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Still wearing my hat and coat, I start the coffee, and, without shame, I admit that I stand there staring at it. Why does it feel like it takes forever when you watch coffee brew? It’s like watching paint dry or grass grow. Literally the worst. My patience begins to thin.
A knock on the bakery door nearly makes me scream. I turn around and squint against the darkness of the morning, a shiver racing up my spine. We don’t even open for another two hours.
I can’t quite see who is outside, so I take a hesitant step forward and spot a man bundled up against the cold.
Something in the back of my brain screams at me not to let him in, which is fine by me. I have self-preservation instincts, and I’m not afraid to use them. Plus, even if he yells at me through the door, it won’t be as intimidating as him standing before me.
As I take a step closer, I point to the sign displaying our hours and shake my head, throwing my hands in the air. It’s the universal sign foryou just gotta wait, bro.I watch him press his face to the door, and a flicker of recognition ignites inside me.
It’s the alpha from the day Violet and I went dress shopping. The one who followed us from the moment we stepped out of the car until we left the shop. The one I had to race away from.
How on earth did he figure out where we work? That’s not creepy at all, said no woman ever.
My throat tightens in shock, and my mouth goes dry. When he smirks at me as if he won a prize, I instinctively take a step back, grateful for the glass barrier between us.
My resolve kicks in. It’s way too early for this kind of nonsense. I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Screw this alpha.
Doingsomething I’d never dare without the safety of the glass, I give him the universal sign to fuck off, then I turn my back just as Violet walks through the doors to the back, tying her apron.
“What did you do?” she asks, barely getting the words out before the alpha slams his fists on the door. “Seraphina,” she scolds me.
I ignore the jerk, though it takes every ounce of my willpower. I cock out a hip. “It’s too early to deal with brutes. I don’t have time for it.”
She glances from me to the door, where the alpha is still peering in. “Is that…” She trails off.
“Yep,” I say, fully aware that Violet can see him too.
“Oh hell no,” she mutters, and honestly, I don’t blame her one bit for disappearing to the back.
Still ignoring the fuming alpha at the door, I pull out my phone and dial Avery. He answers on the second ring. “Baby girl, I’m literally pulling into the back parking lot. Please tell me you didn’t go into the bakery without me.”
“I didn’t enter through the back of the bakery without you,” I clarify, setting him on speaker as I reach for a cup. In the background, the alpha is cursing a little too loudly.
“What was that?” Avery’s voice grows tense, and I hear his car door slam shut.
“Just a furious alpha at the door,” I reply nonchalantly, pouring myself that sweet, sweet coffee and almost moaning as I make it to my liking with more sugar and cream than usual—damn hormones have me doing things I normally wouldn’t, like sassing angry alphas.
“Damn it, Seraphina,” he growls, and then the line goes dead. Casually, I turn around with my own smirk.
Do I need to wave at the jerk? No. Do I? Absolutely.
His nostrils flare, and his lip curls into a snarl, but I’ve had more than enough of his nonsense. He gives me one last lingering look before storming off.
It’s just too bad that Avery comes around the side of the building, looking ready for a fight, his eyes scanning the area for the alpha. He shoots me a look of retribution before disappearing into the dark morning.
Shrugging, I grab a cup of coffee for Violet and take it to the back.
They divided the back area of the bakery into multiple sections. Passing through the double doors, I step into a long hallway. To the left is the break room, and to the right is the prep room. Down the hall, bathrooms are on either side, leading to the large bakery back room.
As I step into the bakery’s back room, the rich aroma of flour and freshly baked bread wraps around me like a comforting embrace. It’s a scent that usually brings a sense of peace. Today, though, it fuels my already heightened senses, sharpening my resolve.
Violet, with her hands deftly working a batch of dough, looks up with an inquisitive eye. “Everything okay?” she inquires, her expression a blend of curiosity and concern.
Handing her the coffee, I grin, feeling a rush of audacious energy. “Just the usual early morning excitement,” I say with a chuckle. Her brows arch in response, but she smiles, sensing my uncharacteristic boldness.
I stride to my station, sleeves rolled up, embracing the therapeutic rhythm of kneading dough. Each fold and press become a testament to my newfound brashness, the dough yielding under my confident hands.
Thunderous knocks slam against the back door. “I’ve got it,” Violet mutters.
