Page 26 of It Never Was

"God, I wish, but with the way he was looking at you during his interview, I doubt it." She smirks at me while pushing me with her shoulder as she gets the register up and running for the start of the day.

"There was no look, Willow. He just wanted the job," I say, more to myself than her. I can't let my mind wander that way. "Which he did, so it worked on Paul, I guess."

"Paul was not the one his eyes were on. Maybe when he answered his questions, but Parker's eyes…kept wandering back to you. I saw it, Rye. Believe it or not. I know what I saw." She shrugs as she starts to help me replace the cups and lids before heading to grab more milk from the walk-in in the back kitchen to stock our mini fridge up front.

He wasn't looking at you like that, so don't even start thinking about it. A guy like him? No way, Ryen.

The kitchen door opens at my side again. "I don't believe it, so…" I say matter-of-factly.

"You don't believe what exactly?" a husky voice replies, and I almost shit my pants.

Fuck.

I turn slowly to face Parker leaning against the coffee counter with a tray of pastries in his hands, that same grin from earlier on his face knowing he has caught me in a tale I do not want to tell him. The smile plastered on his face makes me notice a subtle dimple in his cheeks. Enhancing his looks even more, like that was even possible. Or fair to the rest of the human race.

"I-I didn't realize you were the one walking in," I stutter out. "I thought you were Willow coming back with the milks, sorry." I bring my voice up from the hushed tone that I didn't realize it was at.

"I figured as much…" he drags out, "but still curious to know what it is you don't believe. You seem to have some strong feelings about it." His voice is calmer than mine, almost as if he feels comfortable talking to me, like we have known each other more than the few hours we have been working on this shift. I bet everyone that looks as handsome as him always feels this level of confidence whenever they talk to anyone. The same confidence that Willow possesses, what I wish I had.

Even if just a fraction of it.

"That you were hired, and I had no idea about it," I say dryly, trying to mimic his tone.

"I will have to agree with you about that," he replies with no hesitation. "I would have figured you would have known I was hired before I even knew." Parker remains standing in the same spot, not budging from his stance.

"Same, Parker…same," I reply, sounding way more casual than before, so I add a small smirk as I look his way, feeling proud of myself.

Parker lets out a breathy chuckle as he makes his way to the pastry case with his tray of impeccable-looking goodies. The warmth that comes across me as he makes his way has me questioning if it is from the tray of goodies or from Parker himself. I look over the tray and see pastries that are not on our menu, like palmier and what look like slices of pithivier. Items I have cooked for myself in this kitchen, hoping I was doing it correctly and making the French proud, but I never made them for the shop. He walked by acting as if nothing was amiss. I watched him and the tray the whole time as he opened the case and started to place them in neat rows.

Willow walks back from the kitchen with an assortment of milk on the rolling cart. Without looking at her I can sense her eyes moving from me to Parker.

"Like what you see?" he says, keeping his eyes on filling the case and not bothering to see if I was even still looking. And I don't know if it was intended for me or Willow.

Either way, I stay silent.

"I mean, I definitely do," said Willow under her breath as she came to my side, opened the fridge doors under the espresso machines and continued to place the cartons inside while looking up at me with a smirk on her face.

"Is that pithivier?" I ask to change the subject away from the fact that he might have noticed me staring at him this whole time.

"Yes…" his voice trails off, "do you not like pithivier?" he asks, still keeping his eyes on his task of filling the display case.

"I love pithivier, it has just never been on our menu."

"Well, Paul did say I would be able to add menu items as long as I wasn't outsourcing ingredients," he says, placing the last of the items in the row, closing the door to the case, and facing towards me again. Holding the tray against his chest like he was carrying it around like a notebook through the hallways of a school, his arms look stronger in this position, and I can't help but examine every curve of his muscles.

"He did also state to get your seal of approval." With that, he walks away to the kitchen.

"The tension, Rye. Do you feel it?" Willow is still kneeled beside me grinning from ear-to-ear biting back a laugh.

"There is no tension," I say dryly. "Seal of approval? Yet they are already in the case," I scuffed, tossing my hand in the air motioning towards the case.

"Territorial much?" Willow giggles, standing back up.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the keys off my belt loop as I go to unlock the front doors. Masking my annoyance with a smile as I open the doors and let in Alvin, one of our regulars, who is waiting at the door like he always is.

"Morning Ryen!" he says, rubbing his hands together as he makes his way into the shop. I turn on the open sign.

"Morning Alvin." I keep my smile in place, trying to let the pastry thing go. "Willow, can you warm up a blueberry lemon glazed muffin and get a large dark roast, black, filled to the top? Thanks."

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