Georgina nods. She firmly clasps her hands together.
"My apologies," she gulps.
Mr. Harris growls and storms out of the kitchen. I've met men like him before. Men with a short fuse. I suppose seeing certain things from the front lines, or from the cook's line, can scar a person for life. My dad once did business with a captain in the Navy who dove to the floor during lunch after a plate shattered in the kitchen. He thought he was being shot at.
"Remind me never to piss him off," Cole says quietly.
I wipe another bead of sweat from my forehead after Jeff nods in my direction. I follow Cole back outside just as the sun is starting to rise. It turns the sky an orangey color that reminds me again of orange-scented sticky buns. I clutch my stomach to stop it from making loud noises. At least one good thing came of this bakery orientation. I met Jeff.
"Ready?" Bree finally joins me again as our class breaks up across the quad before our morning lessons.
"Ready for what?"
"Day two," she responds. "We still have a full day of classes ahead of us."
"But our first one isn't until ten this morning, right?"
I feel relieved when Bree nods. That means I can head back to our apartment and sleep off my headache. The two of us walk back to our apartment. Bree makes another pot of coffee, and I collapse on my bed and close my eyes. Day two cannot be like day one. I have to try harder.
I have to wear flats.
SOUTHERN PEACH PIE & A DEAD GUY
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Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) Page 24
