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Peter flipped the sign hanging on the glass front door so it displayed as “Open”. Almost immediately, he was forced to step back as the early morning rush began. He hurried behind the counter and slid his way past MJ, who was ready to great the grumpy morning crowd with a disinterested face of her own. Peter pushed the swinging doors opened and hurried back to his oven, which was beeping in distress. He opened the door and slid an oven mitt on to pull out another batch of sugar cookies. “Is that the last tray of strudels?” he asked Ned, who was currently fanning the tray with a towel without even taking off his backpack.
“Yeah. Just took out the last of the morning batch. Cookies come out good? They still had a minute on them when I got here.”
“Yep. Just gotta wait for them to cool before I can start icing them.” Peter popped the tray into the fridge to cool before spinning on his heel to meet Ned’s high-five. “We’re doing good?”
“Yep,” Ned said, looking at the checklist hung up next to the door. “We’re on schedule, my friend.”
“Oh, that’s good to know.” Peter exhaled in relief, quickly washing his hands before grabbing some butter and sugar. “I’m gonna start on the croissants now.”
“I’ll start on the bread.”
Parker’s Pastries was a small shop that Peter had opened two years after graduating from college with a bachelor’s degree in organic chemistry, of all things. With no job opportunities in sight, his three friends eventually convinced Peter to put his baking abilities to use “-since your chemistry knowledge isn’t doing anything,” he remembered MJ saying bluntly. They had pooled any money that wasn’t going toward paying off their student loans and managed to rent a small building that had previously been a cafe, so it functioned pretty well as a bakery now.
Now, nearly a year later, they weren’t any closer to paying off their personal student debts, but the shop was turning a slight net positive, thanks to mostly word-of-mouth and regulars Peter could recognize by name now.
The four of them held together a pretty tight ship. Peter and MJ came in the early morning to prep for the day, then MJ took the morning rush since most people weren’t looking for a sunny smile at that time, and was able to step away for a break around eleven. Ned usually came in a little after the first rush started, and helped Peter finish the bread and pastries as morning bled into the after-lunch rush. After lunch, Betty came in and helped with the afternoon counter, since that was their longest busiest time, and helped clean up and prep for the next day.
Normally it was Ned who took the counter starting at 1:00, and a little after that Peter takes it, though he’s been going up a little earlier than usual lately.
Because even though his hands were dead tired from kneading the dough and his knees hurt from standing for so long, a new regular had started coming in, and his smile alone wiped away all of Peter’s fatigue.
“You sure you want to go up now, Peter?” Ned confirmed for the fifth day in a row as Peter opened the door to the counter. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Nah.” Peter brushed him off. “I’ll take a break after that, before the afternoon crowd.”
“He just wants to see the cute mechanic. Ask him out already, Peter,” MJ yelled from the pantry, and thankfully her voice was barely distinguishable over the hubbub in the bakery, because Peter would have absolutely died if-
“What’s this about a cute mechanic?”
Peter spun around, the door swinging behind him. From somewhere back there, he could hear MJ’s laughter. “Uh. Um.”
The first time he had seen the mechanic, Peter had been just as speechless. He was a new regular and had only started showing up a few weeks ago, walking over from the garage across the street. Peter had only noticed him because he came out to ask Ned a question about an item in the oven. He had seen the blond-haired man and immediately felt his face grow hot. He had then forgotten his question and stepped back through the doors without saying anything. A few days after that, after watching the cute man come through the doors repeatedly, Peter informed Ned that he wanted to take the counter a little earlier.
Now, here he was, standing in front of the man who had completely stolen his heart over the course of just a few days, and he didn’t even know his name. And he had apparently just heard everything MJ said.
Peter sort of wanted to die. He also noticed that his hands were covered in flour, so he quickly wiped them off on his apron. He went too fast, so a cloud of powder flew up and enveloped his face for a second before dissipating. He sneezed.
The man snickered. “Cute sneeze you got there, sweetheart.”
Peter nearly melted at the word “sweetheart” and the man’s southern drawl that dripped from his lips like honey. Suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be a professional here, Peter straightened and smiled, pretending like his stomach wasn’t flipping with a thousand butterflies. “Hi, welcome to Parker’s Pastries, what can I get you?”
“Are you Parker?”
Blinking at the sudden question, Peter glanced around the back of the man. There was no one waiting behind him, so Peter nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s, uh that’s me. But it’s not my name. I mean, it’s not my first name. My first name is Peter. My name is Peter Parker.”
“Well, Peter Parker,” Peter did his best not to stare at the man’s lips as he spoke. “I’ll take a chocolate chip cookie and a mint brownie.”
Peter couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the last choice. The man laughed, a quiet chuckle. “What, not a fan of mint?”
“MJ is the one who insisted we add it,” Peter mumbled without meaning to, pulling on a plastic glove to grab the desserts from the display in between the two of them. “Are they to go or for here?” he already knew the answer, he always took them to go.
“To go.”
Peter nodded, grabbing a bag from behind him and slipping the two items in the brown paper bag. The man followed him to the register, and Peter hesitated only a moment before speaking.
“So, you’ve been coming here for a few days now. What’s your name?”
“You ask this to everyone who walks through these doors?”
“Just the ones I’m interested in.” Peter’s eyes flew wide as the meaning of his words caught up to him. “Not that- everyone who orders here is important. I just meant-”
The blond man laughed again. “I know what you mean. How about this? I’ll make you a deal.”
Peter swallowed nervously. “Well, I can’t give this to you for free, I think that’s against the rules.”
“Rules?” One eyebrow hitched up.
“You know. General store rules. Purchasing rules. Can’t give things away for free, even to extra nice customers.”
“Even if they’re trying to do a little more than be nice?”
Peter blushed, unable to come up with a witty retort. “Total is 5.95.” He stared hard at the register, knowing full well how hard he was blushing.
“You don’t want to hear my deal?”
Peter blew the air out of his nose in one big rush, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “I’ll hear you out.”
“I’ll tell you my name if you give me your phone number.”
Peter’s mouth opened slightly, coming up speechless once again. His hand smacked the underside of the counter in his excitement to grab a pen, and he saw a small smile grow on the man’s face.
Peter paused, pen poised in the air. “Where should I-”
“On the bag is good.” The other man was blushing too, now, a patchy pink that crossed his cheeks. Peter wrote his number as legibly as he could, which was difficult given the angle and his excitement.
He handed Peter a ten-dollar bill, and when Peter handed back the change it was immediately dropped into the tip jar.
“Harley Keener.” The man raised his arm to grab the bag, and Peter could see grease stains and calluses covering his palm. “When do you get off work, Peter Parker?” Peter really liked hearing Harley say his name, probably more than he should.
The bell at the front door rang, informing Peter of another customer walking through the doors. “Um, whenever,” he said as casually as he could, though his heart was beating right out of his chest and his stomach was doing somersaults. “I usually stick around till closing, but that’s only because I don’t have much else to do.” Betty was usually trying to shoo him out of there, pushing him to go do something outside of the bakery. “Maybe sometime after five?”
“Then how about I pick you up after work and we can go out to some dinner?”
Peter inhaled a stuttering breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.” His eyes darted over to the new customer, then back at Harley. “I gotta-”
“Yeah, yeah. Go run your business, Peter Parker.” God, he loved the way Harley said his name. “I’ll see you at six? Text me your address so me and Potato can come and pick you up.”
“Potato?” Peter wrinkled his brow. “Is that the name of your dog, or-”
“No, he’s my motorcycle.”
“Oh my God, you have a motorcycle.” Peter’s knees might have been a little wobbly just then.
“That’s okay, right? Not everyone’s cool with a motorcycle, but it’s-”
Peter nodded confirmation, excitement and adrenaline coursing through his body “Yeah. Yeah, totally okay. More than okay. I’ll uh, see you at six?”
“Text me,” Harley said, smiling brightly. Peter melted a little then, leaning against the counter as Harley turned to leave. He waved a shy farewell to the mechanic and hurried back over to the first side of the counter. His eyes lingered on Harley’s retreating form, and a warm blush spread through him once more.
The old woman in front of him, Darlene, a regular, nodded with kind eyes. “Was that your boyfriend, dear?”
Peter raised his eyebrows. “He just might be,” he muttered, a small smile dancing across his lips. Shaking himself, he tore his eyes away. “Sorry. Welcome to Parker’s Pastries, what can I get you today?”