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Chapter Four
Sammy had a reputation for being a nice guy. He had an even temper, helped those in need, and rarely raised his voice.
But here was the truth: he wasn’t actually that nice. He did nice things, but he also got angry and petty and jealous and vindictive. Maybe he did so with less frequency than the general population, but Sammy was human and possessed all the flaws of one.
Case in point: Olivia’s apartment disaster.
A small part of him sympathized with her. A much larger part of him delighted in schadenfreude.
In all the time Sammy had known her, he’d never once seen Olivia be anything other than perfect. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect clothes, perfect job. Her life was a Pinterest board andForbes30 Under 30 list wrapped in an Excel spreadsheet and topped with a gold star sticker.
Call him an asshole, but seeing her freak out was so fucking satisfying. She hadn’t even freaked out when they broke up. She’d just stared at him for a long minute, turned, and walked out the door like the year they’d spent together had meant nothing.
Even now, the memory stung.
“That’s the last of the croissants.” Liam rinsed his hands in the sink. “Just in time. Store opens in—” He checked the clock. “Ten minutes, and according to Cordy, there’s already a line.”
“There’s always a line.” Cordelia breezed into the kitchen in time to catch the last half of Liam’s statement. “I swear half the city is addicted to carbs.”
“Not that we’re complaining. The carb addicts pay your salary,” Sammy reminded her with a grin. “How’s it looking out there?”
“Five waiting to pounce the minute we flip the ‘open’ sign. More to come once we hit the eight a.m. rush, I’m sure.” She sighed. “Bryce chose the worst day to call in sick.”
“Is there ever agoodday to call in sick?” Liam mused. “It’s always busy.”
“Yeah, but Mondays are a whole other beast. Dontcha know? Croissants and muffins are the highlight of the corporate grinders’ start of the week. That and coffee, but we don’t serve coffee.” Cordelia popped her gum. “We should serve coffee.”
She’d been on Sammy’s case about adding drinks to the menu since she started working as a bakery assistant six months ago. A theater enthusiast with hair that changed colors along with the seasons—it was currently dyed pale blonde with pink tips for summer—she was bold, brash, and one of Sammy’s best employees. She handled even the fussiest customers with aplomb, and she worked the register with ungodly speed.
Sammy knew it was only a matter of time before Cordelia made it big on stage and quit. Her passion was the stage, not bakeries, but until then, she’d hold down the fort—and continue bugging Sammy about the menu.
“Maybe next year,” Sammy said, like he always did. “I don’t have time to think about expanding the menu right now.”
Business was booming, and while he was thrilled with Crumble & Bake’s success, it meant more work on the corporate side of things and less time for the culinary side. Sammy had hired an operations manager last year to oversee all three of the brand’s existing branches—San Francisco, L.A., and San Diego—but they were also expanding to the East Coast. Soon, there’d be a permanent Crumble & Bake in New York and one on Thayer University’s campus in Maryland, right on the D.C. border.
Sammy also had to keep up with his social media presence. A digital operations associate maintained and updated the accounts, but Sammy had to star in the videos and photos. His personal brand fed into Crumble & Bake’s success as much as the corporate brand fed into his success. It was mutually beneficial, even if Sammy was tempted to shut down all his social media some days. Being a public figure online was more draining than a long day in the kitchen.
“It’s just coffee,” Cordelia argued. “Buy a couple o’ espresso machines and boom! You’re done.”
“Don’t think it’s that simple.” Liam came to Sammy’s aid. “We’ve been here since three a.m. Cut the man some slack.”
“I’m cutting, I’m cutting.” Cordelia made scissor motions with her fingers. “You’re the boss,” she told Sammy. “Just wanted to throw my two cents in, is all. Plus, the closest coffee shop to us is Three Lions and their lattes are nasty.” She glanced at the clock and heaved a sigh. “One minute. Here we go.”
She swanned out of the kitchen. Soon after, Sammy heard the bells above the entrance jangle and the low, persistent hum of excited chatter fill the air through the swinging doors.
While Cordelia worked the counter, Sammy and the rest of the kitchen staff busied themselves with the behind-the-scenes work. He had a tight-knit family at the bakery—Liam, his right-hand man; three production bakers; a cake decorator; a kitchen helper to assist with non-baking tasks like dishwashing and refilling ingredient bins; and Cordelia and Bryce, who manned the front of the house. Sammy’s operations manager and digital associate worked remotely, and he had Zoom meetings with them twice a month.
“Who was the woman you brought in the other day?” Liam asked casually after they finished making and packing the lunchtime goodies.
“Hmm?” Sammy wiped a counter down.
He didn’t come into the bakery every day like he used to, but when he did, he followed a standard baker’s schedule: arrive at three a.m. to sanitize the kitchen and prepare the day’s baked goods for a seven a.m. opening, begin making the lunchtime items while the morning crowd got their fix, clean the kitchen just before noon for the lunch rush, prep the next day’s ingredients and products, clean the kitchen (yes, again—hygiene was critical), and close at four. It was an unconventional schedule for anyone except bakers, but Sammy had gotten used to it over the years.
“The woman from Saturday,” Liam repeated. “Dark hair, yay tall, Asian?”
Sammy paused for a second before he continued wiping. “Oh. Olivia.”
“Yep. First time you brought a woman here.”
