by Andi James
Chapter Four
Oliver
“Mrs. Miller, I assure you this coffee is the exact same as the coffee Patty serves to you.”
The woman, who appeared to be about ten years older than his mother, peered over her glasses at him. “Hon, you’ve said that every day this week, and I’m telling you, it’s not. It’s off.”
Oliver clenched his fists behind the counter, fighting back every smartass remark hanging on the tip of his tongue. Patty’s Cakes hadn’t even been open for five minutes yet, and he didn’t want to have this discussion again. More than anything, he didn’t understand why the woman kept ordering the coffee if it was somehow “off” to her every day.
In the ten days since he’d taken over running the bakery, Oliver had learned that there was a group of people who faithfully waited for the establishment to open every weekday morning. He’d also somehow learned their names and their orders, and, in a couple of cases, more about them than he’d ever wanted to know. It was… unsettling, seeing the same faces each day and getting to know those customers. Since he spent the first two hours on his own before Emily came in for her shift, he dealt with it the same way he’d faced most things concerning the bakery — trying not to scowl or roll his eyes where customers could see him.
All the regular early bird customers loved his mother too. That was another thing he’d come to realize — they adored Patty. He regularly gave updates on his mom’s condition to everyone who asked, certain that if she were around she would love nothing more than to sit and talk to them about the cute nurse who’d been attending to her. It was clear he was a poor substitute, though he tried. Or at least, he tried to try. Sort of.
“Do you think your mom is awake?” Mrs. Miller asked, digging around in her purse. “Of course, she gets up earlier than this. Maybe I’ll just call her…”
Do not scream at this woman. She is a loyal customer. Your mom would murder you.
Oliver couldn’t exactly snatch her phone away, though the thought did cross his mind. He watched in disbelief as she pulled up Patty’s number and hit call.
A minute and some chit-chat later, which he tried to tune out, Mrs. Miller handed the phone to him. “She knows what’s wrong.”
He put the phone to his ear, his mom already talking like he was on the other end of the line. “... I’ve been doing it so long, she probably doesn’t realize.”
“Doing what?”
“Making her coffee, Oliver.”
“Making it… beyond pouring it in a cup?” He balked at the idea before even hearing it. They had an area stocked with all the things a customer could want to doctor their coffee, he didn’t have time to do it for them.
“Oliver, I hear it in your voice. Stop. It’ll take two seconds. There’s a container near the coffee maker, or should be, labeled ‘cin and sug.’ Put a dash of that in her coffee, and one ice cube.”
“Mother, that seems—”
“Like a perfectly easy and nice thing to do for a friend of mine? Yeah, thought so.”
He sighed, loud enough for his mom to hear. Before she could chastise him for it, the bell above the door rang.
“Oh, who is that? Did Samuel just walk in?”
Oliver glanced over, only mildly surprised to see that yes, it was Samuel, carrying a newspaper under his arm, which he faithfully read every morning. Oliver had learned to stay in the back as much as possible while Samuel went through the sports section, or else he’d hear every score of every game from the night before.
“Mom, I gotta go.”
“Hand me back to Mrs. Miller. And fix her coffee for her, Oliver.”
Two months. Possibly less. He had to constantly remind himself this wasn’t a permanent situation.
“Will do. Take care.”
He handed the phone back and made a new cup of coffee for Mrs. Miller, to his mom’s specifications.
She took a small sip, and another. “It’s perfect, dear. I knew Patty would know how to make it right.”
He gave her a half-hearted smile that lasted point zero two seconds, then waited on Samuel.
Twenty minutes later, Oliver waved to the last regular customer who was up before the sun, mentally planning the rest of the day. For the most part, he was relieved to finally be getting into the routine of managing the shop and its employees. There had been some long days, and frustrations too numerous for him to even remember them all, but the last two days had gone relatively well. It was a lot of work, but it kept him busy and his mind off being back in town.
He thought about the pile of two hundred cookies waiting for him in the kitchen. They needed to be iced and decorated, and he was dreading the delicate task. He’d had no idea how often the bakery got special orders like this one, and every time he thought about how much he didn’t know about his mom’s life or business, the guilt crushed him a little more. She’d always been so supportive of him, and here he was completely unaware she’d created this whole little world for herself.
Oliver made himself a third cup of coffee — these early mornings had him relying on the beverage far more than he ever had before — and braced himself for the work in front of him. Shooting death glares at the trays of baby-bottle-shaped cookies, he started mixing ingredients for the huge batch of icing he needed.
The sound of the bell signaling another customer made him groan. There was usually a lull this time of day, but of course anyone could walk in at any time. He quickly rinsed off his hands and dried them on a towel as he made his way out front.
Oliver stopped in his tracks when he saw Daniel standing there peering into a display case of scones and muffins.
The man hadn’t been far from his thoughts ever since their last encounter — and especially not since he’d seen him dancing. He had left the club soon after he’d finished his drink, not wanting Daniel to spot him for some reason. As far as he knew, he’d made it out with the man having no idea he’d been there.
He had to admit he was a little surprised the guy had come back. With how Oliver had behaved when Daniel was last in the bakery, he’d been certain the man would stay away until his mom was back on her feet. Also surprising was how his heart started beating a little faster at the sight in front of him.
Daniel looked up and caught his eye, a smile lighting up his face. He stood up straight and approached the register, leaving Oliver little choice but to wait on him.
“Can I get you something?” He tossed the towel on the counter behind him.
“Hi, Ollie. Good morning to you too. I’m well, thanks for asking.”
Oliver stared at the man, wondering if he’d heard him right. Even if he’d been up for hours already, it was too early for this.
“Awesome. Another morning person,” he mumbled under his breath. Not quietly enough, though, because Daniel chuckled.
“Not liking your new hours?”
Huh? How did Daniel know what his regular hours were? He sighed to himself. His mom. Of course she would have mentioned his job, she loved to brag about her “fancy chef” son.
“Nope. Not liking that nickname either. My name is Oliver.”
Daniel didn’t acknowledge his statement. Instead, he stood there, looking Oliver up and down, making him want to squirm. “You look nice when you’re not wearing the entire contents of the pantry.”
A compliment was not what Oliver was expecting, and it caught him off guard. “Oh. Um, thanks.”
“How have you been doing since I last saw you? I’m encouraged already by how clean everything looks. You settling in here?” Daniel gave him what looked to be a genuine smile, confusing Oliver even more. Had the man lost his memory of the last time they’d talked and how rude Oliver had been?
“Uh, yeah, mostly. Emily and Martin have been a big help.”
Daniel nodded. “Those two are fantastic. Your mom has a knack for hiring people who go above and beyond.”
“She does have a way with people,” Oliver agreed, and then stilled as he realized he was engaging in civil c
onversation with this man. Why was he being so nice? Oliver couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“Did my mom send you again?” He narrowed his eyes at Daniel, studiously avoiding how well the man’s shirt showed off his broad shoulders.
“Nope, I’m here for coffee and a raspberry scone. If you don’t mind. I can grab it myself, if you’re busy.”
Perfect. He could get those items for Daniel, and then the man and his tousled-just-so blond hair would be on his way.
He didn’t bother to ask if it was a to-go order, just bagged a scone and placed it and a coffee in front of the register.
“That will be five bucks even,” he said after a moment’s hesitation, wondering if his mom would make Daniel pay. But giving away food was never a great idea for a business that depended on people buying it.
Daniel pulled out his wallet and handed over a card. While Oliver rang up the purchase, he noticed the man was trying to peek into the kitchen.
“Looking for something? I assure you it’s all in order back there.” He handed back the card.
Another smile. “No, just curious to see what you’re working on.”
He groaned out loud before he could stop himself. Shit.
“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good. That’s close to the sound Patty makes when she’s dealing with croissants.”
That made him chuckle. “Yeah, those have never been her favorite. For good reason, they’re a pain in the ass.”
“Mmm, but a delicious pain in the ass,” Daniel said with a smirk on his face, his eyes boring straight into Oliver’s.
Was he talking about… no. There was no way. He rolled his eyes at himself for that thought even crossing his mind. More coffee was definitely in order.
“So, what’s on your agenda that has you groaning?”
Apparently, they really were doing this conversation thing. Great.
“Cookies. I have two hundred that need to be decorated.”
Daniel’s nose wrinkled in a confused and not at all adorable expression. “Doesn’t Emily usually take care of the cookies?
“Seems that way, yes. But she asked to come in later today, so I need to get at least half done myself.” He was not going to mentally curse the fact the woman needed to get new glasses.
“I’m guessing this is a special order?” Daniel took a sip of his coffee, and Oliver had to stop himself from watching the man’s mouth meet the lid of the cup.
He nodded in response.
“What shape are they this time?”
For a good ten seconds, Oliver thought Daniel was referring to his lips. When he realized he meant the cookies, he wanted to slap himself.
“Baby bottles.”
Daniel laughed. “Could be worse, man. Those aren’t too bad. If you’re smart, you’ll avoid having to decorate the princess cookies that get ordered all the time. Talk about time consuming.”
The thought of that made Oliver shudder. “Good call. These are already more than I want to deal with.”
Daniel nodded and took another sip of coffee. “Okay, Ollie. Here’s what I’m thinking. We didn’t get off to a good start, you and I. You were kind of a dick, actually.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you were a perfect angel.”
The man had the nerve to laugh.
“Hey, I can only work with what’s in front of me.” Daniel ran his eyes up and down Oliver again, and it took all he had to stand still under the scrutiny.
“The thing is,” Daniel said, “I really like your mom. Even if I’m not sure about you, I’d like to help you out here.”
Oliver started to protest. “No, really, it’s—”
“Ollie,” Daniel said firmly. “Please let me help you. I would do it for Patty without thinking twice. You don’t have to prove anything by doing it yourself.”
He stared at the man, taken aback by his frankness and assertiveness. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of someone demanding to help. Oliver was used to being that person in his restaurant. Plus, he was used to doing things for himself, on his own. That was how he liked it. Having staff assist him was one thing, that was their job. But to have this man offer, even after how awful Oliver had been to him during both of their previous encounters, threw him for a loop.
“If you’re not going to leave, then you may as well do something useful.” He gestured to the kitchen, ignoring the smirk on Daniel’s face. He knew that wasn’t the nicest way to respond to the guy, but it was all he could muster.
“Gee, thanks,” Daniel said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Hey, you’re the one who insisted. I’m fine doing this on my own. In fact, I’d prefer it that way.” Oliver arched an eyebrow at Daniel, challenging him. He doubted the man would do more than butcher a couple cookies before giving up and leaving, anyway.
“Ollie. It was a joke. I was being sarcastic. You might not know the former, but I have it on good authority you should be able to recognize the latter.”
He stared at Daniel for a moment before turning and walking into the kitchen. This was a thousand times worse than Mrs. Miller, and it was going to take a million times longer. But, if there was a chance Daniel could actually help, it would go a long way toward Oliver getting this done, and that was his goal.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Daniel right behind him. “Maybe let’s not talk more than we need to.”
“Sure thing, Ollie.”
“Can you really not say one extra syllable? It’s Oliver.” He stopped in front of the prep table, Daniel standing on the opposite side.
“Fine, fine. Chef Oliver Grumpy Pants it is. Oh, so you haven’t even started on these,” Daniel said, pulling out a tray from the rolling rack.
Oliver debated if he had time to bake another two hundred cookies, in case he ended up throwing all of these at this obnoxious, persistent, attractive man.
“No, I was working on the icing when you interrupted me.”
Daniel looked back at him. “Are all customers an interruption? Or just me?”
“Just you, so far. I’m hoping to keep it that way, I don’t need anyone else off the street back here.”
“Ah. I see.” Daniel nodded slowly, like he’d come to some sort of conclusion or realization. “Well, in that case, we should get going on these so I can leave you alone sooner rather than later.”
Finally. “I need to finish up the icing, it’ll take about ten minutes.”
“No problem.”
Oliver watched from the corner of his eye while Daniel dragged a stool from the wall to an empty prep table and got a tablet out of his bag. He started eating his scone and reading something, looking very much like he’d done that exact same thing many times before. And maybe he had, Oliver didn’t know how often he was here.
After a few minutes, Oliver couldn’t help himself. “What are you reading?”
Daniel glanced at him, chewing the bite he’d just taken. After swallowing, and no, Oliver did not watch his Adam’s apple as he did so, the man said, “I thought we weren’t talking more than we need to.”
Oliver turned his eyes back to what he was doing. Of course the guy was going to call him out. “Just curious. Don’t often see people reading in one of my kitchens.”
“It’s an academic article related to my thesis. Nothing fun.”
Right, he had said something about being a student. Oliver hadn’t realized he meant he was going for his master’s, though.
“What are you getting your degree in?”
Daniel got up and threw away his garbage, then washed his hands and returned to the other side of the prep table. “Library sciences.”
“Really? So, what, you’ll be a librarian? Who still uses libraries?”
“All kinds of people, Ollie. Have you never been in one?”
Was he trying to insult Oliver’s intelligence? “Yes, Daniel, I have been in a library. Didn’t need them much in culinary school, though.”
“No? I’d guess there are all kinds of books out
there about the science of cooking, presentation, running a restaurant, chef’s memoirs, stuff like that.”
Oliver shrugged. “Probably, but none of those matter when I have twelve orders stacked up and twenty steps to follow to make each plate.”
The icing was ready, and Oliver got busy portioning it out and adding coloring to the different batches. He was about to get pastry bags to scoop it into when Daniel handed some over to him. He looked up in surprise.
“You really have done this before?”
Daniel laughed. “Yes, how do you think I know about the princess cookies? I told you I’ve helped out in here many times.”
Oliver paused, looking at Daniel. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you help? What’s in it for you? Free snacks and coffee? Do you get paid?”
Daniel tilted his head and appeared to be studying him. “Do you want the long answer or the short answer?”
Oh god, there’s a long answer? They had some time to kill, but Oliver wasn’t sure how deep he wanted to get with this guy.
He handed over a bag of blue icing, keeping a pink one for himself and setting the yellow and green to the side. “Here, let’s get started. We’re doing these four colors, so about fifty of each.”
Daniel took the bag and Oliver watched as he expertly outlined a cookie and began filling it in.
“Is this for a baby shower? What kind of baby shower is so big they need two hundred cookies?” Daniel asked, quickly moving on to the next cookie.
Oliver started on his tray, now hopeful they would get through this faster than he’d thought. “It’s at some corporate business park, apparently multiple people are expecting and they’re doing a joint shower for all of them.”
“That’s why there are different colors. I wondered about that too.”
“Yep, they requested blue, pink and ‘neutral.’”
Daniel snorted. “Okay, like all colors aren’t gender neutral. I know, I know, blue is associated with boys, pink with girls, but I’ve never agreed with that. Every color is for anyone.”
Oliver took in the pale pink v-neck T-shirt Daniel was wearing and silently agreed, pink definitely suited this man well.
