Chapter One

"This seat taken?"

"Hm?"

He was a handsome lad, with sharp blue eyes orbs that had been studying the around the area, looking a bit lost with himself or enjoying the free time from doing what he was usually doing at this hour. He donned a popular 40's-50's hairstyle that seemed to be perfect on his face, making him seem younger than he might've looked.
He sat in a slouched position, as if he was tired or bored, staring across the lot to the rising sun that peeked around the looming buildings, from its point on the horizon. The man seemed confused by my questioning as I cocked my head at him, looking between me and the empty seat as I set my plastic box down next to it.

"Oh," he began to straighten himself on the most likely uncomfortable iron chair. "N-No, go right ahead."

I gave a grateful smile to the man. "Thanks." I took the seat with a dramatized sigh of relief, getting to put strain away from my aching ankles that have had about enough of my trekking through town without a decent pair of sneakers. Walking had its perks for work-out and plain exercise, no matter the element, but it was killing my feet.

"…. Are you alright, ma'am?"

I glanced to the handsome blonde lad, whose brows were slightly furrowed in worry, leveling me with a stare. I nodded to him with a pleasant smile.

"Fine, if my feet weren't dying of aches. Their about to break out in protest." I groaned, and shook my foot loose of any kinks in my ankle. It was also partly difficult when carrying a sixty pound box about, after just getting better from the sudden flu. My brows furrow in question as he leans back in his seat. "What brings you to the quiet part of the city?"

He chortled at me. "This is quiet?" he gestures around at the noises all about: cars honking, people yelling, construction workers… constructing.

"Considering all the other places, yeah, this is pretty quiet." I began with a little sigh, and the man perks a brow at me after a few moments. I scoff. "Humor me, would you?"

This gets him to laugh, and hold up his hands in mock surrender.

"Pyrrah Wolfkrone." I began, holding my hand out across the table, a silly smile still plastered upon my face. His face morphs into one of surprise, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he takes my hand and it's engulfed in his. I grin in surprise.

"S-Steve Rogers, ma'am!" he exclaims to me, giving me a firm handshake and his eyes crinkle at the corners. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine."

It's a nice, quiet moment between us as we sit and enjoy the morning in peace, I ordering a coffee and breathing in the fresh scent of car exhaust in the air. It's a damn good day to be baking in my little bakery.
Steve seems to be off in his own little world across the way when I look at him, studying the sky for the like of bad weather or to glimpse Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit, who'll take off in a few hours or so when he needs to go to a meeting. It's quite the awesome sight.

"So. Steve." I began to snap him from his daydream, leaning forwards on the table, propping my chin on my elbows as he faces me. "What brings you here? You from Manhattan?"

"No." He answers, looking past to where I had come. "Brooklyn. I… uh… moved from here to the country when I was six. It's been twenty years since I've been here."

I whistled. "So long! I use to live in South Dakota, before moving to D.C., so it's been… a fairly familiar place." I lean back in the chair. "Changed, hasn't it?"

Steve nodded. "It's almost shocking just how much."

"You're shocked!" I paused. "Well okay, I've been here for almost a three years, and you lived in the country. It'll be a bit shocking."

He chuckled, just as the sounds of Tony Stark's suit darted from Stark Industries, overhead us. My mind wandered to Pepper Pots; his-used-to-be-assistant now CEO of Stark Industries is a few-days-every-month usual for my place. She loves the home-made lemon sauce that I put on my muffins, so she'll come around when she needs Tony's Double Chocolate Fudge Cake, or when the free time arises, and she'll talk about work, before ordering some to go.

"It was nice meeting you, Steve." I stand from the chair, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun to look down the next few roads, seeing traffic is mild and there are not many people on the streets. I could be late for opening if I don't leave now. Oh, my customers wouldn't like that. Steve comes back to reality as I stand, stretching my body up to relax my muscles, and picking up the sixty pound box to sit under my chest.

"I gotta get this to the shop, no matter how damn heavy it is. I should really—"

Steve seems to be in a rush as he stands, practically knocking his chair back, reaching to take the box from me. Hands outstretched, I don't complain as he does this, his plaid shirt stretching to the muscles under it, holding the box under Ione arm like it's nothing

"I'll carry it for you." Steve interrupts, his blush replacing the dazed expression from before. He was trying hard to hide his sudden reaction, and I giggled at him, glancing at his taller figure.

"I'm going to have to repay you for this." I mused aloud, as we began to move out, and I picked his brown jacket up on way. I put a hand to my chin in thought, after I fold his coat over my arm. "I wonder what I should give you."

"N-No payment needed, ma'am." Steve stammered, shaking his head. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, please, and leave me with all the sweets as handsome olé you carries the cooking supplies?" I scoff. "You must be joking!"

"Cooking supplies?" Steve seems a bit bewildered at this newfound information, and looks down at the box, turning it about. I roll my eyes, and nudge him with my elbow.

"What else?" I ask. "Just my cooking supplies. I usually have them sent straight to the store, but I was out sick, so I had to bring them from home. Kinda sucks, considering I don't have my truck.

Steve cocked his head "Truck?" He asked. "Where is it?"

"Driving axis blew out. Had to leave it in the shop." I sighed, that old Ford had been my dad's, and it had gotten him from some pretty tight places. After it blew out, well, I'll have to be easier on it. "Oh, I have to handle that thing like a civilized person! It's about ready to die!"

Steve laughed. "Is it now?"

"Hell yeah! It was my dad's—he's had if forever."

Its two more blockers before we reach Manhattan's Marvelous; the name of my shop. Steve stops to look up, almost looking to memorize the building as I unlock the door and enter my shop. I prop the door open, letting the sickeningly rich smells enter the outdoors. Cookies, cakes, fruits, rolls, it's all there as I swing over the counter to unlock the counter-fold, kitchen, and freezerway.

"It... It smells amazing in here!" Steve exclaimed in surprise, eyes darting around the glass container that holds some sweets, and setting the box in the counter to check out my detailed work. I grin and un-lid a container of muffins, handing him a Banana Nut one. "…. A muffin?" Steve begins, blush flooding his cheeks. "T-Thank you!"

"Ah, you know what they say about muffins!" Steve shot me a look of confusion from his place, sitting down upon a stool to watch me.

"What do they say?" he asked.

"Muffins are just ugly cupcakes!"

"Poor muffins."

"Indeed." I smiled, and began packing away the supplies in the box. "But Steve," He looked at me as l wove through the shop and to the door, going to the sign, turning and hearing it swish in one swift movement.

"I wanted to thank you, but this is more of a thanks in itself." I propose, and gesture my shop. "Welcome to Wolfkrone Bakery."