Page 55 of Knot Baked Out For This
"Continental drift?"
"Better."
He smiles—a real one, not his usual careful smirk—and it transforms his entire face. Makes him look younger, softer, like the man he might have been if life hadn't carved hard edges into him.
"I'll take the usual," he says, shifting back to customer mode. "And a box for the station. The guys have been complaining I don't bring enough back."
I start assembling his order, grateful for the familiar routine. Six cinnamon rolls, four bear claws, a dozen mixed cookies. My hands move automatically while my brain processes everything that just happened.
"And one of those," he says, pointing to the sandwich display.
"Which one?"
"The turkey club with cranberry aioli."
I pause. "That's my favorite."
"I know."
"How do you?—"
"Levi mentioned it when he stopped by the station after his delivery. Said you mentioned during the lunch rush that you hadn't eaten yet and were craving one, but they were all sold."
Levi told him. They talked about me. About what I wanted.
I wrap the sandwich carefully, trying not to let my hands shake. "It's yours."
"No," he says, pushing it back toward me. "It's yours. Take a break. Eat lunch. You've been working since four AM."
"How do you know when I?—"
"I can see your kitchen lights from the station, Hazel. They go on at four every morning, seven days a week. When do you rest?"
When do I rest? When it's safe. Which is never.
"I rest when I'm dead," I say lightly.
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"Hazel."
The way he says my name—serious, concerned, caring—makes something crack inside me. Some wall I've been maintaining through sheer will and spite.
"I'll eat the sandwich," I concede.
"Good." He pays for his order, leaves his usual excessive tip that I've stopped fighting him about. "And think about what I said?"
"The courting thing?"
"The getting to know you thing."
"Same thing."
"Not quite." He heads for the door, pauses with his hand on the handle. "You're worth knowing, Hazel. Even the parts you think you need to hide."
Then he's gone, leaving me standing in my bakery with a sandwich I didn't pay for and feelings I don't know what to do with.
