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WENDY

S usan and Walter can tell something is wrong, but I don't know how to tell them what happened.

If Wolff hadn't shown up when he did, something horrible would have happened. It's almost like he’s some guardian angel. I've lived in this town my entire life, and I've never seen him before. Somehow, he came at the perfect moment and saved me.

I work in silence, replaying the events of the morning over and over in my head, my mind lingering on Wolff and his sudden arrival the entire time. I paint his picture in my head. He's striking. Honestly, I've never seen a man so good looking in my entire life.

He’s tall, almost absurdly so. I've always been on the shorter side, and having to crane my neck up to look in his eyes wasn't all that bad.

His eyes were dark yet extremely calming.

What happened was one of the most traumatic things I've ever been through, and just a few minutes in his presence took away all my fear and anxiety.

I'll probably never see him again. He's my one-time hero, and next time something like that happens, I'll have to rely on pepper spray. But that doesn't stop me from thinking about his full beard or how perfectly untidy his brown hair was—or how nice it would’ve been to run my fingers through.

“How's that pie looking?” Susan asks as she walks up beside me, placing a hand gently on my shoulder as she looks down at the pie dough I'm rolling out.

“Marvelously,” I reply, gently nudging her in the side. “One of these days you're going to have to teach me the filling recipe. You know that, right?”

“No, but you can keep trying.” Susan laughs, turning around and opening up the stand mixer to pull out her unofficially world-famous vanilla buttercream.

“Wow, I put in all these years of work for nothing,” I joke, turning back to the pie dough as Susan playfully kicks my butt.

Both of us busy ourselves making cake and pie while Walter is up front changing the daily special board. Today's menu features a crowd favorite: rich chocolate cupcakes with bourbon-infused buttercream and bacon crumbles. Just the thought of it makes my mouth water.

After this morning, I think I've earned a little sweet treat, and I will enjoy some of them during my break.

Six o’clock rolls around, and it's time to open the doors. Susan and Walter stay in the back icing cupcakes while I unlock the doors and flip on the neon shop sign so everyone knows they can swing by to get their morning croissant and cup of coffee.

Almost as soon as I'm back behind the register and adjusting the tie of my apron, the door opens. I look up, expecting to see one of our regulars coming in for their order extra early. My breath catches in my throat as Wolff walks in.

I must look amazed because he smiles and cautiously approaches the register. His eyes don't leave mine as he moves gracefully through the room.

I was terrified and maybe a little nervous when I met him earlier, so I didn't get a good look at him then.

I caught a glimpse to see that he was good-looking, and something about him calmed me, but looking at him now, I'm stunned.

In the well-lit dining room, he's gorgeous.

On top of that, something about him is disarming and makes me less anxious about being around him.

I've always been nervous around guys. When I was in high school and hoping to find a date for the prom, I could barely speak two words to anyone. I ended up not going because of that. But I could see myself talking to Wolff.

The only problem is that he wouldn't be interested in someone like me.

It looks like his muscles have muscles, and guys like him tend to prefer size-two models and beauty queens.

He could go to any girl in Swanton, and they would likely leave their husbands if he wanted them to.

I doubt he wants some curvy cashier at a bakery.

“Hello,” I force myself to say in the cheery customer service voice I have perfected over the years. I almost want to wince after it comes out. He saved me this morning, and he probably deserves a lot more than a hello.

“Hi,” he says with a faint smile growing on his lips. My heart skips a beat at the sight of it, and I try to force myself to remain calm. “Can I have a black coffee?”

I nod, ignoring the disappointment I feel.

Did I think he was here to ask me out or anything?

Absolutely not. But a little fantasy was brewing in the corner of my mind that I was hoping I could live in for a little longer.

But he's probably just here for the food like everyone else who comes through.

“Of course, take a seat. I'll bring it out in a minute!” I smile wide and watch him as he walks away. He sits down in the corner of the dining room, choosing a seat that faces the cash register directly.

I can feel his eyes on me as I pour a steaming cup of coffee for him.

My skin burns as I feel it, and I can't help but wonder why he's paying so much attention to me.

Knowing he's watching me makes me self-conscious.

I straighten my spine and instinctively suck in my stomach a little bit to control my body more as I walk across the room to him.

It feels like every shake of my body is amplified, so all he notices is how my arms jiggle or the chubbiness of my cheeks.

I set the coffee down on the table, and he grabs it with a thankful nod, looking up at me with a smile. “How much do I owe for it?”

“This one's on me,” I say, stuffing my hands nervously in my apron pocket. “After you helped me this morning, I can't charge you. If anything behind the counter catches your eye, let me know, and it’s yours too.”

He looks me up and down and nods his head. “Will do.” He gestures to the seat across from me and holds a hand out for me to join him. I look back at the register, seeing that nobody is around to serve right now, and take a seat.

“Do you live around here?” I nervously ask, keeping my hands folded in my lap under the table.

“No, I'm from Oregon,” he says, leaning forward and sipping his coffee. It's piping hot, and he doesn't even flinch as he drinks it. “Have you lived here long?”

“My whole life, so yes.” I laugh, moving my eyes between him and the door to jump behind the counter the second a customer comes through.

“And how long is that, exactly?” He raises an eyebrow, and something about the question excites me. I smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Nineteen years.” He nods his head slowly, and I'm unsure whether this is a good or bad thing.

He looks young, but he's definitely older than me.

If I had to guess, I'd say he's in his mid- to-late twenties.

I know a lot of guys go out with younger girls, but maybe he's not one of them.

Or maybe I'm being delusional and getting ahead of myself. “How old are you?”

He waits a beat before responding, leaning forward and whispering like it's a secret. “Thirty-four.” I'm shocked, and I make no effort to hide that, which makes him laugh as he leans back. “It's not that surprising, is it?”

“I'm sorry, but it is.” Both of us laugh, and he sits up straight, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Why are you all the way out here? Oregon must be a three-day drive at least.”

“I came out here looking for something,” Wolff says. It's vague, but he owes me nothing. I owe him my life, so he can keep whatever secrets he wants.

“And did you find it?”

His eyes light up as he nods. “I did. I've been looking for a long time, too.”

The bell on the front door chimes and pulls me away from his eyes.

I excuse myself and go back to the register to take customer orders and earn my paycheck.

After a while, our morning rush begins, and dozens of customers walk in.

I fill orders of bagels and croissants with various coffees.

Susan comes up from the back to help me fulfill each order when it gets too hectic.

The entire time, Wolff remains seated in the corner of the room. He sips his black coffee, and when finished, he doesn't get back up to ask for anything else. Every now and then, when I have a spare moment to look around, I catch him watching me, and my entire body runs hot.

Tara, a high schooler who comes in for the afternoon shift to relieve me, walks in a bit before three o’clock for shift change. We chat for a minute, and I update her on everything that's been going on in the kitchen, giving her an ETA on the evening’s batch of cupcakes.

I box up a few cupcakes from the back, making sure to take some extra for Naomi. She's always ravenous when she gets home from school. When I walk back out the front, apron hanging in the kitchen, ready to leave, Wolff stands and joins me by the door.

“I can walk you home,” he says. I want to protest and tell him that it's broad daylight and nothing's going to happen to me, but the eagerness in his eyes stops me. I've never had anybody look out for me the way he's trying to, and something about it urges me to say yes.

“Thank you,” I say as we walk out of the bakery together.

We're silent for most of the walk, which strikes me as a little odd. I can feel him looking at me like he’s studying me. A part of me wants to ask what's going on, but all I can really focus on is the fact that he's going to see where I live.

I live on the outskirts of town and the wrong side of the tracks by anyone's standard.

My house is tiny and looks like it's falling apart on the outside, just as it is on the inside.

The yard is always crowded with junk. My dad tends to pick up every broken chair he finds on trash day, insisting he's going to fix them to resell for some quick cash.

Only he just leaves the junk in our yard and never touches it after bringing it home. It's a pretty effective business model.

It's hot enough on the walk back that I have to take off my cardigan, and I feel self-conscious about showing more of my skin.

I'm sweaty, and it's humid outside, and I'm afraid I look disgusting to him.

But Wolff doesn't seem to care. It's simultaneously refreshing and incredibly nerve-racking.

He has to want something from me, but I just can't figure it out.

Eventually, we get to my house, and I stand in the driveway, pointing at the front door with a meek smile. “This is home.”

“Do you work tomorrow morning?” he asks.

“Yep, same time.” I sigh. The idea of walking back to work with those two assholes probably still on the loose terrifies me.

“I'll pick you up here in the morning then,” Wolff says with a warm smile.

“Oh no?—”

“I don't mind,” he says, cutting me off before I can even protest. “I just want to make sure you're safe.”

I can tell there's no use fighting him on this.

Honestly, I'm not sure I even want to. Here is this tall, gorgeous man who looks like he was carved out of a mountain and placed on Earth next to me, and he wants to walk me to work tomorrow.

It's a little unnecessary, but knowing I'm going to see him tomorrow is exciting. And for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to something.