I drop the knife on the counter and bring my hand up to my chest.
“Sorry. I thought…”
“I was here to rob my own place?” His brow quirks a little, and I try not to fixate on the dimples that make him look like an adorable, huggable giant or the way the coat he’s wearing makes him look like a cuddly bear.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Especially when I’m the one who shouldn’t be here.”
“Nonsense. This is your kitchen now. I’m not used to having someone else around, so I forgot to tell you.” He walks over tothe grocery bags and takes out all the stuff that needs to go in the fridge.
I put it away for him and then reach over to my own bag.
“You came down to bake?” he asks.
“Yeah, you said it was okay and…I was bored.”
Julius leans against the kitchen island, juggling a tin of condensed milk between his hands.
“I have an idea to help you with that while also impressing the shit out of your new boss.”
I try not to stare when he removes his coat and reveals a Henley stretched around his big chest and arm muscles. I fail.
When I find my voice again, it’s a lot breathier than I’d like. “I’d love to impress my new boss.”
5
JULIUS
“Three éclairs.The chocolate ones, please. And…one of those pretty tarts with the blueberries and two banana muffins.”
“Coming right?—”
“Okay, make it three banana muffins. One for the journey, right?”
I smile and pack up everything neatly in a box.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you. I’ll just take those yummies.”
I ring up the order, and off she goes.
“Who’s next?” I ask hopelessly because I’ve lost count of the people coming in and out of my coffee shop. Breakfast feels like a week ago and lunch is a luxury for those who don’t have patisserie geniuses working in their kitchen.
No one answers my question because every single one of my customers is focused on the show they can see through the open kitchen door.
“Hey, Liv, let me take your order.”
“Don’t rush. I put a sign on the bakery door saying I’ll be right back.”
I sigh. Not her too.
Not that I can blame her or anyone else. Watching Constantine work is mesmerizing. With his headphones on and humming a tune I don’t recognize, he’s so focused that I’m not sure he’d know if there was an earthquake in Stillwater.
He glances up and smiles, waving at the line of people waiting to try to take home one…or five of his amazing pastries and cakes.
“What can I get you?”
“Actually,” she says, “any chance I could have a word with him? That cake I tried yesterday was out of this world, and I want to know what he put in it. I think it would really work on a bread recipe I’m developing right now.”
