Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy).

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you're distracted by a secret admirer...But who is he? (Inspired by "You've Got Mail", Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Hmmm. What do you think? Can she trust him in her kitchen?? I guess we'll find out right now!! :D And I won't apologize for inevitably making hungry OR for my love of The Beatles. That's just how it is. ;) I love you guys! Hope you enjoy this part! Any and all feedback is appreciated!! <3

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Previously:

"Do you want some help?"

Choking on your words, you nearly went catatonic at his offer.

"What?" you finally squeaked out.

He talked slower with a genuine smile. "I'm offering my help. I mean, I'm a fair baker and at the very least, an extra set of hands. Plus, you get to boss me around for a while. So, what do you say?"

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A bubble of laughter traveled up your throat and then burst past your lips upon hearing the absurdity of his words.

"You can't be serious," you giggled, trying to control yourself. It might have been the sleep deprivation and exhaustion but somehow hearing Jimmy offer his help to you was the funniest thing you'd ever heard.

Jimmy, the heir apparent of your competitor. Jimmy, who had been a constant thorn in your side since you met. Jimmy, who claimed you were doomed to fail within the first year. Unbelievable. Clearly, it was all a joke.

"Y/N, I am completely serious," he said with a furrowed brow. "I have no doubt that you could do it all on your own, but you shouldn't have to," Jimmy spoke sternly now.

Swallowing your laughter, you took a deep breath and really looked at the man before you now. There was no hint of joking in his features. He really meant what he said. Jimmy was here late at night, just to...help you?

"Why?" you demanded. "Why would you help me? I thought you were determined to run me out of business, wouldn't my failure tonight be part of your plan?"

Jimmy shifted on his feet and slipped both hands in his jeans pockets. "No. I never wanted that. Look, I'm sorry about my past behavior, but I'm here now and I'm willing to help if you'll let me," he offered sincerely, once again.

"Really? You're sure you want to spend your night in this mess?" you doubtfully asked while walking back toward the kitchen with Jimmy following in tow.

"I'm sure it's not that—whoa." Jimmy began to protest but then stopped short with eyes wide to see the state of your kitchen.

The past few hours had been a flurry of butter and flour and sugar, now with multiple recipes only partially finished. You had tried to maximize your time by using multiple mixers and weighing all the flour for each recipe, but in reality it had just split your attention. Now there was a mess on every surface and you felt like the small kitchen looked like the inside of your scattered brain.

Currently, you had cinnamon roll dough rising, so while you waited, you creamed some butter and sugar for cookies and also had just pulled croissant dough from the fridge to roll out with butter softening on the counter for tart dough. The idea of having a second pair of hands was appealing, but you didn't like having anyone in your kitchen, much less someone you didn't trust.

Jimmy surveyed the kitchen for a moment and then took deep breath. "Okay. How can I help? Do you have a spare apron?" he asked you, expectantly.

Eyeing him carefully, you crossed both arms over your chest, most likely getting flour on your shirt. It was futile trying to stay clean at this point.

"You honestly want to help me, Jimmy? Really?" you questioned his motives once again.

Jimmy huffed out a sigh and then leveled you with a steady gaze. "Y/N, yes, I want to help you. I have never been more sure in my life," he spoke in an overtly confident tone.

Biting your lip, you looked around at your multiple projects and then back at Jimmy. "If you sabotage me in any way or steal my recipes or anything like that, I swear I will—"

"Whoa! I would never—"

He broke off at the look of worry in your eyes, so he tried a different approach. Placing his left hand on your KitchenAid standing mixer on the table, Jimmy then raised his right hand up by his head.

Directly meeting your gaze, he spoke. "I, James Buchanan Barnes, promise to never sabotage anything in regards to your business. I will never steal any recipe, reveal any sort of technique, or any other secrets that are revealed this night. I promise all of the above as a member of the baking community and on my life as a rehabilitating asshole, so help me God," he finished his oath and then let out a grin.

After that bit of ridiculousness, you had a difficult time holding back a smile of your own. He was officially crazy, but finally you relented. "Okay, fine. There's an apron hanging behind you."

Jimmy let out a holler of victory before grabbing the apron and tying it around his waist with that wide grin still on his stupid, handsome face. "Alright, so what can I do, boss?"

You smiled and shook your head at that. "Don't call me that. Even Wanda rarely does. Um...okay, so that mixer has the butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla mixing for cookies. The dry ingredients are next to it, so if you could add that to the bowl, mix, and then scrape really well with that rubber spatula, I'll get you the chocolate chunks and pistachios."

The brunet raised his eyebrows at the mention of those last ingredients, but he said nothing and merely followed your instructions. While he mixed that, you rolled out the croissant dough, folded it in thirds and wrapped it up before putting it back in the fridge. Your cinnamon roll dough was ready then, so you tossed some flour on the table and dumped out your yeasty dough with a cathartic punch to release the air bubbles.

Once Jimmy had the cookie dough ready, you paused a short minute to show him the correct size scoop and how closely you wanted to cookies to be on the pan. Otherwise, he focused on his own task and left you to your work. After spreading the cinnamon mixture and sprinkling the pecans, you began to roll the dough into a spiral as Jimmy watched, seemingly transfixed.

"That looks and smells amazing," he said, breaking the silence.

"One of my top sellers," you replied proudly, "and a personal favorite of mine, too."

"I bet," he said, practically salivating.

You felt a swell of accomplishment in your chest as you grabbed a serrated knife to cut each roll to size. "So," you began slowly, making an attempt at conversation. "I kind of figured that Jimmy was short for James, but Buchanan? Are your parents really big fans of the 15th US President?" you teased.

Jimmy let out a burst of laughter. "Something like that. Actually...only my dad calls me Jimmy," he confessed.

Your brow furrowed, confused. "Clint does, too, I thought..."

"Yeah, I know. My dad set it up so I'd be the one picking up the paperwork and then later delivering to the Nest that first day. It's been my dad's nickname for me since I was little so he introduced me to Clint as Jimmy over the phone and I just went along with it. I don't mind, but I really prefer Bucky," he finished with a smile.

Pausing in your actions a moment, you took that information in. "Bucky, huh?" Interesting.

"Short for Buchanan..."

"Yeah, I got that," you rolled your eyes with a grin. "Okay, then. So, tell me, Bucky: do you like the Beatles?"

Bucky's eyes grew wide with alarm alarm, to your surprise. "What? I mean...yeah. I like some of their songs," he mumbled, looking down at the dough before him.

"Great! Because they've kind of become my preferred music when I just need to get in the zone and get things done, you know?" you told him as you selected a particular album on your outdated iPod touch, then connecting it to the nearby speakers.

You had specific, appropriate playlists for the public when the shop was open, but you liked to use Spotify through your iPod when working by yourself. It also helped save your phone's battery so you didn't mind using the older device. You needed something to wake you up this late at night and singing along with the Fab Four was just the ticket.

Pressing a button, the album "1" began to play. It was a compilation of The Beatles' number one hits, so it contained most of their popular, well-known songs. It didn't have all your favorites, but quite a few. The album was on shuffle, just to keep you on your toes, so when "Ticket to Ride" began to play, you bobbed your head to the beat. Turning back toward the wooden work table, you started to clean up from cinnamon rolls so you could switch gears and start decorating.

Just as you were pulling out your cakes to decorate, Jim–no, Bucky—announced he was finished with scooping the cookies. Wow. He was fast, which shouldn't have shocked you. Taking a leap of faith, you handed him the recipe for tart dough and pointed out where he could find the ingredients. With only a question or two, he was on his way and you were able to focus on your cakes.

Not long after, Bucky simply asked what to do with the tart dough, so you pointed out the small tart shell pans and asked him to spray them with pan release and press a certain amount of dough into each one. You liked to bake a dozen or so to have on hand so you could fill them with any type of filling when needed. Returning to your cakes, you had just finished building the 8" chocolate with three layers of cake and fresh raspberry filling in the middle. You spread the freshly-made chocolate buttercream over the top and sides with a spatula and then spun the cake stand swiftly to smooth out the sides with a flat edge.

Lost in your own little world, you began to softly sing along with the current song playing.

"...we can work it out

Life is very short, and there's no time

For fussing and fighting, my friend

I have always thought that it's a crime

So I will ask you once again

Try to see it my way..."

Stepping over to the microwave, you slid in a small glass bowl of ganache and hit the button for 30 seconds. You danced in place a little, mostly to stretch your muscles and kill time until the microwave dinged. Pulling out the ganache, you stirred it with your spatula and turned back to the table, feeling eyes on you.

Bucky had apparently seen your little show and shared a smile.

"What?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He looked away with a shrug. "Nothing. What's that you warmed up?"

"Dark chocolate Ganache. They wanted a 'Death by Chocolate' vibe, so that's what they're gonna get," you replied while tilting the bowl of liquid-y chocolate over the cake.

Setting the bowl aside, you grabbed your spatula and slowly caused the cake stand to spin while gently pushing the pool of ganache to the edge of the cake, allowing small rivulets to drizzle down the sides of the cake. It was a simple technique, but never failed to impress. You finished the cake with a star-tip border around the bottom and then once the ganache dried, you added the red buttercream roses as well as piping the words "Happy Birthday" on top.

Stepping back to survey your work, you glanced over at Bucky who was openly staring with his mouth gaping slightly.

Giving the cake a slow spin, you asked his opinion. "How does it look?"

"It's, uh...wow. You made that look so easy. It looks amazing," he finally replied.

Beaming slightly, you shrugged. "Practice. How are those tart shells looking?"

Bucky glanced down at the dough in his hand. "I'm on the last one. Do you want them baked next?"

"Yes, for 13 minutes," you instructed. "And then are you up for filling croissants?"

"Always," he wiggled his eyebrows.

You let out a small chuckle. "Okay. I have some triangles already cut and I'll show you how to fill them."

Soon, tart shells were in the oven, Bucky had his instructions with the croissants, both sweet and savory, and you focused on the second cake. This was a 6" with 2 layers of lemon cake with a fresh lemon curd filling and Swiss buttercream rosettes on the outside. As you were placing the second layer of cake on top of the filling, Bucky spoke up.

"So, why the Beatles? Not criticism, just curious," he quickly added the second part, probably to avoid any wrath from you. He must have picked up on your love for the Boys from Liverpool.

"Um...I grew up listening to them, I guess. My mom liked to play their old vinyl records when I was little, especially in the kitchen while she cooked and baked. I liked to help out, so I have that strong memory attached to their songs. She passed away when I was in high school and it made me sad to hear them for a while, but then I decided to carry on the tradition and play them here. Kind of feels like my mom is still around when I bake," you finished, not realizing how personal that was to share. Nervously, you glanced his way, but Bucky had a soft, sympathetic expression upon his face, which caught you off guard.

He finally broke the silence. "That's a good memory to have," he spoke gently, then offering his condolences. "I'm sorry."

You just smiled sadly. "Thank you."

Another quiet moment before Bucky shifted the subject slightly. "This is probably a hard question to answer, but...what's your favorite Beatles song?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Laughing, you turned toward the music and pressed a button on your iPod. "Actually, it's not a difficult question, but the answer might not be what you expected..." you trailed off as stringed instruments began to play.

"Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in a church where a wedding has been,

Lives in a dream, Waits at the window

wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door

Who is it for?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?

All the lonely people, where do they all belong?"

Bucky spoke up during the second verse. "Whoa. Yeah, that's...not what I was expecting. Most would say 'Hey, Jude' or 'Help!'. That one's kinda depressing. Can I ask why it's your favorite?" he asked respectfully.

You giggled lightly. "I know it's unusual. I love the orchestrations, first of all. The stringed instruments just convey so much emotion on their own, you know? And the lyrics...wow. Yeah, they can seem depressing, but that's kind of the point. Eleanor Rigby seems to spend her time alone and that comment about 'wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door'? Definitely strange, but I always imagined it's like the masks we tend to put up when we step outside the comfort of our home, you know? We all hide parts of ourselves around people," you kept talking, your eyes trained on the cake in front of you.

One side of the cake was giving you a little trouble with cake visible through the buttercream, to your annoyance. Bucky was silent, so you just scooped more buttercream on your spatula and continued on.

"As for Father Mackenzie, he was there the whole time, probably even in the same church. Two lonely people who could have connected and felt a little less lonely. Where do they come from? Where do they belong? How do you cure loneliness? By connecting with others. They were like ships passing in the night, neither reaching out when they could have. Eleanor didn't have any family, hence the phrase 'buried along with her name, nobody came'. Only Father Mackenzie was at her funeral and by then it was too late," you said with a sad shake of your head. "I don't know. It's a somber song, but it helps remind me to reach out to others and make those connections. Is that weird?" you asked, finally looking up.

Bucky was staring again with a smile, his hand paused on a croissant mid-roll. He blinked, realizing you had asked a question. "Um...yeah, I guess it's a little weird, but it also makes sense. I can honestly say I've never put that much thought into a song, but...I like it. Human connection, yeah," he answered, almost in awe. Or possibly in a daze from your long-winded explanation.

"Anyway," you shook off that heavy subject, "do you have a favorite Beatles song?"

He looked off into the distance for a moment and then seemed to come up with an answer. Brushing his hands on his apron, he walked over to where your iPod was. "May I?"

"Sure."

Putting his back to you, Bucky spent a few seconds scrolling on the iPod before stepping away. "Might not be what you'd expect either..." Bucky teased as he washed his hands.

A few notes played before a voice began to sing, but to your surprise it was female. Looking his way in confusion, you listened on a moment before you recognized the song and also where it came from.

"Yeah, I'll tell you something

I think you'll understand.

When I say that something

I wanna hold your hand..."

"This is from the movie 'Across the Universe', right?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Bucky smiled. "Yeah. I like the original, but this cover always hit me harder. I like that it's slower, like a ballad, and the emotion the actress puts into every word...I don't know. I like it," he offered with a shrug.

"Me, too," you replied with a similar smile. "It's a great movie. I think the actors sang live, which is pretty cool."

"They did, yeah," Bucky echoed before you both fell into a comfortable silence as the song played on.

As the song ended, you waited to see what would pop up next as you put the finishing touches on your lemon cake. A male voice began to sing quietly, a cappella at first.

" Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover

Something in the way she woos me

I don't wanna leave her now, You know I believe and how

You're asking me, will my love grow?

I don't know, I don't know..."

"I like this one, too," Bucky softly interrupted.

You smiled. "Same here."

The rest of the movie's soundtrack played on with occasional comments from both of you. Remarks about how the Beatles must have been on drugs while writing at least a few of the songs. "I Am the Walrus", for sure. "Across the Universe" was a good contender, but you both enjoyed it anyway. "For the Benefit of Mr. Kite" was definitely an acid trip. There were so many good, solid songs, though and your mind reflected on those scenes from the movie with fondness as they played.

Time passed by swiftly without you realizing, but finally, you were finishing an order of cupcakes while Bucky filled the last few croissants and you were done. Or as prepared as you felt you could be for the next day. After putting everything away, you took a deep breath and felt more on top of your to-do list, partly in thanks to the man who unexpectedly came to your aid. You both shared in the cleaning and Bucky even helped with the mound of dirty dishes, leaving them out to air dry.

All in all, the night turned out to be not so bad. In fact, if you didn't know any better, you might have even enjoyed your time with Bucky. Quickly, you pushed that thought to the back of your mind. It was a little after 1am as you stepped out into the late night air with Bucky beside you. The rain had stopped by then, leaving behind that fresh, earthy scent you loved. Locking the door, you turned slowly toward Bucky, feeling a hint of awkwardness.

"Thank you, Bucky," you finally met his eye, "for your help. You didn't have to do that."

"I know," he replied, glancing down at the rain-soaked pavement. "It was actually kinda fun. Thanks for letting me help out. I know you prefer to do it all on your own, but it never hurts to 'get by with a little help from [your] friends'," he said with a wink, quoting the Beatles.

An unexpected burst of laughter escaped you and he joined in.

Bucky spoke as the laughter subsided. "So...can I walk you home? Or the subway? Not the worst neighborhood, but still..."

Chuckling under your breath at that offer, you cleared your throat and nodded. "Sure. Follow me," you answered, walking the ten feet to the bottom of the stairs and then climbing to the top. Reaching the door and standing on the highest step, you turned around to see a bewildered Bucky. "This is me. Right there," you pointed to the window your apartment that was directly above the bakery.

Bucky laughed. "Well, that's convenient. Um...okay. Have a good night, Y/N," he said in parting before descending a few steps.

"Bucky?" you called out and he stopped to turn your way. "Why did you help me tonight? Be honest with me."

Placing one hand on the stone railing, Bucky seemed to take a moment to consider his answer. "Because...I heard you the other day. You're right, I had no idea what your life is like and I probably still don't, but after tonight I feel like I have the smallest of ideas and...you're like a superhero. Owning your successful business with only one employee and all of your pastries are amazing, plus those cakes are a work of art. You seriously do it all, mostly on your own and I admire that," he replied earnestly, then asking a surprising question. "Do you really unclog toilets?"

Feeling embarrassment creep into your face from the question as well as the unexpected praise, you nodded. "Yup. I'm the superintendent of the building. The landlord gives me a discount on rent for the bakery in exchange for dealing with clogged toilets, among other things," you shrugged, playing with the keys in your hand.

"Wow. Like I said...superhero. Anyway, I wanted to apologize again for being such an ass. I hope you can get at least get a few hours of sleep now," Bucky said as he climbed down the last few steps. "See you around, Y/N."

Bucky offered a wave and you watched him walk down the street for a moment, trying to reconcile the actions of this man who helped you for hours without asking for anything with the cocky jerk you met only a few weeks ago. Unlocking the door, you let yourself into your apartment and shut it behind you, heading immediately for the bedroom in an exhausted, confused haze.  

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Hooooooooly crap, you guys!!! I've had this whole chapter in my head for MONTHS and now I get to share it, finally!!! What did you think?? Maybe Bucky at least got his foot in the door with winning her over? Hmm. Would you forgive him seeing such a huge shift in his behavior? I'd love to know what you think of this part and what might happen next! ;) I adore you all and appreciate all of your comments and feedback. More coming Thursday!