I was going to be living in this bakery for the next three days.
"That sounded intense." Zale emerged from the back, wiping his hands. "Fifty houses?"
"Yeah." I started calculating ingredients in my head. "We'll need to work really late. If you can't do it, tell me now."
"I can." He didn't hesitate. "What do you need me to do?"
I took a deep breath. I'd gotten so used to doing everything alone that having someone step up without complaint felt strange.
"We'll start after the morning rush. I need to draw up templates first and figure out the assembly line."
Zale nodded. "I'll prepare everything we need for tomorrow morning now, so we can focus on the houses later."
He was already thinking ahead. My wolf was so proud of his work ethic. But Zale was an employee, nothing more.
By seven that evening, we were deep into gingerbread production. The scent of ginger and cloves washed over us and despite the work ahead, I experienced a smidgen of the Christmas spirit I’d been missing.
I'd cleared one of the big work tables and we'd fallen into an efficient rhythm. I rolled and cut the dough while Zale transferred pieces to baking sheets and managed the ovens.
But I was constantly aware of him as he moved around me and rolled up his sleeves. And there was no escaping his enticing scent and my wolf was paying far too much attention to him.
"How'd you end up running a bakery?" Zale asked as he slid another tray into the oven. "Did you always want to do this?"
I didn't usually talk about my choice of career. But the late hour and the comfortable quiet between us had loosened my usual restraint.
"My grandmother owned this place. I spent every summer here as a kid, learning from her." I pressed the knife into another sheet of dough. "She taught me everything. When she got sick, I took over. That was ten years ago."
"She'd be proud of you."
The simple statement moved me and I had to blink away the sting of tears.
"Maybe. Or she'd be yelling at me for working too hard and never taking a day off."
"Smart woman."
I glanced up. Zale was watching me with those blue eyes. But there was no judgment in them.
"The thing about running a bakery," I explained, "is that it doesn't stop. Bread doesn't care if you're tired or sick or if it's Christmas morning. People expect fresh pastries at six a.m., which means I'm here before two every day. No exceptions."
"That's why your exes left."
It wasn't a question but I nodded anyway.
"They tried. Roland lasted the longest at four months. But eventually they all discovered I'm married to this place. There's no room for anything else." I shaped another wall piece with more force than necessary. "So I stopped trying. It's easier this way."
"Is it?" Zale's voice was almost a whisper. "Easier?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because the truth was that before he'd walked into my bakery, I'd convinced myself it was fine. I had my work and my purpose. That was enough.
But now there was someone who showed up without complaint and who anticipated my needs. He also made the coffee how I liked it without being told. And his scent had my wolf pacing with want while his smile tried to dismantle my carefully constructed walls.
"The timer." I’d been saved by the bell.
Zale pulled out the latest batch of golden brown gingerbread with crispy edges. He was getting good at this.
We worked with the only sounds being the rolling pin, the oven door, and the scrape of the knife against the dough. Itshould have been awkward after what I'd revealed, but it wasn't. Zale didn't push or try to fix anything. Instead, he kept working beside me.
Around nine, I straightened up and stretched. My back hurt. "We should take a break. You've been at this since two-thirty this morning."
