The doorbell chimed, sharp and sudden over the patter of rain.
Elin turned, her hands still dusted with flour. Her eyes widened.
Axton stood in the doorway, drenched from head to toe. His blonde hair stuck flat against his forehead, rivulets of water ran down his face, and his shirt clung to his frame as if it had been painted on. A small puddle was already forming at his feet on the welcome mat.
"Axton!" she gasped. "You're soaked!"
He gave a sheepish half-smile, brushing a hand through his dripping hair. "Apparently, Singapore rain doesn't care how tall you are. The umbrella was useless. I think it gave up halfway."
Elin blinked at him, torn between exasperation and something else entirely. "You'll catch a cold like this." She darted toward the back, muttering, "Oh, honestly. What were you thinking?"
By the time she returned, arms full of towels, he had stepped gingerly inside, water still trailing behind him. She shoved one towel at him and looped another firmly around his shoulders.
"Here," she said, brisk and business-like, though her heart was racing. "Dry yourself before you ruin my floor."
Axton obeyed with an easy grin, rubbing his hair until it stuck out in messy tufts. "You're awfully bossy when you're worried."
"I am not bossy," she countered, tugging the towel tighter around his shoulders. "I'm being practical."
"You're fussing," he teased, his grin widening. "It's kind of nice, actually."
The words sent a strange warmth creeping up her neck, but she refused to look at him directly. Instead, she herded him toward the staff corner near the kitchen, the coziest spot in the bakery. The ovens radiated heat there, and she quickly set a steaming mug of tea in front of him, followed by a plate of warm scones.
"Drink," she said firmly, arms crossed. "And don't argue."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, raising the mug in mock salute before taking a sip. The steam curled against his face, softening his sharp features. His shoulders sank into the chair, and he exhaled a long, contented sigh. "This is better than any concierge service I've had at a hotel. And I've had a few."
Elin scoffed, but her lips betrayed her with a smile. "You're exaggerating."
"Not even close," he said, holding her gaze. His voice softened, his usual edge melting in the warmth of the bakery. "Honestly, I think I'd walk through the rain every morning if it meant ending up here."
The words hung between them, heavier than the storm outside. Elin felt her breath catch, her hands tightening on her apron. She wanted to roll her eyes, to brush it off with a quick retort, but instead she found herself staring at the droplets of rain sliding down the window, her chest gave a little stutter.
She swallowed and said lightly, "You'd be a nuisance if you did. I'd run out of towels."
Axton laughed, a low, rich sound that made the tiny kitchen corner feel even warmer. He reached for a scone, breaking it in half and offering her the larger piece across the table. "Then I guess I'd better make it worth the trouble."
Elin hesitated before taking it, her fingers brushing against his for a heartbeat. The contact was brief, but it sent a spark through her that no storm could dampen.
Axton had finished half his tea when Elin gave him another glance, her frown deepening. His T-shirt still clung damply to his frame, outlining the breadth of his shoulders and the strong lines of his arms. The sight made her both worried and, annoyingly, far too aware of how broad he actually was.
"That's not good enough," she muttered.
"What isn't?" he asked, his mouth tugging into an amused curve.
"You. Sitting there dripping like a sponge." She pulled at her apron strings, tying them tighter, as though it might keep her thoughts in line. "You need dry clothes." She gestured with her chin toward the back stairwell. "Come with me."
His brow arched, but he stood without protest, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he followed her. The narrow staircase creaked under their steps, the storm outside humming faintly against the walls. It opened into the vacant apartment above the bakery, once her family's home. Dust covers draped across the couches and chairs, but there was still a lingering warmth in the space, a faint echo of her childhood.
Elin went straight to the old closet in the hall. She tugged it open and rummaged inside, the familiar smell of cedarwood rising to meet her. "Let's see... some of my dad's things should still be here..." She pulled out a folded shirt, then a pair of joggers. "And... some leftovers from my ex."
Her voice stumbled a little over the word, but she kept her back turned, pretending to be far too occupied with rummaging.
Axton leaned against the doorframe, tall enough that his head almost brushed the top. His lips quirked. "Should I be jealous?"
Elin twisted around and shot him a glare. "Don't start. They're just clothes."
She expected him to wait patiently at the doorway, maybe even make another playful comment. Instead, movement caught her eye. Axton had already hooked his fingers into the hem of his soaked shirt and, with one smooth pull, stripped it over his head.
The damp fabric clung for a moment before he shook it out casually, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Elin froze.
Her brain screamed at her to look away, to focus on the folded clothes in her hands, but her gaze betrayed her. Her eyes lingered helplessly on the broad line of his shoulders, the lean definition of his chest, the way droplets of rain still traced slow paths down his skin. Heat crept unbidden into her cheeks, spreading fast.
Axton glanced up just in time to catch her staring. His mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Should I turn around, or are you conducting a professional inspection?"
Elin snapped her attention to the shirt she was holding, nearly fumbling it in her haste. "Here," she said quickly, thrusting the bundle toward him. "A T-shirt and sweatpants. They should fit... maybe."
He accepted them, still watching her with that maddening glint in his eyes. Holding up the shirt, he raised an eyebrow at its size. "Your dad must have been taller than I thought."
"Not as tall as you," she admitted, trying to sound brisk but only succeeding in sounding breathless. "But it'll do."
Axton tilted his head slightly, studying her as though he could hear the thundering pace of her heartbeat. "You're blushing, Elin."
"I am not." She busied herself with brushing dust from the closet doorframe, though her ears were burning.
He chuckled under his breath, low and unhurried, and stepped closer as if to test the space between them. "For the record," he said lightly, "I don't mind if you stare."
Elin nearly choked. "Change your clothes already!"
"Right, right." He unfolded the shirt with deliberate leisure, as though savouring her fluster. "But just so we're clear... this makes us even. You fussed over me first."
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I should have just given you another towel."
But behind her fingers, a smile was tugging at her lips, traitorous and unshakable.
"Done," he said a minute later, his voice still carrying that teasing lilt.
Elin risked a glance. The grey T-shirt fit him just right, hugging his broad shoulders without clinging too tightly. The joggers hung a little loose around his hips but looked perfectly serviceable. He moved with casual ease, the faint remnants of rain glistening on his damp hair. He looked unfairly good, and her heart did that traitorous flutter again, hot and unpredictable.
"Well?" he asked, spreading his arms like a general awaiting approval. "Do I pass inspection?"
Elin pressed her lips together, trying to summon composure, but the warmth rising in her cheeks made her aware of how ridiculous she must look. "You... look fine," she managed, her voice a little breathless.
"Fine," he repeated with a grin that made her eyes betray her cheeks' warm flush. "I'll take it. Bare minimum of approval, that works for me."
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if to ward off her own fluster. "You're impossible," she muttered, but there was a tremor of amusement in her voice.
Axton leaned just slightly closer, enough that she could feel the faint scent of rain lingering in his damp hair. "Maybe I should take notes," he said quietly, voice low, teasing, "so next time I know exactly how to impress the bakery queen."
Elin blinked, caught between the urge to roll her eyes and the undeniable warmth curling in her chest. "Impress me?" she repeated softly, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Yes," he said, eyes glinting, "though I think just showing up drenched and letting you fuss over me is already scoring points."
She tried to keep her composure, muttering under her breath, "You're ridiculous," while secretly enjoying every second of it.
Carefully, she led him back downstairs, clutching the towels like lifelines. The bakery smelled of fresh bread and coffee, warmer and sweeter now, a haven against the lingering storm outside.
Elin busied herself with the next tray of dough, letting her hands knead and fold as a way to steady her racing thoughts. Her cheeks betrayed her, stubbornly warm despite the cool bakery air, no matter how firmly she focused on the soft, pliable dough. The memory of how casually he had stripped off his wet shirt and tugged on her old clothes replayed relentlessly in her mind.
"Want me to help?" Axton's voice cut through her thoughts, calm and teasing. He stood beside her, hands casually tucked into the pockets of the borrowed joggers.
"You? Bake?" she asked, skepticism lifting a brow. "I think you might traumatize the dough."
He grinned, leaning just slightly closer to the counter so that the warmth from his body brushed hers. "How hard can it be?" His green eyes glimmered with playful confidence.
Moments later, the bakery was filled with the soft thump of kneading and bursts of laughter. Axton's large hands flattened the dough too aggressively, leaving depressions that refused to smooth out. Flour puffed into the air with every clumsy press, dusting his hair and the front of his shirt in a delicate white layer.
"I'm giving it character," he said, mock serious, eyes twinkling with mischief. He pressed again, and a cloud of flour erupted, some drifting onto her apron and into her hair.
Elin sputtered a laugh, brushing the flour off her shoulder, her face hot. "Character? This looks like it belongs in a crime scene, not a bakery!"
He leaned closer to inspect the dough, green eyes dancing with amusement. "You're just jealous because you know I'm better at abstract baking than you."
"Better at... abstract?" she said, laughing so hard she had to grab the counter to steady herself. "This is pure chaos! Who taught you to bake like a... a—" She waved a hand at the flour-covered dough. "A maniac?"
He chuckled, shrugging innocently. "Maybe the chaos speaks to my artistic side. You should embrace it."
Elin shook her head, still smiling, though her heart skipped every time he leaned near. She handed him a rolling pin, pointing carefully. "Okay, try this one. Slowly. Gentle pressure. Think... bread, not brick."
He took it with mock solemnity, raising it like a sword. "Yes, ma'am. Bread, not brick."
She bit back a laugh, cheeks warm not just from the flour, and watched as he tried, again, to mimic her smooth, practiced movements. The result was slightly better, slightly less catastrophic, but still charmingly imperfect.
"Not bad," she said finally, shaking her head, amused and exasperated all at once. "You're... improving. Dangerously."
"Dangerously?" he repeated, raising a brow with a teasing smirk. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She leaned against the counter, shaking her head. "You're hopeless."
"And yet," he said softly, green eyes glinting as he caught her gaze, "you're still letting me stay here."
Her laughter faltered, replaced by a flutter in her chest. She quickly looked away, pretending to dust flour from her apron, though her fingers trembled slightly.
A sudden, sharp crack split the air. Thunder rolled so near that it rattled the walls and shook the glass panes above them. The warm glow of the bakery lights fluctuated rapidly, then faded, leaving the place in murky shadows. The soothing buzz of the coffee machine died away, leaving just the steady rhythm of rain on the windows and the echo of another thunderclap.
Elin froze, her breath seizing as she grabbed the counter's edge. The tiny bakery, which had previously seemed comforting, now appeared cavernous and foreign.
She leaned against the counter, trying to steady herself, but the storm's sudden intensity made her shiver. Thunder cracked sharply, rattling the windows, and the lights flickered before plunging the bakery into dim shadows. Rain pounded against the roof, drowning out the usual comforting hum of the morning.
Elin hugged her arms around herself, knees brushing the counter, trying to act like she wasn't scared. Her hands shook, and her breath hitched despite her efforts to stay composed.
She tried to focus on the pastries, inhaling the warm, buttery scent, but her fingers trembled despite her efforts. A particularly sharp crack of thunder made her jump, sending a small puff of flour into the air. She dabbed at her apron, embarrassed by how rattled she felt.
Axton saw her immediately. His eyes softened, concern flashing across his features, and he stepped forward without hesitation. He wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her into a firm, warm embrace. "Hey," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Shh... it's okay. You're safe."
She froze for a heartbeat, stunned by the sudden closeness, then slowly let herself melt into his chest. The warmth radiating from him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, anchored her amidst the storm's chaos.
"I—I'm fine," she whispered, voice trembling, though her body pressed against him told a different story.
"You don't have to be brave all the time," he said gently, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. "I've got you." His hands moved to cradle her shoulders, keeping her steady as the thunder rumbled again.
She let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of embarrassment and relief. "You... you don't even know me properly," she said softly, her face pressed against his chest.
"Doesn't matter," he murmured, his green eyes warm as he pulled back just slightly to look at her. "I know you enough right now to know you deserve to feel safe. And I'll make sure you do."
The lights flickered again, but this time she barely noticed. Rain and thunder surrounded them, but inside that embrace, the bakery felt impossibly warm and quiet. She breathed in, taking comfort in the scent of him, the warmth of his body, and the security of his arms.
"You smell like... like safety," she whispered, almost to herself.
Axton's lips curved into a soft smile. "And you smell like courage... even if you don't feel it right now." He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We can stay here as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."
Her cheeks warmed, heart fluttering, and she hugged him back instinctively, clinging to the comfort of his presence.
Then, almost as an afterthought, Axton's voice dropped lower, tender but carrying a weight she didn't quite understand. "I've been wanting to be close to you like this... for a while."