I grinned and slid into my usual seat, Oscar to my left, Papa on my right. The food was hot and perfect, the bacon crisp, the toast buttered to the very edges. I enjoyed every bite. I couldn’t tell if it was the bond or just happiness, but I was starving.
Papa poured me a glass of orange juice, then sat back with his own coffee. “I’ll be heading out after the store opens,” he said. “Church at the clubhouse starts early. Bronc wants us on high alert until the ceremony’s over.”
My heart skipped. “You think they’ll try something? The witches, or—”
He shook his head. “Don’t know. But Bronc isn’t taking any chances.” He set his mug down, voice dropping. “We’ll have teams running perimeter checks day and night. Arsenal and Gunner are handling inside security. I want you and Oscar to stick together. Don’t go anywhere alone, not even to the back trash bin.”
Oscar puffed up, tiny chest swelling with pride. “I shall attend to the Miss as though she were the crown jewels, sir.”
I wanted to make a joke, but the worry in Papa’s eyes killed it on my tongue. “We’ll be careful,” I promised. “I want to seeBronc and Juliet’s ceremony go off without a hitch. They deserve it. And I don’t wanna see anybody get hurt on my account.”
“I know you don’t sweetheart. And we want to give Bronc and Juliet a night they’ll want to remember forever.” Papa said.
We ate in peaceful silence for a bit. I could feel the energy between us—hot and sweet and hard to describe. I wanted to crawl into his lap and never leave, but Oscar would probably combust from embarrassment, and besides, I had work to do.
Oscar seemed to read my mind. “Miss, your bakery schedule is quite full today. Shall we review?”
“Go for it,” I said, glad for the change in topic.
He pulled a tiny notebook from somewhere in his jacket, flicked it open with deft claws, and recited: “Kolaches, six dozen, to be delivered by ten. Sourdough proofing as we speak. You’ve a custom cake for the Hendricks party to be crumb coated today and finished tomorrow. The wedding cake layers are all baked and chilling. Tomorrow, assembly and piping at the venue.”
I exhaled, tension bleeding from my shoulders. “We’re ahead of schedule. That’s a miracle.”
Papa eyed me over the rim of his coffee. “You’rea miracle, Sunshine.”
I ducked my head, fighting a smile. “Don’t make me blush before sunrise.”
Oscar clicked his tongue. “There is nothing wrong with a healthy glow, Miss. I daresay it suits you.”
We finished breakfast, and I stood. Papa lingered, clearing the table, then wrapped his arms around me from behind. His hands splayed across my hips, holding me steady.
“You good?” he asked, voice close to my ear.
“Better than I’ve ever been,” I said, truth warming my chest. “Just a little overwhelmed.”
He squeezed me gently. “We’ve got you. All of us.”
I nodded, letting myself melt into his arms for one perfect second. Then I straightened, squared my shoulders, and said, “Alright, gents. Time to make the donuts.”
Oscar hopped off the chair, bowing at the waist. “Lead on, Miss.”
Papa watched us for a second, pride and love all over his face, before heading out to the truck. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said as the screen door slammed behind him, and I let the quiet settle.
We all headed to the truck. He got me settled into my seat and fastened my seatbelt securely in place before heading to the driver’s seat. Those little things he did spoke of more than his love for me; they said he cherished me. That meant almost as much. He didn’t do it to make me feel weak. It was how he expressed to me how important it was to him that I was safe. I never wanted to rob him of that by fussing about the fact that I was capable of doing it myself. I liked the fact that I mattered to him, even in the small things.
The drive to the bakery took the usual fifteen minutes and gave me a moment to get my thoughts mapped out for how I wanted the morning prep to run. There was a method to how I ordered my mornings. Some doughs needed to be started so they could be in the proofing drawer before others if I expected to have rolls or breads in the case by the time we opened. Others could wait. It was all a balancing act. Some days I got it right, others, not so much. But each week the routine revealed itself, and I was becoming more comfortable with the curveballs of special orders.
When we got to the store, Papa unlocked the door and started turning on the lights. Oscar and I headed straight to the kitchen to get started. I grabbed a fresh apron and turned on the oven to preheat.
Oscar scampered onto the prep counter, paws folded. “Miss, if I may speak frankly—”
“You always do,” I said, grinning.
He looked up, eyes sharp. “You are strong, but you needn’t be alone in this. If anything troubles you—about the grimoire, the bond, or tomorrow’s event—I am here.”
“Thanks, Oscar,” I said, softer than I meant. “I’ll remember.”
He beamed. “Now, shall we get to work?”
