The Bachelor Baker. Carolyne Aarsen

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      “Thanks. I think.”

      As Melissa held his steady gaze she caught the hint of a mocking smile teasing one corner of his mouth.

      Her heart did a slow flop at the sight. Then she caught herself midreaction. Was she crazy? The man clearly didn’t like her or her bakery. Why was she even the least bit attracted to him?

      Because, she thought as she strode out of the coffee shop, in spite of her innate need for independence and her burning desire to make her own way in the world, there were times she wondered what it would be like to have someone beside her.

      Just not this guy, Melissa reminded herself.

      * * *

      “So I relit the pilot light.” Brian pushed himself away from the oven and, brushing the dust and crumbs off his shirt and pants, picked up his tools and got to his feet. “The oven should work now.”

      It hadn’t taken him long at all to get Melissa’s oven going. The thermocouple wasn’t working so all it took was a quick run down to the new hardware store. Thankfully, Patrick there knew his stuff and had one in stock.

      Replacing it was a simple job, but it made him feel useful again. Something he didn’t feel so often these days.

      Melissa looked at the oven, then back at Brian as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him.

      “Are you sure it will work?”

      “Of course I am.”

      “Okay.” She turned the knob of the oven, listening.

      Brian heard a reassuring whoosh as the gas ignited.

      “Great. Wonderful,” she said. “I thought I would have to start all over with the cupcakes.” She turned to Amanda. “Can you get them out of the refrigerator and put them in the oven? They’ll take a little longer to cook because they’re cold so adjust the time by about fifteen minutes.” Then she turned back to Brian with a grateful smile that didn’t help his equilibrium.

      Something about this woman made him feel edgy, and he didn’t like feeling that way.

      “Thanks again. I appreciate the help,” she said, giving Brian a grateful smile. “So, what do I owe you?”

      “Nothing.” He’d only been here twenty minutes and half of that time was spent getting the panels off so he could get at the broken thermocouple.

      “No. Really. I insist on paying you. I would have had to pay Alan and you saved my cupcakes. So how much?”

      “I’m not that busy,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not like you dragged me away from my job.”

      “All the more reason to pay you,” she said. “I’m sure you could use the money.”

      Brian felt a sliver of cold slip down his spine. Bad enough that the comment was partly true.

      That she was the one to say it only added to the humiliation piling on him the past few days. He thought the final straw had been her offering him a job in the bakery, but this was worse.

      He turned away from her and the only sound in the heavy silence following her comment was the hollow thunk of the lid of his metal toolbox falling shut. Then the snap of the clasps.

      “I’m good” was all he said, yanking the toolbox off the floor.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean... It came out wrong.”

      His only reply was to turn and stride out of the bakery, his booted feed thudding on the floor.

      He headed down the sidewalk toward his truck, dropped the toolbox in the back of his truck with a heavy clang, then glanced back, checking for his grandfather.

      A couple of minutes later Grandpa came walking down the sidewalk, a frown on his face. He was probably going to give him a reaming out for walking out on a lady, Brian thought, jingling his keys.

      He knew he had been rude, but her comment was ruder.

      However, as Grandpa drew close, the only expression Brian saw on his features was sympathy. Which was humiliating.

      They got in the truck and drove out of Bygones in silence.

      When they got home Brian parked the truck in front of the house and turned to his grandfather.

      “Will you be okay on your own for the next hour? I need to get some work done.”

      Thankfully his grandfather simply nodded and as he headed to the house, Brian went to his already tidy garage to clean up. He really didn’t have any work to do, but he needed some time alone. Time to think.

      He rearranged his tools on his worn workbench, then pulled out a broom, wishing for the umpteenth time he had a bigger garage to work in. A truck could barely fit inside the space. He needed room for a hoist and a lift and a much larger space for tools. He could only take on a few small jobs because of the lack of space.

      Unbidden came Melissa’s voice and her painful words. “...you could use the money.”

      He attacked the floor with the broom, sending what little dust was left flying as he struggled to dislodge the shame crawling through his belly at her words.

      And the anger they created.

      The ringing of his cell phone pulled him back from his frustration. He looked at the number. It was his old high school friend Kirk.

      Kirk used to live in Bygones and work with Brian at the factory. When he got laid off, he and his pregnant wife, Abby, moved to Junction City. Kirk got a job driving a long-haul truck for a trucking company. He’d told Brian, if he was interested, he could get him a job there, too.

      “So I called my boss and told him about you,” Kirk said when Brian answered. “Told him you might be looking for a job.”

      Brian felt a lift of anticipation. Long-haul trucking wasn’t the kind of job he wanted, but then, neither was working at a bakery, which, right now, was his only other option. “What did he say?”

      “The only work he could get is relief work. You’d get a few trips a month, but if you do good with that, you might be able to work it into a full-time position.”

      “And how long would that take?”

      “Half a year. Maybe more. Depends on how things pick up.”

      “I can’t live off those kind of wages.”

      “You can’t live off what you’re getting now. But you could totally live with me and Abby.”

      Brian glanced over the yard that had been his home since he was born. Large trees shaded the house to his right. Some of them had been planted by his parents when they were still alive. Some by his grandfather, who owned the property when it was still a farm. Ahead of him lay the pasture he and his father had fenced two years before his father died.

      He and his sisters had inherited СКАЧАТЬ