My Delivery Driver is a Billionaire in Disguise

4

Sophia

I smelled the smoke before I even looked at the oven.

By the time I yanked the tray out, it was already too late. A full batch of croissants sat blackened and ruined, the edges curled and hard, smoke curling up toward the ceiling in thin gray ribbons. I set the tray down on the counter and just stared at it, feeling something in my chest c***k a little further.

I hadn't even noticed the timer going off. I had been standing right there, staring at the bills spread across the counter, running the same numbers over and over like they might change if I looked at them long enough. They never did. The rent was still due. The equipment loan was still due. And the thirty days Mr. Dawson gave me were ticking down whether I paid attention to them or not.

I grabbed the tray with an oven mitt and walked toward the trash can in the back, my throat tight, my eyes stinging in a way that had nothing to do with the smoke.

That was when the bell rang.

"Please tell me those aren't going in the trash," Noah's voice called from the doorway.

I turned, tray still in hand, and felt my face flush with embarrassment. "Unless you want to break a tooth, then yes, they are."

He walked closer, peering into the tray with mock seriousness, like he was examining a crime scene. "They can't be that bad."

"They're charcoal, Noah. I could sell them as fireplace starters." I sighed and dropped the whole tray into the trash, wincing at the loss of ingredients I couldn't afford to waste. "Ruined batch. Story of my week."

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "You know, even burnt, these still smell better than whatever they serve at the drive through by my old office."

I let out a short laugh before I could stop myself. It surprised me, how easily it came out, given how heavy the morning had already felt. "That's a pretty low bar."

"I'm serious. At least this smells like it used to be food." He nodded toward the trash can. "Fast food just smells like regret and salt."

I laughed again, longer this time, and something in my shoulders loosened just slightly. It had been days since I laughed at anything, and it felt strange, almost foreign, like stretching a muscle I had forgotten I had.

"Rough morning?" he asked, his tone softening.

"Rough month," I admitted, then immediately wished I hadn't said it out loud. I grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter, needing something to do with my hands. "I got distracted. Burned an entire batch because I was staring at bills instead of watching the oven. Rookie mistake."

"Doesn't sound like a rookie mistake to me. Sounds like a lot on your plate."

I glanced at him, surprised at how easily he seemed to understand without me having to explain everything. "Something like that."

He nodded toward the coffee machine behind the counter. "You got a minute before you open? I've got some time before my shift really starts."

I hesitated, glancing at the clock. I still had twenty minutes before I needed to open the doors, and honestly, the thought of standing here alone with my thoughts for twenty more minutes sounded worse than making small talk with him.

"Yeah," I said. "I could use a coffee, actually."

I poured two cups, and we ended up leaning against opposite sides of the counter, the morning light just starting to creep through the front windows.

"So tell me," I said, wrapping both hands around my mug. "You've been doing this job for what, two days now? Any wild stories yet?"

Noah laughed, shaking his head. "You have no idea. Yesterday I had a guy answer the door in nothing but a towel, completely unbothered, like it was totally normal to accept a delivery half naked."

"No."

"I wish I was joking. Then there was a woman who tried to convince me her order was wrong because she wanted extra sauce, except she never actually paid for extra sauce. Argued with me for ten minutes over a dollar fifty."

I nearly spit out my coffee laughing. "People are something else."

"You're telling me. I used to think office meetings were exhausting. This job has a special kind of chaos I wasn't prepared for."

We kept talking, trading stories, him about ridiculous customers on his new route, me about strange requests I'd gotten over the years, like the man who once asked me to make an entire cake shaped like his ex-wife's car so he could smash it with a hammer at his divorce party. By the time we finished our coffee, the tightness in my chest from earlier had eased, just a little.

I found myself smiling more than I expected to, more than I had in weeks. There was something easy about talking to him, something that made the weight of everything else feel a little lighter, even if just for those few minutes before the world came rushing back in.

When it was time for him to head out for his deliveries, he set his empty cup on the counter and gave me a small nod. "Same time tomorrow?"

"I'll have coffee ready," I said, and meant it.

He smiled before walking out, the bell above the door ringing softly behind him.

I was still smiling when Emma, my part time cashier, walked in through the back a few minutes later, tying her apron as she came.

She took one look at my face and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, who put you in a good mood? Because it definitely wasn't burnt croissants."

I felt my cheeks warm instantly. "It's nothing."

"Uh huh." She grinned, clearly not buying it for a second. "That wouldn't happen to have anything to do with your cute new delivery driver, would it?"