Page 10 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
Claire laid a calming hand on the wide-eyed helper. “I’ve got this, DeeDee. Would you mind helping Patty with her birthday cake order?” She nodded toward a woman flipping through a notebook of options at the far end of the counter.
“Of course.”
Linc set his pile of goodies near the register and planted a hand on the counter. Waiting until Claire’s assistant had reached the other customer, far enough away that his low voice wouldn’t carry, he asked, “Are you usually this hostile to customers?”
Why were his words so harsh? Almost as harsh as Claire’s, in fact. The opposite of how he wanted to be with her, but something about Claire tore away every ounce of charm he had and replaced it with something demanding and dominant. He didn’t understand it, but nothing seemed to mitigate the intensity with which he reacted to this woman every time they were in a room together.
Claire barely met his eyes before her own skittered away, but not before he caught embarrassment there. “I asked a question first,” she said stubbornly.
He snorted. “I think it’s obvious why I’m here. I wanted to see your bakery.”
“Because you wanted to judge me.” Claire crossed her arms over her waist, pushing the sweet curves of her ample breasts up in a way that immediately drew his attention. “I don’t need judging. I run a good business, and I’m perfectly capable of making the kinds of desserts JD will need for Black Wolf Resort.”
Of course she could. Why would she think he didn’t—
Fuck.He squeezed his eyes shut. Counted to five. Opened them. “Claire, I’m not here to—”
She held up a hand. “Of course you are. And I get it, really. The chef extraordinaire wants to make sure I don’t mess up his best friend’s business. Bless your little heart.”
His eyes widened. “Did you just tell me ‘fuck you’?”
“In the sweetest way possible.” Syrup practically dripped from her words. The slightest hint of chagrin entered her expression, then disappeared as she ran a hand through the wild curls on her head, curls that looked like they’d had more than one run-through this morning. “Today is not a good day. Call and make an appointment if you want a tour.”
And with that she flounced—literally flounced; he didn’t think he’d ever seen an actual flounce before—back to the kitchen.
A grin took him by surprise, turning into a chuckle he made no effort to hide. Claire had definitely grown some backbone in the past nine years. Not that she’d been backward before, but she’d been shy about standing up for herself. His heart ached remembering how hard she’d worked at his restaurant, The Prime at Manhattan, during her internship. The internship he’d had to cut short.
He’d been her instructor, and back then he certainly hadn’t done anything to dispel the sense that he was looking down on her—it had been his way of keeping his distance. Protecting himself. Until he hadn’t been able to keep his distance anymore. Then everything had gone to hell.
And now? He rubbed over the crease between his brows. Now he was an arrogant prick. He hadn’t truly taken the time to think through the way she would feel about his sudden reappearance. In her eyes, he still had authority over her to some extent. JD had no qualms about shutting Linc down if he wasn’t happy with something, but Claire wouldn’t necessarily feel free to do that.
She’d felt judged back then, and he’d done nothing to prove she wasn’t being judged now. The question was, how could he convince her that he was here to workwithher, not over her?
After finishing up with the cake order, DeeDee returned to the cash register and rang up his purchase. Certain she wouldn’t allow him into the kitchen to continue his conversation with Claire, he wandered through the connecting door into Wildwoods Brew.
The homey atmosphere he’d noticed from outside the coffee shop was enhanced by the rich aroma of coffee and sugar filling his nose. Might as well try some while he was here. After waiting in line, he stepped up to order from an attractive woman in her forties with thick brown hair and brown eyes that were full of mischief.
“What can I help you with today, Lincoln?”
He paused, trying to place her vaguely familiar face. “Did we meet yesterday?”
The woman chuckled. “We did, but I don’t expect you to remember. You met half the town yesterday; who could keep all those names and faces straight?” She held out a hand. “I’m Maria Navarro, owner of Wildwoods Brew. How do you do?”
“I do much better now that your coffee is on my horizon,” he assured her, taking her hand. When he brought it up to his mouth for a quick kiss on the back, a faint blush rose in her cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Maria. You have a beautiful place.”
“We’re busy, even for a Monday,” she said, though she seemed in no hurry despite the crowd. “My daughter is over with Claire since Claire’s assistant had to call out this morning. Mondays are busy for Claire too, what with her deliveries to local restaurants due on Monday mornings, but taking half the day off yesterday for the party, then having that big mixer of hers break this morning…” Maria shook her head, exasperation obvious. “I bet that woman has mixed ten batches of icing this morning with that old countertop KitchenAid.”
Linc stiffened. “She’s back there mixing icing without a commercial mixer?” Lugging the ingredients was hard enough, though he knew Claire was strong after so many years of being a professional baker. But still, the tedium of mixing small batches—how many restaurants did she deliver to?
“Icing, batter. Bread and half a dozen other things, probably.” Maria’s eyes took on a gleam of something he couldn’t quite read. She tapped the back of his hand. “You wouldn’t want to step in and put those big, strong hands to good use, would you?”
“Of course I would. With icing, baking, boxing—I’m good for other things too, but not in the kitchen.” He winked as he gathered his bag of goodies from the counter where he’d set them. “But seriously, make Claire put me to work.”
“Oh, I will.” She gestured him around the counter to her side. “Come on.”
Five
Claire’s kitchen was a disaster. She hated it when her kitchen was a disaster, but today, there was no hope for it. At least she’d managed to get her bread and most of her batters mixed before the big industrial mixer had started smoking. Jimmy would fix it, but he couldn’t be here till this afternoon, and her deliveries were already past due.
