Page 45
Happier than I’ve been in a long damn time.
Hozier is playing through the overhead speakers throughout the bakery and I hum along as I grab the last tray of cinnamon rolls and carry them out to the display case. Sunday mornings are usually busy and today was no exception but the bakery has settled for the moment. In the after-church rush, we went through two trays of blueberry and lemon poppyseed muffins, a sheet pan of coffee cake, three dozen donuts and four trays of cinnamon rolls.
Calvin will be very pleased when I send him the sales report from today.
“God, the midmorning rush was crazy,” Mila says, leaning back against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. I nod and look up at the clock.
“Why don’t you take your break now?”
She stands up. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely,” I answer her with a nod. “The rush has slowed and I’m not doing any more baking today so I can watch the counter.”
She sets her coffee down on the counter and reaches behind her back to untie her apron. “Awesome. I need to go run down to the pharmacy and pick something up but I shouldn’t be long.”
“Girl, take your time,” I tell her, arching a brow. “You get thirty minutes and if it takes longer than that then it takes longer than that. No worries.”
With a grin, she tosses her apron on the counter. “Best boss ever.”
“Don’t let Calvin hear you say that,” I warn, a smile teasing my lips and she lets out a sharp laugh as she walks backwards towards the door.
“I’ll say it to his face, don’t think I won’t.”
I sputter out a laugh because I know she would, if only to get a reaction out of the man. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Be back in thirty,” she calls as she opens the door. She blows me a kiss as she steps out onto the sidewalk and I shake my head. That girl went from dead on her feet to full of life in two point three seconds.
Grabbing the rag from the water bucket, I hold it over the opening and squeeze it out before plopping it onto the counter. Mila usually does a pretty good job of keeping her station clean while she’s working but since there is no one here right now, I need something to do. Just as I begin wiping down the counter around the espresso machine, the bell above the door rings.
“Welcome to Sugared Magnolia,” I say, glancing up and my hand pauses mid circle as I take in the man walking across the dining room towards me. He’s in jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a leather cut. Nothing about that should stand out and yet… it does.
Why, though?
I blink, shaking my head slightly to myself and suck in a breath.
Girl, get yourself together.
“What can I get started for you?” I ask when he reaches the counter. He scans the menu over my head before his deep blue eyes meet mine.
Woah.
His eyes are gorgeous.
“I’ll take a medium coffee with two sugars,” he says, his gaze flicking to the display case and I feel the loss of it. “And do you have any muffins left?”
I glance over at the case. “Uh, no. All I’ve got left this morning are cinnamon rolls.”
“Damn,” he says, those eyes returning to me as one corner of his mouth quirks up. “Guess I should have gotten here earlier, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah, the after-church crowd cleaned us out pretty good.”
“Well, let me get a cinnamon roll and that coffee then,” he says and I nod, staring at him for just a second too long before I pull myself together and begin making his order.
Good Lord.
What the hell is wrong with me this morning?
How many customers do I interact with on a daily basis? Hundreds. And yet, here I am, standing in front of this man acting like it’s my first damn day instead of acting like I run this place. Because, oh yeah, I do.
