Page 151 of A Taste of Vanilla

“I used a key,” I say, fishing for it in my pocket before holding it up.

Her eyes narrow. “Marley.”

“She said it was for emergencies.”

Halston looks around. “Was a morning shift an emergency?”

I shrug. “I think attempting a mock morning shift is.”

Her mouth opens before her eyes shift, taking in everything around her.

Her mouth closes.

She inhales through her nose like she’s attempting not to commit a felony before she can get her morning coffee.

“Good morning to you too,Master Baker,” she mutters.

Something about the way she says that title makes it sound like it belongs in a joke she’s trying desperately not to finish.

“Good morning, Hal.”

Her eyes jump to mine. “You can’t call me that before coffee, Warren.”

“You’re in a bakery. With a whole coffee setup. In fact, you’re mostly known for your coffee.”

She rubs her temples. “This is bad. I’m making coffee.”

I set the clipboard down before I smile.

The bakery smells faintly of metal and Halston’s soap. I smelled it before, about a week ago. Like vanilla cupcakes. Not sweet enough to be a perfume, but still sweet.

Her hair is damp around her shoulders and darker atthe ends, and one wet curl is stuck to her cheek.

I look away.

When she returns with a latte, she grabs her apron off the hook. Placing her coffee on the table, she puts the apron on, and it catches on her hair immediately.

What ensues is a brief, violent struggle between Halston and the apron, with her flailing blindly while the apron becomes more and more tangled.

“Do you need?—”

“No.”

The apron finally drops into place, her hair everywhere and her face red.

I ignore it, knowing that’s the safest bet.

“Today is a trial run,” she says as she ties the apron tightly around her waist.

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re not taking over, right?”

I shake my head. “I would never.”

“If I hate this, we stop.”

“Yes.”