Oh, no. If I told him, he might draw the wrong conclusions, or worse, the right ones. If I didn’t tell him, it might seem evasive and that would throw up red flags. How did I answer without freaking him out?
“Nothing illegal, I hope?” His voice was light, but he had a curious eyebrow raised when I looked up. His eyes darted between mine as if he were trying to get a read on me, to figure out why I hesitated on such a simple question.
“No, no! Nothing like that,” I reassured him. “Just, when I talk about it, people tend to get weirded out.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, no pressure. You should know, though, I don’t get weirded out easily. Or, well, ever.”
“Everyone says that.”Wait until my power goes haywire and proves you wrong.
With a loud pop, his computer went dark. Well, this was going to be more difficult than I’d anticipated. I dug back into my paperwork while he investigated the short.
We spent the better part of an hour in the tiny office together, working through questions I hadn’t thought about since my high school economics class. Sam didn’t seem too bothered by his computer going out. It made me curious as to how he could afford to replace the stuff I’d fried just in the last two days. Maybe his bakery was doing better than I’d thought.
After I finished the boring paperwork, he took me out front and walked me through managing the storefront. His eyes brightened as he talked about the opening and closing routines, organizing the displays, and interacting with customers. The hint of a smile on his full lips when going over the register operation said he genuinely enjoyed his work there.
“Tap this button for the main menu, then you can select the breakfast, lunch, or dessert menus from there.” He pointed to the huge flat screen above the kitchen door. “The overhead menu is on a schedule, so you don’t have to mess with that. The menus will generally stay the Sophiee unless creativity strikes, or I add something seasonal.”
“Like pumpkin scones in the fall?” I gestured to the breakfast menu.
“Exactly.” He grinned, then pointed to a drawer nearby. I’d assumed it would be something for large bills or checks, as there was a slot in the front, but my eyes widened when he opened it. “If you get any phone numbers you’d rather not keep for yourself, you can just stick them in here.”
I ran my fingers through the slips of paper and scribbled-on napkins. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that. I’m not exactly popular on campus.” I asked dryly.
Oh. Did I say that out loud? My first instinct had been to ask why he kept them, but that was none of my business. Now he’d think I was fishing for compliments or some shit.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he purred, “but if you think that’s the case, then you can accept the ones left for me on my behalf. I like a lot of options.”
I rolled my eyes and shut the drawer, wiping my hand on my pants. “That’sdisgusting[25].”
The uptick in the popularity of the place was starting to make sense if he was sleeping with his customers. He was hot enough to do it, but his player status was another point on the list of reasons not to date my boss. I wasn’t a floozy and wouldn’t be treated like one, but I wasn’t so naive I thought I could change someone. Nothing pissed me off more than people trying to dictate how I should be, and I refused to do it to others.
If he wanted to sleep with half of Boston, that was his issue, not mine.
The grin on his face turned wolfish. “It’s fun, actually. You should try it sometime, learn to loosen up. Go after what you really desire.”
“The only thing I desire is a normal life.” I crossed my arms and smirked, unsure where this was going. He didn’t know the first thing about me to be so judgy. “So do you keep your recipes somewhere? I’d like to look them over, especially the lunch ones.”
Sam eyed me for a moment longer, then turned toward the kitchen. I followed. “I have them memorized already, but I printed them for you to review, study, and practice. If you find any that seem difficult, those are the ones I’d like you to make today.”
Seemed reasonable enough. On the far end of the counter were three stacks of paper, sorted by breakfast, lunch, and dessert. They listed the amounts each recipe would make, and he even had a separate spreadsheet for daily quantities of each item for each day of the week.
“You’ve got this down to an art,” I commented nonchalantly.
“I’m not fond of wasted food.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Anything extra goes across the street to the Boys and Girls Club. I don’t keep anything overnight.”
I ignored the heat blooming in my chest at the sweet gesture and rifled through the dessert pages. Cupcakes, brownies, cookies, and fruit pies were familiar territory. The lunch menu would be trickier, but not impossible.
“Can I ask, if you do lunch, why not a dinner menu?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter with his hip. The man made casual look good. “Dinner is a much more complicated show. Lunch is light and easy and works well within the parameters of a pastry shop.”
Looking over them, I agreed. There were a few that sounded like sandwiches, but the ingredients were wrapped in puff pastries. My mouth watered.
“Desserts should be no problem,” I told him. “That’s what I’m best at. Breakfast looks pretty straightforward, but lunch will need some practice.”
Sam waved his hand at the rest of the kitchen and winked at me. “Then by all means, Lexi, you may begin.”
I slipped my white coat on and grabbed a few of the recipes, mostly lunch and one breakfast, then got to work. It was just as easy as it had been the evening before. All the ingredients were simple to find, the shelves within easy reach, outlets tucked underneath them for the mixers and food processors. Soon the bakery smelled as delicious as it had the first time I’d walked into the place.
