Page 3 of Gingerbread Hearts

As she puts her apron on, I remember to tell her I already made coffee. Bethany settles behind the counter ready to count items for the day and I pour her a cup of coffee.

“Always a doll,” she tells me as she takes the warm mug in her hands. “For the gingerbread cookies, I was thinking we could decorate them all cute and like the couples attending the parties. We know everyone in town anyways.”

“I suppose that could be doable.” I think about the orders we need to complete ASAP. My brain starts to go over the different colored frosting we have in stock, what we need to order, and what candies we would need to accomplish this new task. “This is going to be a lot of work for this time of year.”

“I know,” she stops what she’s doing and comes closer. She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives it a slight squeeze. “I know this time of year just sucks for you because it just reminds you of heartbreak but try to take a chance to see how happy you could be with others.”

“Okay,” I smile weakly back at her.

She means well and she’s one of the only ones who know the full ex-boyfriend story. Bringing it up out loud makes the wound seem fresh rather than buried in the past. After giving me another light squeeze, Bethany leaves me alone. She mans the front, opening the bakery and café portion, and I get back to my baking.

I try to forget about the absolute shitshow that my relationship ending was, but as I stare at my list of things to get done my mind wanders. The two of us met my freshman year at the culinary institute and immediately clicked. After a few weeks of bantering back and forth, we went out on a date and had a magical time together. We seemed to be compatible in every way. Right down to our eerily identical plans for our futures. We both wanted to graduate, travel for a little bit, and settle down in a quaint little town to open our place. It all seemed too dreamlike.

I changed myself, molding my class schedule and workload to make sure we had time together. Always adjusting my life to make sure it worked out, and at the time it just seemed like a little love bubble. Everything was perfect.

The Christmas before we graduated, he got the offer of a lifetime. A fancy restaurant in Los Angeles, California, wanted him to head their kitchen. He told me before he accepted the role, but it was a done deal. It was his dream job and his dream life. And I just wasn’t a part of that.

He told me loved me. And then dumped me.

He claims we would have fizzled out anyways. That I wouldn’t move to California because I love snow too much.

Whatever.

We haven’t talked since but every now and then I still feel angry. It took me a few weeks, and maybe if it wasn’t my final semester I would have slipped into a dark place. But I threw myself into my studies and my work and graduated. Then I packed all my stuff, what little I had, and moved back to Kastle Harbor. Bethany helped me sort the rest out.

It was rough, but it all worked out. Bethany got a well-trained baker, and I got my dream of working in a quaint town and experimenting with new recipes. Pushing the memories back into the past, I continue to work. The next few days pass in a blur of the usual. Covered in flour, cleaning up sprinkles, the whole bakery shenanigans. When the end of Saturday’s shift came around, I was ready to crawl into bed and sleep away my time off.

THREE

VIOLET

My alarm ringing at three in the morning pulls me out of my deep slumber. Since it’s a Monday morning I know it’s going to be hectic. I rush to get ready. Entirely on autopilot mode this morning. Thankfully I’m at the bakery by four. I turn all the lights on, once again admiring Bethany’s choice of a large cupcake by our name that has neon sprinkles on top. At this hour, pre sunrise, the neon glow is a little eerie. I swap out my winter coat for my chef’s jacket and start the coffee machine.

I have a few dozen gingerbread cookie orders to make today. And even more orders of other popular Christmas cookies to finish too. Bethany comes in at some point to refill my coffee mug and point out the new orders.

After some finishing touches on some cookies, this round the gingerbread people are in white frosted clothing and have M&M candies as buttons, I peek at the clock.

Shit, already ten. I should probably have breakfast.

A grumbling sound from my stomach verifies my thoughts and I head to the main area of the bakery. Nodding my hellos to the regulars seated at the tiny café tables with their cappuccinos and Danishes, I beeline for the coffee.

“Excuse me ma’am,” a deep, husky voice came from behind me. “Are you filling coffees?”

Right as I was going to point out my jacket and the sheer amount of flour that was probably covering me, I decide against it. I’m just feeling hangry right now. As long as they just want a coffee, I can do that.

“If you take it black, then yes, I’ll fill your coffee,” and with that I turn to the face the stranger.

I’m momentarily frozen in place. He’s gorgeous. His suit is a deep navy and the white dress shirt underneath looks extra bright against his tan skin. His hair is like a delicious chocolate brown that compliments his hazel eyes. I’m suddenly very aware of the flour and crumbs I have covering me. Despite wiping sweat from my face earlier, there’s probably flour on my face as well.

I’m not looking for anything serious, but a quick rendezvous in the sheets sounds pretty nice.

My face and neck feel warm now. I know that as I imagine what’s underneath this stranger’s suit, the blush on my face is intensifying. Luckily if asked, I can always blame the ovens in the back.

***

Jake

“Excuse me ma’am, are you filling coffees?” I ask the woman in front of the coffee maker. Her back is to me and as she turns to face me it’s clear she must work in the back. Her white jacket looks stained and she has what must be flour on her cheek. It’s a bright white against her rosiness. She must get warm in the kitchen. She looks tired, but she offers me a slight grin as she replies about only giving out black coffee.

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