Page 14 of Baking Spirits Bright

I hold my hand up. "I'm not done yet. I failed to understand there was so much going on in the background. Until I got out on my own, I didn't understand what kind of pressure you had on your time."

"That's correct. There isn't anything I'm not willing to do in order to help the business and my employees, but there was so much happening then. I was wrapping up the purchase of the bakery, trying to keep everything going while I was closing. We were switching over accounts, and I had to make sure we were stocked for the Christmas season. There were a lot of pressures on me I never told anyone about. In the back of my mind, I didn't think I could share what was happening with anyone." He stops for a second and rubs at the back of his neck. "I was struggling with what I was supposed to be doing as a manager, a Bossman."

The word he says -Bossman- it gives me a spark in my stomach. One of recognition and disbelief. "Do you call yourself Bossman a lot?" I ask, not sure if he's going to be honest or not.

His face reddens. "Sometimes. It's one of the easier things to remember."

My intuition has been wrong before, but there's a nagging at the back of my mind. Something that I know can't be the truth. I need to know. "What would you say if I told you my plan today was to make snowman cookies and reindeer cupcakes?"

Realization dawns on him. "Your Decorator Babe?"

"And you're Bossman."

"Holy. Fuck." He looks at me as if he's seeing me for the first time, and I think I'm seeing him for the first time, too.

"There were parts of what you said that made me wonder if I knew who Bossman was." I inhale deeply, slowly letting the breath out.

"I had no idea who you were," he scratches at the hair that's started growing in as the day continues.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," I say deadpan, cutting my eyes over at him. "You've never been the most observant. How does it make you feel to know I'm the person you've been talking to for the better part of four months?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. There are a lot of emotions flowing through my body right now, and I'm not even sure what's up or down. It's going to take me a while..."

"Me too," I insist.

The air between us is charged, like it used to be, but this time I'm not sure what it's charged with. Is it with annoyance because I'm the one he's been talking to, or is it because we're both realizing how close we've gotten?

Whatever it is, we're going to have to figure it out before we leave Sugar and Spice, whenever that may be.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lincoln

My mind is fucking blown. She's the person I've been talking to for months? The one I've told my hopes and dreams to? It's kind of funny that she's the one I've been talking to for months. Some complaints I made to Decorator Babe were about Lyla.

"What do you think about me being Bossman?" I question, as she takes a seat on the cot. Between the two of us, we're on opposite sides of the room, both staring at each other as if we've just met for the first time.

"I'm not completely surprised." She pulls her feet up underneath her, on the cot.

Seeing her socks is more intimate than anything I've imagined. I've never seen her fully clothed, but I've thought enough times how Decorator Babe would look. "How are you not surprised? What is it that gave me away?"

A smirk spreads across her face. "There were certain phrases that you use, that he used. I wasn't positive, but there were other little things that reminded me of you. How do you feel about me being the woman you've been talking to?"

Inhaling deeply, I bring my fist in front of my face, resting my chin against it. "I don't know. I'm not sure what to think. It's notlike I don't know how beautiful you are. I'm not blind. It's not like I don't know what a great person you are. I've seen it time after time."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." She swallows loudly, her light eyes meeting mine. "There were times when I worked with you before, where I wasn't sure if you actually liked me or not. On certain days you wouldn't look at me, much less have a conversation with me."

"I was intimidated," I admit, raking my fingers through my hair.

"Intimidated? You intimidated by me?" She questions, eyebrows raised. "Why in the world would you be worried about me?"

This is hard to explain. "I've lived my whole life in the shadow of my brother..."

"What? He's a fuckup. You've told me that a million times."

I get up, pacing the short length of the room. It's even smaller than it appeared when I started. Now it's time for some truth, and she's the first person I'm ever admitting any of this to, someone besides my therapist. "He is. A big fuckup, but he always comes out on top. He's the king of things, always working out in his favor. Over the past few years, he's had five ideas of what he wants to do with the rest of his life. But he's never executed any of it. My parents have given him tens of thousands of dollars, and they will continue to do so. It's like he has something on them that will ruin the rest of their lives."

"Like he's blackmailing them?" She laughs.

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