A raise was definitely out of the question, considering that he wasn't paying me at all. But that, like so many other things, was something to ponder later.
Now, I had Ryder Vaughn plus a line of customers so long, they could've started their own conga line.
I stared at my boss for another beat as I considered pelting him with the nearest muffin. But that would only waste another pastry, this time, for good. I mean, it's not likeIhad a dog.
Whatever.If Skip wasn't going to help, I had two choices – bluff it out with Ryder Vaughn or flee out the back.
I eyed the rear exit. And then I eyed the swinging door to the front.
My jaw clenched.By now, I'd just about had it.I'd spent the last month looking over my shoulder and watching every step.
This wasn't me.
At least, not usually.
When exactly had I become a coward?
That did it.I straightened my spine and gave the connecting door a long, determined look.Screw leaving.
What would theoldTessa do?
The old Tessa would march straight out there and deal with Ryder Vaughn head-on. And she wouldn't be a pushover either.
But I couldn't walk out there empty-handed – not after staying so long in the back. And I couldn't be stupid about it. I needed proof of progress, something boxed up, something that said,hey, I was just grabbing pastries, not hiding out.
Moving quickly, I grabbed a pastry box and yanked open the nearest rack of baked goods. Then I froze. My eyes narrowed, and a slow grin tugged at my lips.No raisins, huh?
On the rack, a few dozen cranberry muffins sat like a silent challenge, daring me to be bold. Nearby, I spotted a fresh batch of cranberry cookies, which I'd pulled from the oven just an hour ago.
Perfect.
I grabbed four of the muffins and then four of the cookies – placing them neatly into the box. And because my sanity had apparently left the building, I grabbed four plain bagels, slathered them with cream cheese, and sprinkled them with cranberries.Lots of cranberries.
There.No raisins.
I snapped the lid shut and sealed it with plenty of white tape. Finally, I squared my shoulders and turned toward the front.
It was time to face the music – or in this case, Ryder Vaughn.
7
The Price of Pastries
Tessa
I took a deep, calming breath before pushing through the swinging door.
Showtime.
The crowd was still there – impatient and restless, like a mob minutes away from mutiny. But allIsaw were the two men at the counter, Ryder Vaughn and his brooding friend.
Ryder looked even more annoyingly perfect the second time around, with his golden hair catching the light while those sinfully blue eyes caught everything else – giving me the distinct impression the guy missed nothing.
His friend, meanwhile, looked ready to bite someone.Probably me.
I pasted on my best barista smile and moved forward with the pastry box in-hand.One cranberry surprise, coming up.
I set the box on the counter and forced a cheerful tone. "I grabbed some cookies fresh from the oven. I figured since you wanted them to last, I'd make sure you had the newest." This, at least, wasn't a lie. The cookies were, in fact, the only thing we baked on site.
