“Can I ask why you’re applying for this job?” I lift my head to look at her.
“As you can see, I’ve worked in corporate my entire adult life. I did it because it was what I went to school for and what I was supposed to do.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?” I surmise, and she shakes her head.
“I hated every minute of it.” She leans forward. “Can I be honest with you?” Considering what she just said, I thought we were already being honest, so I nod. “I just want to be happy,” she whispers, and my heart clenches in my chest at her tone and the look in her eyes. “A little over a year ago, I left the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and a month ago, I moved here on a whim, needing to be closer to the ocean. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She looks away briefly, seeming contemplative. “I do know”—her gaze comes back to me—“I have always loved baking and cooking. I also know how to manage people and my time, and I’m a quick study. I’m sure, looking over my résumé, you can see I’m probably the least-experienced person for this job, but when I saw the ad, I knew I had to apply and that I’d regret it if I didn’t.”
Her words touch something deep within me, and I study her for a long moment before I speak. “The hours are not set in stone. Sometimes I’d need you here to open early, and other days I’d need you to close. Would you be okay with that?”
“Can I drink coffee on the job and eat a cookie or cupcake whenever I want?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I’d be okay with that,” she agrees with a soft smile.
Not wanting her to think this will be all cupcakes and sprinkles, pun intended, I tell her, “My two part-time shop girls are both leaving at the end of summer, and until I can hire replacements for them, things might be a little crazier than normal.”
“I thrive on crazy,” she says, and hope blooms in my chest.
“You also might have to work on your own from time to time, depending on the day.”
“If I can handle lawyers and CEOs breathing down my neck day in and day out, I think I can handle that.”
“When can you start?” I ask, surprising even myself.
She sits back, seeming stunned, and then states with happiness in her eyes, “Today? Tomorrow? Really, I’m open to anything.”
“All right, why don’t you come in tomorrow morning at nine? We can see how things go and if this is the right fit for both of us.” I stop, then add, “I’ll of course pay you for the day, even if you decide this isn’t for you.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I nod, and I think she might cry, but she pulls in a breath, and when she releases it I can see she’s got the urge under control.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” I smile. “You might find out tomorrow that you hate it here and wish you’d never applied.”
“I don’t see that happening.” She laughs.
“Me neither,” I agree, feeling hopeful.
I look over her shoulder as the chime for the door rings, letting me know it’s not broken, and I feel my stomach melt as I watch Gaston search for me when he steps inside the shop.
When his eyes land on mine, I smile and scoot back from the table to stand, and then I look down at Anna, whose eyes are pointed over her shoulder. “Thank you for coming in. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine,” I say, and Anna jumps, pulling her eyes off Gaston to look at me, and gets up quickly.
“Nine. Right. I’ll be here,” she repeats, and I almost laugh. I’m not at all surprised that she’s been swiftly sucked into the vortex of Gaston’s hotness, but I’m silently thrilled he hasn’t even spared the gorgeous woman more than a casual glance.
As I walk toward my guy, she starts for the door at my side, and I stop her to make introductions. “Anna, this is Gus.” I glance from her to him. “Gus, this is Anna. She’s coming in tomorrow to see if she’ll like working here.” A look of relief crosses his face before he tips his head down and holds out his hand toward her.
Her cheeks get pink as she reaches out to shake his hand, and her words are mumbled as she says, “Nice to meet you,” making me fight back laughter.
“You too.” Gus lets her hand go to capture me possessively around the waist, and she gives me an awkward smile before she leaves through the door.
I watch her walk past the windows looking dazed, and I shake my head, and then I tip my head back toward Gus, and his gaze dips to meet mine. “I think for the sake of business and my shop girls’ sanity, I should ban you from my bakery.” At my comment, his fingers curl tightly around the side of my waist, and he lowers his head so he can touch his smiling lips to mine. “I’m not kidding,” I inform him when he pulls slightly away. “My girls can’t handle being in your presence without going all awkward. It’s not good for business.”
“They’ll get over it,” he informs me, still smiling.
“I don’t think they will.” I shake my head in denial. “Aubrey is better than Rachelle at keeping her giddiness locked away whenever you come into the shop, but the two of them still fumble around like newborn baby deer whenever you’re here.” I narrow my eyes on his in mock annoyance. “I don’t even want to imagine the kind of destruction you leave behind whenever you enter your club or one of your bars.”
He laughs at my joke, but I catch the somewhat guarded look in his eyes. I start to open my mouth to ask him what that’s about, but before I can get a word out, he distracts me with a deep kiss that makes my toes curl and my mind blank of anything but him.
“What are we doing for dinner?” he asks, holding me tightly while keeping his mouth close to mine.
I attempt to catch my breath and blink away the haze of desire that has settled over me and admit, “I don’t know.”
“I was on my way to the store; that’s why I stopped by. I wanted to see what you’re in the mood for.”
Him holding me so tightly and speaking with his lips brushing mine, I tell him the truth. “I just want you.”
“You’ve got me.” He brushes his lips across mine. “So what do you want to eat?”
“I can cook.” I rest my hands against his chest, and he lifts one brow. “Don’t give me that look. I can cook more than breakfast, even if I haven’t done it yet.”
“So you’ve said, but I have yet to experience you cooking dinner for me.” He chuckles.
“Whatever.” I laugh, shoving against his chest gently, and he covers my hands with his, holding them against his shirt. “Fine, I won’t cook, because it’s going to be late by the time I leave here, but I can pick something up on my way home.” I lean slightly into him. “I know you’re busy with getting things ready for New Year’s.”
“I don’t mind cooking, and since you don’t know what you want, I’ll surprise you.”
“You really don’t have to make me dinner,” I repeat, feeling guilty that he’s working so hard and still taking care of me.
“I know I don’t, but I’m still going to.” He kisses me swiftly, then lets me go when the door chimes and Aubrey and Rachelle walk in carrying bags of food, and they both smile when they see us together.