Chapter 18

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Ella closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as the five industrial mixers whirled in front of her. It was late, nearing midnight, and she was tired. She'd had an exciting day but was now regretting staying to watch the obstacle course for so long.

Kind of.

She'd completely enjoyed it at the time. Hell, it had almost been like a reunion, so many people had shown up. The kids had gotten as many turns as they wanted, and then the adults—both the former Linear Tactical founders, the current Linear Tactical employees, and all their loved ones—had wanted a turn.

Ella had not been interested in going on the obstacle course. No need to reemphasize how much slower, chunkier, and nonathletic she was compared to everyone else. But she'd had a blast watching everyone else.

Now she watched, bleary-eyed, as mixers continued their spinning in front of her. Her gaze fell on a note she'd made for herself on the giant whiteboard over the prep table.

Hire someone.

That note had been up there for months now. She had hourly employees who worked the counter and register for her, but for some time, Ella had known she needed to hire someone with an affinity for baking. Someone with actual experience. It was all becoming too much for Ella to do on her own.

Fancy Pants was hers. She had bought it from Violet Teague when the other woman had retired. It had been a labor of love for Violet and was a labor of love for Ella also. But this was her company. Except for when she'd bought it, she hadn't dipped into her family money at all.

And she loved the business. Even as exhausted as she was, she still loved it. Not to mention since she was a business owner, people were more content with allowing her the lack of a dating life. Nobody expected you to be a social butterfly when they knew you were the sole proprietor of a small business. That had kept the questions about Colton at bay for many years. For both other people and for Ella herself.

Normally, she didn't mind the long hours; she truly didn't. But tonight, something felt off. She glanced over at the windows at the front of the shop. She could almost swear she felt eyes on her.

That had to be the exhaustion. This was Oak Creek in the middle of the week. There was very little chance someone was out at all, much less watching her bake. That was about as exciting as watching grass grow.

She shook off the feeling, but it was back a few minutes later. She shut off one of the mixers and sucked in a breath when she swore she saw a shadow passing along one of the windows.

There had been a fire here at Fancy Pants before Ella was even born. It had almost killed two people, and they'd later found out the fire had been set deliberately.

But that was a long time ago. Why was Ella feeling the same sort of bad-guy vibes again now?

She turned off all the mixers so that she could hear more clearly. Surely she was just letting her exhaustion get the better of her. She walked out into the front and looked around. Nothing. She was imagining things.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, calming herself. She needed to refocus, get this done, and get some sleep. She blew out the breath and opened her eyes, ready to restart.

And she saw a face in the window directly in front of her.

She jumped back, letting out a scream. She couldn't see who it was, someone wrapped in a black hoodie. A split second later, the face was gone.

She ran over to grab her phone on the counter, not even sure who to call. Sheriff Webb? Nine-one-one? And say what—that someone had looked in her window?

But she'd seen enough horror movies to know that she wasn't going to stay here by herself and wait to get killed. She may be many things, but too stupid to live was not one of them.

Calling Sheriff Webb probably made the most sense. He lived outside of town but could get here relatively quickly or would know if there was a deputy he could send. She hated to inconvenience anyone in the middle of the night, but she would also hate to wind up in a serial killer documentary.

Especially when a knock on the shop's back door sounded out a few seconds later. Her heart rate ratcheted up again. There was no way she was opening that door.

She opened her phone to find Callum's number and was startled into screeching again when her phone buzzed in her hand.

"Oh shit." She dashed for the walk-in chiller. She could at least bar that on the inside if someone was breaking in.

Of course, if someone was setting a fire like years before, it would also be her death sentence.

She stopped when she saw the reason why her phone had buzzed. A message from Colton?

I'm at the back door of your shop if you would like some company.

She stared at the phone. Was that really him? She decided to call, stepping into the walk-in chiller as she did so.

"Hey," he answered. "Did you get my text? "

"Are you really at the back door of my shop?"

He muttered a curse under his breath. "I'm sorry. I knew this was a bad idea."

It had been Colton at the window. Thank God. She ran from the chiller toward the door. "No. No, I'm glad you're here. You just scared me."

She made it to the door as she finished her sentence. She ended the call as she opened it.

"I'm so glad it was you. You scared me to death in the window." She held open the door and stepped backward so he could come in. She was still a little shaken, so she immediately locked the door behind them.

"What window?"

"When you stuck your face right up to my front window! I wasn't expecting it, so it scared me to death."

"I wasn't anywhere near your front window. Scout's honor."

She looked at him more closely. He definitely wasn't wearing the black hoodie like the face she'd seen.

"There was somebody there. Freaked me out."

Colton instantly stiffened. "I'm going to go check it out. You stay here and lock the door behind me."

She grabbed his arm. "It was probably just somebody walking by and saw my light on."

"I'm still going to check it out."

He was walking out the door before she could make an argument. She kept her phone in her hand so she could call Sheriff Webb if needed. But Colton was back just a few minutes later.

"I didn't see any sign of anyone out there. Did you get a good look at the person?"

"I just saw a guy in a black hoodie. It startled me pretty badly, so I didn't catch any details."

"Are you positive it was a man?"

She hadn't been expecting that question. "I think so, but I can't say with absolute certainty. Why? "

"Just wondering." He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. What are you doing here so late anyway?"

She went back over to the mixers, took a breath, and started pulling ingredients to begin the next batch of cake batter. "I'm a little behind on my work, so I needed to get caught up before tomorrow morning."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Ella took a closer look at him now that she had calmed down. Colton looked rough—like he had that first night when he'd caught her. Whatever was going on with him, he needed something to do. Fortunately, she could help with that. Not to mention, she could use all the assistance she could get.

"Let's rinse out this mixer, and here's the recipe card. Basically, combine the ingredients and follow the instructions."

She knew she'd done the right thing when she saw the relief in his eyes. He turned to the mixing bowl and immediately got to work.

She turned her attention to her own mixing bowl. "Did you just happen to be in town?"

He stiffened for a second. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes. It's been better since I've been in Oak Creek, but tonight just wasn't good. So, I decided to go for a drive. When I saw lights on here…"

"You decided to make sure I wasn't falling off any countertops again?"

He relaxed slightly. "Something like that, yeah."

They worked in silence for nearly half an hour. While she had no problem with the quiet, she'd never known Colton not to talk for that long. The longer the silence stretched out, the more concerned she became about him.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about? How are things really going with you?" she finally asked.

He immediately stiffened again. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

"Colton, I mean that you are at my bakery at nearly midnight. That's not normal. "

He shrugged but did not look up from the batter he was mixing. "There's not really anything to talk about. I'm fine."

She took a chance. "You nearly died two months ago. That's no small thing."

"And I've done plenty of stunts since then. Hell, I've even gone snowboarding and skiing since the avalanche. I'm fine. Same old, same old."

He obviously didn't want to continue to talk about this—everything about his body posture and his word choice basically screamed it. But there was one thing Ella knew was true, regardless of how many times he said it.

Colton Harrison was not fine .

Her mom had always taught her to trust her instincts. So, she did that now.

"And the panic attacks?"

That was a wild guess. She had nothing to base it on. Except for the fact that she'd always been connected to him in a way that she'd never really understood. She knew something wasn't right.

"Panic attacks?" He fairly scoffed the words. "Why would you think I'm having panic attacks? Yeah, I have a little trouble sleeping every once in a while, but that's not a panic attack."

Saying the words three times in one remark did not reassure her.

"All I'm saying is that it would be completely understandable if you were struggling after what happened."

"And like I said, I've been doing my stunts with no problem. I'm fine. It's not like you really know me, so why don't you just let it go."

It was like an actual slap in the face. "I overstepped. I apologize."

She blinked back tears as she walked to the mixer farthest from his. He was right; she didn't truly know him, did she?

And the connection she thought she felt with him was—and always had been—something she created in her mind. It wasn't real, and she still needed to stop pretending that it ever would be.

She focused on the task in front of her as silence fell over the bakery, the only sound being the whirr of the mixers. The batters were almost done. The baking would be completed in the morning by the opening staff. She'd planned to do one more recipe tonight but now decided not to.

She just wanted to go home.

"Butterscotch…"

She shook her head and held up a hand to stop him without turning around. "Like I said, I overstepped."

She poured the batter from the mixing bowl into the storage container and walked it into the fridge. When she came out, Colton had done the same and was washing out his bowl. She added her utensils to the pile of dirty dishes. "They'll do that in the morning. Don't worry about it."

He kept scrubbing the bowl.

"Did you hear me? I have staff who comes in specifically to clean what I do at night."

"Okay."

He still didn't stop washing. As a matter of fact, he was scrubbing even harder now.

"Colton, you just said okay."

"I meant okay, you're right. I've been struggling pretty badly, and yeah, panic attacks have been a big part of it."