Page 16 of It Never Was

"Bald might be a good look for him." Her eyes are further glossing over as she tries imagining what that would look like.

"Well, there better be someone in the next two interviews that is a match for this place, or Paul just might be sporting that new look."

"Can't wait to see it!" Willow chuckles as she makes her way to the register to clock in.

"See what?" Says Paul returning up front with two plates of pastries, one with a blueberry muffin and a cream puff, and the other with a spinach feta quiche and a fresh fruit tart.

"A new pastry cook," I state flatly as I walk out to a table with our coffees, hearing Willow's laugh as we sit for our lunch.

"I think we would all like that, no?" He tells me as he places my plate in front of me.

I don't think I have ever had to tell Paul what I like. I mean, not that I can ever remember. He has always seemed to just know. I don't think he even knows how caring the act is, and if he does, he sure as hell doesn't show it. It's not very often we get to have lunch together like this, so I take my time eating. Chewing slowly and taking smaller sips of my coffee than I usually would, allowing myself as much time in this silent lunch as I can, because here, I feel a sliver of safety.

7

Ryen

Thirty minutes fly by too fast. As Paul and I are finishing up our lunch, I keep picking at the crumbs on my plate.

"I don't think there is any more left, Ryen." He takes the plates away from the table and goes into the back to put them by the dishwashing station.

Sighing, I prepare myself mentally for whatever character is going to be coming in soon. I am trying to savor the last of my coffee when I hear someone's voice coming from the front counter behind me.

"Hi, my name is Parker Evans. I am here for an interview with Paul for the pastry cook position. I know I am a little early," the smooth voice says to Chrissy, washing through me like a cold wave. It takes all of me not to turn around and see whose voice that belongs to, and I start to sink in my chair.

"Yeah, no worries, man. You can go have a seat at the table the girl with the black bun is sitting at, right over there. The one that is hunching over trying to make herself hidden. Her name is Ryen. She will be with Paul at the interview today," I can hear the smirk on her face as she speaks.

Shit!

I am not mentally ready for another interview just yet. I need the extra five minutes to muster up the optimism to keep going forward. Hearing the sound of footsteps getting closer, I keep my eyes down on my coffee. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood fills the air before he even steps up to the table. Continuing my stare at the coffee, I see a pair of brown leather boots stop right beside the chair.

I take a deep breath before looking up at the figure standing over me, the warm vanilla and spices invading my space. Drawing my eyes over every inch of him, my gaze slowly moves up to his black jeans that fit right above his hips, his plain white shirt contrasting with the tattoos on his arms. I can't help but stare as my eyes move to his five o-clock shadow.

As I move up past his sharp jawline, I am met with stormy gray eyes, and velvety black hair that is tied into a perfectly messy bun with a few strands that fall out of place to frame his perfect features, not to mention his olive toned skin that seems to be glowing as he looks down at me from where he stands. The figure smiles down at me with bright teeth, his lips curling at each end in a way that makes my stomach do a backflip, his deadly smile not leaving as he opens his mouth to speak.

Holy. Fuck. I am too stunned to even move.

"Hello, my name is Parker, Parker Evans. I was told to come to this table for my interview for the pastry cook position. You are…Ryen? The one that is trying to hide in their seat with her hair in a bun, correct?" He repeats Chrissy's words to me, his eyes never leaving mine. The smirk still playing on his lips.

How on earth is he this breathtaking?

Devon is breathtaking, yes, but in a "boy next door" kind of way. This man…this man looks like he was created by the Gods.

Amen.

He makes a small noise as if he is clearing his throat, and I realize his hand is out for a handshake.

"Hi Parker, I am Ryen. I am the main opener, and for now, the pastry cook till the position is filled." I say more confidently than I feel with his eyes on me. As I push the chair out from behind me and grab his hand, heat runs throughout my arm. The shock of how his hand feels in mine causes me to trip over myself in the process of standing. I stumble to keep my feet beneath me.

Smooth, Rye—real smooth!

Parker's grip is firm in mine, helping me stay balanced, and his gaze flickers from our hands to my eyes. I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly hyper aware of what a mess I probably look like. "Please sit, Paul should be back shortly." I gesture to the chair in front of me as I take my own seat again.

"Thank you. How long have you been working here, Ryen?" He asks as he pulls his chair in, meeting my eyes with his storm ash filled gaze. The shock wave hit my stomach again. I'm not sure why, but every glance sends me spinning.

"Eleven years now."

"Eleven years? What? Did you start when you were twelve?" He chuckles.

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