Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) (7 page)

“I don’t know what all this is about, but you don’t have to worry. You’re not alone. You have me now. I’m a fast learner.”

I snorted, blowing snot through my flour-caked nose. “Your rakish good charms aren’t much good in here, either, you know. You just coated my entire kitchen in flour. We don’t even have the loaves in the oven yet. It’s a disaster. It’s all falling apart. I’ll never get everything done on time.”

“Don’t you have other staff? I’m sure they could pick up the slack a little—”

“There’s no one else!” I sobbed. “I couldn’t afford to pay them. I can’t even afford to pay you. Hell, I can’t even afford all this flour.”

Cole grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands off my face. “You’re serious?”

I nodded miserably.

“Come here,” Cole pulled me close to him. I fought him at first, not wanting to get close when I was such a mess. We tugged against each other for a few moments, but he won, and I collapsed against him. His hands on my back felt strong, reassuring.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “We’re gonna go upstairs, wash our faces off, and get to work. We’re going to get the bread in the oven and whatever else you need, and if anyone complains about it being a few minutes late, then they can answer to me, OK?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“I will be here all day, in my beautiful new duds, to do whatever it is you need. And then, after all the work is finished, I am taking you out.” I started to protest, but he held a finger over my lips. “No arguments. We’re gonna hit the town, you’re gonna let your hair down for a night, and then you will tell me why a woman who makes the best goddamned cake I’ve ever tasted is flat broke. And we will try to figure out a solution, because I bet there is one, but you’re just too tired and stressed to see it.”

“But … I don’t even know you. Why are you—”

“Right now you know all you need to know about me,” Cole said. “I’m the raven. I’ll tell you tonight, a secret for a secret, OK?”

I nodded.

“And I know all I need to know about you, Belinda. You’re the woman who saves injured birds and refuses to ask anyone for help. That’s enough to get us through today, and then, tonight, we can share the rest of our secrets, OK?”

Woah. That was pretty intense. I sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s OK.”

* * *

W
ith Cole
in the kitchen being sensible, we kneaded the bread and fitted it into the baking pans in record time. By the time I turned the oven on, we were only running fifteen minutes behind schedule. At 5am my deliveries started to arrive, and Cole unloaded them with ease, lifting the heavy bags of flour and packages of meat as though they were filled with feathers. I was left with more time than usual to do all the finishing work, and I was even able to whip up a special batch of orange and poppyseed muffins. Cole quickly picked up all the tasks I gave him, and he even suggested we add a little smoked paprika to the Cornish pasties, which gave the whole kitchen a wonderful, rich, spicy aroma.

Out front, I arranged the cakes and slices in the cabinet while Cole flipped over the sign and wiped down the tables. I stood back and admired the empty shop. It was the first time in months I’d actually been able to take a breath and appreciate what I’d created. I loved the Bewitching Bites decor, with all the kitschy occult art on the walls and the 80s and 90s board games I had placed on the centres of the tables. I loved the little witch that sat beside the till and the stacks of flyers for local metal bands and poetry readings lined up along the windowsill.

“We did it, Nightingale.” Cole whispered in my ear. I blushed at the nickname, all the hairs on my neck standing on end as his breath brushed over them.

“That was almost fun,” I said, which was another lie. It
had
been fun. The bakery hadn’t been fun in a long time. But now, staring at the cute wooden tables and mismatched vintage chairs, and the glass counter bursting with delicious treats, I actually felt excited again. This was my dream, and even though it was hard now, it was really happening.

I went to teach Cole how to run the coffee machine, but he brushed me off. “I’ve been making coffee for the Morchards ten times a day since I was a chick,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”

I left him to it, wondering how cute he must’ve been as a little baby raven chick.

At 6:05, my first customer came in, right on time. Douglas Ackerman was a seventy-two-year-old widower who walked his little dog Bettie in the mornings. He always stopped in for a coffee, a mince pie, and a Florentine. I usually didn’t allow dogs in the store, but Bettie was an exception, as she was tiny and well-behaved and almost as old as Douglas himself.

“Good morning Mr. Ackerman,” I greeted him from behind the counter. “I have your usual all ready for you here.” Cole handed me the flat white I’d asked him to prepare.

Douglas leaned over the counter and whispered to me conspiratorially. “Who’s your handsome fella, Miss Belinda?”

“Oh, he’s not my … I mean …” The blush crept along my cheeks. “He’s my new assistant.”

“No more Finn?”

“No more Finn.”

“In that case,” Mr. Ackerman squinted at the cabinet. “I’ll take one of those Cornish pasties. They look particularly delicious today, most likely owing to Master Finn’s absence. I can eat it for my lunch.”

Grinning despite myself, I bagged up his pasty and rung up his order.

As soon as Mr. Ackerman left, more people started to trickle in, and the trickle turned into a flood as lorry drivers and commuters grabbed a quick breakfast on the way to work. We quickly fell into a routine. Cole would bag the hot food and make the coffee, and I stood behind the counter, served the slices, organised the bread orders, and talked to the customers. Having Cole there gave me this strange sense of confidence, and I found myself chatting brightly to people, asking them about their day, and recommending particular treats. Who was this person? Usually I just smiled awkwardly and handed them their orders while trying to avoid eye contact.

Cole was clearly in his element. He grinned at everyone, and flirted outrageously with the women. I went out for half an hour to choose some clothes for him at the menswear store down the road, and when I returned he had sold another whole Heaven and Hell cake to a smitten single mother. I hoped her ten-year-old daughter wouldn't mind the whisky ganache on her birthday cake. The old ladies from the Crookshollow Knit ‘n’ Bitch came in for their 10am coffee and ended up staying until 2pm. Mrs. Van Uppity’s eyes practically fell out of her head every time Cole refilled her cup.

I felt a tiny surge of jealousy while I watched him flirt with a young blonde lady dressed to kill in a corporate suit and spiked pumps. He could have a woman like her; he didn’t want someone like me who always smelled faintly of bread and whose pores were permanently dusted with flour. But even I had to admit that his sales tactics were working. I’d never seen the sweets counter so empty this early in the day.

After 2:30pm, we hit a bit of a lull before the school run got in. I set Cole onto replenishing the depleted cabinet with the last of the stores from the fridge, while I got started on a batch of biscuits for the next day. I looked up from the batter to check the clock on the wall opposite the counter, just as Elinor walked in.

I froze. How was I going to explain Cole? I thought about telling him to hide, but it was too late. Elinor hadn’t noticed him yet, but she was walking up to the counter. Any second now she’d see him. She called out to me. “Bianca has just finished two chest pieces back-to-back. She’s having a major energy crash. I need ten ccs of triple espresso and a chocolate brownie, stat!”

“Does she want that in tablet form, or just hooked directly to her veins?” Cole asked, poking his head up from behind the glass display.

Elinor’s eyes bugged out when she saw who was behind the counter. She stuttered out an answer and Cole went off to prepare the coffee. While the machine was screaming, Elinor pulled me across the counter and hissed in my ear. “That’s the arrogant biker guy from yesterday? What is he doing here? He isn’t holding you hostage, is he?”

“No.” I shifted uncomfortably. I hadn’t figured out what I was going to tell her. “Cole is just helping out—”

“Cole? So Arrogant Biker has a name now. You seem awfully friendly with this
Cole
all of a sudden. What happened to Finn?”

“I fired him.”

“Belinda Wu, look at you being all sassy and authoritative.” Elinor beamed. “I love it. But seriously, why did you hire that guy? He was such a sleaze. I demand to know what’s going on.”

“It’s a … long story. I haven’t actually hired him, he’s just helping me out for a few days. But it’s a good thing, trust me.” I grinned at her. “See? I’m happy.”

“I’ll say. That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on your face in months.” Elinor grinned back. “Got anymore hot bikers back there I don’t know about?”

“Shut up.”

“What about firemen? I love firemen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“At this rate, you’re going to have to rename this place ‘Hot Buns’.”

“Elinor!”

“Here’s your coffee,” Cole said, handing the takeaway cup over my head.

“Thank you very much,
Cole.
” Elinor gave him a saccharine smile. “We seem to be bumping into each a lot this week.”

“Indeed. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Well, I best be off. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Cole.” Elinor jabbed me in the arm. “And you have some explaining to do. We’ll still be seeing you on Friday?”

“Oh, definitely.” Every Friday the girls got together for drinks. I usually couldn’t go, because I had too much work to do and a 3:30am wake-up call the following day, so recently they’d started coming around to the shop with a bottle of wine instead. They sat around and drank while I baked. I looked forward to it all week.

One thing was certain, I had until Friday to come up with some kind of believable reason for Cole’s existence in my life. I didn’t think the whole, “I rescued a raven from the park and he turned out to be a hot guy,” was going to fly.

One problem at a time, Belinda. First, you need to get through your date tonight. Your date with a raven.

* * *

F
our o’clock rolled around
, and I was almost sorry to put out the CLOSED sign. There were plenty of people outside keen for a pie, but we’d sold out of
everything
, and I needed to start baking if I had any hope of opening the next day.

It wasn’t just the high sales that kept the smile on my face. With Cole in the store, I’d had more fun than I had in months. He made me laugh, he put the customers at ease, he wiped down the tables and cabinet without me even having to ask, and every time he accidentally brushed past me or touched my hand, sparks of electricity flew through my body.

After we closed, Cole helped me do some prep for the following day. I showed him how to bake the pastry for the pies and prepare the fillings, and he took charge of that while I whizzed and stirred and boiled and blitzed to prep all ten different slices and cakes for the following day. Even with two of us working, it took hours. With every glimpse at the clock, all possibility of our date that night faded into oblivion. By eight-thirty, even Cole was starting to look tired. “You do all this work, every single day?” He asked me. “When do you have time to have a life?”

“Bewitching Bites is my life. At least at the moment. As soon as my debts are paid off, I’ll be able to afford to get some staff in to manage the shop, and then I’ll just do the baking, and things will be a lot easier.”

“When will that be?”

“In about seven years’ time.”

“I really hope you’re joking.”

“I am not joking. And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are we done here?’ Cole pulled out the last batch of pies and slammed the door on the oven.

“Sure, for now.” I wiped a line of chocolate brownie batter off my cheek. “We’ll have to do the bread and the final prep tomorrow morning.”

“Go upstairs and have a shower,” Cole said. “I’ll finish cleaning up down here. And then, I’m taking you out.”