Claimed by my Unexpected Protector

Chapter Eight

Eralia’s POV

Turning around I stumble past the small line of customers who are all huddled in thick coats, a few of them muttering bitterly about the unusual weather, and I head toward Mackenzie, who is just handing a young mother her change.

‘Sorry, I’m so sorry!’ I gasp as I round the counter, already unbuttoning my coat and reaching for an apron. ‘I missed my bus, I’ll make up the time I swear, just let me put my coat in the kitchen and I’ll be back to take over . . .’

Mackenzie’s gasp has me stilling, my gaze sweeping up to hers, to find her already heading toward me, dragging the apron from my hands and starting to try and dab my clothes as I frown in confusion.

‘My God, you are soaking’ my employer cries out, wiping futility at my clothing, ‘you must be freezing.’

I try to ward her off, shaking my head even though my teeth are chattering uncontrollably.

‘I’m fine, I’ll dry off eventually, I’ll take over from you now so you can go and bake . . .’

Mackenzie cuts me off, glaring at me as my voice falls silent, ‘you are not working like this Eralia, you are frozen! You’ll get ill!’

I shake my head harder, worried that she’s about to send me home, I can’t go home! I need the money!

‘I’m fine, honestly, don’t worry, I can work . . .’ I practically beg, ‘please don’t send me home . . ‘

Mackenzie frowns, ‘I’m not sending you out in that storm’ she replies, ‘but I also can’t let you work in that state, you could get pneumonia, I have a duty of care to you.’

I’m panicking now, I’m already going to be short this month unless I can make up the hours I’ve missed yesterday and today, to be made to lose today would mean I can’t afford next month’s bills.

‘Go upstairs’ Mackenzie orders me, holding up at key that she’s removed from her pocket, and pointing toward the kitchen door, ‘take a shower in the apartment, and then dig through the drawers in the master bedroom, I’m pretty sure there are some spare clothes in there from either me, Seona or Wynter. Then put your clothes in the washer, you can pop up later to turn the dryer on.’

‘I can’t . . .’ I stammer desperately, ‘I mean, I need . . .’ my voice falters again, I don’t want to say that I can’t afford to lose any more hours.

Mackenzie’s face softens as her hand falls to my arm, ‘I’m not going to dock your pay Eralia’ she murmurs, ‘you’ll be paid from your start time.’

I blink in surprise, she’s going to pay me? . . to take a shower? . .

‘I’m the one making you take a shower on company time’ the baker continues, ‘so I have to pay you for that time. Now go’ she adds, pointing harder, ‘go get warmed up, into some dry clothes and I’ll see you in half an hour.’

Numbly I nod, taking the key, turning around and heading through to the kitchen, up the stairs to the locked apartment door. Sliding the key into the lock, I step inside, glancing around nervously. I’ve never been further than the front entrance and that was only when Seona was here and I came up to ask her about her fudge.

The space is silent, having that empty feeling you get when a place goes unoccupied for a while. I quickly kick off my shoes, placing them by the front door, not wanting to mark Mackenzie’s apartment with my dirty shoes.

Moving through the hallway, I glance right into the kitchen that is clean and bright from the sunlight coming through the window. I walk the few steps into the cosy area, placing the key on the corner of the well scrubbed table, drape my wet coat over the back of one of the chairs before I turn around and head back into the hallway again.

There are four doors around me, two on my left, one straight ahead that is open, revealing a living room, and one to the right next to the kitchen.

I head toward the first door to the left, stopping outside and taking a deep breath, before reaching for the door handle. I open it tentatively, swinging it wide to reveal a small but immaculately kept bathroom on the other side.

Stepping inside, my gasp catches in my throat as I see the large shower, it’s bigger than our bathtub at home. I slowly shut the door behind me, flicking the lock instinctively before I open the shower door and reach inside, turning the dials at the end. Water falls from the showerhead, striking my bare arm as my eyes widen. It’s so powerful! Nothing like the water pressure from the over bath shower attachment that we have at the trailer.

I hold my hand underneath, feeling the sting of droplets that heat within seconds. I don’t remember the last time I had a hot shower, our water heater has limited capacity, and I tend to save it for my siblings who have to bathe together just to make the luke warm water stretch to all of them, which means I always wash as fast as possible in cold water after them.

I quickly retract my hand from under the stream, dropping my hands to the buttons of my blouse and with trembling, numb fingers release each one before dropping the sopping fabric to the ground. Next comes my jeans, then my underwear, each garment landing with a thud on the tiled floor before I step into the shower beside me.

A groan crawls up my throat as the hot water hits me, Oh my God! I can’t even move, it’s painful against my freezing skin but also amazing.

I stand there for a full five minutes, just thawing out, before I slowly turn and tilt back my head, allowing the water to cascade over my hair. I lift my hands, dragging my fingers through the strands, separating them as the delicious stream strikes my scalp. Glancing around me, I spot some shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the corner. Bending down I scoop it up, squeezing a tiny amount into my hand like I do at home, because everything needs to be conserved.

As I lift my hand to my head, I hesitate, this isn’t my home, or my products . . . Mackenzie doesn’t worry about money . . . would it be terribly bad if I used a little more?

I bite down on my lip undecidedly, feeling terrible that I’d even consider taking more of her shower products, but . . . it’s been so long since I’ve been able to clean my hair thoroughly.

Lowering my hand again, I quickly squeeze a little more into my palm before placing the bottle onto the ground and starting to massage the liquid into my hair. The scent of pomegranate fills the air as I moan softly, my head feeling so good from the high end brand, so different from the cheap dollar store one I buy for home.

I carefully massage each and every strand from root to tip, before reluctantly lowering my hands in front of me. I can’t help the smile as I note the suds that cover them, normally I have next to none, due to how little shampoo I allow myself to use.

I step back under the water, combing through my hair once more as the suds wash away, next I grab the conditioner, a luxury I don’t remember us having before. Again, I squeeze a little more than I should into my palm, smoothing it over my hair and massaging the roots before washing it out, then I wash every inch of my body with body wash.

When I can no longer justify staying under the water anymore, I reluctantly turn the dials, cutting off the stream and open the door of the shower cubicle. Looking around, I spot a cabinet with towels inside, reaching over, I tug it open, removing one from the pile and I use it to first remove excess water from my hair before rubbing my body and then wrapping it around my body.

Gathering up my things, I open the bathroom door, peeking outside before I tiptoe out, heading to the door next to me and opening it. Inside is a room with a single bed and painted walls designed for a child. Maxton’s old room, closing the door again, I turn around to the one behind me, opening that to reveal a large queen sized bed in the centre of a brightly painted room. Stepping inside, I close the door behind me, my gaze sweeping over the space that feels almost as big as our double wide. Painted furniture decorates the space, and as I head toward the large chest of drawers, I can’t help but run my finger over the expensive décor that probably costs more than my monthly wage.

I tug open the top drawer, finding brand new packs of underwear and socks inside. I carefully remove a pair of each before shutting it again and opening the next. This one contains sleepwear which I ignore, the third, women’s tops and a couple of sweaters. The fourth has sweatpants in a couple of different sizes.

Grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, I move to the bed and place everything on the edge before I get to work drying myself off properly. Once dry, I pull on the panties and socks, there is no bras and mine is still soaked through, but it hardly matters, I wasn’t really blessed in the chest department anyway.

Tugging on the shirt and sweats, I can’t help but lift the material of the shirt to my nose, inhaling the scent of the washing powder that is still faintly present on it.

Once I’m dressed, I tentatively open the drawers beside the bed until I find what I was hoping for, a brush and a hair dryer. I dry my hair, and then, in a stroke of genius, go back and grab my shoes, placing them on the floor and blasting them with heat from the dryer to make them wearable again before placing them on my feet.

Once I’m done, I stand up, placing everything back where I found it before carrying my used towel into the kitchen along with my clothes and searching until I find where the washer and dryer are kept. I place everything in the large washing machine, dropping some of the washing detergent placed on the shelf above, on top before I close the top and start it up. As the machine hums to life, I step back, closing the doors again, giving one last check to make sure that everything is as I found it before I grab the key and my coat and head back downstairs again.

As I walk through to the bakery, Mackenzie glances up, her face breaking into a smile.

‘Better’ she remarks, beckoning to me with the tongs she using to grab a chocolate slice for Agatha, our favourite older customer, ‘now come and help me.’

Nodding, I grab an apron, slipping it over my head and tying it in place before hurrying to the counter and greeting the next customer with a practiced smile.

‘What can I get you?’ I ask, reaching for a box as the teenager points to one of the large cookies in front of me.

‘Two please’ he mumbles gruffly, not making eye contact with me as I nod, scooping up his choice and packaging it up for him before taking his money that he holds out silently.