Zest: an accidental baker story (The Accidental Baker Book 2) Read online

  ZEST

  An Accidental Baker story

  Copyright ©2019 Clare London

  Published by Jocular Press

  All Rights Reserved

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  Blurb and Dedication

  When Donnie met Will, it looked like the recipe for true love. But Happy Ever After took just a bit more work.

  Donnie’s new romance with silver fox veterinarian Will looks like a real recipe for love. But first he has to deal with the problems of his job, his friends’ demands, and worries about Will’s privileged background. To say nothing of Donnie’s thwarted dreams of a catering career—and baking something that doesn’t come out a disaster.

  Will is fascinated and entranced by Donnie. A mature, professional businessman, he’s far less confident in romance—and in the bedroom. Yet his eagerness to look after Donnie and show him a better life are misguided, and have a disastrous effect of their own.

  Donnie is everyone’s friend. He’ll help anyone out. But who’s there to help him when he needs it?

  Read about Donnie and Will’s meeting in The Accidental Baker.

  Other stories to follow: WHISK, BLEND and GLAZE.

  Many thanks to Chrissy, Dev, Lillian and Sue for the invaluable input.

  And the lovely Esti who insisted I write it!

  INDEX

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  More by Clare London

  About Clare London

  CHAPTER 1

  Donnie Watson had a certain spring in his step this early morning.

  He bustled around his small living room, sipping at his tea, stopping to fold a couple of clean shirts he’d collected from the launderette next door, checking the time to make sure he had a spare twenty minutes to pop online before he left for work. He hummed a few verses of some catchy music he’d picked up on a cookery podcast the previous night: it had stuck in his brain for some inexplicable reason. Not that he wasn’t always optimistic, but since yesterday he’d had extra reason to be cheerful. Since he met Will, that is.

  Will Cartwright. The silver fox veterinarian who’d just taken over the surgery in the shopping parade where Donnie lived. How handsome was he? How sexy! And right here on Donnie’s doorstep—well, only three doors away from Donnie’s flat above the hairdressers. The whole parade was Donnie’s community, really. He wasn’t much of a social butterfly. He liked to stay home after work, maybe watch a movie with his bestie Maisie, help out at the community centre, have a drink at Bar de Bijou (formerly The Dirty Dog pub) at the end of the parade, owned by his other best friend, Henry. Donnie didn’t have a lot of money to spend on entertainment. Besides, what he really liked to spend any spare time and money on was watching cookery podcasts. He loved baking especially.

  And that was—sort of, indirectly, by some huge stroke of karmic luck—how he’d met Will. Will. He sighed like some teenage boyband fan. Lucky only the walls of his flat could hear. The Great Meet hadn’t exactly been momentous, had it? Crashing to the pavement at Will’s feet in a definitely not-very-romantic type way, like a shaky toddler, banging hands and knees, and feeling perilously close to tears. Shit, yes, exactly like a toddler. For a stunned moment, he’d sat there, all the Easter chocolate shapes he’d cooked in a spilled mess on the road. Then Will had rushed over, helped him up, and joined in collecting the scattered chocolates.

  “Can I offer you a cup of tea?” Will had said, concern on his face. “You should sit still for a while.” And he’d helped Donnie into his waiting room.

  To Donnie, Will had been a knight in shining armour. Or a vet in wonky glasses with a bemused but definitely delightful smile. Donnie had stayed there all afternoon, and helped out in the surgery.

  Will. Another, daft sigh.

  The best part had been at the end of the working day, when Donnie had sat with Will for some quiet, personal time. The businesslike professional had turned out to be a more tentative man in private, but they’d chatted easily about the day, the clients, Donnie’s job, the people in the community. Will was newly arrived in the area and was interested to know how he could make more friends. Just me first, Donnie had thought. Hadn’t dared to say it aloud.

  There’d definitely been a spark between them. He was sure of it. Hadn’t there?

  When they shared some of Donnie’s chocolate—oh, but the sexy way Will had slipped a sliver of Easter bunny shape between Donnie’s lips!—things had heated up. Will had leaned in, nudging Donnie’s thigh with his own, breathing softly against his cheek. Admitting he was attracted to Donnie. Maybe they’d only just met, but the memory of Will’s wide, eager eyes behind those crooked spectacles made Donnie’s heart skip a beat.

  And yet, Will seemed surprisingly shy. Thanking Donnie again and again for stepping into the breach. A gentle red flush of embarrassment on his cheeks all the time they were talking. Like he was nervous of making an actual move. Donnie wasn’t much of a sex god himself, of course—in fact he reckoned he was as far away from one of those sexy Greek god statues as a Lego model—but he was very happy with liking men, and liking sex with men. And he thought he’d made his interest in Will very clear. So it was funny how Will was such a contrast. At first sight, Donnie would have expected Will to be more assertive. He was older, more handsome, more successful and, judging from his elegant leather shoes and smart clothes under the white tunic, much better off.

  But, then, the sexy way Will had wet his lips, the things he’d confessed he wanted to do to Donnie…

  Oh. Yes. Definitely a spark! Donnie shifted now at the memory, smiling even more, his dick plumping inside his jeans. Will had asked if Donnie would like to go for a drink—was the sky blue?—but Donnie had reluctantly turned down the offer because of a babysitting duty for a friend.

  But Will had at least taken his number when they parted at the surgery. He would call, he insisted. Donnie wanted to hold his breath, he really did, but he knew that would be silly. It may never happen. He wouldn’t want Will to feel obligated. Donnie was all about making other people feel good, as Maisie so often told him. Sometimes, in a particular, familiar tone of voice, she implied this wasn’t a good thing.

  Will.

  Enough daydreaming! Seven o’clock already. He’d be late at the packaging factory if he didn’t get going. This morning he wore a vivid green shirt in a paisley pattern and jeans, with his favourite hi-tops and blue striped socks. A bright ensemble, which was what he liked best, an
d smart for work. Hopefully he wouldn’t be crawling over too many pallets, or into the basement storeroom. For some reason, no one else was ever around when those dirty jobs were needed. And all his wondering about what would and wouldn’t be with Will meant he’d only had time for a ten-minute podcast on the creaming method in making a good sachertorte.

  Yeah. He sighed to himself and clicked off the browser on his phone. What with the amount of overtime he was doing at work recently, he hadn’t explored any new recipes at all.

  The elephant pretty much dominating the room, of course, was Donnie’s lack of skills in the baking department. With cooking in general, in fact. He baked for everyone in the parade, the community centre, the local outreach house, the social events held at Henry’s bar. But in Donnie’s case, a potluck bake was… exactly that. A complete mystery as to what you’d get.

  Maybe, just once, a long time ago, when he was younger and definitely more naïve, Donnie had thought he might have a career in baking. He never felt happier than when he was mixing or kneading. He was lost to the world outside when it happened, hands in a mixing bowl, wielding a wooden spoon, surrounded by the aroma of cooked pastry, of sweet sponge. All his troubles evaporated: all his worries about money, his crappy job, why jeans never looked as good on him as they did on his sexy pal Abi—whether men’s or women’s, Abi was an equal opportunities dresser—why the bathroom tap always dripped through the night, and whether Will would really call, and how merely holding his hand had been sort of, really, romantic…

  Will.

  For God’s sake! He was getting obsessed.

  CHAPTER 2

  Will Cartwright hadn’t been this eager to face the working day for a bloody long time.

  Not that he didn’t love his job as a veterinarian: in fact, he’d enjoyed every part of it, even the five years at university, the subsequent gruelling and ill-paid internships, and then the chequered career experience he’d had at his previous practice, in the centre of London’s fashionable Kensington. The clients there—and the pampered pets!—had their own class of issues. But now he’d launched his new practice, his first venture into being the boss, here in a much smaller, quieter, more domestic part of suburban London… and yes, he was loving the excitement and anticipation of it all.

  At seven o’clock that morning, he’d had to shove open the surgery front door. The doorframe had swollen in the damp weather. It probably just needed planing down a millimetre or so. Will wondered how you went about that kind of thing. He might have started up his own business, but that didn’t mean he was the most practical person. Or even well organised. He scooped up the post that was on the mat inside and cast an eye over the surgery waiting area. There were still boxes to be unpacked, mostly full of reference books and research papers. The coat stand stood unevenly because he’d lost one of its feet during the move. Half a dozen stacks of help leaflets propped up a plant display by the door to his consulting room, which needed to be opened and displayed on the table by the reception desk. So much to do. Somehow, he always got snagged up in research on particular ailments, or the latest online articles on modern treatments—or aimlessly looking at photos of pets online—and forgot to do his filing or accounts. Dammit, he even forgot to eat sometimes. And he did like his food, more’s the pity.

  He checked the time again. Five past seven. Plenty of time to do some clearing up before the first patients of the day. It was important to give the right, professional impression from the very start, his parents had often told him. Ordered him, actually: that was their way. Mother was a very experienced General Practitioner and Dad was a consultant surgeon in one of the London teaching hospitals. It was always assumed that Will would follow in one or other of their footsteps. Assumed by them, anyway. But from his early interest in medicine, Will had been drawn to animal care. Sort of fallen into it, actually, very happily on his part. Though he sometimes wondered whether the announcement to his parents of what speciality he’d be pursuing could have gone any worse if he’d suggested he was joining a travelling circus.

  His glasses slid down his nose again and when he tried to catch them, he dropped all the post and bumped into the coat stand. It rattled, slumped, and another of its feet snapped away. No, he wasn’t a very practical person at all.

  But that distraction—indirectly, and whether by luck or fate—was how he’d met Donnie Watson. Will had been wandering aimlessly up the street that morning on his way to open the surgery, considering whether it would be a good idea to expand the kennel space at the back of the property so he could offer surgery more often, when he’d seen two men leaving the nearby apartment, jostling in the doorway, the younger and cuter one of them struggling with a tray of oddly packed goods. There’d been an angry yelp, and the older man rushed past Will. Will, still gazing at the cute man with the tray, had time to register a blurred movement as the tray spiralled towards the ground, then the crash as both it and the man fell helplessly to the pavement.

  When Will rushed over to help, the young man’s expression was dazed and distressed. “Are you hurt?” Will had asked, and received the weirdest reply.

  “Fuck. My eggs! I’ve got to catch them!”

  What an introduction! Will had helped Donnie pick up what he explained were Easter eggs for the kids at the community centre, though most of them were more complex shapes than mere eggs. One look at Donnie’s grazed palms and the way he winced as he stood up, and Will had invited him into the surgery for tea and a rest. That had led to Donnie staying on for the rest of the day—after passing the chocolates on to his friend called Maisie, who had astonishingly pink neon hair but cheerfully agreed to deliver them where they were most appreciated—and helping Will on reception.

  “I had no idea the animal life in this part of town was so exotic,” Donnie had laughed at the end of the day, when Will tried to heap praise and thanks on him. He had a charming laugh, all teeth and full lips and twinkling eyes. “But I’m not special. I just collect information, that’s all. And I like to talk to people.”

  Talk to me! Will had wanted to plead. And, wonder of wonders, Donnie had. He sat with Will for a long time, during which Will blathered on about the problems he was having with his new flat, a brief explanation of why he had to leave his previous job, how his glasses had been sabotaged by an over-enthusiastic parrot, how he wanted to take Donnie on a date, as soon as possible…

  Yes. He’d been that obvious. He blamed the chocolates.

  He’d sneaked a couple from the tray before Maisie took them away. Something about the subtle but alluring scent of chocolate had wormed its way under his defences. Will didn’t have much time for sweet things, until he met those confections. And Donnie himself.

  My God, how corny. But passing the mirror over the sink in his consulting room, he couldn’t fail to notice the huge grin on his face. “I’ll call you,” he’d promised Donnie, at the end of the working day.

  “Please,” was all Donnie had said, but his own smile promised much more.

  Will wondered how long before he could call Donnie. What was the etiquette? He’d rarely dated anyone who wasn’t a family friend. That had been his world. Safe, settled, planned. Boring! Meeting Donnie felt like having a basement trapdoor opened to let in the sun; like a step off the solid pavement into an uneven but refreshingly cool, shallow stream.

  That first bite of chocolate… those shapes Donnie had baked? They were magnificent. Will had never known anything like that taste. As if Donnie had sneaked some kind of magic ingredient into it. Donnie… handsome, amusing, lively. Young. Too young for Will? He had no illusions: he was forty in a couple of years. What would Donnie see in him?

  “It wouldn’t matter to me,” Donnie had said softly, when Will had first disclosed his age. “There are lots of people attracted to the older man.” Like he was attracted to Will. Like it didn’t matter. Like he wanted to keep feeding chunks of chocolate directly to Will’s mouth. So, so deliciously intimate…

  Donnie had kissed the tips of Wil
l’s fingers.

  Will just stood for a moment, still grinning stupidly, reliving the rush of adrenaline.

  So, how long really before he could call Donnie?

  CHAPTER 3

  When Donnie’s phone rang at seven fifteen, he grabbed it quickly. Was it work? His mum? He wasn’t sure he had time to chat.

  But it was Will.

  “Good morning,” Donnie said. He was proud of his casual tone, though he wondered if the smile could be heard in his voice.

  “Am I too early to call?” Will sounded slightly breathless. Had he run all the way to the surgery or something? It didn’t open until ten, as far as Donnie knew. “How did the babysitting go? Are you feeling better this morning? You need to keep putting ointment on those grazes. Dammit, I didn’t think… are you even awake?”

  “Of course I am. I’m usually leaving for work about now.”

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I won’t keep you—”

  “It’s fine,” Donnie said. He caught sight of himself in the oven door as he scooped up his keys. He was grinning like an idiot. “I have time to talk. Are you at work already? What’s happening in the surgery?”

  Will gave an odd snorting noise. “All I’ve done is move two boxes across the room, realise I need to put up more bookshelves, and move the boxes back. I’m exhausted already. One might even say, disheartened.”

  Donnie laughed. “I can help you with that if you like.” Was he being too forward?

  “You can? That’d be great,” Will said, with something that sounded a lot like awe. “But, you told me yesterday how strict they are at work. You’d better get going now.”

  Donnie swallowed his disappointment. “Okay.”