Runaway Prince -- DNF

Bread Folding

After Hugh showed me around the store, he left George and I there alone to run it while he got more materials. Once he walked out the door George turned on me.

"What's wrong with you?" He hisses at me.

"Excuse me?"

"Why me? We don't need anyone new at the bakery, let alone you."

"Well, I don't want to be here either!" I retort, "I thought getting a place to stay while I earned money was a good idea. I didn't realize your dad owned a bakery!?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Don't attack my bakery! You don't even appreciate the art." He attacks me with his words while he also attacks bread dough.

"Baking is an art? It's food!"

"You're arrogant. I'm going to teach you the art of baking whether you like it or not. And you're going to like it!"

"Fine!"

George returns to his dough rolling and I continue to look at all the delicious food.

"And your apron is still untied," George finishes.

I scrunch my eyebrows and look down at the apron strings hanging loosely by my side. I bring them behind my back and unsuccessful try to tie them. I huff in defeat after a few minutes and turn my eyes back to George. He is watching me with an amused look on his face and when he notices I'm looking he turns away quickly, pretending he didn't see anything.

He watched the whole thing? So embarrassing.

"Want to help?" I ask when I catch him peeking at my struggle again.

He chuckles lightly making me finally catch his smile. A smile I thought he didn't have. It was surprisingly nice looking. Why doesn't he smile more often?

"Come here," his arrogance shines through his eyes.

He turns me around and grabs at the apron strings. His cold fingers brush past my arms and he pulls the strings around my torso. He ties a bow and spins me back around.

"Are you going to work or what?" He asks smugly.

"Well show me then." I am annoyed.

"Grab some dough," he points to a giant bowl full of bread dough, "and I'll show you."

I reach my hands towards the bowl and George slaps my wrist. I turn with an incredulous look on my face.

He tisks. "Wash your hands first."

He really was enjoying criticizing me.

"Oh whatever," I scoff.

I roll up the sleeves of my white dress shirt and run my hands under the water with soap. After thoroughly drying them off, to George's liking, I reach back into the bowl for dough. I pull out a handful about as big as George's pile and place it on the table next to him. Before I let it hit the counter George grabs my wrist to stop it. He quickly grabs flour from a bowl in front of him and tosses it expertly on the counter.

"There. Now you can put it down," He commands.

I slowly place it on the counter and watch George for any signs that I'm doing it wrong. Once the lump is on the flour covered counter I look to George for instructions.

"Watch me."

The pile he was previously working with he moves to the side. He leans over me to grab a new pile and plops it down next to mine. He starts patting it so it's more of a sphere shape instead of a lump. I follow his movements.

"Now you just fold the dough into itself, like this." He shows me and I repeat it. "See? Not so bad is it?"

I huff, "No. It's just boring."

"Oh whatever." He takes his fully kneaded piece of dough and cuts it and rolls it into little balls before placing them on a tray.

"Is that what I do when I'm done?" I question.

He glances at my sad pile of dough and says, "Yes, but you're definitely not done."

We do this for a while, George constantly moving on to new clumps of dough while I work with the same one. I fold it over and over again until my arms ache. George glances from his project of mixing more dough and snickers at me.

I look up quickly from my concentration. "W-what?" I breathe.

He shakes his head as he answers, "You're doing it all wrong."

"No, I'm not! I'm doing it how you told me to. I've been working on this same stupid dough for like 30 minutes. Don't you think it's folded enough?"

He chuckles. "It's not called folding, it's called kneading. Just- okay, watch me."

He scoots me over and puts his hand on my loaf. He expertly moves the dough beneath his palms and I watch in awe. How can he do it so easily?

"See?"

"No..."

"Ugh." He grabs my hands and places them on the dough. "You just fold it," his voice is annoyed as he moves my hands. My eyes go wide. He... was holding my hands? Okay...?

"Do you get it now?" he pulls his hands away and looks up at me. I tower over him, I only just notice our height difference. His eyes are dark with annoyance.

"I... uhh. I think I got it."

"Good." He doesn't seem to notice my overthinking mind and continues his work.

Another painful two hours go by and Hugh gets back from the market. He's carrying 2 bags of flour in his arms.

"Clay? Mind grabbing the rest of the supplies? I left them right outside the door."

"Yes sir." I leave my pile of dough behind and lug in more flour, sugar, wheat, and candies.

"Is all this for the bakery?" I ask Hugh.

"Yep! Not only do we make bread, we also make cakes, cookies, and other sugary treats. I only had George show you how to do bread today, because that's our most popular item, but soon enough you'll be learning how to frost cupcakes and decorate pies." He smiles brightly and I can't help but smile back, despite my lack of excitement.

I'm not supposed to learn how to frost cakes, I'm supposed to do handy man work or something. This was a chore for little girls, not grown men like me.

Just my luck.

Another chapter down folks. Thanks for reading! Give me feedback if you wish. :)

1061 words