The Baker's Beauty (The River Hill Series Book 3)

by Rebecca Norinne

  Then again, she’d done the same thing, hadn’t she? Or had she? She wasn’t sure that not telling the guy you were crushing on that you’d been on a diet since you’d hit puberty was the same thing as not telling the woman you’d kissed senseless that you owned a highly-respected local business.

  She didn’t have too long to mull it over, though. Their transaction complete, the older couple moved aside, and Sean crouched down to inspect his inventory.

  Jess stepped forward to take their place at the counter.

  “What can I get you?” His voice was muffled from his position below the edge of the counter.

  “What’s good?” Jess asked, pushing aside her misgivings about the puzzle that was Sean Amory. Not that she had any intention of eating whatever he recommended. She’d take it to her papa later, she decided.

  Sean pushed to his feet, a shy grin splitting his lips as his eyes landed on Jess. “Hey, you.”

  Jess fluttered her fingers in greeting. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Yourself?” He leaned forward, propping his forearms on the counter.

  Jess hadn’t noticed it before, but Sean’s arms were enticingly muscular, his skin dusted with golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight that streamed in through the windows at the front of the shop. She licked her lips, wondering briefly what his skin would taste like if she were to lean down and lick a path over the vein that ran the length of his inner arm.

  She shook her head, banishing the ridiculous thought, and raised her eyes to his as she gestured over her shoulder to where her car was parked on the other side of the street. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to pop in. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Far be it from me to complain when a beautiful woman stops in to see me.” Sean pushed off the counter and flashed her a flirty smile filled with so much smoldering heat that it rendered Jess momentarily speechless.

  She’d seen a few flashes of this guy before—the smooth talker, the ladies’ man, the guy who’d run circles around her if she let him—but she’d come to think of Sean as a nice guy. Maybe even a bit vulnerable. The look on his face right now, though? She got the distinct impression that this man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Briefly, she wondered if she was in over her head.

  She glanced away nervously, and her eyes connected with the black and white photo that had caught her earlier attention. She cleared her throat and brought her gaze back to his. “I didn’t realize you owned this place.”

  Sean gripped the back of his neck as his face dropped forward an inch. Looking up at Jess, he said, “I don’t. Not really.”

  Reflexively, she crossed her arms over her chest and notched her head toward the wall where the framed photo resided. “So that’s not your name on that picture over there?”

  Sean lifted his apron off over his head and stepped out from behind the counter, dropping the bunched fabric on the white and gray marble as he went. When he reached her side, he set his hand on her upper back and gently ushered her toward the wall lined with faded photographs. Pointing at one toward the top, he said, “That’s my great-great-grandfather, Thomas Amory.” He gestured at another sepia-toned photo. “And that’s my grandfather Thomas, Jr., his oldest son. He took the bakery over when his father passed.” He led her a bit further down, pointing at a third photo, this one in faded color. “And that’s my dad and my mom. My grandpa didn’t have any sons, so the bakery went to her. She’s the one who changed the name to The Breadery. She and my dad planned to run it together forever, but …” He trailed off, and his eyes flashed with agony.

  All at once, Jess felt very uncomfortable. She hadn’t meant to force him to talk about something that was so obviously painful. She laid a comforting hand to his arm. “It’s okay; you don’t have to explain.”

  “I think I do, though.” He shrugged out from her touch and faced the wall of photos, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never planned on working here. My parents were so solid. It seemed like they’d be here, running things, forever and ever. So I went to college, chose a career. I thought that if and when they retired, the place would go to one of the Amory cousins. But then my dad died. And I didn’t come home, and my mom didn’t hand off the bakery to anyone, just kept running things by herself. And then when things fell apart for me down in Southern California … well, here I am.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he finished speaking.

  “I’m sorry,” Jess whispered. She tried to imagine his mother losing a beloved partner and couldn’t. It would be like her abuela without her papa. Inconceivable. “Thanks,” he said, turning on his heels and moving back behind the counter. “With him gone and my mom getting older, it made sense for me to come home and help out where I could. The truth is, I’m more of an employee than anything else.”

  Jess detected a note of bitterness in his response. “How so?” she asked, canting her head to the side to study his reactions. Every so often she detected something troubled simmering just below the surface. This was one of those times, and she wasn’t entirely convinced it had to do with the passing of his father. The way he’d just spoken—the tone of his voice and the clipped cadence of speech—made her think he felt deeply dissatisfied with how his life had played out. A feeling she was familiar with, Jess thought ruefully.

  “For starters—” he turned around and futzed with a sheet pan of cherry tarts “—I don’t really get a say in how the business is run. I just open up each morning, bake what the chart tells me to, and pass it all off to the next schlub when I leave.” He glanced at her over his shoulder before moving to the rear of the storefront and tossing his apron on a peg on the far wall. When he returned to the counter, his shoulders were tight, and that pinched look was back in his eyes.

  His reaction confirmed her earlier suspicions. Sean was not happy with the current state of his life. Briefly, Jess wondered if that’s why he’d been so reluctant to reveal much about himself. Now probably wasn’t the time to broach the subject, and yet ...

  “You told me once before that you used to work in the entertainment industry, but I don’t know much beyond that.” It wasn’t a question so much as a statement, but she hoped he’d pick up the reins of the conversation and fill in her blanks.

  He didn’t. Instead, he stared at her for a few beats and then blew out a breath, his gaze darting away. “Yeah, I don’t like to talk about it.”

  Jess tried not to dwell on the disappointment his non-answer evoked. Things were still so new between them, she told herself. It was crazy to expect him to spill all his secrets in one fell swoop. Besides, she reasoned, him confessing his sad family history was a massive step in their relationship. They had plenty of time to learn all each other’s secrets. Assuming, of course, he was as into her as she was into him. Sometimes, like now, she couldn’t be sure.

  “Anyhow,” he said, running his hand through his messy hair, “I’m done here for the day.” He looked pointedly toward the door, and Jess realized he was hoping she’d leave.

  Okay. So Sean isn’t into me, she thought with a lurch of her hopeful heart.

  But then he stepped around the counter and came to stand in front of her. “Want to get dinner with me tomorrow night, and we can talk more?”

  All at once, Jess’s hope spiked. She looked up into his deep blue eyes and their gazes locked. It was apparent Sean was battling some unspoken demons, but she wanted to know him. Know all about those demons, and maybe … just maybe … help him conquer them. She couldn’t say why, but she felt deep into the marrow of her bones that they had a connection, tenuous though it might be. So even though she knew there was a very good possibility that he could break her heart, she let that hope soar. “That sounds great.”

  Chapter 11

  Sean wasn’t proud of the way he’d smoothly deflected Jess’s line of questioning yesterday. He squirmed a little in the driver’s seat as he recalled her look of disappointment when he’d practically shoved her out the door of the bakery. But there was only so much talk a
bout his family and his past that he could handle in broad daylight, at work, in front of God and croissants.

  When he’d blurted out his invitation to dinner, he’d thought he would take her to Frankie’s for some of Max’s incredible cooking. But this morning during his shift, he’d remembered how taken aback she’d been by the revelation that his family owned The Breadery. Maybe meeting his pile of overly inquisitive and unnecessarily helpful friends wasn’t the greatest idea, not yet. No matter how many punctuation marks Noah and Angelica added to the increasingly frequent texts they were sending him.

  He hadn’t been keeping secrets from her, exactly; they just didn’t know each other that well yet. He winced as he pulled Bessie Blue to a halt in front of her house. That wasn’t entirely true. He had no intention of talking to her about what had happened in L.A. So maybe he was keeping secrets. But she was the girl he was hoping to get naked, not his therapist. Not that he had a therapist. He did have the business card Noah had given him still, though. Not throwing it away had to be considered progress, right?

  All thoughts of therapy—and pretty much everything else— vanished from his head when Jess opened the door. He’d texted and told her to dress for the city, which she clearly understood. Wow. Her lean curves were draped in a dress that clung everywhere, in a shade of deep red that matched her lip color and showed off that glowing skin he’d admired so much when she’d jogged past the bakery. Her dark hair was swept up in loose waves, held up by some woven contraption that glimmered with a hint of crystal in the darkening twilight.

  “You look amazing,” he told her when he reached the front porch.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. “You look great, too.”

  He shrugged, feeling awkward as the fabric of his suit slid against his shoulders. He’d pulled one of his old ones from the back of his closet—one of the designers he’d worn every day back in his former, fashionable life. He hadn’t realized how much a year or two of alternating between drinking and working his butt off would change the shape of his body. He’d put some weight back on since he’d quit drinking, but nothing fit quite the way it used to. If Jess liked what she saw, however, he wasn’t going to correct her. “Ready?”

  She nodded, and he took her arm to escort her to the truck. She giggled as she approached it. “Where are we going?”

  “A place in San Francisco,” he said.

  “When you told me to dress for the city, I didn’t think you’d be driving this,” she said, patting the side of the truck as she slipped carefully into the passenger seat, giving her dress a quick tug as she sat so it would stay smooth.

  He shut the door for her and crossed over to his seat. “I did think about borrowing something else, but I couldn’t decide which seemed more awkward: showing up in a vintage truck or showing up in my mom’s car.”

  She laughed. “I think you probably made the right choice.”

  “Everybody loves old Bessie Blue,” he said smugly. He gave the steering wheel a gentle pat as he started the truck, enjoying her signature rumble.

  “I hope the valet does, too.”

  He glanced over and realized she was looking back at him with a sly smile. He snorted. “What, you don’t think fancy restaurants see people pulling up in these babies all the time?”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  “She’s practically one of a kind, I’ll have you know.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Jess soothed.

  The forty-minute drive passed quickly as they chatted about their weeks at work, what they wanted to do for their next vacations, and names they liked for pets they’d never had and likely never would.

  “I always thought I’d name an iguana Ignatius,” Sean said as he pulled Bessie Blue to a stop outside La Panneau.

  “Like the saint?” Jess nodded to the valet, who opened her door for her.

  “More like just cool alliteration.” When he reached Jess’s side, he handed the keys to the valet, who stared at him and then at the truck. “I know, buddy, she’s beautiful. Don’t scratch her.” He leaned toward Jess as the valet walked around the car. “You’re beautiful, too.”

  “Am I competing with a truck?” she teased.

  “You’d win,” he said, his eyes raking over her one more time in appreciation before they went inside and he lost half of her under the table. His old job had made him a fixture of the Hollywood scene, so he’d been with his fair share of beautiful women over the years—each one blonder and thinner than the next, it had seemed. And yet, he realized with no small amount of surprise, none of them had held a candle to the beauty at his side. There was simply no measuring up to the effortless grace of Jessica Casillas-Moore.

  “What a relief,” she answered with a shy smile as they made their way inside.

  They stepped to the podium, and Sean gave the host his name. Reservations at La Panneau were notoriously hard to come by, but he’d traded on a couple of old contacts to get a table, feeling a bit of a pang as he did. It was like dipping his toe back into dangerous waters. But he had to start somewhere, right? And with Jess by his side, radiating whatever it was that she did that was so soothing, he could handle it. Probably.

  After they were seated, Jess picked up her menu as a waitress arrived to take their drink orders. After she ordered sparkling water, Jess glanced over at him. “Did you want the wine list?”

  He let the familiar thirst wash over him and shook his head. “No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll stick with the same.” The waitress nodded and vanished.

  Jess smiled. “You are driving, after all.”

  “Yep, something like that.” He was getting better at ignoring the itch under his tongue that offers of alcohol seemed to produce every time they came his way. It was easy to ignore it here, with Jess to distract him. It would be much harder in L.A., he reflected. Assuming, of course, he ever went back. He shook his head. Why on earth was he thinking about this now?

  Jess was perusing her menu. “I think I’ll get the tuna.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll get that, too.”

  “Ugh, no, you can’t,” she protested. “I can’t get the same thing as you! How will we maximize the number of things we’re trying?” She lifted her menu again. “I’ll pick something else.”

  “No, no.” He reached out a hand to push her menu back to the table. “I will.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know we had to maximize anything. I’ll get the chicken.”

  She looked adorably embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I just hate to duplicate food at a restaurant, since the whole point of going to one is to eat food you wouldn’t at home.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of going to a restaurant that way.”

  “Why, how do you think of it?”

  “As, um, a place to eat?”

  She laughed. “You don’t do much in the way of home cooking, do you?”

  Before he could shake his head, the waitress came back to take their orders and hand over their drinks. He enjoyed watching Jess order her food, something he didn’t expect. She was so animated, and her enjoyment of the evening seeped into him, soothing the restlessness that so often consumed him.

  “So?” She turned to him as the waitress left again.

  “Hm?” He’d been distracted by watching the play of her shoulder blades as her hair drifted against them.

  “Cooking. You. Not much?” She exaggerated her words patiently, making him chuckle.

  “Not really. I’ve always been more of a baking guy. I can cook, I guess—my mom made sure I’d be able to feed myself before I left for college. But it turns out I’m fundamentally lazy.”

  “The guy who’s working at four o’clock in the morning is lazy? I thought my early morning jogs were some kind of virtuous martyrdom, but you’re taking the cake, baker boy.” She paused. “Pun not entirely intended but appreciated nonetheless.”

  He laughed. “That’s work. I set myself a schedule, and I do it. Just because my work involves producing food doesn’t mean I’m at home cooki
ng up gourmet fare.”

  “Please tell me you don’t survive on Hamburger Helper,” she said.

  “No, I usually go out,” he said. “There’s a restaurant in River Hill named Frankie’s. Have you been there?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t eat out a ton, honestly.”

  “A friend of mine owns it, so I eat there quite a bit.” He glanced around, once again comparing this quiet, overly elegant place to the flushed charm of Frankie’s. “You should try it.”

  “So why didn’t we go there? Why all this?” She flicked her hand in a circle, somehow encompassing the entire restaurant, from the gentle tinkle of silverware against plates to the murmur of conversation hushed by expensive tailoring and plush carpets. It was a far cry from the cheerful noise that imbued Frankie’s. The waitress hadn’t even rolled her eyes at him once. He hadn’t expected to miss that.

  “Maybe I was trying to impress you,” he said.

  She chuckled, warm and low in her throat, making his groin tighten. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve seen you with dish soap on your nose.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. Honestly, I just thought… maybe we needed some privacy before we plunge in. See where this is going, make sure we really like each other enough to be teased by friends and family for hours on end.” He attempted his best smooth-charmer smile, hoping it didn’t come out as lopsided as it felt. The thought of his friends ribbing him about her made him inexplicably restless.

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You know, I can’t say I disagree with you.” She raised her eyebrows, then smiled at him a little shyly. “I do like whatever this is we’ve got going on. And I love River Hill, but it’s a gossip farm, isn’t it?”