He could go to the local bar and…well, probably not pick someone up—pickings were slim here—but socialize in a non-business-proprietor way. Get to know the un-pastried crowd a little better.
Seth had gotten a bit of the lay of the land the last few weeks. He knew that tourists passed through but were usually traveling further up the coast. The town’s two beaches were walkable but not quite swimmable—the currents too rough, the coastline too unforgiving—and people tended to choose more hospitable shores for their weekend stays. It made the place more isolated in its population than it should be, considering the natural beauty all around them.
Seth didn’t mind it, even if it was different from his home of Seacliff, which had been filled top to toe with tourists in the warmer months, transforming the place from a sleepy winter beach town to a bustling summer getaway spot.
Now, with not a customer in sight, Seth went to lock the door and turn his sign to “Closed.”
And there was Riley, standing on the other side of it, dark and towering and silent as a ghost.
Sethdidn’tscream. At worst, he yelped. Just a little.
When his heart had stopped threatening to leap straight out of his chest, Seth opened the door, propping it against his back. “Oh, hello,” he greeted mildly.
Riley stood there, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just scared Seth half to death. “Hi, Seth.”
“I’m closing up.”
Riley only nodded.
Seth let out a sigh, like he was egregiously inconvenienced and not pleased as punch to see his friend, then stepped back and gestured into the bakery. “Come on in, then.”
Riley gave him a happy grin, and Seth couldn’t help smiling back at him.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I ate already. A lot.”
“Ugh, I’m jealous,” Seth groaned, pressing his hands into his belly. “I’mstarving.”
Riley directed a pointed look to the leftover pastries—not many at all now, Seth was proud to say—and Seth made a face. “No, no. I need something not made of sugar, butter, and flour. Like, a big bowl of pasta with veggies. Or, um, I don’t know, pea soup.”
“Pea soup,” Riley repeated dryly.
“Yeah.” Seth nodded with enthusiasm, ignoring the obvious skepticism. Now that he’d said it, he was really warming up to the idea. “Doesn’t that sound good? Pea soup and crusty bread with the really good butter.”
Riley stood at Seth’s counter, hands still in his pockets, watching him get back to his closing tasks. “You’re going home to eat, then. To have your lunch.”
“Yeah. Just wiping things down.”
Since Seth hadn’t made the jump to hire anyone yet, and didn’t have any employees to break him for lunch, he tended to eat a second breakfast right before he opened, and then rely on power bars to get him through until closing. Usually he brought something from home and scarfed it down on the premises as he shut things down, but he hadn’t bothered today.
“Mm.” Riley turned without another word and started stacking Seth’s chairs, as if he’d done it a million times—or seen Seth do it a million times—never mind that he’d never been around during closing hours before.
Seth caught himself staring at Riley’s easy, graceful movements. He turned with a start and began wiping down his pastry case. “And what are you up to, mystery man?”
“Dunno.” Riley met Seth’s gaze from across the bakery as he stacked another chair. “Pea soup sounds good.”
Seth immediately narrowed his eyes. “I thought you just said you were full.”
“I get hungry fast,” Riley told him, his gaze so guileless Seth almost felt guilty questioning him.
Seth wanted to say something about growing boys needing to eat, but even in his head, it sounded too pervy, so he kept it to himself.
Riley’s eyes were still on him. Seth shifted in place. “It’s the kind that comes in a can.” He set a hand on his hip, defensive for no reason. “I bake for a living, and I can’t be bothered cooking most of the time.”
Riley shrugged. “I’m not picky.”
Seth huffed. He set his other hand on his hip and met Riley stare for stare. But Riley’s gaze didn’t falter.
