Page 31 of The Alpha and the Baker
He let out a surprised laugh, and I practically preened at the victory. I liked making his eyes crinkle and spark with amusement. “No, definitely not. I don’t think we’ve ever been much for organized religion. At least not since our ancestors moved over here.”
Well, at least that was one worry gone. Heprobablywasn’t in a cult. There was always a chance that he was lying, but it was hard to believe he would.
“By the way, I wanted to apologize for being so unprofessional yesterday. I want to assure you, commissioning baked goods from me is not an open invitation to crash the party I’m catering.”
Another laugh from him. God, was I getting addicted to the sound. It was just so easy-going and rumbly in a way that tickled the back of my brain in just the right way. “No worries. I feel like we should be the ones apologizing for giving you an alcoholic drink and not telling you. It’s not quite the same as spiking the punchbowl at prom, but it feels pretty analogous.”
“Analogous?” I repeated. “That’s one hell of a word to use so early in the morning.”
“It is pretty early, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is, that’s why I was surprised that you were up and about, let alone in the city.”
His smile turned a bit bashful, and although I didn’t know why, I still found it pretty cute. It was both weird and welcome that a guy who was so drop-deadhotcould also be pretty adorable. I liked the juxtaposition of it all.
“Chris and I were making a run to the public market for a bunch of stuff we can’t grow and general dairy stuff.”
“Oh man, the public market. I miss it.”
“You don’t go?”
“Too busy. I start at three-thirty or four in the morning most times, and that’s when the market opens. By the time I close, the market is done.”
He whistled. “You’re totally right. I guess I never thought about that.”
“No worries. I know my schedule isn’t exactly usual.”
“No, definitely?—”
A sharp rap on my side door cut him off, and we jerked our heads in that direction. For a moment, I was so confused, but then realization hit me like the truck that was waiting outside.
“My delivery,” I blurted, rushing to the door.
Normally, I always left the side door open in the half-hour window that my bulk delivery guy showed up, which wasbiweekly on Sundays. But I’d been so caught up with everything that I’d completely forgotten about it.
“Delivery?” Cas asked, following me.
“Bulk ingredients, like flour and stuff. Cheaper to order it and have it delivered by a guy me and three other shops around here use. We split the fees between us and give him a little extra tip for his trouble.”
What I didn’t say was that all of that was under the table. Technically, the man was only supposed to be delivering to the Tex-Mex place, but him allowing us to split the fees amongst ourselves for an extra two stops and a hundred dollars in his pocket made it so we could all afford the delivery we needed.
Because flour washeavy.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Sure is!”
By the time I got to the door, two sacks of flour were already waiting there. Yeah, Gary was pretty efficient. But before I could even greet him or bend down to pick one up, Cas sidled around me and scooped both bags up at the same time.
Holy shit! Just how strong was this guy?
“I got this,” he said with a grin, like he wasn’t just casually holding a hundred pounds of flour. “Where should I put this?”
“Um, straight back, then to your left. Bottom shelf of both racks. There’s a bag and a half already on them.”
“Roger, roger.”
And then he walked off with the two sacks, leaving me to handle the tip and do no physical labor. Not that I was complaining; hauling flour bags was the least favorite part of my week, but it was most certainly unexpected.
