Page 7 of The Alpha and the Baker
It was always a Sunday—such was the life of a baker. I worked seven days a week with only Christmas, New Year’s, and my birthday off. The flip side was that I ended up getting out of work way earlier than most of my peers.
Then again, I also started working at four a.m..
Eh, I wasn’t complaining though. It was not only the life that I had chosen, but also the life that I’d fought tooth and nail for.
“Thank you, dear,” Miss Hernandez said as I brought a ham, egg and cheese croissant for her, and an everything bagel with cream cheese, lox, capers, and sliced red onions for her husband. I had no intention of telling them, but I had taken the lox and capers off the menu because they were too expensive. I kept a jar of the little green balls and a package of the smoked salmon on hand just for them.
Sometimes it was the little things in life, and who was I to begrudge the man the simple pleasure of his favorite bagel every morning?
Bit by bit, my other regulars came and went, and I enjoyed their presence as I went about various tasks. It wasn’t a busy day by any means, but I was pleased as punch that I had three new customers I’d never seen before. Did they order a lot? No. But sometimes all it took was a really good breakfast sandwich to win someone over for life, and if I could do that enough times, then the shop wouldn’t be so far in the red.
I did try to keep myself busy as the hours ticked by, researching SEO and AdSense utilization when I could. However, I didn’t exactly enjoy that, so I was always happy to stop every time the bell over the door chimed.
Ding!
And that was my cue. Closing my laptop, I stepped out from behind the bread retarder to see possibly the most handsome man I’d seen in a while striding into my shop.
Whole-double E Halibut! I had to pause for a moment and train my face into a customer-service appropriate smile. It wasn’t that I was desperate or anything, but most of my customers were the elderly, housewives, or nannies. Certainly not country beefcakes complete with a blue flannel tucked into his jeans.
He wasn’t movie-star pretty by any means—that sort of overly polished, too-good-to-be-true, artificial, grown-in-a-lab beauty. No, instead he was ruggedly handsome, like someone who could exist without ever needing surgical enhancements.
His nose was on the larger side, but it balanced out the square cut of his jaw. His strong brow matched his cheekbones. He was tanned—far more than I was—and to top it all off, he had green eyes that could be described as dazzling, and I didn’t think anyone would object.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
Oh, and I could tell he was also built asfuckbeneath that practical clothing of his. He looked like he could toss a couple of bales of hay, wrangle a calf, then be back in time for dinner and to kiss me at the door.
Kiss me at the door?Maybe Iwasa little more desperate than I thought. Sure, it had been a while since I’d gone on a date, but that was only because getting my business management degree while completing my bakery apprenticeship and workingmy way up to opening my own shop had been so demanding. How was I supposed to juggle arelationshipon top of all of that?
“Hi! Yes!” he said somewhat breathlessly.
Goodness, was this guy genetically engineered to be hot? Because even his voice was scrumptious, all low and slightly raspy with a Midwestern twang I recognized from some of the church folk who drove in from the countryside.
I knew a lot of people would assume that, as an Asian woman, I wouldn’t be into that, but who didn’t like a cowboy? Especially one who looked so dashing?
“Look,” he continued, completely oblivious to my thirsty thoughts.
I managed to push those thoughts to the back of my mind for the most part. After all, just because the man was attractive didn’t mean he’d asked to be ogled. Besides, I’d met plenty of handsome and beautiful people who got a lot less so once they opened their mouths. “I know that this is a long shot, but my family has had a bit of an emergency.”
An emergency? Oh boy. As much as I loved being able to help in a pinch, I’d long since found that those in “emergency situations” were often the worst customers. Their demands were ridiculous, their expectations even more so—they were never happy and hardly ever returned. Not to mention they usually wanted ridiculous discounts.
“What’s the sitch?” I asked.
“Well, all the cakes for our family reunion got burnt. And not just scrape-off-the-top burnt, but could-be-used-as-a-new-type-of-coal burnt.”
That startled a laugh out of me. I hadn’t expected him to be handsomeandwitty. He must be a jerk, otherwise it would simply be unfair. “Sorry,” I said quickly as heat rose to my cheeks. “Laughing at your turn of phrase, not the situation.”
“Eh, if we don’t laugh, we cry,” he said with a half-smile. “I would really,reallybe appreciative if you can help us out. Ideally, it’d be three sheet cakes. One vanilla with cream cheese frosting, multilayered with rhubarb jam and sweet cream, the other chocolate with any sort of ganache between two layers and whatever chocolate frosting you have, and the third is usually a lemon cake with cream cheese frosting.”
I whistled. That certainly was a tall order. “And when would you need these by?”
I could tell by the way he winced that it wasn’t going to be good.
“How hard would you kick my ass if I said late this afternoon? Around four-ish?”
I blinked at him, because that was all I could do. It was almost nine in the morning. He wanted three cakes in seven hours?
“I’m not exactly in the habit of assaulting potential customers, but this request is so ridiculous I might. I don’t have the supplies to make rhubarb jam, and not enough time to run to the store.”
