by Andi James
“As far as struck-by-Subaru injuries go, this one isn’t too bad,” she said chuckling. “The pain is bearable most of the time. The thing that bothers me the most is that I’m going to be bed-bound for at least two months while I heal. I’m going to go crazy!”
Daniel had no doubt about that, as Patty was always up and moving and keeping herself busy. He gave her two days before she found something to do from bed — like applying for a job with a phone sex hotline or taking a class on website design.
“What about Cakes?” When Daniel had wrapped up his shift the night before, he’d frowned at the darkened windows of the bakery as he walked by. Even though they didn’t open until six, it was common for someone to be inside the bakery at two or three a.m., preparing for the morning rush.
Patty beamed. “My son is coming in from New York City to run the place until I’m back on my feet.”
“Oliver is coming here?” Of course he’d heard about Patty’s son, but in all the time they’d been friends, he couldn’t remember the man ever leaving his restaurant job to come back to Easton. “Wow, I can’t wait to meet the famous culinary master!”
Patty smiled and grabbed Daniel’s hand. “You just missed him! I expect him back soon, though. He’s an amazing chef, Daniel, but doesn’t have as much experience as a baker and zero experience running a business. Maybe you can pop in occasionally and check on him for me?”
“Of course.” There was nothing Daniel wouldn’t do for the woman beside him. He had spent years in her bakery and had learned more about cookies and pies than he’d ever thought possible. He smirked at Patty. “Do you think the cinnamon rolls will give him as much trouble as they gave me?”
Patty laughed and Daniel suddenly remembered his gift. He reached into his backpack and brought out a small gift bag, colorful tissue paper poking out from the top. He handed the bag to Patty, who laughed loudly as she pulled the stuffed cinnamon roll from the bag.
Daniel grinned as he remembered watching the sexy but terribly rude Grumpy Guy saunter over to the counter in the gift shop, pay for his purchase, and leave without another glance at Daniel. Daniel had smirked as Grumpy Guy’s best side disappeared from view before he’d walked over to the counter and asked the two women who’d greeted him earlier if they had any more of the little stuffed baked goods.
“Oh, Daniel. This is perfect.” Patty hugged the little guy to her chest. “Thank you.”
He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’m so glad you like it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Wars were waged for this cinnamon roll, Patricia.”
Confusion passed over Patty’s face, but before she could speak, Phoebe was back, bringing with her a tiny woman dwarfed by a long, white lab coat. She introduced herself to Daniel as Dr. Anderson before she turned to Patty and began asking questions about her pain level and overall comfort. Daniel took that as his cue to leave and gave Patty’s hand a squeeze.
“I’ll stop by again soon, okay?”
Patty smiled at him. “Thank you for coming, Daniel.” She touched the small gift he’d brought. “And for this. You know the way to my heart.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek again. “Love you, Patty,” he whispered, before grabbing his backpack and slipping from the room.
Chapter Two
Oliver
Oliver tried to use the drive to his mom’s house and back to the hospital to calm down. First he’d run into the horrible coffee from the hospital cafeteria, which he’d taken one sip of and promptly threw away, even though he desperately needed the caffeine. Then he’d encountered that infuriating man in the gift shop who thought he could steal the gift he was going to buy his mom, and who had the nerve to be all cute and nice, trying not to take his money. To top it off, when he’d finally made it to his mom’s room, he’d barely gotten out a greeting before she asked if he could run home “real quick” to get her laptop.
Of course he was willing to make the trip, but it had taken nearly an hour thanks to morning traffic. He might not be the world’s nicest person, but he wasn’t going to say no to his just-hit-by-a-car mother. If only she had called him this morning, though, he could have brought it with him then and saved some time. He’d been at the bakery before the sun came up and he had to go back later, which meant his visit with his mom would be cut even shorter now.
With a sigh, Oliver parked the car in the visitor’s lot and headed into the hospital he was already becoming familiar with, sure that by the time his mom was released, he would know every hallway and vending machine.
He reminded himself how grateful he was his mom was doing relatively well after the accident. Getting a call from emergency personnel telling him his mom had been hit by a car had been a heart-stopping moment. Even with reassurances from the person on the phone that she was okay, all things considered, he’d been worried sick. He’d barely taken the time to throw some essentials in a bag, and the entire eight-hour drive from New York to Easton was a complete blur.
Once he’d been allowed in to see his mom, she’d been asleep and had remained that way until they woke her for surgery. He’d only had about twenty minutes with her before she was taken back to the operating room. That small amount of time had helped him immensely, though. Seeing his mom alert, even though she was in pain, had lifted a weight off his chest. Hearing her cracking jokes with nurses and being her usual outgoing self had settled something deep inside him and convinced him she actually would be fine once she recovered.
Now that he’d had a couple days to get over the initial shock of the accident, everything else about the situation was finally sinking in. Annoyance and dread flashed through his mind yet again as he thought about how he’d be stuck here for two or three months while his mom healed. Not only did he not want to be in this town, he also had to run her bakery in her absence. He knew from experience it wouldn’t be an easy task. At least he didn’t have to worry about his job in New York. The chef he worked for had been more than understanding, and had assured Oliver his job would be waiting for him when he returned.
Oliver paused outside the door to his mom’s room and took a couple deep breaths. His mom had enough to deal with right now, and he didn’t want her to worry about anything besides getting better. That meant putting away his sour face while he visited.
He knocked on the nearly closed door before pushing it open and peeking inside. He was surprised to find his mom alone for once. Nurses and doctors had been in and out as long as he’d been there the day before, which might have annoyed him if he hadn’t been so relieved to see they were taking such good care of his mom.
“Oh good, you’re back! Did you remember to bring the charger too?”
Oliver tried not to roll his eyes as he walked over to his mom’s bed. “Yes, it’s in here, along with a couple other things I thought you might want, like your Kindle, some catalogs and a sleep mask.”
“That was thoughtful, thank you, honey.”
He stepped closer and kissed her forehead. “Mom, what do you need your laptop for, anyway? I didn’t think you used it much except for work.”
Her eyes shifted away, and Oliver let out a sigh. “You can’t do work from here. This is time for you to rest and heal, and that’s it. I promise the bakery will be fine.”
“I wasn’t going to do much, maybe follow up on some orders and research a new oven… possibly watch some videos on cake decorating, because I want to start offering more complicated designs.”
Oliver debated taking the laptop back home with him, because he knew his mom would be on it as long as possible otherwise. Instead, he decided to talk to a nurse about it, maybe see if they could monitor how often she used it. He sympathized with his mom’s situation. She wasn’t one to sit still, and the bakery was pretty much her life. But his first priority was her health, not enabling her workaholic habits.
“We’ll see.” He didn’t want to argue, certain there would be enough of that in the months to come that he didn’t need to start it now. “I know you’
re worried about the business, but you’re the one who asked me to run it. You know that means you’re going to have to let me, right?”
She chuckled, and immediately grimaced.
“What’s wrong? Pain? Do you need more meds?” He looked around for the button to call for a nurse.
“Oliver, honey, I’m fine. Please sit down. Laughing hurts a bit, that’s all.”
He pulled a chair closer to the bed and collapsed into it. Only getting a couple hours of sleep each of the past two nights was catching up to him. Apparently, it was showing too.
“You need to rest, you can’t do your best baking when you’re tired.” His mom tsked at him. “I want you to go in, get everything set for the morning, then go straight to bed.”
Oliver snorted. “Mom, I’m not eight. I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna go anywhere else in this town other than home.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off. “I know, this place is just the worst and you intend to be a hermit.”
He nodded in agreement, but she continued. “You need to get over it, Oliver. It’s not how you think it is. There are so many great people here.”
“Mom, I have no—”
“That reminds me. We need to chat about your customer service abilities.”
“We really don’t. I am capable of being polite.”
She laughed again, and quickly stopped. “Honey, I know you’re capable. But I need you to actually put it into practice when you’re dealing with my customers. They’re special to me.”
“I will try.”
His mom glared at him.
“I’ll be nice, I promise.” He hoped he could keep his vow, but already knew it would be next to impossible.
Oliver wanted to change the subject and looked around the room, grasping for any other topic of conversation. That’s when he noticed a stuffed cinnamon roll sitting among vases of flowers on the window sill. How the fuck did that get there? It was just like the one he’d bought at the gift shop downstairs. The one still in its bag at his feet. The one he’d had to pry out of Mr. Too Nice’s hands.
“Mom,” he said, standing and walking over to grab the plush pastry. “Where did this come from?” He held it up for her to see.
“Isn’t that adorable? That’s from Daniel, you just missed him. He left not even five minutes before you got back.”
Who the fuck is Daniel? He stomped over and pulled his own gift out of the bag, holding it up next to the other. “I got you one of these too.”
His mom smiled brightly. “Isn’t that funny? What are the odds you both bought me the same thing?”
Pretty low, he thought, considering he’d bought the last one. Or thought he had.
“What does this Daniel look like?” Surely it wasn’t the same man from the gift shop. But the fact he’d had this exact stuffed roll in his hands made him suspicious.
“Oh, he’s a cutie. Here, hand me my phone, I’ll show you a picture.”
Oliver found her phone on the tray by the bed and gave it to her. She quickly scrolled through some photos and pulled one up, then showed him.
“That’s Daniel, he’s a really sweet kid. Comes into the bakery all the time. In fact, I asked him to stop by while you’re there, so you’ll meet him soon, I’m sure.”
He narrowed his eyes at the image on the screen. Standing with an arm wrapped around his mom and a big smile on his stupidly pretty face was the very man who accosted him in the gift shop.
“Fucking great,” he said under his breath.
I refuse to be defeated by cinnamon rolls, Oliver chanted to himself. He stopped working a third batch of dough and looked around at the disaster he’d made in his mom’s bakery. The steel prep table where he’d set up was covered in flour and sticky bits of who knew what at this point. The floor was getting treacherous, thanks to the large canister of cinnamon he’d accidentally knocked over and even more flour — mixed with three eggs he’d dropped.
He couldn’t understand how he, a well-trained chef who had no problem assembling Coq au Vin perfectly, had turned into a fumbling mess over basic cinnamon rolls, of all things. Growing up with his mom, he’d made this exact pastry countless times. Now, however, the recipe had been expanded to make a larger batch, he was unfamiliar with the layout of this kitchen after being away so long, and his worries over his mom’s condition weren’t helping either.
Oliver couldn’t stop himself from automatically blaming being back in Easton. Somehow, this mess had to be because of this stupid town and the stupid people who lived in it. In his real life, everything was fine. He was an up-and-coming sous chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant in the biggest city in the country, confident in his abilities, and more than capable of functioning like a professional and responsible adult. But the second he returned to Easton, it was like he reverted back to the awkward eighteen-year-old kid he’d been when he left ten years ago. And he hated that.
Shaking his head and rolling his shoulders to try and ease some of the god-awful tension that had set in, Oliver decided to take a five-minute break. He’d make a cup of coffee and clean everything up before trying again. No matter how many times he had to try, he was determined to make those damned cinnamon rolls correctly at least once.
He walked out to the small front room, crowded with display cases and a couple of mismatched tables and chairs for seating. While the coffee brewed, he stared out the window, trying to clear his mind before attempting more baking.
Someone walking toward the front door caught his eye. The bakery was closed, so he assumed the person would see that and leave. Except… no. What was this man doing? Oliver stood there watching in disbelief as the guy pulled out a key and started unlocking the door. Did his mom have an employee coming in tonight she forgot to mention? As far as he knew, he was supposed to be on his own right now.
Frozen in place, Oliver continued to stare as the man let himself in, locked the door, and stopped a couple feet inside when his eyes met Oliver’s.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
In front of him was the awful man he’d run into at the hospital yesterday. He’d recognize that smile anywhere. Not that he’d paid that much attention.
He knew his mom had mentioned the man would be stopping in, but he’d assumed she meant during business hours. “What the hell are you doing here?” he finally managed to ask after a minute of silence.
“I could ask you the same thing, but from the looks of it I’d guess the answer is throwing ingredients up in the air and then running under them to see how many you can catch,” the man said, his eyes dancing with laughter.
Was this guy fucking serious? Oliver glanced over at the mirror behind the register and took in his… well, disheveled might come close to describing his appearance. His dark brown hair looked like it had turned gray, it had so much flour in it. He had streaks of cinnamon across his face, along with — was that actual dough on his jaw? A look down at his chef’s jacket confirmed the mess continued down the rest of his body.
Whatever. He was in the middle of a baking crisis and didn’t have time for this man or for worrying about his own appearance. So what if this guy looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine ad?
“You didn’t answer my question.” Oliver forgot all about his coffee, his focus solely on getting this guy out of the bakery. He had no time for small talk and no interest in being friendly. One of the things he loved about being a chef was how little he had to interact with people.
The man walked over to the display case Oliver was standing behind and leaned on it. “You must be Oliver. Weird to run into you here after our little encounter at the hospital.”
Oliver snorted. “No weirder than you letting yourself into my mom’s bakery. Did you need something? If not, you can go. I have things to do.”
He watched as the man rolled his eyes at him, which just irritated Oliver even more. He had every right to ask someone he didn’t know to get out of his kitchen, or bakery, in this case.
>
“Patty asked me to stop by. I don’t know if she mentioned me. My name is Daniel, I’m a student at U of E, and I’m in here all the time.”
Oliver had no interest in this man’s story, but before he could share that sentiment, the guy opened his mouth and kept talking.
“When I visited her yesterday, she said you’d be running things while she recuperated. I thought I’d see if you needed any help. Of course, I had no idea you were her son. I guess that explains why you were at the hospital, buying a stuffed cinnamon roll, though.”
Oliver opened his mouth to complain about the guy buying the same gift after he’d paid for his. He stopped himself, not wanting to rehash the incident no matter how much it got under his skin.
“David, I don’t need any help. All I need is for you to leave so I can get back to work.” Oliver had found success in making things happen at his restaurant when he was blunt and demanding of his staff, and it was a role he slipped into easily.
Oliver narrowed his eyes when the guy kept standing there staring at him. He didn’t have time for this and was starting to wonder if he should usher the man out the door himself.
“Daniel.”
“Huh?”
“My name is Daniel. Not David.”
As if it mattered. With any luck, this would be the last he’d see of the man.
“Yeah, okay. David, Daniel. Whoever you are, you can go.”
“You know, if Patty hadn’t told me you were her son, I never would have guessed. How is it you grew up with such a nice, caring woman and are now totally lacking in manners?” Daniel crossed his arms in front of his chest and Oliver mentally sighed.
“Just got lucky I guess.” He knew he sounded annoyed and sarcastic, and didn’t care. Those were some of the languages he spoke best, and he saw no reason to hide that from someone who was so rudely interrupting him for no apparent reason.
