Page 25 of It Never Was

"Yes, I am. Thanks," I reply dryly, lying. I am feeling anything but okay with him this close to me knowing he saw my dancing and heard my singing.

Fuck, that's embarrassing.

"I didn't realize Paul had hired someone," I state, looking away to stop the heat from traveling from my chest to my cheeks, my ass still throbbing.

"Oh, Paul didn't tell you about me starting? My first day was yesterday," he states, leaning against the door frame, blocking the kitchen from me, and changing the subject away from my embarrassment.

"No, I thought it was still just me in the mornings, hence the concert," I say, backing up and walking to the register to grab my own apron from the counter. Why did I bring that back up?

"Well, at least it was just me… and not a murderer, right?" he says, looking at me from the door frame with something behind his eyes that I can't put words to. He chuckles and the look is gone before I can define it. He turns away, opening the kitchen door and letting the smell of dough and butter fill every inch of the shop. I love this part of the day, when all the aromas take over, making the shop come alive.

"I mean, you could be a murderer for all I know," I reply, more to myself, as I pull the apron over my head and tie it around my waist tighter than I normally do in hopes it makes my figure look more appealing than the oversized sweater was a second ago.

Why do I even care?

I don't. I mean, I do, but it is just because he is stunningly gorgeous, and he is making me extremely self-aware of just how ordinary I am in comparison. I put minimal effort into my appearance: no make-up, messy hair and clothes that are for warmth and comfort rather than to impress anyone. I never got dolled up for work.

"Fair enough," he replies, shocking me. I didn't think he would hear my response.

I look in Parker's direction, only to see the stormy gray hues as he peers over his shoulder halfway into the kitchen. I pull even tighter on my apron string now that his eyes are on me again. My cheeks start to heat up, and I can only imagine the shade of pink that is on full display for him. Recognizing my flushed complexion, he returns it with a wide grin, his eyes running down my figure.

I finish the tie and drop my hands on my hips.

"Are you a murderer, Parker?" I ask, my tone softer than I intend it to be, almost too breathy for a co-worker's reply.

"No, thank goodness for you." His gaze runs back up my frame locking with mine, the storm still present in them, but more hectic than before. "Don't worry, you are safe with me around." He turns away again and makes his way into the kitchen, leaving me feeling…I don't even know how I feel.

It is almost opening time for the shop, and I have been trying my best to not go into the kitchen where Parker has been for most of the morning. After how I felt with him just in the same room as me, I had to. This has been a tricky task since I am the one here to help him with whatever he needs or questions he has. Paul went over the basics with Parker on his first shift yesterday, which was my day off.

Of course.

So, he knows the gist of it already. I mean, he should. We are a small kitchen with a small menu to match compared to what he is used to in the high end five-star restaurants he was working at before. The only things he has asked for help with so far were where certain items were or if we had them at all in the shop. I thank the lord for that because I was not ready for anything more right now.

Which has me more than confused.

I get flustered with Devon. He causes my heart to speed up and I feel myself lose control, letting him decide what I want even if I don't want him to. But with Parker, it is as if my body not just loses control, but it turns to mush. It is a pull towards him, wanting him to have control; my mind is saying yes right alongside my body. Even though I know I shouldn't since I am with Devon.

My throat starts to sting from the guilt that wraps around me. I shouldn't feel like that, should I? It's just a natural reaction, right? I don't even know him, so it's just a human reaction to his unfairly good looks. If I believe all that, why do I feel guilty?

You are in a relationship, whore!

I am not acting on it and I am in control. I am keeping my distance and not allowing myself to get to know him. I am keeping it professional, so I shouldn't feel guilty. I can't help that my body is attracted to a very attractive man. It doesn't mean anything; people are attracted to many people even in relationships. It is just natural attraction is all.

"OH MY GOD!" a shriek invades my thoughts, causing me to jump out of my skin. Willow rushes towards me at lightning speed. "How did you not tell me this man was our new pastry cook? How, Ryen? How?" Her hand points towards the kitchen, her voice hushed now so that Parker can't hear her from the other room.

"I would have liked to have been notified too. Instead, I was scared shitless this morning," I scoffed as I put the lids on the carafes.

"Scared? What?" Willow shakes her head before continuing her thoughts. "You didn't know Paul hired anyone? Parker, of all people?" Her face looks just as shocked as I was this morning. "And scared? How can you fear that drink of a man? Have you seen him back there rolling croissants with his sleeves rolled up, tattooed biceps on display? I wanted to eat him up the minute he opened the back door for me!" Her eyes heat up at the memory.

I can't help but roll mine at her. Willow would be no less than blunt about her attraction to Parker. In fact, she is probably just his type. Size 4, small waist, golden skin, and hair to match. Willow is basically an undeclared model. She can and will have anyone she wants, always having a line of men dropping to their knees for her just to get a taste. I always wished I looked more like her.

I am the opposite of everything Willow is. I'm not plus size, but I'm not small. I am in that middle ground where my body isn't small enough for the skinny girls, but I'm also not big enough for the plus size girls. My hair doesn't have golden hues like hers. Mine is jet black and single toned. My skin is pasty white in contrast to Willow's golden-tanned skin. She looks as if she was always on the beach soaking up the sun in her free time. Everything Willow does is effortless and perfect. I am clumsy and shy around people I don't know, and she is the life of the party, always keeping people's interest. It has been this way our whole friendship. Growing up, the boys, and girls, wanted to have Willow in their lives. She is day and I am night, but nonetheless, she is my person. I love her for every piece that makes her, her, and she gives me the same back.

"Yeah, I bet he feels the same way, so don't worry," I chuckle with pang of jealousy.

I try to get the feeling to go away.

Stop. It.

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