Page 16 of Almost Love

Ugh, why does he have to say my name that way?She nodded and forced herself to stay steady. “Been pretty ridiculous for me too. Did yourunhere?”

“No.” He shook his head and then winced. “Yes, I did.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she told him, suddenly feeling guilty for all the thoughts she had earlier. He waved off her concern and she glanced at the time. They could still make it. “Do you have anywhere else to be tonight?”

“I’m all yours.”

Donotread into that, self. Do. Not.“I’ve got an errand to run, wanna come with me?”

His face split into a wide smile and her knees wobbled, because that’s the kind of effect he had on her. This is how her feelings deepened and made her imagine things that weren’t there. She could not go down this road again. Instead, she walked past him to lock the front door and pull down the blinds. Then turned off the lights as she led the way to the back. She gestured to her truck and he got in, tossing his bag in the back, as she strapped herself in as well. The scent of ocean breeze drifted over and she gripped the wheel tight as she backed out onto the street. She hoped that she would survive the drive with him being this close and smelling that good.

Just as expected, he’d asked questions about where they were going, but she kept it vague. So when she pulled up in front of Wildes Haven, he peered at the sign in confusion. Smiling to herself, she hopped out of the truck and opened the back where the food was stored. She heard the passenger door close as welland separated the six boxes into piles of two as Oakley came around the side.

“Where are we?”

Nodding at the sign, she said, “A shelter for unhoused and displaced folks.”

When she was at school in Newark, Clementine would drive down to Wildes every weekend and volunteer at the shelter. Unfortunately the years she was at pastry school and getting her business up and running, she didn’t have enough time to volunteer. But she stayed in touch with Eloise Wilder, the woman who funded and ran the shelter.

Once Pretty Baked was open, she made a deal with Eloise. As many times a week as she could, she’d swing by with leftover items. She’d been doing this every Friday for the past four years and knew how much of a difference a sugar hit made to someone’s day—proof of that was beside her, effortlessly picking up two boxes.

The doors where she’d parked swung open to reveal two men. They eyed her and Oakley, before coming over to help.

“I know how popular your bakery is. There’s no way you’ve had this much excess at the end of the day,” Jim, the older of the two men, said.

“Had a little time on my hands today,” she replied, aware that nobody would believe her.

Jim was right, half of the things she’d brought were freshly made. Most of the time, she brought two to three boxes. It was rare for the displays to have this much leftover. But on slow days, when she needed to burn off some energy, she would bake. Given how confused she was about this whole Oakley thing, she’d baked up a storm and brought all of it to the shelter.

“You new at the bakery, kid?” Jim asked Oakley who shook his head, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

“He’s a friend, just helping out.”

Jim led the way inside with Oakley following obediently. She locked her truck and joined them, pulling the door shut behind her.

“This is a lot more than we expected, Clementine,” Eloise said as she came around the corner, waving at the boxes on the tables.

“I had some extras of the extras, so figured I’d drop them off.”

Eloise gave her a look like she didn’t believe a word, but said, “Would you like to stay for first service?”

“Sure,” she told the older woman with a small smile and stepped aside as other volunteers started unloading her boxes. She turned to grab aprons and bumped into Oakley instead. His hands landed on her hips to steady her and all her muscles tightened to stop from letting him know how being touched by him made her feel.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and took a step back, her body instantly missing his touch. “So, what are we doing here?”

She exhaled shakily and looked everywhere but at him. “I bring leftovers from the bakery to serve during lunch and dinner. First service is what Eloise calls the first sitting. They have about four sittings per meal, more if the lines are longer.”

His eyes widened and a smile stretched across his beautiful mouth. “Can I help?”

“Of course, young man,” Eloise said as she returned, matching his wide smile. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Eloise Wilder and according to my ancestors, my family founded this wonderful town we live in.”

“It’s great to meet you, Ms. Wilder. I’m Oakley, friend of Clementine.”

“Then you are most welcome to help us out tonight. Jim, get these two aprons and let’s get started.”

Eloise flashed Clementine a smile and walked off. Jim tossed them aprons and grabbed a tray of dessert and carried it outside.She sighed, looping the apron over her neck and tying it around her waist. When she glanced at Oakley, he had stripped off his maroon coat and was in the process of peeling off his hoodie. And like in every rom-com known to womankind, his T-shirt rode up with the hoodie and exposed a wide section of his stomach. His trousers were sitting low on his hips, so she got a good look at the V that pointed to what some would call the promised land. But it was the hint of defined abs that made her body hum. She caught herself, though, before Oakley finished taking off his hoodie, by focusing on grabbing the last tray of baked goods.

“All right, put me in, chef,” he said, coming up beside her.

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