Chapter Five Andy

The lunch rush was finally starting to ebb, but that didn't mean my work was done. As soon as the afternoon barista was behind the bar, my ass was in the back, prepping dough. Thankfully, I'd worked ahead, putting the majority of it in the refrigerator to slow down the proofing process. Now that I was free, it was time to get to baking. There were several dozen pastries we were running low on.

However, after a long morning of nearly selling out, it looked like I'd be here late again regardless of how fast I worked. Not only did I need to restock for the rest of the day, but I needed to make everything for tomorrow morning, too. If I got out before midnight, I'd be shocked. But, then again, I suppose that was the perk of having your house overtop of the bakery. I could just work around the clock without ever taking a break.

Lucky me.

I wasn't complaining, though. I was tired, but it was hard to be upset when business was booming. Money flowed in from all directions and I was doing better than I ever had in my life. Granted, I'd happily trade a portion of it for a talented baker who could keep up with me. However, even with another practical interview this morning, I was left working alone. This applicant had been younger and more energetic, but when she stopped to ask me why she couldn't just use regular flour instead of bread flour, I knew I was talking to a complete novice. There were just some basics that bakers had to know, and I plain didn't have the time to teach someone how to cook and run the cafe by myself.

So that meant I'd stay until midnight forming rolls, buns, and breads. Oh well. I'd live. It wasn't like I had a boyfriend waiting for me at home, anyway. I was a single pringle, and that didn't look like it was going to change anytime soon. Considering the way I'd approached that guy yesterday, nobody was going to hop on the Andy train anytime soon.

Being part of a train did sound kinda nice though… It had been way too long since I'd gotten any action.

The bell in the store rang as a new customer stepped inside, pulling me from my thoughts. Probably for the best considering a boner did not help me roll out dough. The table was perfectly dick-height on me, so that just made things difficult.

"You in there?" a familiar voice called as the kitchen door swung open.

It was Sam.

"Hey stranger," I smiled, still rolling out the dough in front of me. "Haven't seen you here in a while!"

"What are you talking about?" he chuckled. "I've literally been at the cafe three times this week." He glanced at the massive mound of dough stretchy dough in front of me. "But you're too damn busy to notice."

"These rolls don't make themselves."

"So I noticed." He stepped up to the other side of the wooden bench I was working on, pulling a stool up for himself. "Busier than usual?"

"Fucking christ," I sighed, leaning into the rolling pin. "I've never been so goddamn busy. I don't know how any of the people in this town are under four hundred pounds at the rate they clear me out every damn day." I gave him a smile. "But I'm happy for the money. Would be happier for some help."

"That's why I'm here," he replied, lifting a small foam clamshell and sitting it on the bench. "I think I might have found someone to fill that need for you."

I lifted an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"A cinnamon roll. And probably the best one I've ever had."

"The best one?"

"You heard me," Sam said, not backing down from my challenge. "It was baked fresh this morning by one of my tenants. I didn't know he could cook until last night."

Sam had lots of tenants. Rogue wolves were always coming and going from Shifter Grove. Most of them never stayed more than a few weeks or a handful of months at most. And nearly all of them took up some sort of job at the hotel to earn their keep. Sam had them doing laundry or scrubbing floors, everything a hotel needed to keep running. I envied the amount of help he had.

I put the rolling pin aside and flipped the clamshell open. The moment the lid flopped away I was nearly bowled over by the warm scent of cinnamon and sugar. My mouth began to water immediately. Usually I didn't have such a strong reaction to other people's food.

"Well," I said, lifting it up and licking my lips. "It's got nice spirals, and the frosting is the right consistency. Smells good too."

"Wait till you taste it."

I tore off a small piece and lifted it to my lips. The moment I bit down, an explosion of flavor filled my mouth. A tingling sensation ran down my spine as my entire body broke out in goosebumps. The dough was soft and gooey without being undercooked, the frosting was exceptionally smooth with a warm vanilla flavor, and the cinnamon sugar was perfectly balanced. The spice was enough to heat my mouth up, but the buttery dough and creaming frosting cooled it right back down.

"Is… Is that?"

"Cream cheese frosting?" Sam asked. "Yeah. It is."

"Wow…"

"Fucking right?!"

"H-How…" I stared down at the innocuous-looking cinnamon roll. "How is this so good?"

"I have no idea! The guy is fucking magic, I'm telling you!"

"You didn't know he could cook?"

"Not at all! Last night he just made us both gnocchi for dinner. From scratch in like thirty-five minutes. It was the best damn meal I've ever had in that kitchen." Sam leaned forward, pulling a small piece from my cinnamon roll without asking and stuffed it into his mouth. "I have fifteen guests at the hotel. He made three dozen of these this morning and I nearly had to break an arm just to get one to bring to you."

"Christ."

"I know! I've never seen people so keen on pastries before. Even when I put your stuff out, they don't go that nuts!" He paused, glancing up at me. "No offense."

"None fucking taken," I scoffed, pulling the cinnamon roll away from Sam so he couldn't steal another piece. "This is incredible." I took another bite. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"No idea. Don't know hardly a damn thing about him."

"Werewolf?"

"Obviously."

"Background?"

Sam shook his head. "Not a damn clue."

"Temperament?"

"Understandably grumpy."

"I can deal with that," I replied. "When can he start?"

"When do you want him?"

"Tomorrow," I said, a hopeful warmth growing in my chest. "Nine o'clock. I'll have some things prepped so I can see what he can do."

Sam gestured at the cinnamon roll. "That's not enough to convince you?"

"I want to make sure it's not a fluke."

"He's the real deal," Sam nodded. "I can promise you that."

"I hope so. I can't tell you how tired I am. I've been burning the candle at both ends and in the middle all damn summer." I paused just long enough to stuff the rest of the roll in my mouth. "I haven't even been out to the beach yet! It's fucking September!"

"Well, maybe this guy will finally allow you to take some much needed time off," Sam smiled. "And I have a feeling he could use the distraction. He's been a bit surly ever since he showed up. Not that I can blame him."

"Surly I can deal with. As long as he can bake."

"I'll send him your way then. Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock."

"I look forward to it."

Sam got up from his stool, gave me a wave, and headed out the door. I heard the bell out front ring once more as he left.

I stood there for a long moment, staring down at the bench full of dough in front of me, the empty to-go container still smeared with cinnamon sugar. I hoped this tenant of Sam's was everything he claimed. The prospect of having some time to myself was everything I wanted. Well, maybe not everything. I dipped my finger into the clamshell, gathering up the leftover sticky sweetness inside.

Getting some dick this summer would be nice.