Chapter Seven Andy

"Oh fuck…" I heard myself say. In front of me I watched as Josh's look of astonishment turned into one of anger. Sam never told me it was his newest tenant that could bake. Or his name.

"I'll leave," Josh said, turning back toward the door.

I hesitated only for a moment. I was far too busy to turn down good help, even if I had pissed him off pretty badly at the market. It was either my pride or sleep. Those were my choices.

I chose sleep.

"Wait, wait, wait," I called after him.

To my surprise, he stopped. Then he turned around, his glare boring a hole straight through me.

"Listen," I said, taking a deep breath. "I tried one of your cinnamon rolls yesterday and honestly, they're incredible. Sam wasn't joking about your prowess in the kitchen. And I need help."

"I don't work for dickheads."

"I swear I'm not," I replied frantically. "I'm a nice guy."

"I don't give a fuck how nice you are."

"I'm sorry," I spat out at last. He was gonna walk if I didn't convince him to stay. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that at the market. Honestly, I don't know what came over me. It was stupid. Even my friends called me on it after you left."

"I don't care." He started toward the door.

Jogging to get around him, I blocked the exit in a final act of desperation. "Please," I begged. "I need another competent baker in this cafe. I've barely slept all summer and I'm going to have a fucking mental breakdown if I don't get someone hired into this position." I looked up into his eyes, summoning up all the patheticness I could muster. "I need you."

He didn't try to push past me, so I kept going.

"Those cinnamon rolls were better than mine. I'm not too proud to admit that. And I need a person like that in this place, someone who knows their way around a kitchen. It's obvious you have some training or at least a whole fucking bucket load of talent. Either way, I need the help."

"Look dude," Josh sneered. "I don't give a fuck what you need. I don't care about your business, your apology, or how nice you are. My entire life is a fucking disaster and the last thing I need is some pig staring at my ass every day and making lewd comments."

He pushed his way past me, his hand already on the door.

"I'll pay you double!"

Josh stopped.

"And you'll have health insurance. It's full-time work with odd hours, but I guarantee you'll make forty a week, if not more. With that kind of money, you could get out of Shifter Grove faster and do whatever it is you want to do."

He glanced back at me, and I recognized the flash of consideration in his eyes. I had his attention.

"I'll even give you a starting bonus. And, if I ever say anything out of line to you, I give you my full permission to deck me in the face." I held three fingers up on my right hand. "Scout's honor. I'll even put it in your contract so I can't fire you for it."

"What's the catch?" Josh asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"No catch," I replied, shaking my head. "I just really fucking need the help."

He considered me for a long moment before his shoulders slouched and relaxed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back into the room, his chest heaving a great sigh.

"What do you need made?" he asked.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. "You'll do it? You'll take the job?"

"I'll give you a trial run," he grumbled, pointing a finger at me. "Any funny business from you, and I'm fucking gone." He snapped his fingers. "Like that."

I held my hands up in defeat. "I understand one hundred percent. No funny business from me."

"So what do you need made?" he repeated.

I hesitated for a moment, still reeling from his sudden and unexpected acceptance. I couldn't believe I'd gotten him to stay. It was a miracle.

"Uh… cinnamon rolls."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Your cinnamon rolls. Five dozen."

"Right." Josh turned around, grabbing an apron from a nearby hook.

"I'll show you where the–"

"Fuck off," he snapped, rolling up his sleeves. "I know what I'm fucking doing."

I stood there in shock. Nobody in my cafe had ever talked to me like that before. In fact, I don't think anyone had ever, possibly. For half a second, I wanted to be upset, but I quickly tamped that feeling down. Josh was a fucking gift from the gods and the only reason I was going to get a good night's sleep for the first time in months. If he wanted to talk to me that way, that was fine. As long as he could bake, I didn't give a shit. I would take him hating me in stride.

And, if I was being honest, it sort of turned me on…

No. Stop that right now.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to leave Josh to it and do everything I could to push thoughts of him from my mind. I went back to my table full of dough and continued what I was doing. Out of the corner of my eye I kept tabs on him, just to get an idea of how he worked.

The man was a whirlwind. He buzzed around the kitchen like he owned the place. Somehow, without any introduction, he knew where to find all the pans, supplies, and machinery. Within ten minutes he had the large standing mixer going, putting together his dough for the rolls. In the meantime he beat together the filling and put it in the walk-in cooler so it didn't melt.

When he had to wait for his dough to rise, he asked for another project to start. I told him he could make the scones, and he was off again. I'd never seen someone work so fast and with such competence. By the time he was done with half the scones, the cinnamon rolls were ready to be formed. By the time he finished the scones, the rolls were going in the oven. He didn't ask for recipes, directions, or what flavors I usually used.

The bakery filled with the scent of warm cinnamon and sugar, driving away all other smells. More than once my barista came back to ask if there were any ready because customers could smell it and were already asking. Some of them had even decided to stay in the cafe until the rolls were out because it just smelled too good to pass up.

Josh was making me money and I hadn't even technically signed him on as an employee yet.

The only moment I stepped in to help was at the very end when the rolls were coming out. My barista had already sold at least a dozen, so we plated and glazed a pan of them hot and took them straight out to the customers. Raving reviews followed their first bites, and I knew Josh wasn't just relying on beginner's luck. He knew what he was doing and there was no doubt in my mind now. Sam had inadvertently found me the perfect solution to all my problems.

"These are incredible," I said, taking a small bite from one of the rolls. "Like way better than anything I've ever made. Seriously."

A small grin pulled at Josh's lips. "I had your sticky buns at the market," he replied, shying away. "They were amazing."

"I bet yours are better," I said. I didn't want to push it too far. Instead, I waved him over to the scones. "Can you tell me what flavors you did? That way I can get signs made up for them."

There were five sheet pans sitting in front of of me, each with a dozen scones on them. Each was a different color with different fillings. Before Josh even started talking, I knew I was going to have to try them all. If they were anything like his cinnamon rolls, they were probably going to blow my fucking mind.

"Lemon poppyseed," he said, pointing to the first. "Then there's orange and dark chocolate chip, a classic blueberry, banana nut, and the last one is pumpkin spice with a cream cheese glaze."

I took a small bite of one from each pan. The citrus flavors were bright, the scones were soft and buttery, and every topping was even more delectable than the last. Everything was perfectly balanced and a fucking joy to eat. The only thing stopping me from eating all of them was the fact that I'd already started a cinnamon roll and planned to eat the entire damn thing for lunch.

"I'm at a loss for words…" I sighed, putting down the pumpkin spice scone. "This is some of the best food I've ever tasted."

"It's just whatever," he replied, grinning a little despite himself. "They're scones, not a painting."

"They're the best ones that have ever existed in this shop," I insisted. "I've been running this cafe for four years, baking every single day, and mine have never been this good." I furrowed my brow. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"And you've been cooking for how long?"

"I started when my mom… when I was fourteen," Josh said, stopping himself partway through. There was a sad expression that ate away the grin he'd been wearing. "I've done nearly a little over a year of culinary school too."

"It must be talent then," I sighed. "Just pure talent."

"I don't think so…"

"It is," I said firmly. "You're good. Really good."

"Does that mean I get the job?"

"If you want it, it's yours."

"And the double pay?"

I held out my hand to shake. "I'm a man of my word."

Josh eyed my hand suspiciously, but took it at last, a big smile on his face for the first time. "I'll take the job then."

"I'm more than happy to have you aboard. You've got a lot of talent and I guarantee that the people of this town will know your name soon enough. You won't be a stranger here for long!"

Josh's smile faded quickly as the words left my mouth and were replaced with a despondent expression. I wanted to kick myself. I should've known better than to remind him that he was in Shifter Grove because he had nowhere else to go. I didn't know his story, but it wasn't too hard to guess what it might be. Not to mention, he'd only just arrived. His wounds were still fresh and here I was reminding him how far from home he really was.

"Do you… uh… want to keep working today?" I asked, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. "If not, I understand."

Josh stared at the ground for a long moment. "No," he said at last. "I want to go back home–" He froze up. "Back to the hotel I mean."

I nodded. "No problem. I'll log your time for your pay. We can take care of the paperwork and the signing bonus when you come back tomorrow. Starting time is at nine o'clock."

"Right."

With that, Josh took off his apron, hung it over the hook, and walked out the door, his shoulders sagging at his sides. I'd never seen someone look so depressed walking out of my shop before and my heart broke a little as I watched him.

Next time, I'd make sure not to make such a stupid remark.