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"Hey! That flour is for the baked goods, not my face." You shoot the tall Scandinavian a feigned look of anger, trying to hide the smile that threatens to upturn the corners of your lips as you wipe the white powder off of your warm cheek.
"Hmm, you sure? Your cheeks are just so soft, maybe I got confused with them and the dough."
He takes pride in your widening eyes and slacked jaw, your fingers instantly scooping some of the same flower into your palm as you attempt to hit him with it; though the result just ends in his forearm being covered in the white powder.
It's not your fault he's a giant that he's good at dodging. You at least had to try.
"Wanna give it another go? I can try to stand still this time." He mocks with a smirk drawn across his pillowy plump lips, only making you want to cover him in flour more.
"You're so mean, you know that?" You huff, turning back to the plop of dough in front of you that has yet to be kneaded properly.
Bill has a habit of distracting you. Him and his adorable baby blue apron, and his white tee shirt that always clings to his upper half just right.
Not to mention those stupid tight jeans he's always wearing that hug his thick thighs so well, you start to think the universe is torturing you on purpose, making you work with someone so handsome in such close quarters.
"Hey, I'm not mean. I just like seeing that cute little face you do when you're frustrated."
Your cheeks blaze hot again, shaky hands doing their best to work out the dough in front of you, fingers scooping up some flour that isn't for Bills face. This time, at least.
"Yeah well it's not fair if I can't do it back." You shoot him a playful, sideways glance, his pink tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth to lick his lips.
Such simple actions shouldn't have you so worked up, but it's Bill. You're gonna be worked up no matter what.
"What's wrong sweetheart, need some sugar?" He nudges your shoulder with his elbow, prompting your eyes to roll as you try your hardest to keep the faux frown on your face.
He suddenly stops what he's doing, clapping his hands together to remove excess flour.
"Okay fine, come here."
You pause as he faces your side profile, your eyebrows furrowing as you finally turn to his hefty figure; his head cocked to the side expectantly.
His cheeks are a soft pink, a matching hue to his lips, and the tip of his nose from how much hes rubbed flour off of it. He's such a complex character, Bill.
Sometimes he's so serious ans in his zone when he's baking. He's sometimes too bleak with people at the front counter, forgetting to smile when he hands them their baked goods because he's so intent on getting back to work.
