Trent wanted her usual sourdough. Benjamin got his cheese danish and black coffee, and the Axley twins’ mittens were sprinkled with snow when they came in for cinnamon rolls before school.
Everyone asked about my new help. Being a small town, they'd noticed the second shadow moving around.
“It’s someone helping in the lead up to Christmas,” I repeated to each of them. That was a noncommittal reply and insinuated it was temporary.
Through the doorway, I could see Zale working but I forced myself to focus on my customers and not his hands or his eyes.
By eight, the morning rush had tapered off. Zale emerged from the back with a smudge of chocolate on his cheek. He was rumpled and tired, but his eyes were bright and he was bouncing on his feet in a way that did something dangerous to my heart."
"I think I'm getting the hang of it." He grinned. "This is fun."
Fun? When was the last time I'd thought of my work as fun instead of necessary? It was the thing that consumed my entire existence.
"Don't get too excited. Tomorrow we start the Christmas cookie orders."
"How many?"
"Last count? Three hundred dozen."
Zale's eyes widened. "That's a lot."
"Thirty-six hundred cookies. Yeah." I started wiping down the counter so I wouldn't reach out and remove that smudge off his face. "Still think it's fun?"
"Ask me tomorrow." But he was still grinning and his dazzling smile was undimmed despite hours of hard work before dawn.
My wolf was completely enamored and I was in serious trouble. I’d sworn I wouldn't let myself want someone who'd eventually leave when they realized the bakery would always come first.
"Go home," I said. "Get some sleep and be back at the same time tomorrow."
"Thanks, Hawthorn." He grabbed his coat. At the door, he paused. “You gave me a chance. I know I'm not what you expected."
He had no idea how true that was.
I nodded, and Zale left with a wave as the bell chimed cheerfully behind him.
Suddenly, the bakery was too empty and quiet, as though whatever was keeping the place alive had just walked out the door.
I looked down at the coffee he'd brought me. It was exactly how I took it. Black, strong and too hot. I hadn't told him that but he’d known somehow.
One week, I told my wolf firmly.That's all this is. Seven days and he’ll be gone.
My wolf didn't believe me for a second and neither did I.
THREE
ZALE
I now knew Hawthorn's routine better than my own heartbeat.
At two-thirty he'd already have the ovens warming, the sourdough starter bubbling on the counter and three cups of coffee in his system. At two-forty-five the first batch of bread dough was mixed and rising. The croissants were rolled and ready for proofing at three-fifteen, and the baking would begin at four-thirty.
I learned to move around him as if we were dancing so when he reached left, I stepped right. As he bent for the flour, I had the measuring cups ready and when he opened his mouth to ask for something, I was already handing it to him.
It should have taken weeks to develop that kind of synchronicity. Instead, it felt as natural as breathing.
My wolf was unbearably smug about this, saying we fitted together perfectly.
