I suck in a breath, roll my head on my neck, and try to calm my insides. My hips hurt, my back aches, and I now need a cool drink of water. Not only did a man just swan in and offer to fix everything, but he left me feeling a certain way. A way I haven’t felt in a long, long time. Or maybe ever.
Damn hormones.
4
Griffin
I fixed the back door, then went to Bob’s hardware and picked up new smoke alarms that are now all fitted and tested. I ripped up the front counter and sanded back some timber, ready to build some cupboards for her to display her baked goods in the shop front.
I’ve also measured and ordered a new stainless-steel workbench, something that has cupboards underneath for storage that will allow her to work freely. She thinks it will be laminate, which tells me that she’s clearly on a budget. But I saw her eyes light up a little when I mentioned stainless, so that’s what I’ll make her.
I’ve been laser-focused all afternoon, trying to get as much done as possible. Because if I don’t focus on work, I’ll be focusing on her. She’s here on her own, that much is obvious. No one else has come by to check in, no one has called. We’ve worked in relative silence, yet I notice no ring on her finger and no mention of a partner, business or romantic.
I’ve watched her move around the space, fixing this or that. She’s graceful, reminding me of my mother. Memories swirl, which isn’t a good thing. My mother was one of the only shining lights of the past I think of. Even if I only had her for a short time, every memory I have after her is nothing but dark and traumatic.
Nothing I want to revisit, especially not today.
So I look back at the new local baker and take my fill.
Sweet baby Jesus, she’s beautiful. Round, soft, feminine. Wearing some kind of floaty summer dress that’s alluring and sexy as hell. God, the thoughts I have of pulling up that material and sliding my hands up her thighs has my throat thick.
But it sure as hell isn’t OHSA friendly. Not with the big ovens she has here. If I didn’t think it would piss her off, I’d tell her to go change. Not because I don’t love what she’s wearing, but because she needs to be safe. Here, all on her own. The damn smoke alarms weren’t even working. The entire thing pisses me off. My scowl is well dented on my face and has been all afternoon.
I wasn’t sure what I was walking into when I came to Betty’s Bakery today. I wanted to assess things, do as much as I can while I have the time, and then walk out. A favor to Tanner, that’s all it is. But when I saw her… all I could think of was Tanner who?
She’s been in the kitchen for the entire afternoon. Baking. Burning. A mixture of smoke and sweet pastries wafting through the air. The kind of home-cooked smell that I haven’t experienced… ever.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It has been since I arrived, yet I’ve ignored every call. Something I never do.
“Ahhh, Griffin?”
I look up at the sound of her sweet voice, her sparkling blue eyes twinkling as she walks toward me hesitantly with a plate of pastries. I stand to say something in response, but my heart is pounding so powerfully I can’t think straight. When we first met earlier, she was full of sass and confidence. Now, she’s more reserved and has barely spoken to me since I started working, approaching me like she isn’t allowed to. I know I act and look like an asshole, but a woman scared to approach me is new.
“Can you do me a favor?” She stops in front of me, and her cheeks tint a little. “I mean, you already are, so I feel bad asking. I just…”
“What do you need?” I force my eyes to stay on hers and not flick down to her chest. I’m a breasts guy. Always have been. And the way hers are sitting round, perky, and full has me feeling a certain way. A way I shouldn’t be feeling. Fuck, it’s been too long since I felt the love of a good woman.
“Can you… taste test these for me?” I sure as hell want to taste something. I frown at my own thoughts. I need to get it together.
Her eyes are almost pleading, like she really needs my help.
“Do you need a second opinion?” I ask, sounding rougher than I’d like.
“Yeah… I know these recipes by heart. I’ve baked ever since I was little, but my memory isn’t good these days, and I’m sure I’m forgetting something. Maybe it’s me. It doesn’t help that my taste buds are off, too. They have been for a while, so I can’t taste what ingredient I’m missing…” That confuses me. Not sure what would cause a baker to lose their sense of taste, but I don’t pretend to know much about women, and I sure as hell don’t know anything about this one.
Despite my best efforts to create distance, I find myself nodding before I reach out and grab a cinnamon roll. It’s still warm. The smell of the spice hits me as I lift it to my mouth.
Not telling her that cinnamon rolls are my all-time favorite food, I take a bite. But this one… No, this one is shit.
It’s dry, tasteless, and it’s like chewing cardboard. Her eyes widen as she watches me, so I force myself to keep chewing, my jaw working double time to get through it before I swallow, feeling it move like a rock down my throat.
“Tastes great,” I lie, and it was worth it as her shoulders lower and a small smile brightens her face.
“Really? I’ve been cooking them forever, a recipe my grandma taught me. But I haven’t been able to test the taste of them for weeks. I have a constant metallic taste in my mouth lately, and I’m using all new brands of ingredients that I haven’t used before. Plus, the mixers and ovens are all new to me, so I wasn’t sure if they needed more or less cooking time.” She shrugs and then yawns, and as she does, her chest lifts and lowers teasingly. I shove the remaining roll in my mouth, forcing myself to concentrate on chewing and thinking about all the work I need to do. Anything to get my mind off her.
“You from town?” I start to finish up what I was working on, my attempt at small talk something I don’t often do.
“Williamstown, the next town over. But they already have so many bakeries, so competition is fierce over there.”
