Page 2 of Sugar Dusted Dad Bod

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“You got a tree this year?” Jasper peels his banana carefully, then chomps half of it in one big bite, chewing steadily as he waits for an answer.

I’m sitting opposite him in the break room, my knee jiggling beneath the small table like it always does when we’re in herealone. A mug of coffee steams on the table in front of me, despite Jasper fretting that I’d never get to sleep tonight.

I will, he needn’t worry about that. After a whole late shift in the bakery, stirring and shifting and icing and kneading, then the slog home through the snow, I will definitely crash into my bed and fall asleep in a flash.

But Idolike Jasper fretting. It’s like he really cares—like he thinks of me outside of the bakery. Thoughts like that make my knee jiggle worse than ever.

“Nope.” My thumbnail digs into a groove in the table. “No tree. I live up, like, eight flights of stairs, and I’m five foot three.”

Jasper frowns, looking way too troubled for a man with a mouth full of banana. He swallows, his thick neck shifting, then says: “You need some help carrying a tree upstairs? I could come over.”

My neck goes hot. I don’t know why, but I always burn up whenever people realize that I spend the holidays home alone; when it becomes clear that I’m a lonely weirdo with barely any friends. I’ve got no family in this city; no cousins or siblings I could call for help. And sure, I’ve gotten to know a few nice people at the murder mystery book club I go to when I’m not on shift, but I don’t know them well enough to go asking favors. They’re notthosekinds of friends.

I’m on my own. AndI’mused to that fact—so why do I hate when other people realize it? Especially Jasper.

Maybe because I’ve fantasized about him coming to my tiny little apartment about a gazillion times, but never like this. Never out of pity.

“It’s cool.” I snatch up my coffee and take a scalding gulp, wincing as I place the mug down again. My voice is hoarse when I keep talking. “I don’t need a tree anyways. Holiday cheer is overrated.”

Jasper sits back in his seat, watching me steadily. With his dark beard and barrel chest and those piercing blue eyes, he has the air of a man who is not buying a single ounce of my bullshit. It’s way too majestic for someone holding half a banana.

“You love Christmas, Cady.”

I scoff, knee jiggling so hard it’s nearly knocking the table. “I do not. Who likes Christmas these days? Snowmen and string lights and mince pies. Bleh. So lame.”

“Hm.” Jasper grunts, nodding slowly as he weighs up my lie. He finishes the banana off in one more big bite, then leans back to drop the peel in the trash can in the corner. This break room is so small, and the boss is so large, that he can probably reach every wall from where he’s sitting.

He’s quiet, chewing, and for a second I think I’ve gotten away with it. Then Jasper swallows and says, “So if I bought a tree and carried it up to your apartment, you’d send me away?”

My mouth goes so, so dry.

And I should be cool about this, should make another joke, but all I can do is be painfully, tragically honest: “I’d never send you away, boss.”

Seriously. If this man came to my apartment out of work hours? If I got to spend that bonus time with him outside of the bakery? If he showed he cared for me like that? Are you kidding me?

I’dneversend Jasper O’Reilly away, not even if he turned up at my door with an armful of slimy old leaves. I’d be like, sure! Drop ‘em wherever!

Jasper blinks, like my answer has taken him by surprise. He doesn’t look weirded out, though. If anything, he looks… pleased.

“Maybe I will, then,” he says.

“Maybe you should.”

Gah! My fingers are white-knuckled in my lap, knotted together where the boss can’t see them.

Can’t get my hopes up, though. This is the busiest time of year for Jasper, and he barely has time to go home to shower and sleep between shifts. He’s not gonna lose another hour of precious free time to schlep a Christmas tree up eight flights of stairs to my poky little apartment.

It’s sweet of him to suggest, though. Even as a hypothetical idea, it warms my insides.

Andthat’swhy I’m head over heels for my boss.

Two

Jasper

December usually kicks my ass, what with all the late nights and early mornings at the bakery. All the extra orders pile on, and I keep working and working in a frenzy until finally it’s Christmas day and I can crash out and sleep for forty-eight hours.

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