Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha #2)(45)

“Yes.” I smile, and then with his alien strength, he maneuvers us both out of bed and carries me to the bathroom. Surprisingly, I’m not late opening the shop, but I honestly wouldn’t care if I were. Finding out Gaston is in love with me is worth a whole lot more than a few paying customers.



With Aubrey and Rachelle out picking us up lunch, I’m surprised when I hear a soft, sweet, southern voice call “Hello!” from the front of the shop. I didn’t hear the chime on the door ring, letting me know someone walked in, so either the chime is broken, or I was really focused on what I was doing and lost in thought. With Gaston and what happened this morning constantly filling my mind, and the last couple of days being so busy, it was probably the latter.

“Be right there!” I shout, walking to the sink to wash the icing off my fingers, and I hear “Okay!” called back. I grab a paper towel once I turn off the water and dry my hands as I go through the open door and out into the main shop.

“Can I help you?” I ask the top of the coppery-red hair that’s bent looking into one of the two display cases. At my question, the woman’s head comes up, and I am momentarily stunned by her large green eyes and elegant, freckled features. She looks like a real-life fairy princess.

“Hi, I’m Anna Bell. I’m looking for”—she drops her eyes and looks at her phone in her hand—“the owner, Chrissie.”

“That’s me.” I smile, and when she smiles back, I notice a slight gap between her two front teeth that makes her look even more endearing. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to apply for the job that was in the paper.”

“Great, do you mind if we talk out there?” I incline my head toward the tables out front.

“Not at all.”

“Awesome.” I grab my notebook, along with a can of Coke. “Would you like something to drink or eat while we chat?”

“That’s sweet, but no, thank you. I just had a huge lunch at a restaurant down the block.” She pats her stomach.

“The Grill?” I ask, and when she nods, I laugh. “That is one of my favorite places to eat, and I always leave regretting my decision to go there, because the food is so good I can’t stop eating, even when I know I’m full.”

“I’m suffering that fate now.” She giggles as I walk out from behind the counter and across the shop to one of the tables near the window, chanting in my head, I hope you’re the one. I haven’t put a notice up in the window of the shop. I haven’t needed to. Since the day after my ad went live in the paper and online, I’ve been interviewing people left and right. But so far, not one person has felt right for the job, even with most applicants being highly qualified. Like I told Gaston this morning, I know I might be being too picky, but if I’m going to do this, I want the best person possible helping me run my business.

As soon as we both sit, without a word she hands me a few sheets of paper stapled together, and I flip through them. I look over her résumé and work history, a little surprised and worried that she’s applying for a job here and not downtown at one of the big law firms or corporate buildings. Most of her previous work history involves clerical or secretarial work, not baking or even retail.

“Can I ask why you’re applying for this job?” I lift my head to look at her.

“As you can see, I’ve worked in corporate my entire adult life. I did it because it was what I went to school for and what I was supposed to do.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?” I surmise, and she shakes her head.

“I hated every minute of it.” She leans forward. “Can I be honest with you?” Considering what she just said, I thought we were already being honest, so I nod. “I just want to be happy,” she whispers, and my heart clenches in my chest at her tone and the look in her eyes. “A little over a year ago, I left the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and a month ago, I moved here on a whim, needing to be closer to the ocean. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She looks away briefly, seeming contemplative. “I do know”—her gaze comes back to me—“I have always loved baking and cooking. I also know how to manage people and my time, and I’m a quick study. I’m sure, looking over my résumé, you can see I’m probably the least-experienced person for this job, but when I saw the ad, I knew I had to apply and that I’d regret it if I didn’t.”

Her words touch something deep within me, and I study her for a long moment before I speak. “The hours are not set in stone. Sometimes I’d need you here to open early, and other days I’d need you to close. Would you be okay with that?”

“Can I drink coffee on the job and eat a cookie or cupcake whenever I want?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think I’d be okay with that,” she agrees with a soft smile.

Not wanting her to think this will be all cupcakes and sprinkles, pun intended, I tell her, “My two part-time shop girls are both leaving at the end of summer, and until I can hire replacements for them, things might be a little crazier than normal.”

“I thrive on crazy,” she says, and hope blooms in my chest.

“You also might have to work on your own from time to time, depending on the day.”