Measure

Can't Be Tamed // Miley Cyrus

Chapter 2

Not even an hour after opening the shop, I'm exhausted from interacting with people. I certainly prefer the kitchen to this type of exhaustion. Demands and short tempers seem to fly freely from many of our regulars. I have no idea how Ellete handles them. They have no patience for the fact that I'm not familiar with their usual orders.

"No, not the pumpernickel! I always order the rye on Wednesdays." One woman had shouted at me when I'd grabbed the wrong loaf.

"My apologies," I mumbled back without making eye contact.

"Don't you have the sourdough today? I came specifically for the sourdough." Another customer had demanded.

"Not until noon for the sourdough, as usual." I let a little of my snap out on that particular customer, not even caring if it came back to bite me later. We never have sourdough before noon; it takes too long to rise. A regular customer should already know that.

After an additional hour of back and forth with one demand after another, the shop is finally quiet again. I wipe down tables and countertops; wondering what in the world is taking Ellete so long. I'm nearly done with the cleaning before the chime on the door jingles as I hear Ellete return. I'm saved from dealing with the noon rush. I continue to wipe tables in the corner while chiding Ellete's late appearance.

"Finally! I wondered what was taking you so long. You have no idea how rude some customers can be!"

"I can only imagine."

A deep voice—not that of Ellete as I anticipated—speaks from the doorway, causing me to spin around in surprise. When I make eye contact with the owner of said voice, I feel the color drain from my face. Standing before me is a man, tall and well dressed in a dark suit that matches the deep black of his hair. His equally black eyes hold a sparkle as they take in my appearance, letting his gaze run the length of me, assessing, judging me. I feel my pulse increase, my heart beating rapidly at the overconfident male. My fists clench in defiance. How dare he!

"May I help you?" I hear myself say, distain dripping from every word.

The stranger once again lets his eyes trail down my form, one brow raised.

"That is your job here, is it not?" He smirks as he strides forward to the counter. "But I have heard so much about the amazing breads you bake that I'm willing to overlook your lack of customer service skills. With a name such as The Charmed Crust, I would think someone charming would be behind the counter."

I feel the steam rising within me, and it has nothing to do with the heat from the kitchen. That he expected someone more like Ellete than myself is a blow I cannot admit even to myself. As it is, I have never met such a man, so bold and disrespectful upon a first meeting. Wanting nothing more than for this strange man to leave, immediately, I walk over to the counter, directly across from him. Looking him right in the eyes, I lean onto the high countertop, crossing my arms in defiance of his presence. I hold back the urge to straighten my dress or brush the wayward curls from my face. My stare increases in intensity as I spear him with my stare.

"I reserve my customer service for those less arrogant than yourself ," I say. "Now, tell me which bread you would be purchasing so that you can render your payment...and leave."

His smirk returns. He is a man who enjoys irritating others. "Ah, now, don't we have the privilege of being introduced? I'm very curious to know the name of the clever baker whose bread I am dying to taste." The twinkle in his eyes has also returned. Oh, he's enjoying this quite a bit.

"Which bread?" I keep my voice clipped and avoid his question, somehow not able to find my usual snap under the man's watchful gaze. My breath comes out in a tremble.

He takes a step back, letting his eyes wander across the breads on display, away from the locked stare he had cast over me. I'm able to breath easier without it.

"Let's see," he rubs his chin as he makes his decision. "For now, I'd like the baguette."

"For now?" The question escapes my lips before I had time to consider the wisdom of asking. I do not want to engage the man and keep him at the shop longer than necessary.

His eyes come back to mine with an almost imperceptible wink in my direction. My mouth falls open in shock.

"I'm sure this bread will be too good to pass up a second time. In fact, this may be my new favorite stop each morning."

Perfect. I wrap the baguette faster than I have ever done so before, handing it across the counter to the man's awaiting grasp. Thankfully the bread is long enough that there is no accidental brushing of our fingertips as the exchange takes place. He passes a few silvers to me. Much more than necessary. He leans against the counter much the same as he did upon first entering.

"Who can I say has seen to my needs so...efficiently?"

"What?"

"Tell me your name." His look is pointed, leaving no room for refusal.

With reservations as to the wisdom of telling him, I decide I'd rather just have him leave as soon as possible.

"Daralis," I clip back, wishing my tone had more snap. But the depth of his gaze has rendered me momentarily disarmed. I resist the urge to clutch my apron, a way to steady my uncharacteristic nerves.

He stands silently for a moment before reaching out to grasp my hand. The action catches me off guard, so he's able to wrap his fingers around mine, pulling my hand towards his mouth for what I assume would be a kiss to my knuckles. Over my dead body. Yanking my hand back, I glare at his forwardness.

"Pleasure to meet such a spirited baker. No doubt the reason for your delicious goods, Miss Daralis."

My brows furrow at the man's odd behavior. At once dismissive and complimentary. Although I sense his compliments are meant to have veiled meaning.

"And you are?" I add. He owes me. For a split second, I think he won't say.

"Lord Nicandros." His answer is short, no elaboration.

A Lord? Of course, I should have realized based on his ridiculously pretentious outfit. The dark suit accentuated with a ruffled shirt and shoes so shiny the sunlight reflects off them.

"I must be on my way, but I look forward to our next...encounter." He quips before turning to leave the shop. I stand still, in shock not only at his revelation but at the entirety of my interactions with this Lord Nicandros, until the chime of the entrance rings clear, then the door slams shut.

The hate is so strong... and don't we relish the fine line between love and hate? And again, if you're an original Charmer reader, I am in the midst of rapid posting a revised and edited version of the story over the next 2 months. Much of the plot is the same with some subtle changes, but as the story progresses you might be surprised!

Thank you so much for reading! I'll be back tomorrow with Part Two - Sift!