Page 94 of Almost Ravaged

Cringing, I set my plate down and scurry back to the customer side of the bakery.

“Hold it.” Edna bellies up to the counter and holds my half-eaten pie over the glass partition.

Sheepishly, I take the plate. Rather than release it when I’ve got a good handle on it, she holds on, forcing me to inch closer.

Only when we’re both leaning over the glass case, our eyes locked, does she whisper, “Don’t let his gruff exterior scare you. He’s as sweet as this pie in the middle.”

Eyes twinkling and lips tipped up, she finally releases the plate.

I turn around slowly, a little wobbly. Not only am I still flustered after being caught mid-orgasmic bite, but now the unsolicited advice has left me a little off-kilter.

It’s silly, really, her concern. I don’t find Noah the least bit off-putting. His softer side was on full display the day I met him, and my fondness for him has only grown over the last several weeks.

I come to stand next to Noah, avoiding eye contact and at a loss as to what to say.

Thankfully, he breaks first, nodding toward my partially eaten pie. “You gonna finish that?”

I study it, then him, my nose scrunched.

He gives me a pointed look, then waves at a table on the opposite wall. “Sit down and eat. I was coming in for coffee. Want some?”

I perk up, any unease plaguing me instantly vanishing. “Yes, please.”

Once I’m seated, I dig back into the salted caramel goodness Edna has created. It’s genius, honestly. Creating a recipe based on a beloved coffee drink. I bet the students could do a whole social media series featuring the bakery offerings.

“How do you take it?” Noah asks me from behind the counter.

Straightening, I give him a smile. “Do you have any fall syrups or sweeteners?”

“I—we’ve—there might be a bottle of pumpkin spice cream in the fridge,” he stutters out. “Will that work?”

“That would be perfect.”

He turns on his heel and takes off. Edna, who’s now cleaning up, follows him with her eyes.

My heart aches in the best way. It’s clear she cares for him in a deeply rooted, motherly way. Even the scolding proves it.

I’ve finished my pie by the time Noah returns, holding out a to-go cup.

“Try this.”

Standing, I accept the proffered tumbler and take a tentative sip. The pumpkin balances perfectly with the warm notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove, the flavor instantly bringing a smile to my face.

“Oh. That’sperfect.”

“Yeah?” He breaks into the brightest smile I’ve ever seen from him.

I survey him over the lid as I take another drink. “Yes. Thank you.”

For a moment, we stand like that, sipping our coffees, looking at each other, then quickly glancing away.

I’ve silently convinced myself to say goodbye so I can check on the students assigned to the apple room when Noah inhales sharply, like he’s going to speak.

Breath held, I wait. Thankfully, he doesn’t keep me hanging long. “Are you busy right now?”

I deflate a little. “I need to check on some of the students.” Coffee in one hand, I pick up my plate, intent on setting it and my fork in the dish bin by the garbage.

Noah takes it out of my hands and does it for me. When he turns back, he looks at me, then at the floor. Then, with a curt nod, like he’s garnering his courage, he steps up to my side.