That was the crux of it, really. Partly why he’d put off hiring an assistant for so long—right now, the bakery belonged to Alex, and no one else was telling him what he could or couldn’t do.
Wasn’t that the point of being your own boss?
“You want another coffee?” Alex asked. He stretched his arms over his head and tipped his neck from one side to the other, stretching it out.
“Please. I’ll be jittery all day, but it’s worth it.”
“I could switch to decaf.”
Brandon gave him a blank stare. “Why would you do that?”
Alex laughed. “Okay, no decaf.”
He set the kettle to boil again and glanced over at Brandon’s workstation. Then looked again, a bit harder this time.
Brandon had set up the dozen or so cakes that were being collected today and had finished topping them with the sugar paste. That was where Alex had planned to leave it—he hadn’t charged anyone for decoration, but Brandon must have found some food colouring somewhere because he’d made little sugar paste holly leaves and berries, and sprigs of mistletoe, the berries dusted with fine, edible glitter.
“You’re good at that,” Alex said, feeling dumb.
Brandon shrugged. “I told you. I used to make cakes in here all the time.”
“I know. Your mum told me.”
That made Brandon scowl deeply, and Alex turned back to make more coffee. “She talks about us a lot. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s very endearing. I’ve heard all about Brandon in London and Saffron who’s backpacking around Australia and Olive in Edinburgh with the baby on the way.”
“I think she’s a bit gutted that the girls won’t be here this year. But there was no point in Saff flying all the way back here just for a couple of days, and Ollie’s too close to her due date to come down.”
Alex hopped up to sit on the counter while he enjoyed his quick break, partly to give his feet a rest, and partly because he could reach his cranberry frangipane croissants from this angle.
“You want one?” he asked, holding one out for Brandon.
“You sure?”
Alex grinned. “I think you’ve earned it.”
“Thanks.”
Brandon took the croissant and seemed to study it intently before taking a cautious bite. Alex couldn’t help but watch him as he frowned and chewed.
“This is good.”
I know, Alex thought. He just hummed and took another sip of coffee.
Brandon glanced at the clock, then did a double take. “Shit! I need to call my mum. She’ll freak out if she realises I’m gone.”
“Text her?”
“I left my phone at home.” He at least sounded guilty about it.
Alex sighed, then went to the phone attached to the wall. It was still programmed to speed-dial Carol’s home kitchen.
“Morning, it’s Alex,” he said when she answered. “Yeah, we’re all good. Brandon’s here.”
He forced himself not to grin at her outburst. “She wants to talk to you.”
Brandon winced and came to take the phone. Alex desperately wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation, but he had bread to get out of the oven.
“I’m fine,” Brandon said while Alex started moving loaves onto cooling racks. “Just went for an early morning walk and ended up here.” He hesitated. “I’m helping Alex with the Christmas cakes.”
Alex was pretty sure that was a loaded statement.
“I’ll see you later. Bye, Mum.”
Brandon took his coffee back over to the counter and his cakes without saying anything else.
“You’re not being called home, then?”
Brandon snorted. “No. She only just figured out I wasn’t there right before you called. Which is lucky for me, because otherwise half the village would be out looking for me within the next ten minutes.”
“That sounds like Carol,” Alex said lightly.
“It’s weird how well you know my mum.”
“Is it?”
“Don’t you have friends your own age?”
“I have friends,” Alex protested.
“Friends here?”
And that was a loaded question.
Brandon tried to sneak a closer look at Alex without actually staring. Alex had sandy coloured, wavy hair that was a little fluffy since there was no product in it. There was something about him that Brandon couldn’t place.
“I grew up here,” Alex said.
He turned back to the ovens, loading in the next batch of loaves, and Brandon automatically picked up the task of shuffling the freshly baked bread onto the racks so they would cool without getting damp with condensation. So much about working in this bakery was instinct to him, and he really didn’t want to think too much about it.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Alex said with a laugh. “I was the year below Saffron in school.”
“Oh.” Maybe that was why Brandon recognised him. “You’re only thirty?”
“Only just, yeah.”
“Wow.”
“That sounds loaded.”
Brandon shrugged. “You have your own business. You lived in Paris. I’m just feeling… I don’t know. Inadequate.”
“Well, as your mum tells it, you’re some big hotshot marketing guy at a fancy, important agency.”
“There’s a modicum of truth in that.”
“And you know big words. Like modicum. I’m just the lad in the local bakery.”
Alex turned back and gave Brandon a smile so dazzling, Brandon felt it all the way down in his stomach.
For a moment, Brandon didn’t have any words at all—big or small—and Alex obviously took his silence for agreement as his smile fell.
“You can go, if you want,” he said, turning back to the fridge to pull out the pastry he’d been working on all morning, in between other things. “We’re almost done here.”
Brandon knew when he was being dismissed. “Okay,” he said softly, taking his apron off and hanging it back on its hook. “Thanks again for the coffee. And for not calling the police when I broke into your bakery.”
“Just don’t do it again,” Alex said lightly. His hands were already covered in flour as he rolled the pastry in to a big square.
“I won’t.”
For some reason, his promise felt ominous.
Brandon went home and got straight back into bed, despite the questions his mum communicated silently, her eyebrow movements alone letting him know he was in trouble.
But for some reason she didn’t push him for answers. As Brandon pulled the duvet up under his chin, he thought that she maybe understood that he didn’t have any.
For the rest of the day, Brandon stayed in with his mum and watched Christmas movies while helping her wrap presents. He thought that maybe because it was only the two of them home this year, that they wouldn’t have the usual pile under the tree, but no… Brandon had was the eldest child in a big family and there were plenty of younger cousins to deliver presents to.
“Hand me the scissors?”
Brandon shifted enough to get the scissors out from under his thigh and passed them over, then shook his foot to get rid of the pins and needles.