My stomach churned harder.
I got up, padding barefoot into the kitchen to tidy a little, though my hands were already shaking with nerves. I’d barely touched the dish towel when the doorbell rang.
My heart leapt into my throat.
For a second, I thought he had found me. That Orin had somehow tracked me down, that my flimsy new safety net was already fraying.
My breath hitched. My eyes darted to the door like it was a monster come knocking.
“Sean? It’s me.”
Beau’s voice. Steady. Warm. Familiar.
My pulse slowed.
I crossed the apartment in three steps and opened the door to find him standing there, holding two to-go cups and looking unfairly good for this early in the morning.
His hair was a little messy from the wind, and the sight of him chased the last of my fear away.
“One of those better be for me,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
He grinned and held one out. “I wouldn’t dare show up empty-handed.”
I took the cup with a small smile and stepped aside to let him in.
Beau looked around as he entered, taking in the cluttered but cozy space. “Place looks good.”
I flushed a little. “Most of it’s second-hand stuff. Found the couch on a curb.”
He shrugged like that didn’t matter at all. “Still. You’ve made it your own.”
That made something soft flicker in my chest. I looked away and took a sip of the coffee.
Beau sniffed the air and tilted his head. “What smells so good?”
“Oh wait, hold on,” I started to say, but he was already headed toward the kitchen.
He picked up a cookie from a cooling rack. One of the peanut butter chocolate chunk ones I’d made in the middle of the night.
“These yours?” he asked, already taking a bite.
“Help yourself,” I said with a laugh. “Those were part of a stress-baking marathon.”
His eyes widened as he chewed. “Oh wow. These are amazing. Have you been baking all morning?”
“Since about four a.m.,” I admitted. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m nervous about the little class later.”
Beau turned toward me slowly, cookie still in hand. “You’re nervous?”
I nodded. “I just... I don’t know how the others are going to take it. Cassian already knows what he’s doing, and I’m just the new guy. It feels weird to be teaching anyone. What if I screw up? What if I forget something or they think I’m?—”
“Hey.” His voice was low but firm as he crossed the space between us.
I stopped talking as he gently set the cookie down and took my coffee from my hand, placing it on the counter. Then he stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off his body.
He smelled like warm cedar, a hint of sugar, and safety.
“You’ve got this,” he said, eyes searching mine. “You know what you’re doing. You’re passionate, talented, and everyone at the bakery likes you. Even Cassian. He’s just got a permanent scowl, but trust me. If he didn’t respect you, he wouldn’t even show up.”
