Page 31 of All Mine

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said to my back. Something in his voice gave me pause, but I continued into the dining room. I moved about the room, refreshing cups of coffee, all the while not thinking about the tone in Camden’s voice or his leanly muscled physique. He wanted to close my business, bulldoze these houses, take away town history, and turn it into a tourist trap. He was the enemy, and I’d do well to keep reminding myself of that.

“You know what?” I said, returning to the front counter. “You’ve proved yourself enough for one day. You can go ahead and take off.”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “We’re open for four more hours. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“It’s no big deal. Go on and enjoy your afternoon.”

“No. No. You said we were starting the doughs for tomorrow after the rush and icing the rest of the cupcakes. It sounds like there’s plenty more to do.”

The remaining cupcakes should have already been out, but I didn’t want to leave him alone at the counter. But, he’d remembered the basic outline of the day I’d told him that morning. I didn’t even think he was paying attention.

I also didn’t want to spend any more time with him. “Fine,” I muttered. “But I gave you a free out, so I don’t want to hear it later.”

“Oh, come on. Why do you act like I’m a whiny jerk or something?” He leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest, biceps stretching the arms of his t-shirt.

Did he have any tattoos? I didn’t think so from what I remembered of him in his boxers. God, he’d be even hotter with some ink. Stop. Nope, do not go down that road. I busied myself wiping the countertop.

“Not going to answer me?”

“I don’t want to argue with you here with customers in the building.”

“Alright, we can fight later, boss lady,” he smirked. “I ordered us lunch from that sandwich shop two doors down.”

“You did what?” I rarely ate lunch.

“Ordered us lunch. You know, the midday meal. Wasn’t sure about you, so I asked the guy there. He said a turkey club on wheat, hold the mayo. Hope that’s right.”

“When did you have time for that?”

“While you refilled coffee. So, what do you want me to do now? Mix dough? Cause I’m going to tell you now that I can’t do that pretty swirly thing on top of a cupcake.”

“You want to mix dough?”

“You use a recipe and a machine, right? How hard could it be?”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out,” I said. Camden followed me into the kitchen and to the handwashing station. Then, I set him up with a line of ingredients and instructions on measuring them into the mixer. “Measure the ingredients perfectly. It’s important.”

“I have degrees in architecture and engineering and build commercial buildings. So, I get it.”

“Great. It’s the same way. Don’t think you can wing it with baking either.”

“I don’t think that,” he said, inspecting each of the measuring spoons.

“The flour is last,” I told him. “Once it goes in, handle it as little as possible. Questions?”

He shook his head and went to work. I took a tray of cooled cupcakes to the counter to ice them and watch for customers.

I’d almost finished the tray of cupcakes when Bobby, one of the delivery guys for Valley Sandwich, rounded the corner carrying a bag and a drink carrier with two drinks. A baseball cap sat askew on his head neither facing forward or backward, and a pair of oversized bright red headphones hung around his neck.

“Hey Lauren,” he grinned, “I have an order for a Camden.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it.”

“So, he’s working here now?” Bobby asked. He was barely nineteen but looked so much younger.

“Just for today. What do I owe you?” I asked, sliding the bag and drinks under the counter.

“Nothing. Camden already paid. Receipt is in the bag.” And with that, he was gone.

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