He looked at me thoughtfully, as though preparing to say more, but the bell over the door clanged, followed by more people entering than I’d ever seen in the bakery at one time.
My eyes popped wide in shock as they all got into a line at the register.
Maddox’s brow rose. “That’s a hell of a morning rush.”
“Uh, this isn’t a morning rush. Must be a tour bus that got lost or something,” I muttered tensely. “Nice talking to you,” I added as I rushed behind the counter to begin taking orders.
“That coffee gonna be warm by the time I get it?” one of the customers snarked a few minutes later as I rushed to accommodate orders singlehandedly.
“Coffee’s gonna be what it is, or you can leave.” Maddox’s warning growl surprised me as he appeared at my side behind the counter. “Looks like you could use a hand,” he noted, his hand briefly touching my lower back. It was a small touch, and yet even through my thin cotton tee I felt his skin like a flame.
I fought to keep my breathing regulated as I replied tartly, “Not my typical customer service style. But I’ll make an exception this time.”
He grinned, flashing a heart-stopping dimple as he pulled some mugs off the rack and started pouring coffee.
For the next two hours we worked side by side, effortlessly navigating around each other as we filled orders. At times, he’d touch my back or my arm lightly as he moved around me, and every time my heart rate soared in response.
During a brief lull, I led him to the kitchen in back, showing him how to make cannoli. I fought a grin as he earnestly attempted to delicately fold the dough with his large, callused hands.
“It’ll still taste good,” I assured him with a grin as I dropped his somewhat tube-like creations into the fryer.
He leaned against the counter, watching me with warm eyes. “My mom can’t cook to save her life; may have inherited that gene,” he muttered, his arms folded across his muscular chest. Flour dusted his clothes, and I’d never found a man more attractive in my life.
“If I could be taught to bake, so can you,” I replied with an easy shrug.
“Your mama teach you?” he asked, his head cocked to the side.
I swallowed hard. “My mom is gone. My nonna taught me.” Even now, all these years later, it was still hard to talk about. I didn’t think it would ever get easier.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured sincerely.
I was grateful when a few more customers entered, ending our conversation.
When I turned the open sign over a short while later, I slumped back against the closed door in relief. “Phew, what a day.” I sighed as Maddox collected the remaining dishes from the tables. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help, thank you so much,” I added emphatically.
He looked up, his piercing gray eyes landing on mine. “It was my pleasure.”
Did I imagine the double meaning to his words?
“Let me make you a late lunch,” I offered, shoving off from the door and heading for the kitchen.
He caught my arm as I passed, gently gripping my bicep. “I’m fine, sweets. You’ve worked hard enough already.”
I fought and lost against the shiver his touch and term of endearment invoked. “I don’t mind. I’m hungry too. Unless you need to take off?” I added hastily. He’d spent hours helping me, which clearly hadn’t been his plan for the day.
His response was swift and firm. “I can stay.”
Damn, but the man was intense.
I felt his presence at my back as I moved around the kitchen, pulling out what I needed to make us paninis. They weren’t on the menu but I tended to keep a few additional ingredients around for when the urge came to experiment or when I was just plain hungry, like now.
“This your typical shift?” he asked as he watched me, leaning against the countertop, his boot-clad feet crossed at the ankle.
I snorted, sliding a plate in front of him. “My shift is whenever we’re open.”
His brows rose in surprise. “You run this place by yourself?”
I nodded.
