Page 2 of Sugar for the Mountain Man
Despite sticking out like a sore thumb, I know he’s residing in Willowbrook Ridge. If it weren’t for my catching glimpses of his truck coming down the mountain, I’d think he’d be from one of the surrounding cities. He’s from here, but I only ever see him right here atBakeMe Happy.It seems like he hides away from the rest of the world; this one place is his way of experiencing some life.
“Good afternoon, Wesley.” Finding my voice, I keep my words steady as he comes at me smelling like a mixture of pine and sandalwood. His cologne is like a breath of fresh air compared to the sugar I inhale constantly.
He slides his hands into his pockets and stares down at the pastries. His brow furrows as he studies the holiday specials like he can’t decide which he wants to pick this time around.
Will he even finish his treat this time? Or will he stare at it for another hour like yesterday?
When he parts his lips, I find myself holding my breath. I cherish every word he speaks as if it’s something valuable, and I lean in instinctively.
“Good afternoon.” Coming out as a low purr that settles under my skin and stays there, his eyes don’t budge from the different options.
What I would do to get this man to finish his greeting off by saying my name…
“If you’re struggling to decide, I made the pumpkin roll perfectly this morning. It’s a hot seller.” Flattening my palms against the counter, I can already feel the heat collecting on my palms. I’m getting nervous. Not a bad nervous, not even close.
More like I’m worried that today might be the day I finally blurt out my feelings. One of these days, it’s going to happen. I’m just waiting for the slip to come out.
His eyes flick toward the roll, lingering like he’s on the fence. Should I tell him everything I’ve baked on the display? He looks like an intelligent man; I bet he’d catch onto the truth.
I really like it when he eats what I’ve made. I secretly hope that one of the bites he’ll take, he’ll taste all the love I pour into my work.
Finally, he nods his head, and I pause before grabbing a platter.
“Eating inside again?” I already know the answer, but I have to ask.
He always picks the same seat, as long as the bakery isn’t busy. Like he’s afraid of people, he keeps his distance from the world.
“If you don’t mind.” Reaching behind him, he takes his time digging out his card.
Like him, I take my own time. Can’t rush this. Once he has what he’s here for, I won’t have any excuse to share the space with him. Even if it’s just a few extra seconds, I need this.
Fingers grazing against mine, he hands me the same card that holds more weight than most do. The only source that tells me who he is.Wesley Haverford.
A name I’ve only ever muttered out loud when I’m by myself or in my thoughts.
He thanks me softly before I have to give him his goods. Unfortunately, I can only watch him as he sits. Settling comfortably, his eyes move toward the glass window as he silently watches as leaves scrape by and cars pass in a blur. I’m not surprised that he doesn’t immediately dig into the slice.
Breathing in deep, a sigh leaves my lips as someone approaches me from behind. One look to the side, and Sasha’s hunched over the back of the display to see how business is performing. Or she could be here to see what’s taken me away for so long.
My boss has this weird, keen sense of reading minds, or maybe expressions. She can always tell when my heart aches or when my thoughts are clouded. Perhaps she sensed a call that urged her to pull me back before I began searching for tasks to complete here to stay within his sight.
All she has to do is follow my eyes, and she’ll be able to see who is at fault. Even better, she’s well aware of how much space Wesley takes up in my heart.
“You know…” Sasha flicks her eyes toward Wesley for a second before she leans down to combine some trays to fit even more baked goods. “Benjie was just telling me about this company the other day, that his sister tried getting involved in before she met her husband. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Cupid…something.”
I grimace as she tries to remember the name. “Cupid’s Bloom Co.”
As she’s snapping her fingers with a nod, my stomach clenches up. What a silly question. A lot of people have heard about the company. Many of the married couples that come through the front door have achieved success through the arranged marriage service.
Has my pining heart gone for so long that my boss has to suggest finding love through some artificial method? I’m craving romance, not contracts.Ugh.
It doesn’t help that I did, during a moment of weakness, look into their high success rates and wonder if it could be that easy.
Lifting my gaze, I glance over Wesley as he cradles his plastic fork, only a single bite taken from his slice of pumpkin roll, as his gaze remains locked onto the outside world.
If he signed up for the silly company, would we match?
“You’re not getting any younger, you know?” Tucking two pans against her side, Sasha’s smile softens. “Getting married was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
