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ThefirstfewminutesinsideGo With The Doughwere always peaceful. I was too used to chaos so it never lasted for long before I had to disturb it. That usually involved classic rock going full blast. I tucked my hair and beard behind hair nets and got to work sanitizing the workspaces and doing a quick eyeball inventory to make sure everything was organized for the day. Yan and Rita would arrive any minute to help me get started on the absolutely monstrous amount of dough we needed to run the bakery.
It was mostly a consistent menu with our core items being prepared every day, but, for the sake of my enjoyment, we had a mini menu that changed daily so I could mix things up. Today that meant pizza scones and caramel apple cinnamon rolls.
Yan pushed through the back door of the bakery, his white-blond hair neatly slicked back. “Morning, boss.”
“Morning, Yan. The croissants are calling your name. We’ve got that catering order being picked up at eight.”
“The croissants can wait two damn minutes.” Yan laughed and hung up his coat. I focused back onto my own dough as Yan got washed up and ready, disappearing into the cooler to collect the slabs of butter and dough for the two hundred croissants he needed to make between the order and the bakery's regular sales.
Yan was a pastry wizard and loved all the finicky technical items at the bakery, which was fine by me. I could make them all well enough myself, but I preferred the more rustic items—scones and peasant breads—over the fussy stuff.
“Good mooorning, bakery buddies!” The door swung open again and Rita popped inside, brown curls wrestled into a bun, and hot pink lipstick accenting her mouth.
“Morning, babe.” I waved a floury hand at her.
Rita handled the sweeter items at the bakery—muffins, cinnamon rolls, banana loaf, and danishes. It was a good system between the three of us, each having our favourites and being allowed to focus on them. She got straight to work after washing up. I focused on my bread recipes, mixing the ingredients with delicate care and getting each batch into the proofer with a timer set before moving onto the next.
The bakery was a buzzing hive of activity, the three of us moving around one another with practiced ease. Music kept us company through the early hours. We didn’t need to talk much to stay on target after a solid four years of working together.
I danced in place at my station, pulling another batch of dough out of the mixer and getting it ready for the proofer. Everything smelled of yeasty dough and butter.
It was my happy place.
Beautiful, delicious chaos.
Rita carried over a massive bowl of scone dough and set it on my station. “All yours, boss.”
I divided it up into thirds and got the savoury scones going while Rita did the sweet ones. It was a meditation for me, but better than trying to sit and focus because I got to eat the results and make people happy with food. Most people walked into the bakery and left without eating their purchase, so those moments when I got to see people enjoy what I made—like Nicky gushing over my focaccia—were precious and always reinforced why I did this job.
The bell above the front door jingled, and I turned toward the sound, reaching up to turn down the radio. It was still a couple of hours until we opened, which meant it was one of my pack coming to bother me. With love, of course.
I wiped off my hands and went up front. Gabe gave me a tired smile, his hazel eyes exhausted as he held up a cardboard carrier with four to-go cups nestled in it. His leather jacket was undone and his dark stubble was so perfectly sexy I wanted to pull him into my office and lock the door.
“Hey, beautiful.” I tugged off my hair nets, pulled off my apron, and slipped around the counter and into his arms. I was a tiny bit taller than him, but it didn’t stop me from slouching down to bury my face against his throat, inhaling the scent of fresh steeped black tea and brown sugar. There was a burnt edge to the sugar, and it mellowed with each little kiss I pressed to his skin.
I stepped back to steal one from his lips too and ruffled his already messy brown hair.
“You’re going to make me spill the drinks.” Gabe wrapped his free arm around my waist and gave me one more kiss.
I indulged him, nudging us toward the counter, and he set down the drinks. “What tea did you bring me today?”
“Jasmine, peach, and mixed berry.” Gabe lifted two of the other cups out of the carrier and set them on the counter, leaning over to call into the kitchen space. “Yan, Rita, I’ve got your coffees.”
“Spoiling them,” I teased.
“I have to take care of the ones who prevent you from working twenty hour shifts.”
Yan and Rita trotted up to the front, discarding their hair nets and moving into the shop area to have their drinks.
“Fifteen minute break,” I told them. “I’m taking Gabe to the office to sit down.”
I pulled him along with me, and he grabbed his own cup, following after me. I closed the office door behind us and flipped the lock.
“How was work?” I asked him.
“Ugh. A very drunk alpha came from one of the other clubs with his friends and tried to trespass. I’m getting too old for this job.”
“Wanna de-stress?” I set my drink down on my desk and turned him to sit on the edge, tucking myself between his knees.
