That’s not my problem now. It’s him. The sight of him in the sun, glistening with sweat, swinging the axe. It shouldn’t have made me feel like this, but it did—hot and bothered, weak at the knees, my stomach doing flips as I shuffle around the little kitchen.
Theo Roche needs to leave me the hell alone.
The good thing about picking the cabin is that I got to choose one with a big kitchen—with a full-sized oven, ample counter space, and a large fridge. It’s better than staying in a hotel, that’s for sure.
I’m not sure how I could have calmed down if I couldn’t bake.
The downside is that I have to do everything by hand, but that may be what I need. Bread. I can knead bread.
Even with the industrial kitchen at the bakery, kneading bread has always been a chore. Stand mixers can help, but there’s nothing like kneading dough by hand. Some chores are necessary.
Right now, it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. With my flour-covered hands, I push my weight onto the dough ball and fold it, forming gluten strands.
With each push and every shove, I release another ounce of energy. The repeated motions are calming. Maybe that’s why he was drawn to chopping the wood in the first place. That seems calming, too.
I shake my head, huffing, and push my weight onto the bread again. Not having a stand mixer to do the job means I’ll be kneading for longer than usual. Five minutes always feels like hours when my hands start getting tired.
The front door opens. I don’t dare look up.
I bite my lower lip and press the heels of my hands into the bread.
Theo lets out a low sigh, dropping off the freshly chopped wood near the fireplace. “I’ll start the fire soon. I need a break first.”
I finally look up. His shirt is on, his hair is still sticky with sweat, and his cheeks are pink.
“All right,” I mutter. “That’s totally fine. I’ve never chopped wood, so I can’t help with anything.”
He steps closer, and I fight the urge to hide, continuing to knead the dough even when Theo leans on the countertop. He’s a foot away from me, and I can smell his strong, masculine aroma.Why does it smell good?
“What are you making?” he asks. “Bread?”
“Mhm.”
“Then I guess we’re even. I’ve never made bread, and you’ve never chopped wood. We both have our strengths.”
I giggle nervously. “I guess we do, but making bread is easier. All you have to do is follow the instructions. With the wood, I would probably… I don’t know… chop my foot off.”
“That would be hard to do.”
“But never impossible.” I look up and grin, willing myself to be normal.
We’ll be stuck in this cabin for over two weeks, and I have to keep my cool. I’m a realistic person. Being this close to him will only make my crush grow, but… I’m strong enough to keep fighting it. I have to be. There are no other options.
He doesn’t look at me the way I look at him, which is a good thing. I’ve never been the type to get involved with someone I’m working with. I’m not going to start with my boss!
“Let me give it a try,” he says.
He moves closer, and I lift a flour-covered hand. If Theo wants to take over the worst part of making bread, so be it, but first…
“Your hands,” I say. “Wash them thoroughly. They’re filthy.”
“I was planning on it.” He goes to the sink.
“Didn’t look like you were. Under the nails, please.”
“Fine. I got a little ahead of myself.”
“If you were working at my bakery, I would fire you for that.”
