Page 22 of Sweets and Sycamores
“Fucking hell,” he cussed under his breath. This muscle blockage happened sometimes, but it usually didn’t make him feel like he wanted to strangle somebody. Today was going to be a fun day dealing with so many people.
And with his new employee.
Alecsandra had stolen his secluded place in the forest last night. He’d seen her sit so close to the river that he wondered how she hadn’t just slid in. She’d been out there alone with a book, at night, in the middle of an unfamiliar place. Sycamore Falls was safe—especially because Dom was there—but she had no way of knowing that. Her frustrated reaction told him she had unsuccessfully tried to practice her magic.
Was that the reason she sat so close to the river? What had she gone through to make her so cautious?
The sycamores were calm in her presence, confirming that he’d Read the Witch well. She had a good heart and no bad intentions, just a load of bad luck with manifesting this late, with no help during these times. Dom knew the later one manifested,the harder it was to control the power, and he’d never heard of anyone who had manifested later than fifteen.
He couldn’t speak from experience, as his power had manifested when he was six, and now he was considered one of the most powerful in his lot. This came with long missions that had him leave Sycamore Falls when he was young, and this current assignment was the first one to bring him back home.
And he didn’t plan on leaving again.
Dominic gave up on tying his hair and placed the band on his wrist. He’d try the bun later, when the pain lessened.
He went downstairs, stretching and massaging his shoulder, and stopped dead in the narrow hallway at the end of the staircase. A strong, warm coffee smell enveloped him, together with a faint scent of cleaning products. Dom went into the kitchen.
Two freshly made cups of coffee sat on the table. All of the ovens were on, and the Witch was rubbing the fridge door as if it had insulted her profusely.
“Morning,” he grumbled, still holding onto his shoulder.
Alecsandra spun around and flashed him a wide smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Ranford.” Her brown eyes locked on him and stayed a long moment around his face, on his loose hair, before a soft frown creased her forehead. “Is everything okay?” she asked, looking pointedly at the hand clasped over his shoulder.
“Fine,” he lied.
“You’re clearly not fine.”
Huh.
Uncharacteristic of the tame and obedient Witch he’d come to know for the past two days. Not that you could truly know anyone in two days.
“Slept weird” was everything he was going to say about the matter. She nodded, but her chocolate eyes turned to slits.
“Do you need help in here or should I clean out front first?”
“Let’s start here.” The sooner he’d be done mixing and kneading, the better.
Dominic had blown the hair out of his face about twenty times before Alecsandra asked if she should tie his hair back. To that, he barked an instant “No,” as if that was the thing of his nightmares. He regretted his outburst the tiniest bit. Just because he slept poorly and was in terrible pain didn’t mean he could lash out at his employee. The Witch didn’t seem to take offense at his behavior though, instead bringing him the vanilla sugar bag he’d asked for.
He kneaded and mixed with one hand, which made everything twice as hard and infinitely more irritating. The vein in his temple took life and was moments away from bursting. Alecsandra asked repeatedly if she could take over, but he refused while blowing the hair out of his face. Again.
By the time the croissants, pies, and macarons were in the oven, he was already exhausted. While Alecsandra got the bakery ready for opening, Dom plopped on one of the blue velvet chairs. This morning was the first time he was truly, honest to gods grateful to have help around the shop, be it a Witch who could set the place on fire. He looked over the orders notebook and...
“Ah, shit,” he grunted. Two of the pages had stuck together, and he’d missed the important notes he’d left for today.
Flour delivery at 1:30 p.m.
Meeting at 2 p.m. with H&T for wedding prep.
The wedding was a couple of weeks away, but he had to place some orders that would take a longer time to get to Sycamore Falls. Because the brides had wanted some special type of marzipan for the cake, and some special type of chocolate fondue for the fountain, and some special type of everything.
Harper and Tina were lucky they were Mia’s best friends.
Dominic flipped the notebook closed and would have stood up, had it not been for two slender hands falling on his shoulders. He swore low through his teeth when he attempted to turn, and the stiff shoulder blade kept his neck in place.
“Sit still,” Alecsandra said as her fingers combed through his hair.
