Chapter 14: Brooks
My guys are hard at work getting the area ready for the foundation. I trust Dan to make sure things run smoothly but I jump in and help, giving direction when needed and double checking everything that is being done.
I like knowing that Olive is right inside. I keep catching glimpses of her through the windows and she’s hard at work, focused on whatever is in the mixing bowl. My thoughts drift back to the way she gripped my hand. I know she was trying to get a rise out of me and it worked.
Shaking her hand is the only time I get to touch her and even though she always puts up a show of pulling away when I hold on just a little too long, I can tell she likes the way we feel together. She fights it, but her eyes soften and she leans into me for just a second before remembering that she’s not supposed to like it. I’m pretty sure I even caught her sniffing me this morning.
I’m not a dick, even though she might think I am. If I wasn’t positive she liked me, I would let it go. At least I think I would. She’s hiding behind her denial and pithy comments, but I’m going to draw her out.
We work hard until lunchtime, cranking through most of what we need to finish today to stay on track. We break for an hour and everybody splits in different directions, a few of the guys heading inside.
I spot Olive laughing with the girl running the cash register. Checking my watch, I set my laptop down at my favorite table before joining the line and ordering my lunch. As I pay, Olive eyes me. She looks like she’s trying to make her mind up about something. Or maybe it’s suspicion. With her, it’s hard to tell sometimes. I see her face shift as she decides and waves me over to the other end of the counter.
She crosses her arms and leans a hip on the edge of the bar, her lips pursed as I walk towards her. She’s so closed off, but my heart still thumps in my chest. In three weeks, this is the first time she initiated any of our conversations. Please God, don’t let her be pissed at me for something new.
She chews on her bottom lip as I give her a grin. “Hey.” I sound cool and collected as I go to lean a hand on the counter. And completely fucking miss it. I almost face plant on the ground but save myself just before going down.
Olive’s eyes widen and her hands shoot out to catch me, her tiny hands wrapped around one of my biceps.
“Jesus, are you ok?” She giggles. She actually giggled. And it was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. She’s still holding my bicep so I flex it under her grip, clearing my throat and laughing a little.
“Yup, I’m fine. No one’s ever called me graceful.” I hate how cold my arm feels when she lets me go but at least she’s still smiling. I smooth my shirt and exaggerate, making a point of looking at the counter as I lean on it.
“What can I do for you, Olive?”
She grins at me for a second before looking around the dining room. “I wanted to do something nice for the guys working on my addition. Could you tell them coffee and muffins are on the house tomorrow morning?”
Jesus, she’s so sweet. “That’s really generous, are you sure? They can put down a lot of coffee.”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m like the dealer of sweet breakfast pastries. Gotta give the buyer a little taste and get them hooked.”
“A little taste, huh?” I cock an eyebrow at her, and she blushes. Ooh, what dirty thoughts are running through her mind? I’d kill to find out, but I’m doing my best to be respectful, if not entirely professional.
Just then we’re interrupted by one of her employees setting down two plates on the counter. I can’t remember her name. Alice, maybe? Whatever-her-name-is points to my French dip and fries and leans over the counter, batting her lashes at me. “Here’s your lunch, Mr. Davidson.”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at her. What is she, like 18? Hard no. I gesture to the other plate with the panini and bowl of soup. “Who’s this for?” It must come out colder than I meant to sound because Ashley-Alice-Aubrey pulls her shit together and stands up straight.
“Oh, Olive! This is yours.”
Olive gives her an annoyed look but thanks her and sends her back to work. Before she can stop me, I pick up both plates and take them to my table.
“Excuse me, are you stealing my lunch now?” Olive asks as she follows me.
“No, you’re finally going to sit with me. No excuses. You were going to eat alone, anyway. I’m not so horrible that you can’t stand to sit with me for an hour, am I?”
She scoffs. “An hour? No way. I have to get back to work. I usually just eat standing in the corner of the kitchen.”
I set her food down and pat the chair next to mine. “Thirty minutes. I can negotiate.”
She chews on her lower lip and I expect her to argue, but she surprises me and sits. She huffs and mutters, “Fine,” under her breath, but I’ll take it.
“How did you get into baking?” I ask her before taking a bite of my sandwich and moaning. Jesus, she makes the best fucking French dip.
She finishes chewing an enormous bite of her panini before answering. “I started baking because it made my brothers and sisters happy. There wasn’t a lot to be happy about when we were young, but cookies made everyone feel better. My Gran taught me a lot and then I went to culinary school and got my very overpriced degree in baking and pastry.”
I frown at her. “Why weren’t you guys happy as kids?”
“It’s kind of a lot to unpack over sandwiches but basically, our mom died and our dad was a dick and then he left. It was a lot for us to deal with. We had Gran, but it wasn’t the same after Mom died.” She chews with a thoughtful expression on her face. I so badly want to reach out and hold her hand. She wouldn’t like it. Not yet. I shift in my seat and let my knee touch hers. She doesn’t pull away so at least I can get away with this. My chest feels tight, aching for the little girl she was and everything she lost.
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “What was your childhood like?”
I laugh, but it’s not a humorous sound. She’s been honest with me, so I guess I can return the favor. “Cold? I don’t know. It wasn’t horrible or tragic, but my parents weren’t the warm and fuzzy types. They were both lawyers. Very driven. They expected a lot out of me and let’s just say construction doesn’t cut it. Even if I own my own company.”
Olive’s mouth pulls to the side in a sympathetic expression. And maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems like her knee presses back into mine just a little.
“Tell me about culinary school.”
She brightens. “It was amazing. I got to do what I love all day, every day. I was surrounded by people who were as passionate about it as I am. It’s part of the reason I love my bakery so much. That, and the fact that I’m in charge. Plus there are always fresh-baked cookies around, so it’s almost perfect.”