Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
He trusted me more when I was a kid.
“Because they’re right,” he says in a stern, but quiet voice. “Noah Van der Berg and Farrow Kelly have reputations.”
I shake my head. “Young men with reputations? Scandalous.”
As if he, or my brothers, were angels at that age.
“I’m not kidding, Quinn,” he says, setting down a coffee cup. “Noah is a womanizer, and Farrow is dangerous. They don’t want to be your friend. They want one thing.”
“That’s not true,” I spit out, gripping the counter behind me. But then I soften my voice, playing. “I’m such a good cook, I’m sure they’ll want a hot breakfast when we wake up in the morning too.”
He slams the cabinet closed next to me, and I jump. But I almost smile for the first time since I came down the stairs this morning. My heart is racing. I like talking back.
“You’re not my brother,” I tell him, and then mutter to myself, “And my brothers are not my parents.”
I’m an adult.
He stares down at me, and I tighten my jaw.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not your brother, your father, or your uncle.” His voice falls to a whisper. “And I’m asking you to stay away from them.”
Something swells in my chest as his rises and falls, almost flat against mine. I can just feel his breath on my hair.
I drop my eyes. “But you leave tomorrow night,” I remind him before looking back up. “Right?”
If Noah’s my workout buddy or Farrow gives me a ride home, what’s he going to do about it?
I walk away, feeling his eyes on me as I go.
Hours later, and I’m still riding my emotions, the embarrassment turning to anger. Not that it’s been a bad thing because I’ve been moving my ass and chewing through little jobs—one after the other—since I arrived at the bakery this morning. My multi-tasking skills have broken a new record, I’m sure. The self-talk and rehashing the entire argument with my brothers and Lucas kept my legs fully charged and my awareness at an eleven.
I shouldn’t have given in so easily with Madoc and Jax. There were so many things I could’ve said, like reminding them that I’m a grown woman, but as usual, I think best when it’s too late.
I stuffed a glazed strawberry donut in my mouth for lunch without even the slightest bit of guilt. I worked it off before I even ate it.
“Thank you, everyone,” I call out, putting chairs back down after Hailey mopped. “Good job today.”
Noel and Codi slip out the canvas bags that line the bread baskets on the wall and take them to the laundry while Hailey finishes cleaning the case and counters.
“If you’re working tomorrow, we’re out of here by two,” I tell them.
“Yeah!” Noel shouts, whipping off his apron that’s stained with coffee.
I check the lock on the front door and head to Hailey at the computer. “Were you able to submit that order?”
“Done,” she chirps.
One more accomplishment today. Delegating. I taught her how to order more inventory, and both her and Noel how to prep for lunch. I’m glad I had kept the menu simple and devised a grab-and-go section to alleviate the number of orders. They all learned quickly. Maybe now I can start staying in the back to bake more during the day so I’m not here so late.
I stick a few more things into the cabinets, watching Codi as she vacuums out the baskets and wipes the gold rings that hang from on the wall.
I smile to myself. As good of a job as these kids do, she’s the only one who treats this place like it’s hers. Meticulous, helpful, attentive…
Her light brown hair hangs in her eyes, the ends matted, and her navy-blue short-sleeved T-shirt stained with patches of flour. The same stains she got yesterday. I look down at her rolled-up jeans and flip flops. Everyone has to wear close-toed shoes here, for safety purposes, but she was already wearing them yesterday when Mace brought her, and today is her last day, so I didn’t see the need to make it complicated.
I like that she’s quiet, because I am too. But she could talk a little more. I don’t think the others have spoken to her much.
Hopefully, she enjoyed spending time here. People are usually happy when they come into a bakery. They’re always happy to see us.
Heading over, I take my cloth out of my apron and help her. “Just remember, everyone gets a shift treat,” I say. “If you want a pastry or something to take home.”
She nods but doesn’t make eye contact. “Thanks.”
They get a free meal if they’re working a full shift, but Codi’s been here all day. Essentially two shifts. And she hasn’t eaten a thing. We did offer.
“What year are you at Weston?” I ask.