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I didn’t have time to argue with him. And I knew how stubborn Torin was. I just began to call out what needed to be done and he moved to do it.
The sensation of déjà vu was so strong I had to set my teeth against it. I had done all the cooking when we were kids, trying to make something good out of the cans the church ladies would drop off at our house because they knew we were dirt poor and didn’t have proper parents. I was in charge and Torin had always helped me out, mixing when I told him to mix and finishing the dishes so we could be out of the kitchen before Dad came back from the bar.
But that was a long time ago, I reminded myself. We weren’t kids anymore. Torin wasn’t a boy; he was a fully-grown man.
But we worked quicker than I thought; his big hands were deft when he wanted them to be.
“Shit, the coffee!” I yelped, leaping up to put some on to boil with only a minute or two until the doors opened.
My brother was frowning. “This is too much work for you, Lele,” he said, taking my arm to force me to slow down. “You always said you just wanted a small business, but this place is huge. Do you really want this?”
My jaw dropped open. I could feel my thick curls escaping my updo, getting plastered to my face.
What kind of fucking question was that? Was I enjoying myself? Well, no, but soon, hopefully? In a few years when I could afford help. . .
I was so frazzled that I put my foot in it.
“Drew says. . .” I began, and I knew it was the wrong thing to say as his face darkened.
He grabbed my chin. I tried to get away, but my brother was too strong. I felt a flush as he touched me with the callouses on his fingers, rubbing and scratching at my softer skin.
“That ends, sister,” he ordered. “I’m back now.”
I wanted to shriek that he was insane; that we weren’t kids anymore. He wasn’t my brother and my master and my god anymore.
But with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realized that it would fall on deaf ears.
To Torin, nothing had changed.
He still jealously planned to possess me, and everyone in his way was in danger.
But then I heard the front doorbell ring, and I knew it was my regulars, here for coffee and a crisp tart or scone.
He let me go, and I leaped for the door. There was no time to talk for a while, the morning rush busy and seeming unending.
Several people looked curiously at Torin, standing just behind me, leaning up against the wall, waiting for me to ask him to bring the next tray of muffins out or refill the creamer. He stood so close to me that people gave me confused looks, his body only inches from mine, his deep, easy breathing rustling the heated curls on my neck.
When he went out the front door for a smoke, one woman asked me if my big brother had always been so protective.
You have no fucking idea, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
I just smiled and brightly changed the subject, and acted like my murderer brother walking into my bakery hadn’t been the most dangerous thing that could have happened to this town.
He had barely gotten back in from his smoke when Jerald came in. Jerald was in his late 20s, a big, broad guy who had played football in college and never got tired of reminding you. He worked in the same building as Drew and he was a huge asshole.
Today he had a bunch of drink orders, and my frazzled brain made them as quickly as I could, sliding them onto the drinks carrier. Jerald looked critically at the carrier, his ham-like face turning an angry red as he grabbed one.
“I said with fucking sprinkles,” he grumbled.
“Oh, ok,” I said. “I’ll add some.”
I knew from experience that the best way to handle Jerald was to just fix any mistakes so he would get the hell out of there.
“No,” he said, looming over me. “Make it again. It won’t taste right if the sprinkles are put in at the end, and I really want this little bitch at my office to give it up for me, so the coffee better be good.”
All the warning I had was a prickling on my neck, like the second of shattering calm in the eye of a hurricane.
Torin wasn’t much of a talker. He had very little interest in motivations, apologies, or explanations. He simply grabbed Jerald by the collar and slammed his head into the counter.
