The Baker's Man (4 page)

“Chocolate?” Lily said, finishing off the bottle of rum.

Anna dropped in a palmful of dark cocoa powder. She added the leaves from three sprigs of rosemary because it was her favorite herb and because its woodsy scent would hopefully make him a lover of the outdoors. Finally, she added a pinch of cinnamon because the season called for it, and then she sprinkled in cumin to give him a spicy, smoky edge.

Anna dipped a tablespoon into the sparkling, golden dust. She leveled it with her finger, feeling the warmth spread up her fingers, her arm, until it reached her head, where it tugged a smile onto her lips. She added the last ingredient and stirred. Then she plopped the dough onto a floured board and began to knead. When the dough had just enough elasticity, she patted it into a nice ball and put it on a baking stone.

As an afterthought, Anna rolled out a piece of white fondant and scribbled a note on it with an edible black ink marker.

Dearest Elijah,

If you ever knock on my door, I promise that I will love you forever. You are the perfect man for me. If you never knock on my door, I will regretfully never experience true love.

Always and Devotedly Yours,

Anna O’Brien

Anna shoved the note into the dough. She opened the oven, slid the baking stone and dough gently inside, and closed the door. Then she wiped her hands on her pajamas.

“Bedtime,” she said.

Lily was leaned over on the island in an awkward angle, the bottle of rum dangling from her fingers, too close to the edge. Her curls blanketed her face.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Anna said, poking Lily in the ribs. “Time to go home. I’ll call Jakob.”

Half an hour later, Jakob retrieved Lily with a sleepy grin, and Anna turned off the oven and the lights in the bakery. Then she collapsed onto her bed without even pulling down the sheets.

3
Morning Glory Muffins

Anna groaned and rolled over. Sunlight slipped through the slats in the plantation blinds and lined her face. Her head pounded like a drum corps was working out the kinks in their routine just behind her eyes. She stretched her arm out, and her hand fell into an indention left behind on the pillow beside her. Anna grabbed it and pressed it over her head. It smelled like pine and rosemary, which she would have thought was strange if she hadn’t felt like someone had swapped her brain for pie weights.

She sat up as slowly as possible, afraid of any sudden movements. When she inhaled, she breathed in the smell of warm donuts’ sugary, sticky glaze and melted chocolate. That was the moment she realized that her bedroom was entirely too bright, and not just because she had the hangover to end all hangovers.

Her eyes darted to the clock on her nightstand. It was 6:45 a.m. Anna gasped, and a shooting pain pierced her left temple. She groaned and doubled over.

She tried to fling herself out of bed, but the sheets tangled around her legs, and only the top half of her body lurched over the side, so she dangled there like a caterpillar half out of its cocoon. Within seconds, the sheets pulled away from the mattress, and she fell, smacking her forehead on the wood floor.

Anna lay there with her cheek squashed awkwardly against the floor and her body folded over uncomfortably, unable to move. She inhaled deeply and cracked open one eye. Why did her room smell like donuts? Anna pushed herself up and began a frantic rush to get ready. The bakery would be opening in fifteen minutes, and she hadn’t even started a single treat.

She brushed her teeth while pulling on a pair of jeans. Then she tugged on a Smurf T-shirt, slipped on a pair of flip flops, and pulled her fingers through her tangled hair while running down the stairs to the bakery. As she neared the bottom of the staircase, the drippy, sweet scents of baking intensified. At that moment, she remembered the dough she and Lily had concocted the night before, courtesy of a bottle of rum. Had it left behind that strong of an aroma?

Anna grabbed her apron from the hook and turned in a full circle, trying to decide where to start as she tied it around her waist. Her gaze stopped on a sheet tray sitting on the island. It was crowded with both glazed and chocolate-covered donuts. She reached out a tentative finger, and the chocolate came away, warm and gooey, on her fingertip. Her mouth fell agape.

“What the—”

A man walked out of the backroom carrying a canister of powdered sugar. Anna screamed and stumbled backward, tripping over a ten-pound bag of flour. She landed hard on the bag and slipped off the side of it as a powdery cloud puffed over her like fog, dusting her hair and clothes.

The man chuckled and sat the canister on the island. He held out his hand to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a voice that was unnaturally high and much too dry. She fanned the flour cloud away.

“Making donuts. It’s Wednesday. Isn’t that donut day?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“No,
here
. What are you doing
in here
?” She was afraid to stand up. Would anyone hear her scream? How did he get inside the bakery? Why would a crazy person break into the shop and bake for her?

The man continued to stand in front of her holding out his hand, and Anna took a good look at him. He was at least 6'2", definitely taller than Baron. His eyes were Caribbean blue and his skin was the color of light brown sugar. His sandy brown hair was cut short but still long enough for Anna to run her fingers through it. Her hands twitched, so she sat on them.

His grin was lopsided, and his mouth was full of impossibly straight, white teeth. He was undeniably handsome, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a psycho who liked to bake donuts. He wore one of her larger, plain white aprons. But beneath the apron she could see he had on a red T-shirt that looked exactly like Baron’s university shirt. His blue jeans were at least an inch too short, and his flip flips looked an awful lot like Baron’s favorite pair. He had scribbled his name on a sheet of paper and slid it into the clear pocket on the front of the apron. It read: Eli.

Anna’s eyes opened as wide as jumbo jawbreakers, and she covered her mouth with her hands. She shook her head as if to shake away the image before her. Her eyes drifted to the oven where she’d left the baking dough the night before. The baking stone was drying in the rack beside the sink. The baked loaf was nowhere to be seen, unless…

“Elijah?” she whispered through her fingers.

“Yes?”

Anna scrambled to her feet. “Whoa, this can’t be happening. This is
insane
. The rum was tainted. Maybe it was full of roofies or hallucinogens. Maybe I’m tripping out right now. You’re not real. You
can’t
be.”

She stepped too close to him, and her senses were immediately overloaded. She smelled rosemary and cinnamon, spicy chocolate and melted sugar. Looking away from his clear blue eyes was difficult. Anna wanted to back away from the stranger in her kitchen, but a million invisible gossamer threads connected the two of them, tangled them, wove them together. She sucked air, heady and sweet, into her lungs.

“You feeling okay?” he asked. “I let you sleep in this morning. Of course I couldn’t wake you even when I tried.” He grinned, and Anna’s mouth fell open.

“You were in my
room
?” She wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her apron.
Oh no, oh no, oh no
.

Elijah chuckled. “I slept in there, didn’t I?”

A strangled sound bubbled up her throat. “You slept with me?”

Elijah laughed, wrinkled his brow, and a timer dinged across the room. He walked over to one of the ovens and opened the door. “Cookies are done. I chose peanut butter cookies for today’s cookie of choice. Oh, and I made Morning Glory muffins already. I know you wanted to change up Wednesday’s muffins. I think they turned out well.”

With Elijah across the room, Anna could breathe normally again. She shoved her hands into her hair, and when she tried to pull them free, some of her fingers stuck in the knots. She pressed her palms to her thighs and dropped her head between her knees.

“You okay?” Elijah asked.

Anna shook her head. “I think I’m going to pass out.” Black spots leapt in front of her eyes, and her next pull of air was full of the woodsy scent of wet pine trees in fall.

Elijah put his hand on her lower back. “Hey, why don’t you go upstairs and lie down? I can handle things down here.” His hand moved to her shoulder blades.

Heat zinged up her spine, pulsed from his fingers against the fabric of her thin T-shirt, warming the skin beneath. Anna jerked upright so quickly she lost her balance. Elijah chuckled and steadied her. The heat from his hands made her feel as though her insides were melted butter; her knees turned into Twizzlers. She stumbled out of his grasp. Someone knocked on the front door. Anna peered out through the archway that led to the shop. Frances Dotson cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed her overly made-up face to the bakery’s glass door.

“It’s seven,” Anna said. As she rushed to open the shop, she glanced at the display cases. Every shelf was filled with treats, minus the last open spot where the donuts would slide in.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dotson,” Anna said with a frazzled smile. The crisp October morning air rushed into the room.

“You’re never late,” Mrs. Dotson said, pursing her wine-red lips.

“Oh, you know,” Anna stuttered, throwing a quick glance toward the backroom. “Bit of a hectic morning.”

Elijah emerged holding the tray of donuts, and he smiled and waved. “Good morning. Fresh donuts.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Dotson said. “New help, I see.” She raised her penciled-on eyebrows at Anna. “What are you doing with your hair? New style? I’m not sure it’s working for you.”

Anna turned and looked at herself in the hanging mirror behind the counter. A pitiful sound escaped through her parted lips at the sight of her unruly auburn hair. One side of her hair was out-of-control wavy and not in an attractive way. It looked like two crazed geese had fought for dominance on that side of her head during the night. The other side was a tangled mess, half straight, half unfortunate.

“There are no words for this hair,” she grumbled.

“My thoughts exactly,” Mrs. Dotson said, clucking her tongue. “Introduce me to your new helper.”

Anna blanched. “No!”

“Pardon me?” Mrs. Dotson asked, arching her dramatic eyebrows. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Anna dashed away, grabbing Elijah by the arm and dragging him into the backroom.

“Are we dreaming?” Anna asked, mostly to herself. She retied her apron and wiped her hands down her front.

Elijah leaned casually against the island. “Do you usually dream of Mrs. Dotson? I know I don’t. The purple eyeshadow just doesn’t
do
it for me.”

Anna gasped. “How do you know her name?”

Elijah grinned. “Are you
that
hungover?”

Anna shook her head and then ransacked a drawer until she could find a rubber band. She whipped her hair into a messy ponytail and pointed her finger at Elijah. “Where did you get those clothes?”

“Your closet, where else?”

“You must be joking,” she blurted. Elijah
was
wearing Baron’s clothes. “How did you get here?”

Elijah lifted one eyebrow. “What is up with you this morning?”

“Humor me!” she nearly shouted.

“Well, I woke up and walked down the stairs,” he answered and winked at her.

Anna pressed her fingertips to her forehead and closed her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled several times. “This can’t be happening.”

The bell on the counter began to ding over and over again. “Are you planning on serving me this morning? There’s a line forming, Anna,” Mrs. Dotson complained.

“Be right there!” she shouted. “You, stay back here this morning. Don’t come out. At all.”

Elijah frowned. “But,” he peered over her head at the front of the shop, “there are five people in line now, and who’s going to get the coffee going?”

“I don’t know,” she said in exasperation. “Just
stay back here
.”

Anna ran out into the shop and attended to Mrs. Dotson, who always ordered the same thing on Wednesdays: two glazed donuts, one lemon bar, one red velvet cupcake, and a Diet Coke to go. Anna waved a harried good morning to the other customers.

Mrs. Dotson paid and grabbed her bag. Before she walked away, she leaned over the counter, her five gold necklaces swinging forward, and called, “Excuse me, sir, but I’d like to welcome you. I’m Frances Dotson.”

Elijah poked his head around the archway, and Anna’s legs became cement. The entire line of customers shifted so they could see to whom Mrs. Dotson spoke. A lopsided grin tugged Elijah’s mouth up to the left, and he stepped out of the back, all broad shoulders and easy on the eyes. He held out his grizzly bear-size hand to Mrs. Dotson.

“A real pleasure, ma’am,” he said, in a decidedly Southern accent. “I’m Elijah, but you can call me Eli. Anna can call me anything she wants.”

Anna gripped the countertop. Mrs. Dotson cut her eyes over to Anna, but didn’t release Eli’s hand. “Is that so? I imagine Baron would object.”

Eli winked at her and leaned forward conspiratorially. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, and Baron is on the Naughty List at the moment.”

Anna wobbled and something sounding like “
This is very bad,”
stumbled from her mouth. Eli stepped over to her and put his hand on her lower back. Her blood surged hot, and all the clean air was replaced by the smell of cooking sugar.

“How did you end up working here, Eli?” Mrs. Dotson asked.

Without removing his hand, he ushered Anna behind the cash register so she could help the next customer, and Eli stepped aside so he could speak with Mrs. Dotson.

“Anna and I went to college together, The Culinary Institute of America in New York. Our culinary styles are nearly identical, but nobody can bake like Anna,” he said, smiling over at her. “And I’m passing through, so Anna’s letting me help her for a while. Hopefully a long while,” he added.

Anna’s hand hovered over a Morning Glory muffin as she turned to look at Eli. She knew he was lying, but it sounded so natural, and even more than that, it sounded like he
believed
what he was saying. When the truth of that sunk in, her hands began to shake. If Eli was truly something she created last night, then he was like a newborn. He didn’t have a past, a family, a history
at all
. And yet, there he stood, telling Mrs. Dotson they’d gone to culinary school together. She had to get him away from the people. She had to hide him somewhere,
anywhere
, until she could figure out what to do with him.