Page 9 of Sweets and Sycamores
Dominic sized her up, flats to bundled hair, and grunted, “Morning,” as he switched on a bunch of lights around the shop. Allie followed the trail of crisp cedarwood scent with a tinge of leather her boss left behind him, wondering if he wasn’t an early riser, or if he was still annoyed from last night. Or maybe grumpy and monosyllabic was his entire personality.
Allie went down the hallway into the bakery floor. The place was even more stylish and cozy than it had appeared in the dim light last night, the dark blue chairs elegant against the warm-colored floors and walls, sophisticated but homey. A few abstract paintings hung on the walls, splattering them with dark violet and burnt orange shades.
Dominic shuffled between the kitchen and the storage room before coming to the front, a notebook in one hand, and an apron he offered Allie in the other. The all-black intricate tattoo on his left arm was right under her nose—a thick tree trunk covered his forearm, and leafless branches stretched upand wrapped around his upper arm, hiding beneath the T-shirt sleeve. Delicate details were woven through the ink, but she needed to be much closer to Dominic to distinguish and inspect them.
“What should I start with, Mr. Ranford?” she asked, tying the apron.
“Start the ovens and clean the kitchen counters. The cleaning supplies are in the cupboard under the sink.” He slapped the notebook on the front counter, picked up a pen, and glanced at Allie over his shoulder.
Dismissed.
“Right,” she said to herself and left for the kitchen.
The space was predominantly white, with a huge working table in the middle and walls lined with two sinks on the left, three different refrigerators on the right, shelves, counters, and multiple types of ovens.
Start the ovens, Allie.
She stood helplessly in front of the oven that resembled the one from the coven’s manor. Resembled in appearance only, as this one had infinitely more buttons and knobs. Not even the one she had used in Green Creek was similar. The next oven was identical, while the last two were tall, vertical ovens Allie had never seen before. And they hada lotof buttons.
Start one oven, Allie.
But which one? And how?
Perhaps she should clean first.
Yes, that was a great idea. After all, it was part of her tasks. She opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out cloths and a cleaning spray. Allie scrubbed the surfaces in the kitchen as if her life depended on it.
She didn’t know how much time had passed until her boss sauntered into the kitchen to check on her work. He walked in casually, hands in his jeans’ pockets, and surveyed the shiningspace. Allie smiled broadly, waiting for him to find anything wrong with her work, knowing he would find nothing.
Dominic stopped in the middle of the room, his green eyes turning to wide saucers. Allie followed his gaze and gulped, her heart thudding in her ears. Okay, there wasonewrong thing to find. Or four.
“Why are the ovens off, Alecsandra?” he asked in a low voice. When she didn’t answer instantly, he went on. “Did you know a bakery cannot bake anything if the ovens are not turned on?” Dominic’s voice raised with each word, his rage-filled eyes turning to her. He hurried from one oven to the next, pressing and turning dozens of buttons and knobs in a sequence that she would have to write down to remember.
Allie wanted to make herself small and hide under the table at the clear disappointment etched on his features.
“You cannot tell me you forgot,” he stated.
She couldn’t. Forgetting one of the two tasks she had been assigned was far more embarrassing than admitting she didn’t know how to turn on the fancy ovens. Dominic’s nostrils flared as he waited for her to say something. The truth was her only option, and she cleared her throat of the orange-sized lump stuck there and straightened her spine. She had faced Lydia’s wrath countless times, and each time she did it with dignity. So why should she cower now?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ranford.” As humbling as it was, she held his gaze. “I don’t know how to turn on these ovens.”
Dominic closed his eyes for a long inhale and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a calmer but colder voice. She’d said she was familiar with baking, but maybe not commercially. Dominic had been too sleepy and annoyed to inquire about all the necessary details last night,beforehiring the Witch. It wouldn’t really be a problem if she had only baked at home. He could show her how to turn on the damn ovens. Dom realized he had missed other important details, like where she was from andwhyshe came to Sycamore Falls. “Where did you say you were from?” His eyes snapped open and fixed on her, waiting. Bracing for whatever answer she would give him.
“Pearls Fields?” she asked more than answered, fidgeting with her apron.
“What?”
“But I lived in Green Creek for a while,” she added quickly, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been around new magic before, I promise.”
In a poor attempt to hide his irritation, Dominic gritted his teeth so hard they were on the edge of cracking. He deserved this. He had hired a stranger in the middle of the night under pressure from his friend without knowing anything about her. A Witch who had been living with old magic for her entire life. He didn’t even know what power she’d mastered. Lucky for him, she had no way to learn about his own.
“What, exactly, do you know about baking?” he asked, his left hand cupping his chin and rubbing it to relieve the tension in his jaw.
He saw the answer in her deep brown eyes, when fear mixed with embarrassment coated the beautiful color with thin glass. She swallowed, keeping the obvious answer to herself but, to her credit, didn’t drop his gaze.
Of course she knew nothing about baking.
