Page 5 of Sweets and Sycamores

OUCH

Allie picked up her duffel bag and followed her boss into her new workplace, closing the door behind her.

She stopped for a second to take in the cozy space, the light beige floors, and the ivory wallpaper patterned with wide flower petals.

The front of the bakery and the right-side wall hosted five square wooden tables painted a creamy white, surrounded by velvet azure chairs.

In the back of the bakery was a marble counter with a register and a shelved display case for the baked goods, and behind it, a smaller counter with a fancy coffee machine on top of it.

Allie had used Sam’s coffee machine every day, but this one looked much more complicated than the one with two buttons.

For the Silverbarks, she had ground the coffee beans freshly every morning using a mortar and pestle, then poured boiled water over the powder, wishing she had Sam’s coffee machine.

“This way.” Dominic’s thick voice hurried her steps.

She followed him past the counters, down a narrow hallway with an open door on the right, revealing a huge kitchen space.

A few steps farther, a wooden staircase curled to her right, a small door under it labeled “Storage Room,” opposite the last door on the left.

Dominic opened this door and turned the lights on. “This is your room.”

Allie stepped inside but turned around instantly.

“Thank you again, Mr. Ranford. I promise I won’t let you down,” she declared enthusiastically.

Dominic grunted and headed for the stairs, with no further instructions for her job.

A problem for tomorrow. Allie closed the door and noticed the lock wasn’t working.

Panic grew hot inside her, but she gripped it by the neck and shoved it away.

Everything would be fine, and she was not defenseless.

Although it would be such a pity to set this cozy bakery on fire.

Allie started a mental list, with a door lock at the top.

The space was more like a studio than just a simple room.

The kitchen was immediately to her right, a narrow island with two bar chairs separating it from the rest of the room.

She had everything she needed: a stove and oven, a small fridge, and a counter next to the sink.

Two cupboards were nailed against the wall, and a big window—the only window—revealed the bright moonlight above the sink.

She pulled the deep green curtains and decided firmly that the color did not make her think about Dominic’s eyes.

On the other side of the room, a wooden desk lined the left wall, and a plushy yellow sofa sat opposite the kitchen.

It looked like a sofa bed, like the one in Green Creek, and more comfortable than her single bed at the manor.

Suddenly, Allie wished Sam had let her handle more things around his house, but she would figure out how to expand it.

The bathroom was next to a closet where she found sheets, a pillow, a duvet, and enough space for her clothes.

All right.

This was great. She could do this. She would wake up early, clean, bake, deliver, and do anything else Dominic would ask. And come evening, when the bakery was closed, she would explore the town’s surroundings and find her perfect place to practice.

She could do this. After all, she’d just left the Silverbarks this morning and already found a place to stay and a job.

More like Brandon had found her on the brink of despair, but what did it matter now?

Allie would forever be grateful to him and thought the first thing she baked should be for Brandon.

Maybe not exactly the first thing; she had a strong feeling that her baking might not be edible anytime soon.

The thought that she lied to her boss about her baking skills sent shivers down her spine, his scrutinizing eyes coming to the forefront of her mind.

Or maybe it was the cold. Yes, definitely the cold, so different from the sticky heat of Pearls Fields.

Allie drew a bath and made another plan, since the one she’d made this morning was successfully completed.

Mainly by Brandon. She needed to buy warm clothes and to learn about baking.

And about her magic. She added the clothing store and a bookstore to her list, deciding to leave the outside exploration for the next day.

Freshly out of the hot bath, Allie felt the chill in the air worse than before. The cold seeped through her skin and clung to her bones with pointed claws as she fumbled to get her blue camisole nightgown on. She wished that the duvet was as warm as it looked.

Allie shivered in front of the yellow sofa, pondering whether she really needed a bed for tonight. It looked as if she could squeeze in on the sofa if she slept with her knees pressed against her chest.

No.

She could figure it out. She had found a job and a place to stay on the same day. There was nothing much she couldn’t do. Except bake or master her power. But she refused to let an inanimate object best her, even if she was known as the clumsiest Witch in the world.

Allie kneeled in front of the sofa like Sam used to do.

She looked under it and behind it for a mechanism or a button to turn the cursed thing into a bed.

With new magic, there was a button for everything.

If only she had been paying attention to his actions instead of gawking at his face like a lovesick idiot.

A loose string was tucked in a crevice at the front, and her memories of Sam’s movements clicked into place.

Allie stood up and pulled on the string, but nothing happened.

She pulled harder, certain the thing was stuck, and even jiggled it left and right.

Unsuccessful, Allie decided she would try one more time before giving up.

Sticking her heels into the floor, she grabbed the stubborn string and put her entire strength into this last pull.

The string slipped from her hand, and that force worked against her.

She went stumbling back, tripped over one of the bar chairs, and plunged down with it.

“Ouch,” she hissed and rubbed her hip. She glowered at the sofa, dubbed it her worst enemy, and resolved to sleep on the floor rather than try to convert it into a bed.

Loud footsteps drew her attention as the sound grew closer and closer and turned into an urgent knock on her door.

“What’s going on?” Dominic’s voice carried through the wall, thick and low and drastically annoyed.

“Nothing!” Allie shouted and heard the nerves in her voice.

Her skin heated, as if Dominic could see her sitting on her ass in nothing but a see-through nightgown.

Allie hurried to stand up and, in her rush, hit the fallen chair with her ankle.

She sat back and suppressed her groan of pain, but the clattering noise echoed loudly through the room.

“I’m coming in,” Dominic announced.

“No—” But the doorknob turned before she could protest further.

Dominic knew he was going to regret hiring the Witch first thing in the morning, as soon as the daylight cleared the fog that had clouded his mind when he agreed to take her in.

He was so damn tired he would have left a fire-spitting dragon in just to go back to sleep.

He imagined the long string of colorful phrases he’d throw at Brandon the first time his friend dared show his face.

Why did he put that sign in the bakery’s window in the first place? Did he really need help? Dominic should have known better and found a way to make it work on his own, like everything else in his life. No help needed, no one to crowd his space.

And definitely no one to wake him up in the middle of the night, for the second time, with a banging noise so loud it rattled his walls.

It took a moment for his brain to connect the dots—Brandon, the Witch, hiring her, her living right under him—before he jumped out of bed and stormed down the stairs.

The manners Brandon had promised were the only thing that kept him from barging into her room without knocking first. But he could hardly be expected to act the gentleman after a certain time of the night.

The room was warm and dewy, wrapped in tangerine soap smell. Dominic took in the image before him: the Witch was sitting on the floor, one hand clasped on her ankle, the bar chair tipped over next to her. He ran various scenarios through his mind, but nothing made sense of the scene before him.

“What happened?” he snapped, glowering at Alecsandra.

“Nothing,” she said again, as if he couldn’t see the aftermath of whatever had occurred.

She averted her gaze, gathering her ankle close to her body.

“I just tripped,” she admitted in such a low voice, it was almost a whisper.

She brought her knees to her chest, stuffing them under her chin, and curled into a ball on the floor.

It was then that Dominic realized she was trying to hide from him.

Because she was in a thin, see-through nightgown.

A soft blue, gauzy camisole that offered Dom an unobstructed view of the skin underneath. If her knees weren’t covering her breasts… Fuck.

He noticed her blushed ivory skin, freshly out of a hot bath. The specks of water that pooled around her chest from the loose wet locks. The freckles that stood out so much more under the light than they did in the darkness. A flash of chocolate brown eyes she was trying to keep to herself.

Dom noticed all the things he had no business noticing. His brain switched into employer gear, and he bent down to grab the fallen chair, wanting to keep his hands busy.

Dominic picked up the bar stool as if it was made of feathers. Allie was glad he had found something to do other than stare at her pathetic self. But then her boss stretched his ink-covered arm to her, his crystal-green eyes fixed on her face. She gaped at his hand as if it put her life in danger.

It kind of did, though, as she wore this damned flimsy camisole, and taking Dominic’s hand to stand up meant showing him much more than any employee should show their boss.

Not only was this highly unprofessional, but she’d known the man for all of five minutes.

And the last man who had seen her in this camisole was Sam, and that was…

different. So, so different. She should have just burned the thing and wrapped herself in a rug.

Allie’s breaths came in faster and hotter, the freezing cold long forgotten. She couldn’t think of a reason to refuse Dominic’s help and remain sitting on the floor.

“You fine?” he asked with a low grumble, his voice thicker than before.

“Great!” she spat the word before thinking better of it. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Ranford.”

“What happened?” He sighed through his nose and finally took his hand away, but only to pull his fingers through his hair.

Allie thought about lying to him. The truth was stupid, and she was embarrassed. But nothing came to mind, and she was tired, and getting cold again, and her ankle hurt. With her clumsy skills in life, it was likely not the last time she would embarrass herself in front of him.

“I lost the fight with the sofa,” she admitted, still avoiding his eyes.

Dominic was quiet for a few breaths. She didn’t know if he still watched her.

Then his feet went out of sight, and Allie looked up to see Dominic bend down in front of the sofa.

He tugged hard at that string and pulled out the extra piece that would make the sofa into a bed.

Allie absolutely did not notice how his muscles flexed with the move. Not at all.

“That sticks sometimes. I’ll fix it tomorrow,” Dominic said.

“Thank you,” Allie breathed. She dared a glance at him, but her boss bid her a hurried good night and left the room.

She sat there for another moment, waiting to make sure he wasn’t going to come back.

He had no reason to return because he didn’t barge in here randomly.

Allie cursed her clumsiness ten times over and made it a point in her plan to buy very soft slippers.

And another carpet. And anything else that would stifle sounds, so she wouldn’t bother him again.

Allie crawled to her feet, desperate for the bed’s warmth. Before jumping under the soft duvet, she took the alarm clock from her desk and set it to four thirty in the morning, counting her few hours of sleep.

She fell into a restless slumber, nightmares of green-eyed monsters in the forms of cakes and croissants haunting her through the night.