Page 12 of Losing My Rejection

When I turned the engine over at last and glanced down at the clock, I realized I only had twenty minutes to get to the cafe. I tore out of the lot, leaving the park in a hurry. Thankfully town was close and I arrived in front of the cafe with a few minutes to spare. I didn’t even bother to look at the shop as I dusted myself off and stepped through the front door.

A smiling barista, probably a local no older than sixteen, stood behind the counter. She wished me a good morning as I stepped up to the counter.

“What can I get you?” she asked, her hand already on the register computer.

“Nothing for me,” I replied, trying to force a smile to cover up my terrible mood. “I’m here for the baking interview.”

“Oh! The boss is waiting for you.” She gave me another huge toothy smile as she gestured toward the door behind her. “You can go right on back if you like.”

I started but stopped, a sudden burst of nerves twisting my stomach.

“Don’t worry,” she added. “He’s a really nice guy. I promise.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped around the counter and pushed my way through the door into the kitchen. I was hit with a wave of smells. Butter, cinnamon, sugar, roasted pecans, vanilla, cardamom, and pumpkin spice. I couldn’t help the deep breath I took through my nose, all those scents mixing into a riot of color inside my brain. The kitchen smelled like fucking heaven.

“You must be the guy Sam sent over!”

That familiar voice made the colors stop and my heart sink into the pit of my stomach. I opened my eyes just as the man working at the bench turned around. He dusted his hands off, looking up at me with those bright blue eyes.

Both of our jaws fell slack.

It was him.

Chapter Seven: Andy

“Oh fuck…” I heard myself say. In front of me I watched as Josh’s look of astonishment turned into one of anger. Sam never told me it was his newest tenant that could bake. Or his name.

“I’ll leave,” Josh said, turning back toward the door.

I hesitated only for a moment. I was far too busy to turn down good help, even if I had pissed him off pretty badly at the market. It was either my pride or sleep. Those were my choices.

I chose sleep.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I called after him.

To my surprise, he stopped. Then he turned around, his glare boring a hole straight through me.

“Listen,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I tried one of your cinnamon rolls yesterday and honestly, they’re incredible. Sam wasn’t joking about your prowess in the kitchen. And I need help.”

“I don’t work for dickheads.”

“I swear I’m not,” I replied frantically. “I’m a nice guy.”

“I don’t give a fuck how nice you are.”

“I’m sorry,” I spat out at last. He was gonna walk if I didn’t convince him to stay. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that at the market. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me. It was stupid. Even my friends called me on it after you left.”

“I don’t care.” He started toward the door.

Jogging to get around him, I blocked the exit in a final act of desperation. “Please,” I begged. “I need another competent baker in this cafe. I’ve barely slept all summer and I’m going to have a fucking mental breakdown if I don’t get someone hired into this position.” I looked up into his eyes, summoning up all the patheticness I could muster. “I need you.”

He didn’t try to push past me, so I kept going.

“Those cinnamon rolls were better than mine. I’m not too proud to admit that. And I need a person like that in this place, someone who knows their way around a kitchen. It’s obvious you have some training or at least a whole fucking bucket load of talent. Either way, I need the help.”

“Look dude,” Josh sneered. “I don’t give a fuck what you need. I don’t care about your business, your apology, or how nice you are. My entire life is a fucking disaster and the last thing I need is some pig staring at my ass every day and making lewd comments.”

---