I flash the customer a smile as I hand her a bread bag. Smiling back at me, she takes the bag from my hand and leaves. Wiping my hands across the apron wrapped around my hips, I jot it down on the small notebook. However, I jump when two hands suddenly hold my shoulders from behind. Hair on my nape standing on end, my heart picks up as I turn around and step backward. Ben, the owner of the bakery, casts a glance at my chest before looking up to me and saying, lust dancing in his eyes, “You're doing great, Carolina.”
Anger resides in my chest as I force a smile. “Thank you,” I say, turning back around and calming myself. I've been working here for two days and I never feel comfortable working. He would intentionally brush himself against my back and openly look at my breasts, and I would f
