Big Baker (Big Boys) by Cassie Mint

Author:Cassie Mint [Mint, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Cherry Publishing
Published: 2021-10-06T16:00:00+00:00

Five

Zoe

I shouldn’t have run away like that. But hearing those voices in the hall, hearing reality knocking at the door—it muddled my brain. Made me panic and leave without saying goodbye.

My rudeness haunts me all the way home. Makes me cringe as I cook a simple omelet for dinner, then mutter a curse as I unwrap my macarons with gentle fingers.

Pastries are not all I want to give you.

Chef Ballard—Javier’s words echo in my brain. I huddle on my rickety kitchen chair, my breath coming in short pants. I can’t look away from the macarons, can’t get his low, honeyed voice out of my head, and as I sit there, heat pools low in my belly.

No one’s ever given me any of—of that.

I shift on the chair. The wood scrapes against the faded checkerboard linoleum.

What would Javier think of my tiny apartment? My beat-up furniture and lumpy bed? His townhouse may not be the fanciest in town, even with my mural, but it’s far bigger than my place, that’s for sure.

I try not to think about it. I’ve probably put him off with my rudeness anyway.

The next morning, I’m awake with the dawn, sitting on my kitchen counter with a mug clutched in my hands. The coffee steam tickles my nose, and I breathe it in along with the scents drifting through the open window: river water and tree blossoms. Citrus and hot cement. My body still aches from four long shifts in a row, but for once, I’m eager to get to work.

Eager to see him.

I take extra care getting ready. Tuck the stray curls of my dark hair behind my ears; draw a soft line of kohl over my eyelids. I can’t help the stiff, unflattering cleaner’s dress, but I make sure it’s spotless and crease-free.

I hover in the kitchen before I leave. Do I dare?

I curse quietly then snatch the vanilla essence from the cupboard. Dab a drop on the inside of my wrists.

He probably won’t notice anyway.

Rochelle knows something has changed as soon as she sees me. I catch up with her on the sidewalk outside Hotel Theriot, and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. She whistles, loud and unabashed.

“Rochelle.”

“I knew it.” She waves a hand at me, leading the way up the hotel steps. Her hips sway, and her voice is thick with amusement. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew it.”

I want to ask her how she knows—is it written across my freaking forehead?—but I probably won’t like her answer so I clam up tight. We stand together in the morning huddle, nodding as we’re assigned our rooms to clean, and I try not to sigh when we’re sent to the top floor. Far away from the kitchens.

Rochelle grumbles with every flight of steps, her poor knees creaking. And when we get to our first room, I make her sit down for a minute while I change the bed.

“He’s a good-looking man, that Chef Ballard.”

“Uh-huh.” Don’t I know it.

Rochelle taps one foot against the rug.

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