Luke grinned. “It is pretty, isn’t it?” He shot Seth a friendly wink, and they walked out the door.
A rave reviewanda compliment, albeit from a small human with a filthy face.
Seth would take it. He’d take all of it.
It wasn’t like he had much choice.
But now Seth was left alone again, with only his soothing rainy-day playlist to keep him company. He resisted the urge to bang his head down on the counter, as that would be unprofessional and thus beneath him.
Really. What the hell had he been thinking?
By the timeSeth closed up for the day, he’d had a few more customers, to his immense relief. There’d been an older couple who’d stopped bickering only long enough to order two croissants and two hot chocolates, a young woman who’d chosen a large selection of pastries and politely ignored the fact that Seth had almost wept from gratitude, and a teenage girl Seth was clocking for future makeup tips before his next big night out.
It was better than nothing, surely, but it still wasn’t exactly the warm welcome of Seth’s dreams.
It was his own fault though. He should have put more effort into integrating into the community in the weeks leading up to his opening. Sure, he’d made social media accounts for the bakery and posted a few times, passed some flyers to local businesses, but he hadn’t done much schmoozing on his own.
But he’d had his whole life to unpack, and the weather had been so daunting, and it had been easier to focus on prepping recipes and redecorating the small space, keeping himself in his own little bubble.
He needed to get over all that, though, if he wanted to make this work. And hedidwant to make it work, even if he wouldn’t exactly be homeless and destitute if he failed. He’d been prettyfrugal and had a decent nest egg for padding, and he was only twenty-six, which was probably the perfect age for a life failure or two.
Who are you trying to convince?a little voice asked him as he packed away far too many leftover pastries.
Himself, obviously. He was trying to convincehimself.
Methinks the Seth doth protest too much.
See? Seth needed more customers. Too much time on his own was never good. His inner monologue got far too bitchy and pretentious.
What he also needed was to binge something cozy on his laptop, snag a phone call with his favorite cousin, and get a good night’s sleep. He would recalibrate, and tomorrow would be a fresh start.
Seth had meant what he’d told Luke—he didn’t mind a small community, as long as he was a part of it. In the morning he’d put up a little bulletin board for people to post local events, and maybe come up with something of his own to add. A board game night at the bakery? Except no, he didn’t have enough room for that. Cookie decorating? Possibly, if everyone agreed to do it without chairs.
He’d figure it out. And he’d make some damned donuts too while he was at it.
Seth grabbed the bags of leftover pastries, leaving one for the day-old basket tomorrow. That was another item on his to-do list as he figured out how much to stock each day: make connections in town who might want in on the leftover pastry hustle. Sometimes food banks would accept limited amounts, and he’d had a deal with the local elementary school in Seacliff where Seth had provided free day-olds for the Wednesday teachers’ meetings. Whatever helped prevent food waste.
For now, maybe Seth would meet someone in need of a sweet treat pick-me-up on the way home.
It should have still been light out—until Seth managed to hire help, he was closing at 1:00 p.m. every day—but it was pouring again, not a bit of sun to be seen through the rain. Seth tossed the hood of his rain jacket up over his hair and bolted to his car, where he quickly tossed the bags of pastries into the trunk. There was no one out to hand the leftovers to, and Seth headed straight home, driving way too slowly for fear of losing control on the slick roads.
It took less than ten minutes to reach the one-bedroom house he was renting. It might even be a walkable commute when the weather was nicer. Seth had wanted somewhere closer to the beach—he loved the sound of the waves at night—but the town wasn’t really set up that way. The coast and its two beaches were on one side of the highway, while the small downtown and residences were on the other side. So Seth had ended up on the edge of the coastal forest instead.
It was peaceful, at least.
Seth parked in the driveway and threw his hood back up. He ran back around to his trunk, popping it and bending forward to snag the pastries that had rolled to the back.
And then Seth was hit by a ten-ton truck.
At least, that was what it felt like. One second he was reaching for a Danish, and the next, Seth was flat on his back on his gravel drive with a hooded figure looming over him, pinning him to the ground.
What the hell had just happened?
The guy was young, Seth thought, but it was a little hard to tell. The stranger’s face was blocking the worst of the rain, but there was still water dripping into Seth’s eyes and making it hard to see. Seth had a vague impression of dark hair and male features though.
But also he was still trying to get air into his battered lungs after getting knocked on his ass, and it was hard to focus on anything else.
There was a low rumbling, just barely audible over the rain. Almost like an animal was growling nearby.
