Page 8 of Sweets and Sycamores
“Nothing,” she said again, as if he couldn’t see the aftermath of whatever had occurred. She averted her gaze, gathering her ankle close to her body. “I just tripped,” she admitted in such a low voice, it was almost a whisper. She brought her knees to her chest, stuffing them under her chin, and curled into a ball on the floor.
It was then that Dominic realized she was trying to hide from him.
Because she was in a thin, see-through nightgown.
A soft blue, gauzy camisole that offered Dom an unobstructed view of the skin underneath. If her knees weren’t covering her breasts… Fuck.
He noticed her blushed ivory skin, freshly out of a hot bath. The specks of water that pooled around her chest from the loose wet locks. The freckles that stood out so much more under the light than they did in the darkness. A flash of chocolate brown eyes she was trying to keep to herself.
Dom noticed all the things he had no business noticing. His brain switched into employer gear, and he bent down to grab the fallen chair, wanting to keep his hands busy.
Dominic picked up the bar stool as if it was made of feathers. Allie was glad he had found something to do other than stare at her pathetic self. But then her boss stretched his ink-covered arm to her, his crystal-green eyes fixed on her face. She gaped at his hand as if it put her life in danger.
It kind of did, though, as she wore this damned flimsy camisole, and taking Dominic’s hand to stand up meant showing him much more than any employee should show their boss. Not only was this highly unprofessional, but she’d known the manfor all of five minutes. And the last man who had seen her in this camisole was Sam, and that was…different. So, so different. She should have just burned the thing and wrapped herself in a rug.
Allie’s breaths came in faster and hotter, the freezing cold long forgotten. She couldn’t think of a reason to refuse Dominic’s help and remain sitting on the floor.
“You fine?” he asked with a low grumble, his voice thicker than before.
“Great!” she spat the word before thinking better of it. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Ranford.”
“What happened?” He sighed through his nose and finally took his hand away, but only to pull his fingers through his hair.
Allie thought about lying to him. The truth was stupid, and she was embarrassed. But nothing came to mind, and she was tired, and getting cold again, and her ankle hurt. With her clumsy skills in life, it was likely not the last time she would embarrass herself in front of him.
“I lost the fight with the sofa,” she admitted, still avoiding his eyes. Dominic was quiet for a few breaths. She didn’t know if he still watched her. Then his feet went out of sight, and Allie looked up to see Dominic bend down in front of the sofa. He tugged hard at that string and pulled out the extra piece that would make the sofa into a bed. Allie absolutely did not notice how his muscles flexed with the move. Not at all.
“That sticks sometimes. I’ll fix it tomorrow,” Dominic said.
“Thank you,” Allie breathed. She dared a glance at him, but her boss bid her a hurried good night and left the room.
She sat there for another moment, waiting to make sure he wasn’t going to come back. He had no reason to return because he didn’t barge in here randomly. Allie cursed her clumsiness ten times over and made it a point in her plan to buy very soft slippers. And another carpet. And anything else that would stifle sounds, so she wouldn’t bother him again.
Allie crawled to her feet, desperate for the bed’s warmth. Before jumping under the soft duvet, she took the alarm clock from her desk and set it to four thirty in the morning, counting her few hours of sleep.
She fell into a restless slumber, nightmares of green-eyed monsters in the forms of cakes and croissants haunting her through the night.
Chapter 5
START THE OVENS, ALLIE
If she had even a modicum of control over her power, Allie would have set the alarm clock on fire.
Smashing it until the ungodly noise stopped had to do. She was used to waking up early, but notthatearly. Lydia had her start the day’s chores around dawn. Allie always spent a few moments by herself in the early mornings, watching as the dark world was painted over in warm colors, enjoying the last breathable moments before the scorching heat in Pearls Fields took its rightful place.
Now she watched the dark world stay dark, the thick night draping over her window like a velvet blanket. The urge to pull the duvet over her head and go back to sleep was strong. Her bones felt heavy like lead, confining her to the warm bed.
Dominic’s scrutinizing green eyes haunted her, and she pictured him coming downstairs into the bakery only to find she was still asleep.
Allie jolted up and ran to the bathroom.
She splashed freezing cold water on her face and tamed her wild bed head. Dominic’s eyes returned to the center of her mind, and an image of one of her hairs on the bakery counter took form. Allie gathered her red mane and styled it quicklyinto a tight low bun. While she was at that, she stored her four stone rings on the bathroom shelf and tucked her crescent moon necklace tightly into her dress.
Dominic had enough reasons to sack her without Allie contributing her own. She had to make up for the fact that she couldn’t bake to save her life, so everything else needed to be perfect. Allie donned her only long-sleeved purple dress and leather flats, looking forward to that evening when she got some warmer clothes.
Five minutes before five in the morning, Allie exited her room and nearly knocked over her boss as he came downstairs.
“Good morning,” she chirped, taking a step back to make room for him. He wore a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and laced boots. His chestnut brown locks were pulled into a neat bun on the top of his head. Allie was thankful for whatever instinct that had coaxed her into doing the same.
