Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) (6 page)

J
ust around the
corner from Bewitching Bites was a charity shop. Outside was a bin where you could toss old clothes you didn’t want any more, which they either tried to sell or took along to a homeless shelter. I’d never really owned many clothes anyway, and Ethan had taken most of my nice items. (Why? I don’t know. Maybe he thought he could sell them. Maybe he was fuelling his secret cross-dressing fetish. Maybe he just wanted to completely screw me over.) So for the last few months I’d been raiding this particular bin every time I needed something new. I’d even nicked off with some dish towels and a tablecloth. I felt pretty awful about it, because I was in essence stealing from the poor, but I was pretty bloody poor myself. I hoped it wasn’t a hanging offence.

A quick rummage around revealed an old Iron Maiden t-shirt with a massive hole under the armpit, and a pair of black trousers with some strange stains on the knee. Both looked as if they might fit Cole. I grabbed my booty and rushed back up to my shop. When I got upstairs, I heard the water running in the shower, and Chairman Meow was prowling around the bathroom door.

“Cole!” I called out, picking up the cat. He sniffed the clothes, made a disgusted face, and nuzzled my chin.

“Your soap smells like unicorn farts.” Cole yelled through the door.

“If only I’d known that earlier, I would’ve bottled it and made my fortune. I’m putting some clothes outside the door,” I dumped the pants and shirt in a pile. “Put them on and meet me downstairs when you’re done.”

I went down to the bakery and fired up the ovens. As the room heated up, I took off my sweater, so that I was working in just a threadbare white tank top and some unflattering men’s shorts. I put a hairnet on and got to work mixing the dough for the bread into the large, old-fashioned mixer. I’d brought the thing for a steal on eBay when the bakery first opened, thinking that I’d be able to afford to replace it with something new and shiny by the end of the first year. The great cosmic mixer joke was on me. I was stuck with the ancient mixer for the rest of my life.

Cole sauntered down the stairs, one hand holding up the pants, the other running through his wet hair. He winced a little as he stood on his injured leg. In the light, the black stubble on his chin and cheeks stood out even more. He looked rugged, dangerous. And he smelled like my soap. God, he was sexy. How was I going to survive being in the tiny kitchen with him?

“These are way too big,” he growled, pulling at the clothes. “And they smell like feet.”

“Hey, naked raven beggars can’t be choosers. As soon as the shops open, I’ll go out and buy you some real clothes.” I pointed to the bags of flour that were standing beside the mixer. “Open one of those, dump the flour in the mixer, and you can use the cord to tie up your pants.”

“I look like an idiot.”

“No, you look like a metalhead who’s just had his wallet stolen. But there’s only one person who’s going to see you back here, and that’s me. And I happen to think that t-shirt is an improvement. Now, first things first.” I waved a hairnet under his nose. “You can’t do anything in here without one of these.”

Surprisingly, Cole obeyed, tugging the net over his long tresses and pulling the elastic tight. Strangely, he managed to look even hotter with his hair off his face. His sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes stood out. “What next?” He grinned.

I explained to him how to make the bread, and then pulled one of last night’s cakes out of the fridge and started making chocolate ganache. Cole had to slip past me in the narrow kitchen in order to get to the mixer. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, telling myself I needed to make sure he did things properly, but knowing secretly that I was perving at the way his shoulders bulged as he picked up that heavy flour sack as if it were a pillowcase. As he tore open the sack and leaned over the mixer to dump the flour inside, his pants slipped down his hips, revealing a stripe of his bare butt and the edge of that raven and skull tattoo. I felt my cheeks redden, but I couldn’t turn away.

Cole whirled around, dropping the empty sack and grabbing his pants. “Are you sure you want me to use this?” He held up the string from the sack as he leaned on his good leg. “You were looking mighty pleased with the view only a few minutes ago.”

I turned away, my cheeks burning.
I can’t believe he saw me.
“You’re disgusting. This is a
kitchen.
”

“You love it.”

“Make sure you wash your hands after touching yourself like that.” I yelled over my shoulder.

“As you wish.” Cole slid back behind me to get to the sink, his body grazing mine, making tiny bumps appear across my skin. As he moved past me, he pinched my arse. My whole body shuddered at his touch.
What is with me today? At this rate we’re never going to get the bread ready.

“What next?” Cole grinned.

“Add that yeast, and twenty-two litres of water. Then turn the mixer on. You’ll need to mix it for about ten minutes, and watch it to make sure all the flour on the sides gets scraped in. After that, call me over and I’ll show you how to knead it.”

He gave me a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain!”

I tore my gaze away from Cole and forced myself to focus on the cakes and slices. As I carefully drizzled melted chocolate over the caramel squares, I heard pots crashing and Cole swearing behind me.
I will not look,
I told myself. As fun as Cole was, the clock was ticking and I had to get everything done, or I wouldn’t make rent.

I heard the mixer flick on, and listened to the familiar
THWACK THWACK
as the dough came together and bounced against the sides of the bowl. I slid the caramel squares into the fridge to set, and went to work on the carrot cake and the lemon scones.

“All done.” Cole called out behind me. I heard the mixer shut off and whir in protest as it wound down. I turned around, and almost choked.

Cole looked like a ghost. His entire body, from his head to his feet, was coated in white flour. There was also flour all over the mixer, across the benches, over the stacks of pans and pots, and in a giant arc across the floor.

“There was an … incident.” He grinned. “But I’m on top of it.”

The weird thing was, if Finn had done the same thing, (which he had on numerous occasions, the ancient mixer could be a bit temperamental), I would have lost my shit. But Cole standing there trying to look tough while completely coated in flour, made a giggle rise up inside me. I tried to hold it in, but that only made me want to laugh harder. I clamped my hands over my mouth, just as a great snort-laugh escaped between my fingers.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Cole growled, and his tone was so serious that it only made me laugh harder. I fell against the bench, gasping for breath as I clutched my stomach. I bent over, laughing so hard that tears sprung in my eyes and my breath came out in a giant wheeze.

“That’s it, if you think this is funny, then you try looking like an abominable snowman.” Cole grabbed a handful of flour from the open sack on the bench and lobbed it at me. But flour, of course, doesn’t stick together like snow. A giant cloud of white puffed out across the kitchen, coating Cole and the benches and floor, while miraculously managing to completely miss me.

“Nice try, Casper.” I dodged out of the way as Cole lunged at me. With his injured leg, he was slow enough that I managed to duck around him. But now my back was pressed against the bench at one end of the kitchen. There was nowhere else for me to go. Cole grinned as he shoved his hand in the bag again and drew out another fistful of flour.

“Come back here, Belinda. Come back here so I can give you a big hug!” Cole held his arms out wide and dived at me. I yelped and ducked, trying to go under him, but he used his good leg to trap me. He threw his arms around me and lifted me off the ground, his warm body enveloping mine in an enormous bear hug. Or bird hug.

“Argh, stop it!” I yelped, as Cole reached up and rubbed the flour through my hairnet, smearing it all down my cheeks and over my shoulders. As I reached up to slap him away, he grabbed me under the arms and picked me up, pushing me back so I was sitting on the bench, legs open around him, our faces just inches apart.

All thoughts of struggling fled from my mind, along with the voice that was screaming at me that this was a bad idea. I became aware of just how close we were, my breasts were nearly touching his chest, his crotch was only an inch from mine. All I could see, all I could
feel
, was Cole, the warmth of his body, his eyes boring into mine ...

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. His lips dangerously close to mine. His breath tickled my skin.

“Hey,” I whispered back. My heart hammered against my chest. The blood rushed in my ears.
Please, kiss me ...

I heard a crash behind me. Cole leapt back, and I bit my lip and jumped so high my head hit the shelf above and knocked off a stack of cake pans. They clattered against the flour-covered floor. The door to the kitchen slammed back against its hinges. I looked up, my heart pounding and the taste of blood in my mouth.

Thankfully, it wasn’t the health inspector. It was only Finn, arriving to work forty-five minutes late, of course.

“This place is insane. What did you do? You always yell at me when I make a mess,” he pouted.

“Yeah,” I gasped, holding my chest as my heart rate returned to normal. I slid off the bench and tried in vain to dust off the front of my shirt. My face hurt from all the blushing. “I do.”

“Hey, who’s that?” Finn jabbed an accusatory finger at Cole.

“He’s … your replacement.” I said, another wild idea suddenly occurred to me.

“What the fuck?”

“Hey, watch your language around a lady,” Cole piped up, his muscular arms crossed over his white body.

“I’m sorry, Finn.” As I said the words, I realised they were a lie. I wasn’t sorry at all. A rush of relief flooded through me. I’d been so desperate for the help that I’d kept Finn on for weeks and weeks, but all his presence did was stress me out. And having Cole here made me realise that I didn’t need Finn, he was only making things worse. I would find a way to manage, somehow.

“You can’t just replace me.” Finn snapped. “My stepfather is a lawyer. He’ll be on your arse so fast you’ll never sell another Eccles cake again.”

That made me shudder. I had heard Finn tell stories about his stepfather, and how he took great pride in crushing his opponents. I couldn’t afford to be crushed.
Maybe I’ve made a huge mistake—

Cole stepped forward, his body lurching slightly as he put weight on his injured leg. His bulky frame towered over Finn, his broad shoulders nearly as wide as the doorframe. “Are you threatening Belinda, you little punk?”

Finn gave a little squeak.

Cole grabbed Finn by the collar and pulled him up, slamming his back against the wall. Finn’s face had gone bone white. “Listen to me very carefully.” Cole said, his voice calm, conversational, as if he were discussing the latest cricket match. He leaned right in close, so their noses were practically touching. “This bakery is Belinda’s life, and for some reason, she gave your little punk arse a chance. You show up late, and you have no aptitude for baking. So she’s well within her rights to get rid of you. I would have had you out on the street on the first day if you behaved like that, but Belinda is too nice, so she lets you stay and keeps paying you even though you’re worth sweet Fanny Adams to her bottom line. And now, you want to take her to court for finally wising up? If anything, she should be the one suing
you
. But you’re lucky, because this new arrangement works out well for you. Now you don’t have to get up at four in the morning, and you get to go back to planning dairy robberies or beat boxing or whatever it is you do with your sorry life. This is a win-win, got it? And don’t let my rakish charms fool you, I’m pretty well connected in this town. I have friends who could make your life hell. So we’re done here, aren’t we?”

Finn nodded vigorously. Cole let him down. With a terrified glance over at me, Finn turned on his heel and bolted from the shop as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him.

As soon as he’d gone, the reality of what I’d done hit me. Finn was the last of my staff; he may have been useless, but at least with him around, I could take the occasional break. Without him, I was completely on my own. I was already working eighty-hour weeks, and it still wasn’t enough to get everything done. My legs felt wobbly, my resolve crumbling around me like an overcooked Victoria sponge. I slumped down, leaning my back against the cool metal of the mixer, and buried my face in my hands.

“You don’t need him,” Cole said from the doorway.

“I kind of do, though.” I mumbled through my fingers. “I have to do it all on my own. I can’t do it, it’s too much.”

My whole body shook. A lump rose in my throat. Any second now I was going to start crying, and then it was over. I was going to start crying, and it was going to be one of those big, painful cries that comes from your belly and makes your face splotchy and snot pour from every orifice. And the last thing I wanted to do was break down like that in front of Cole. I sucked in a deep breath, and then another.
Please, keep it together. Just excuse yourself and run upstairs—

“Nightingale, what’s wrong?”

Fuck. I was gone. My tears spilled over and my whole body juddered with the force of my sob. I jammed my palms into my eyes and cried as silently as I could into them, feeling the tears and the snot run down my face and mingle with the flour, creating a gluggy, sticky mess.
And to think a few moments ago I was hoping this guy would kiss me. Not a chance now. I really am a hot mess.

Why can’t I do anything right? Why do I have to fail at everything? Why can’t I make this work on my own?

Cole slid down beside me. Rough hands grabbed my wrists and prised them away from my eyes. I turned away from him, not wanting him to see me like this, but he said sternly. “Belinda, look at me.”

“I can’t. I—” I turned back to him. Cole stared at me with those intense eyes, his face unwavering. He squeezed my wrists.