The Vampire's Pastry Chef (ONC 2022)

7 - Why Is Your Hot Boss Standing Outside?

"Mom? Why are you out of breath?" Jordyn demanded as Autumn let herself into the cottage.

She walked right to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, ripping off the cap and taking a long drink. Was it hot in here or was it her?

"Mom!"

Autumn jerked, water sloshing out of the bottle. "What?"

Jordyn spread her arms. "I said, why are you out of breath?"

"Oh, I just realized that I had some stuff to take care of here, so I hustled back."

Her kid cocked her head; Jordyn was smart—she could sense bullshit a mile away. Her strong common sense was one of the reasons why Autumn allowed her to stream at all on that gaming platform.

Jordyn opened her mouth to refute her mother's claim, but she suddenly pivoted towards the door. "Uh, Mom—why is your hot boss standing outside?"

"Shit," Autumn swore, setting the bottle on the counter.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I'll let you know when I do."

Pushing back her hair, Autumn attempted to make herself somewhat presentable. She crossed the room and opened the door. "Mr Westbrook."

He stood there, irrefutably handsome, with both hands in his pockets. "Ms Milford. May I come in?"

Autumn sighed. Might as well get this over with quickly, so she could get back to work. "Sure. Jordyn? Please go up to your room while Mr Westbrook and I have a talk."

"Go to my room? Seriously?"

"Go, please."

Jordyn rolled her eyes. "This is so weird. I'm going to listen from the balcony." She turned and raced up the stairs. Autumn followed her until she was certain she heard a door close.

"Sorry about that," Autumn told Mr Westbrook.

His lips twitched. "Strong-willed girl. Like her mother, I suppose."

Autumn folded her arms and sighed. "No, she gets that from her father."

"Oh."

Shoving those old memories aside, Autumn gestured for Mr Westbrook to come into the living room. He closed the door behind him and followed at a respectable distance.

"So," Autumn said, dropping onto the couch. "What can I do for you?"

Mr Westbrook sat on a chair nearby. Clasping his hands between his knees, he looked up at Autumn. "I want to apologize."

She blinked. "For what?" If anything, she had been the one answering his signals.

"For making you uncomfortable. I—I admit, it's been a long time since I've been interested in a woman and obviously, I've gone about it all wrong."

Autumn began to tell him not to worry about it, but then she realized what he was saying. "You're ... interested in me? Why?" She was a single mother and baker, someone who was barely hanging on. What the hell did she have to offer a millionaire?

Mr Westbrook looked up, idly twisting the watch on his left wrist. It wasn't a large, bulky timepiece, but something small and simple. "I'd like to find out if that's all right with you."

Autumn swallowed hard and glanced at the kitchen counter where her bottle of water sat. She was suddenly very thirsty—and not in the way kids today used the term. "Mr Westbrook," she began slowly, "thank you—that's very flattering, but I don't think we have anything in common."