Escape Across the Pond

Chapter 8

Dear Dad,

Do all adults still have nightmares? Just me? Nightmares are not new to me, you know that but being rescued from my nightmare by a dark and scary stranger with haunted blue eyes is new. Did he come to be my dark knight? Or is he here to take me down and finish me off for good with the blue flames burning me with their piercing stare? The jury's still out.

I wake up early the next day ready to tackle whatever may come my way. I dress quickly in my usual ripped jeans, converse, and whatever top I get my hands on first. Not much effort is made when I know most of my duties will keep me in the kitchen today. I've got to get all the recipes down before Emma leaves for university, and I still haven't figured out what's missing in Ollie's lemon tartlet. Just one of the many things plaguing me at the moment.

I get to Ollie's at 6:30 knowing that Emma and I have everything ready for the oven, and we just need to pop them in. The front door is still locked so I go down the alley to the coffee shop's kitchen door that's been left propped open. I do take the time to look at the building next door more carefully. It's pretty nondescript, to be honest. It looks like it used to be a fire hall with large garage doors out front but has since been renovated. There are windows on the top floor of the garage, and I can see some light but not much. Must be a mechanic shop or something. That makes sense, I guess. Silly me, jumping around like a scared bunny when he's just trying to do his job. Of course, a mechanics shop would have motors revving, putting their work to the test, and giant men capable of such strenuous labor. What a coward I am. I really need to get better at channeling my inner Kate. Nothing scares her.

Speaking of Kate, I haven't heard anything else from her since the day after my arrival. She said that he sent his head goon to ask if she had seen or heard anything from me. She swore she hadn't seen me since days before I had gone missing at an event that everyone else was also in attendance for, and where I was closely monitored. As far as they know, she and I barely communicate these days, just the way he wants it. She said all went well and not to be worried, and that she has everything under control. At least one of us does. But I still can't help but feel anxious about her still being in New York. I wish she would stop being stubborn and just come back here.

With my mind on Kate, I slide in the kitchen door to see Anna just taking some trays out of the walk-in. "Good morning," she says cheerfully.

"Good morning Anna. Did I get here too late?" I ask.

"Oh no. Perfect timing. Ollie's just out front starting the coffee and wiping down tables. We'll get these tartlets going first, and then we'll put the scones in the ovens and bring out the jams." And with that, we get to work.

I've just pulled another fresh tray of tartlets out of the oven when Ollie calls into the kitchen for me to come out and give them a hand serving customers. He and Anna will keep up with the coffee and pull the pastries from the oven. I'm to start getting more practice on the register and serving the customers. That shouldn't be an issue.

I've been doing a decent job keeping up at the register and while I'd rather not deal with all of the people, it hasn't been so bad. I've gotten in such a little groove and am waving off the last person in line that I don't notice the next customer is just right there within reach until his low, rough voice feels like it's crawling up my skin. "Can I get some of that delicious-looking tartlet?" My eyes flash up to the sexy stranger towering over me and I immediately jolt back away from the counter, eyes wide and pulse beating so frantically that I'm sure he can hear it. Yes, my body finds him incredibly attractive, but my brain is shorting out with him in my personal space so suddenly.

"Uh... w which tartlet?" I stammer out. He scans my face like he's not sure of what to make of me but then I see his eyes fall to my lips.

"I suppose I'll have to take the custard." It sounded like he just growled that out. What's wrong with custard? There are other tartlets if he doesn't want that one.