11

Sienna

Sweat glistened on my brow as I vigorously kneaded a mountain of dough on the cool marble counter. I was completely absorbed in the flow of my movements until I heard the distinct sound of my bakery's front door opening.

The sharp clack of heavy boots against the tile floor grew louder with each step, drawing closer to the back area where I stood alone.

"Sorry, I'm—" I began to say when Forrest's head suddenly appeared around the swinging door. "Oh, hey, Forrest!"

"Hey, sorry," he said, his expression apologetic. His gentle eyes scanned my face, searching for any signs of distress. "I saw your lights still on, and I thought I would check on you. I was surprised to find the door unlocked. It's late."

"What time is it?" I asked. Baking always consumed my attention, and I often lost track of the hours. If I wasn't careful, I could easily spend the whole night in the kitchen, lost in the art of creating treats.

"Almost midnight," he said, checking his watch again. "Can I give you a ride home?"

It was a tempting offer, but I shook my head. "I have a few more batches to finish, but while you're here, I do have a favor to ask."

"Anything," he said.

I laughed, pointing towards my apron that was still hanging on the hook. "I forgot to put it on before I started earlier, and my hands haven't been clean since."

He reached for the apron and delicately draped it over my shoulders, adjusting it with a tender touch. Leaning in closely, he carefully tied the strings at my waist, his warm breath brushing against my skin, causing my heart to quicken its pace in response to his proximity.

"There," he whispered, his hands lingering at my sides for a moment longer than necessary. "Anything else I can do for you?"

I cleared my throat, willing my voice to sound steady. "Actually, could you grab that bag of flour from the top shelf? I can't quite reach it."

He chuckled and moved to the pantry, easily plucking the bag from the highest shelf. As he handed it to me, our fingers brushed, and I felt a jolt of electricity run through me.

"You know," he said, leaning against the counter, "I could stay if you want some company. Or if you happen to need another out-of-reach ingredient again."

I turned to face him, suddenly aware of how close we were standing in my bakery's small kitchen.

"I'd like that," I said. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all."

With my audience of one intently watching me, I continued to knead the dough with steady hands. Once ready, I separated the dough into twelve equally portioned piles. Taking one of the piles in my palm, I rolled it back and forth until it became a short, plump snake, then carefully wrapped it around my hand to form a circular ring. Then I rolled the dough until it was sealed into a smooth, uniform shape .

"Are you making bagels?" Forrest asked, his eyes sparkling with youthful joy, the light from his inner child shining through.

"Yep!" Satisfied with my creation, I placed the first formed bagel on the baking sheet and started with the next. "Want to help?" I tipped my head to the left. "Wash your hands first."

Eager to get his hands on the dough, he practically bounced with excitement as he walked over to the sink.

"What do I do first?" he asked, drying his hands off.

"Come here," I instructed, tapping on the counter next to me. "Do you want another demonstration?"

"I watched closely," he whispered into my ear, the stubble from his chin tickling me, "but when am I not?"

As I watched his nimble fingers work, a wave of warmth spread through my body and left me feeling like a pool of melted honey. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight, entranced by the dance of his skilled hands. With gentle movements, he effortlessly formed a perfect ball. Using just the right amount of pressure, his thumb pressed through the center to create a perfectly shaped center hole.

"Wow! It's perfect! "

"You really think so?" he asked, his eyes showing a layer of vulnerability that shook me to my core.

The pull I felt towards Forrest was irresistible, like a strong magnetic force that tugged at my every step. My body raced with the desire to be near him, but my mind fought against it, knowing the consequences of giving in. I found myself needing space, unsure of what I might do in his presence.

"Want to do the rest of the bagels while I get started on the last batch of muffins?" I asked, eager to put some distance between us.

"You trust me that much?" The warmth and depth in his eyes caused a flicker of emotion to spark within me. His earnest gaze spoke volumes, conveying just how much my trust meant to him.

But could I truly trust him?

I was still undecided, torn between my conflicting emotions.

"I would be silly to not use you for your bagel-making skills," I teased him. "Who knew you were such a natural?" I stepped back, letting him take over. With his help, I was hopeful that I would be able to finish my tasks and make it home in time for some much-needed rest .

"Well, you're not using me," he clarified. "I'm volunteering."

"I know you said your move to Cider Falls was random, but what made you want to relocate?" I asked from the safety of my table, far from the allure of his sturdy hands. "Most people don't just pick up and move out of nowhere."

Setting another formed bagel on the baking sheet, he sighed. "I felt small and insignificant in the city. It was as if my presence went completely unnoticed by the people bustling around me day in and day out. I thought maybe a small town would be better suited for me. I was hoping to find the sense of belonging that I've been yearning for."

"You're just a wildflower searching for your home," I whispered.

"And here, in Cider Falls, I feel more like an unloved weed in someone's pristine backyard." His admission was accompanied by a forced laugh.

I was always taught that men were cold and unemotional. But as Forrest stood before me, his face contorted in a mix of sorrow and shame, I could see the depths of his emotions. My heart ached for him as I realized how poorly we had treated him, how unwelcome we had made him feel in the place we called home. The guilt settled heavily on my shoulders as I listened to his vulnerable words.

"I'm sorry Cider Falls hasn't been what you were hoping for," I said, my heart breaking for him. "We're just weary of newcomers," I explained. "I think everyone will warm up to you eventually, once they see who you are, like I have."

"I'm just lucky to have you as a friend," he said, glancing over at my workstation. "I think I got the best of the bunch anyway."

I blushed, refusing to meet his gaze. "Well, seeing as we are going to be business neighbors," I explained, "it's the least I can do."

"What do the guys around here do for fun?" he asked. "I never see them out and about."

"Most of the men in our community are caretakers for their families," I explained, "and they've formed plenty of clubs. If you want to—"

"Oh, no," he laughed. "Thanks. What about the guys who don't have families?"

"What do you mean?"

"There aren't any single guys?" he asked .

I shook my head."Unless you count our widowers."

"So, how do you date?"

"I don't," I said, turning away from him to pour the batter into the muffin pan. "I mean, I was engaged once," I explained, "but I haven't dated since."

"So, technically, I'm the only single guy here?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Is that why everyone is keeping their distance from me?"

I nodded again. My heart was heavy with the weight of unspoken secrets. I couldn't answer his questions without putting my coven in danger, and the thought alone made me shudder.

"Women outnumber men in Cider Falls," I replied, "and Newcomers don't stay single for long."

"Well, there's only one woman I'd be interested in," he said, "and she doesn't date."