A Knock Away

Hot British Man Moral Support

"It was as if he were the love child of a young Al Pacino and Ian Somerhalder," Jemma fanned herself.

"Alright," I'd grown tired of her fan-girling over Vince.

"Ok," Jemma gave a customer the loaf of seeded bread, still talking to me. "All you need is a rebound."

"I'm happy for your help but using my life to fulfill your need to live a soap opera isn't really my idea of fun." I shut the cash register, calling, "Next."

"Two Vanilla Slices please," the lady asked, then looked to her small daughter, whose nose just reached the counter.

I leant down, grinning, "And what would the boss like?"

The girl seemed to like that, jumping up to say, "A pink doughnut please."

"How about him?" Jemma spotted a guy walking outside the front window of our bakery. "He looks like he could use a night of fun with no commitment."

"Jemma!" I bumped my head on the top of the display cabinet, nearly dropping the little girl's doughnut.

I looked to the mother apologising, "Sorry," for Jemma's rudeness.

Then the hot guy from the street walked into the shop, making the small bell near the door ring.

The lady turned around to see this fellow we spoke of, before taking the pink doughnut and her vanilla slice. With a nod she smiled, whispering, "I think your friend is right."

My mouth dropped as she left with her daughter, and I was standing there with a wide gob when the guy came up to the counter.
He was shorter than Vince, had softer features and was blonde. Meaning he was quite the opposite, which was great since I needed a change from 'tall, dark, handsome and always on my mind.'

"How does one choose?"

I'd been so fixed on studying him I hadn't quite computed his question, that sounded like he was reading my mind. "Pardon?"

He rocked on his heels, peering into the display of treats before him, with a round pair of thin gold glasses, as if Milo from Atlantis. "They're all so tasty looking," he laughed, his accent so cute and so British.

"Yeah," I chuckled, inwardly punching the air in the joy that lockdown was over. "Let's start with sweet or savoury?" I questioned him hearing Jemma giggle in the background like the little nosy bee she was.

"Definitely sweet," the stranger answered, looking me in the eye.

Jemma past by with a tray of cookies, giving her two cents, whispering to me, "Hear that? Sweet."

I gave her a jelly leg and she chuckled, slightly falling out of my way.

I couldn't help but notice the guy's eyebrows raise out of witnessing our humorous interaction.

"I recommend the lemon meringue tart, sweet with a little zest."

"Marvellous," the fellow beamed. "Do you make all these?"

I packed one into a paper bag and placed it on the counter.

Jemma popped up, wrapping her arm over my shoulder, pulling me in.

The guy never took his eyes of me, as I on the other hand death stared Jemma.

"Yes, Hannah here makes them all and she's actually going on break in five minutes. Would you like a little company with your lemon tart? Maybe a coffee, she's in need of one," Jemma was playing match maker.

I was just about to strangle her when the guy spoke, "I'm more of a tea man but I'd love the company, I'm from England and wasn't able to meet many people during lockdown."

"You would?" I was surprised.

"If you want to that is?" he paid for his tart and started to head for the door.

"She'll meet you out front in a minute!" Jemma called, startling the next customer, and causing me a spell of queasiness.

I threw my apron off. "You're pushy," I laughed. "But thanks, I think."