Page 38 of The Alpha and the Baker
What couldn’t that guy do?
Family wrangler, maybe a farmer, and a dog trainer on top of it. No lie, the competency was pretty damn attractive to me. Then again, what about Caswasn’tattractive?
I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a date. Unsurprisingly, I never dated in high school. I’d had a few casual flings in college, but I was too dedicated to my studies to have spare energy for a serious relationship.
I had tried more sincerely once I graduated, but the life of a baker simply wasn’t conducive to having a social life. Waking up at three-thirty in the morning and going to bed by nine most nights eliminated a lot of social time that other adults had.
“Relax, girl. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Easier said than done, however. If I was being entirely honest with myself, I wasn’t even sure that I was able to swing it now, because I was busier than ever. The difference was that before I cared a lot about that, but in the moment? Didn’t give a shit. Even with the strange things I’ve noticed about Cas and his family, I didn’t want to miss a chance to see if something could work between us. Even if it was the tiniest chance, it was worth exploring. I met a lot of people in my life, and none of them made me laugh so easily or feel so welcome as Cas had in just three short meetings. I didn’t know if it was the way he looked at me, the way he talked to me, or the way he treated others, but I was drawn to him in a way that was inescapable.
Not that I wanted to escape.
I started my Monday looking forward to the weekend, and I hoped the anticipation for Friday wouldn’t become too much. It didn’t help that I had an awful lot to do. I just needed to be patient and steady.
Too bad patience wasn’t really one of my strongest traits.
Thankfully, I had my regulars to get me through most of Monday, and once I closed up shop and finished my prep, I took a long soak in the tub. I didn’t know what had gotten into me to try jogging the night before, but I was definitely sore from it. It turned out all my baking muscles and endurance didn’t really lend themselves to cardiovascular health. Oh well. I’d lasted long enough to get a date with a hunk who seemed to have a heart of gold, so we could chalk that up to #worthit, as some of my contemporaries would say.
Tuesday was harder, since it was a slower day. I still had most of my regulars, of course, but that was kind of it. It was hard not to be discouraged at having an empty shop for most of the day, but thankfully, I had the extra cushion from the McCallister family reunion. That had saved my bacon in a way I didn’t thinkany of them understood. I would be eternally grateful for that, even if my date with Cas bombed.
When the solitude and lack of things to do bordered on painful, I finished up the last of my prep, then went to the front to close up. However, miraculous timing seemed to strike again, because as I rounded the corner of my display case, the bell above the door chimed.
A customer? That would be a great way to end my day.
“Welcome!” I said it cheerily as a pair of middle-aged women stepped in, all smiles and red cheeks. For a moment I was so pleased that someone was in my shop, I didn’t really take in their faces. But after a beat, my brain recognized them. “Auntie Penny?” I blurted, not quite comfortable solely using their given names now that I wasn’t inebriated. That was one overlap of Southern and Asian culture that I really liked: using honorifics for anyone older as a sign of respect. “Auntie Polly.”
“Goodness, look at you. Don’t you look so crisp in that baking uniform.”
Crisp? I looked down at myself dubiously. Although I used multiple aprons throughout the day, I still had a few splashes of flour and other ingredients on my white uniform. Signs of a productive day, but they didn’t exactly screamcrisp. Maybe at the beginning of the day, but certainly not hours and many baked goods later.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to argue against the compliments of two Midwestern women.
“Aw, thanks. I do my best, you know. Try not to slather myself with the jams and all that.”
“You’re doing agreatjob,” Polly said, striding up to the counter. I couldn’t help but notice the reusable shopping bag on her arm, and my hopes grew that both were in to try something.
Yes!When I’d taken Cas’s order, I had daydreamed that it would drum up some possible new business. And it seemed thatdream was happening in real time. Man, when blessings rained, they really poured. Goodness knew I had been in a drought forfartoo long.
Either that, or they were coming in to have the “shovel talk”. I didn’tthinkthat was the reason—Cas and I hadn’t gone on our first date yet—but some folks could be real hostile to outsiders, and the way Claudia mentioned menot being from around herestill lingered in my head even if I couldn’t remember any of the context around it.
“What can I do for y’all?” I asked, putting more twang into my voice than I naturally had.
“We actually came in here because we’re planning a baby shower, but we’ll talk about that in a minute.” Polly said, still grinning broadly. “Some of these just look too good to pass up! Is that pumpernickel bread?”
“Yes, ma’am. Just came out of the oven it at noon. I don’t have the biggest demand for it, so I only bake two loaves a day. I really shouldn’t make any at all, but it’s my favorite.” Something about its earthiness—with a hint of sour and sometimes slight coffee flavor—hit so right for me, especially with warm, salted butter spread heartily across the top.Yum!
“I knew you were a woman of taste.”
“And what kind of focaccia is that? It looks heavenly,” Penny asked.
“That’s my special rosemary, goat’s cheese, and olive focaccia,” I answered, knowing my pride was slipping into my tone. I didn’t care. I was very proud of my work, especially since that was a recipe I had created after spending a summer abroad for my apprenticeship. “You’re in luck. I don’t make these every day, because they don’t always sell.”
“Today must be our lucky day, then.”
“I don’t know, seems like my lucky day!”
They both laughed at that, seeming genuinely tickled, and I didn’t mention that the only reason I’d made the focaccia was because I knew it would probably not sell and then I’d get to have it for dinner. I wasn’t mad about the loss, though. I’d much rather make myself a grilled cheese sandwich and have them share one of my creations with their families. “You mentioned a baby shower?”
