Page 14 of Crushes and Confections

“The Confectionery, this is Adrien speaking.” The French accent was strong still and I could listen to him speak for hours. If he didn’t hate me at least.

“Hello Adrien, this is Claire,” I started.

“Claire?” he seemed confused.

“From the coffee shop and bakery,” I started but he cut me off.

“No, I know who you are of course, but why are you calling? If those trumpet-wielding ladies are up to something more–” he started to get worked up and I quickly cut him off.

“No, no. It’s just me. I…” My words cut off as I fought with my own pride to finally ask him. The worst he could do was tell me no and I’d have to suck up the loss and pull an all-nighter tomorrow.

“What is wrong?” he asked. The fact he sounded alarmed finally had the words tumbling out.

“My pipes just burst over here in the kitchens and I’m running out of product and can’t afford the downtime in production. I know you have ovens and was wondering if I could come over there and get my afternoon batches done. I can put in extra time the next couple of days to make up the rest. I’ll clean up the mess and bring all of my own product of course. That’s just a lot of production time to miss out on and people are still here, and…” I trailed off, finally running out of breath.

“You can use my kitchen,” Adrien said simply. “I’ll clear the counters. If you need help carrying things over, just call me back once you know what you’re bringing.” He hung up and I blinked at the phone.

Adrien agreed. Just like that.

That shock quickly turned into relief. The beautiful French alpha had no clue what he’d just done for me.

Maybe I had read him all wrong.

CHAPTER 6

Adrien

Ihad just finished ushering out the last customers, complete with to-go containers of a few extra bon bons, when I saw the red curls that had haunted my dreams for months, ever since I first laid eyes on the omega.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself, determined to help Claire in any way she needed. She had called me for help, and that had my instincts rising quicker and faster, ready to provide and protect in any way I could.

Her hair was still damp and she was dressed in what appeared to be one of her shop t-shirts, there was both a sense of determination and trepidation in her step.

“Hey,” she said somewhat shyly, before she looked back over her shoulder at the retreating patrons.

“I closed the shop for the afternoon,” I said, answering her unspoken question.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she rushed out, her face paling slightly.

“Let me take those from you,” I said, reaching for the large bags in each of her hands. “Do you have anything else in your car we need to grab?”

Her blue eyes turned a bit glassy and I swore I saw her bottom lip quiver.

A growl slipped through my lips and I moved, taking the bags from her and placing a hand on the small of her back, ushering her into the shop and flipping the sign to closed.

I set the bags down, quickly turning to give her my full attention.

It was then that her scent fully hit me, ripe sun-kissed peaches with freshly whipped cream. If it wasn’t for the tart bite of worry that was laced in, my self-control would have been seriously challenged.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your business, I really just thought maybe I could use one of the ovens.”

“And you can,” I assured her. “You can use every last one of them, mon chou. It sounded like you had quite a bit to do. With the store closed I’ll be able to help as well. That is, if you’ll let me? I know some chefs are quite particular about that.”

“I’m not some stuffy chef,” she said with a laugh, before taking a look around. “And I don’t make all the fancy stuff I’m sure you do. You have a real nice space here, your display case looks gorgeous.”

“I’m very proud of what we’ve been able to pull together here,” I told her sincerely. “It’s the first time I’ve had a shop of my own that just felt right.”

She blew out a breath, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. The spark in her eyes burned brighter, a sight that had my breath catching slightly.

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