“Okay.” Her smile was weak, not hiding the lingering stress. She headed toward the alarm shut off.
As soon as she left the room, I sank against a nearby counter and let the panic overwhelm me. I’d already had a long day with baking and everything else. This would only add another hour or so onto the end of my day, if everything went perfectly, but I was going to be exhausted by the end of the original schedule.
Emotion indulged, I breathed in and out slowly several times to force it away. I turned to grab my apron.
When I saw Owen and Kingston near the kitchen doorway, I jumped in surprise, and my heart lodged in my throat. Why did they follow me?
I didn’t have the time or patience for this. I tugged on my apron, never making eye contact with them. They’d seen me crack, but they wouldn’t see me break. “Something I can help you with, that we haven’t already discussed to death?”
“Actually, we’d like to help you.” Owen was calm. Smooth.
No, really. I had zero time. “Are you going to magic a hundred chocolate and vanilla cupcakes out of thin air.”
Kingston smirked. “Sort of.”
I was learning to love-loathe his sexy, smug face. Was that a thing? I was making it a thing.
“I did two years at a Cordon Bleu school in Massachusetts. You tell me what you need done, and I’ll do it,” Owen said.
Of course he had. Mister sexy, rich businessman was also a baker. I’d read it on his profile on his company’s site, but I figured it was just words to give their investments in cafes some credibility. I looked at Kingston, waiting for a similar boast. “And you?”
He shrugged. “I did two years of being a short order cook. I can follow instructions like no one’s business.”
“Why would you help me?” I didn’t understand.
“Because you’re sexy and stressed.” Kingston’s flirting didn’t seem to be just for show. He slid into it without hesitation.
I shot a glare at him. “Try again.”
Owen had probably been the straight man for as long as they’d known each other. “Because you’re catering under a label we’re trying to purchase, and at the end of the day, we’d rather its reputation stay solid.”
That actually made sense. “This isn’t going to change my mind.”
“Didn’t think it would. Clock is ticking?”
And I loathe-loved Owen’s gorgeous perfect way of looking good and being rational and saying all the right things at the wrong time.
I pointed. “Aprons are behind you, sink is behind me. Wash up. You’re going to get your suits dirty. And you realize I’m just using you for the manual labor.”
“Worth it.” Owen had already pulled off his suit coat and hung it out of the way. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, exposing an intricate Celtic knot tattoo trailing up the inside of his arm.
I’d never been an arm girl before, but strength and surety in his movement made me want to whimper in delight. I turned away before I could imagine him pinning me to the wall by my wrists and running his lips over—
Nope. I was on a deadline, and he was one of the assholes trying to buy my dream out from underneath me.
They’d offered to help, and if they were competent, I was going to take it. “The bad cupcakes need to be thrown out, and the pans cleaned.”
Kingston grabbed the first muffin tin. “Master dishwasher at your service.”
I wasn’t going to let them do anything that could slow me down more, but with the extra I’d made of certain items, that still left me with a list of tasks. “There’s dough for croissants in the walk-in, in big plastic containers. Start kneading a batch.” Might as well get Owen moving on those, since they’d take the next most time. See if he was worth what he said.
“You got it, boss.” He vanished into the fridge, and reemerged with one of the tubs of dough.
We worked for the next couple of hours. They picked up every task I gave them without complaint, and by the time afternoon rolled around, I was ahead of schedule rather than behind.
I’d be out of here long before midnight, the scenery was stunning when it was quiet... My day was looking up after all.
“Who delivers the best food around here?” Kingston’s question was the first non-baking one anyone had asked since we dove into work.
I needed more information to respond, though. “Pretty much anything is available on one of the apps.”
“I’ll rephrase that. We need to eat, what do you recommend?”
That they not watch me eat. My schedule didn’t allow for meal breaks on days like this, but I wasn’t up for stuffing my face in front of them anyway. “Depends on what you’re in the mood for.”
Owen paused in his bagel shaping duties, and held my gaze with a penetrating stare. “What do you want? You can’t say nothing.”
“Why not?” Maybe they hadn’t caught on yet, I didn’t respond well to being told what I couldn’t do.
“Because you’re swaying on your feet. You can’t run on coffee alone.”
I could and I had. But arguing with them would make this into a big deal, and I didn’t want that. “There’s a great Chinese place just a couple of blocks away. They have fantastic pork soup dumplings.” The owner was as white as anyone, but he’d gone to Hong Kong on a Mormon mission, decided he liked cooking more than the faith he’d been raised in, was trained by a local master, and came back to open his own restaurant.
“That sounds great.” Kingston pulled out his phone.
“Menu and phone number are in the binder on the counter.” I pointed. “I’ll have the side salad with ginger dressing.” The twin looks of disbelief I received were almost accusatory. “I’m not that hungry.”
My bitch of a stomach chose that moment to growl and betray me.
Owen raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have what she recommended.”
Kingston called in the order, which included three helpings of soup dumplings, plus my salad. Either I did a fantastic job upselling the food, or he was assuming and ordering for me. I wasn’t going to make a fuss out of it. If one of them was going to eat it, fine. If they tried to give it to me, that was their mistake.
We worked until the food came, then set up a space away from the work area, with three stools pulled up to an island.
Sure enough, Kingston slid me a bowl of pork dumplings, along with my salad.
I pushed the extra food back. “This isn’t what I ordered.”
“But it’s what you wanted,” Owen said.
He was right, but I didn’t appreciate the assumption. Just like that, a morning of peace evaporated, and my irritation was back. Half at them, for going against my wishes, and half at myself for being too stubborn to take the food.
Chapter Five
Kingston nudged the dumplings back toward me. “If you keep eating rabbit food, you’ll damage those curves.”
I clenched my jaw. Jokes about my weight were at the top of my things I hate list. Go figure. But that wasn’t what he’d done.
He was watching me with a look again—one that set my blood on fire. The food did smell good, but I didn’t like that they’d ordered for me when I told them not to. “I’m good with the salad. Now you have leftovers for later.”