With a piping bag in hand, I tried to get my heart rate under control. My hands were shaking and heat surged through my veins. That brief moment of contact had left me aching and wanting more.
That had definitely not been my imagination. The tension between us was real. He wanted me and the evidence had been pressing on my back.
But what was I going to do about it? I gulped because was I prepared for a one night stand or a casual hookup? Despite my wolf clamoring for me to get serious with Hawthorn, I needed to get my life in order before I thought about a relationship, even if my body was demanding I follow him across the kitchen and finish what we'd started.
I forced myself to focus on the cookies and to breathe through the lingering arousal while ignoring my wolf's complaints.
By the time the morning rush started, I'd gotten my body mostly under control. But Hawthorn's scent lingered on my skin and my clothes. Every breath reminded me of how he'd felt pressed against me.
The usual customers came into the bakery but this time several of them lingered.
"So." Mrs. Trent leaned on the counter while Hawthorn bagged her sourdough. “Is your new helper from around here?"
"No." Hawthorn's tone indicated the conversation was over.
Mrs. Trent ignored it. "Where's he from?"
"Does it matter?"
“I’m just making conversation." She smiled sweetly. "You know how it is in a small town. We like to know our neighbors."
From where I was standing in the doorway to the back room, I noted Hawthorn's shoulders tensing. He disliked the nosiness and people feeling entitled to information because they bought bread from him.
"He's helping with the Christmas rush," Hawthorn repeated. "That's all you need to know."
Mrs. Trent wasn’t put off by his brusque response. Her gaze found mine over his shoulder. "Well, hello there! I'm Denise Trent. Welcome to Ridgedale.”
"Thank you." I kept my smile friendly but not too encouraging. "It's a lovely town."
"How long are you planning to stay?"
"Not sure yet."
"Oh? So you might stick around?" Her eyes gleamed with matchmaker interest. In a town this small, she probably didn't get many opportunities. "That would be wonderful. We could always use more young people here. Are you single?"
"Mrs. Trent.” Hawthorn's tone suggested he wanted the conversation to end. "Your bread."
"Of course. See you tomorrow, Hawthorn. And nice to meet you, dear."
The moment she left, three more people came in with the same barely disguised curiosity. By the time the rush ended, I'd been asked where I was from, how long I was staying, if I was single, and if I had family nearby. I avoided and deflected most of the questions and refused to be drawn into giving any details about my family.
"Sorry about that," Hawthorn said when we were finally alone again. "Small town inhabitants mean well."
“But they're nosy?"
"Extremely." He scrubbed at a spot on the counter. "You don't have to answer their questions if you don't want to."
"I don't." I grabbed a cloth and started wiping down the display case. "My family is complicated. I'd rather not get into it."
Hawthorn glanced at me but his expression was unreadable. "Fair enough."
We worked in silence for a few minutes. I'd never been comfortable with silence before and I was usually the one filling it with chatter. But with Hawthorn, the quiet felt right.
"My ex used to hate the small town thing," he said suddenly. “Roland. He said it felt like living in a fishbowl because everyone knew everyone's business."
This was the most personal information Hawthorn had volunteered all week.
"Is that why he's your ex?"
