Page 4 of Cakewalk

She was pretty, but in an understated way, yet Holden’s eyes were immediately drawn to her. There was something about those lush curves on her petite frame that he just could not ignore. She couldn’t have stood more than five feet two, but every inch of her seemed to call to him. He felt his pulse pick up slightly as he watched her move behind the counter, her hips swaying as she tried to maneuver around the small space. He hadn’t felt like this about a woman since he’d first seen Hannah across the quad their sophomore year in college, and it was throwing him off more than just a little. Who was she, and where did she come from?

Obviously new and trying very hard to figure out how it all worked behind the counter, she seemed a bit overwhelmed by everything. Kirk—current Busy Bean barista and the kid who until recently had been renting the apartment above his garage—was trying to show her how the steam wand worked, even though it was very evident by the mess on the counter and how wet their aprons were that she was not taking to the machine. Kirk towered over her, but at six feet two, he tended to do that to a lot of people, Holden included. But their height differential was seeming to make her even more nervous, and Holden felt his heart give a little tug.

What was that, dude? he asked himself. He didn’t understand what it was about her, but there was something.

Maybe he was just worried that yet another new person behind the counter would mean his standing order would end up getting messed up. He’d seen staff come and go from this place, some better than others, but Kirk had actually taken to the job rather well. The kid had lived over his garage for almost two years, working odd jobs around the area. When Mrs. Welch had asked Holden as a favor if her nephew could move into the studio apartment, he’d reluctantly agreed. However, a month ago Kirk moved in with a friend to save money before they moved to a “a permaculture, eco-village" in Costa Rica sometime after the first of the year. Kirk was a nice enough kid, although his dry personality sometimes reminded Holden of a robot and made for rather awkward interactions. Holden couldn’t say he’d been sad to see the kid go. He liked being alone, and even though they weren’t sharing a roof, even having him on the same property was sometimes just a little too close.

“Morning, Kirk,” Holden said, walking up to the pair.

“Holden,” Kirk responded, his dry tone and expressionless face greeting Holden. “Usual?”

“Yup. Regular coffee, two sugars, and a muffin.”

“Right. What kind of muffin?”

“Surprise me.”

Kirk heaved a sigh before turning to the blonde. “Think you can pick out a muffin?”

She smiled sweetly in return, even though her gray eyes seemed sad, and Holden could see the southern manners shining through, though she hadn’t even said anything. His mother was the same way, just not southern, and he could feel the corner of his mouth lift into a smile just thinking about it. Who was she?

“I can pick out a muffin just fine, thanks,” she drawled. Heading over to the display case, she grabbed one and put it on a plate, which she slid over toward Holden. “And you said a regular coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Holden nodded.

She grabbed a cup from the stack on the counter and turned around to fill it from the large, industrial carafe behind her. He could see her body tense as Kirk stood over her and watched her pour the hot liquid. It was a little overbearing of him, but if she was as awkward with everything else as she had been with the steam wand just now, then maybe he could see where the kid was coming from. Holden continued to take in her curves as she faced away from him. When they turned back around with his drink, he had to tell himself to stop staring.

“Oh, Gigi, this is Holden, the guy I was telling you about,” Kirk said as she put a lid on the cup and slid it toward him.

“Me?” Holden questioned.

“Gigi is new in town and needs a place to live. She’s a widow. I was telling her that I just moved out of your garage apartment.”

A widow? His ears perked up at the word.

“You’re kinda young to be a widow, aren’t you?” he asked. Way to be an asshole, dude. She’s not that much younger than you and you’re a widower.

“Heart attacks don’t discriminate,” she answered, sounding a tad skittish. Of course she did—you just called her out about her husband dying, moron.

“And because of that you need an apartment?” Holden asked, making sure he was tracking this. He wasn’t sure how he fit into this picture exactly.

“Yeah,” she said, blushing. A small, hopeful look filled her eyes as she continued. “It’s a bit of a strange situation. I was passing through yesterday after getting lost and having a flat tire, but then I met Zara and Audrey and they said they were looking for help with cakes and one thing led to another and here I am.”

“Yesterday? Where are you staying now?”

“Yeah, like I said, it all happened kinda fast. I spent last night at the motor lodge. Although, I’m not entirely sure that the little old lady running the place isn’t there now going through my things. She seemed really suspicious of me. But, I just lost my husband and I’m starting over so I don’t have a lot, and I need a place I can pay cash until some insurance stuff gets sorted out. Kirk here mentioned that he’s been paying you in cash, so maybe you might consider letting me do the same?”

Fuck. Thanks, Kirk, Holden thought. Sure, the space was empty, but Holden didn’t have any intention of filling it. Kirk had been an exception. He didn’t need the money. He had plenty from being a professional athlete, and it’s not like he was paying a mortgage. He liked being alone, and he didn’t want the company. He wanted solitude, not another renter. Why did this have to be the one time Kirk tried to be helpful?

“I hadn’t really planned on renting that space again,” he said, trying to be careful how he worded things. He didn’t want to come off as “that guy,” but he wasn’t looking to be anyone’s landlord again either.

“Oh, okay,” she said, that polite smile still plastered on her face. Holden could see that hopeful look in her eyes disappear.

Holden felt his insides squeeze. He had no idea why he was about to say this, but against his better judgment, he told her, “It’s not much. Really, just a bedroom with a little kitchenette. But if you really have no other place to go, I guess you could rent it for a few months until you figure something else out. At least it gets you out of the motor lodge.”

“Really?” she shrieked, causing Kirk to grimace and step away from her.

“Sure. Kirk can give you the address, and you can move in whenever,” he said. He really had no idea why he was agreeing to this, but here he was.