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

  There was a soft exhalation on the line. “Damn. Here goes. Donnie, would you meet me for a drink tonight?”

  “Oh,” Donnie said softly, savouring the invitation.

  “I mean, only if you want to. Do you want to? Feel free to say no thanks. Yesterday was… it was unusual, at least for me. And I’d love to talk some more, get to know you better. I mean, I understand it may have just been a normal day for you. Nothing special.”

  No way. Definitely special. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Great. And now I’ve rambled on and will probably make you late despite knowing better.” Will made a tutting sound.

  Donnie chuckled. “It’s fine.”

  There was a moment’s silence on the line when Donnie panicked his battery had gone flat or his finger had squashed the cancel button by mistake, or—

  But Will chuckled too. He sounded more relaxed. “I’ll see you at seven. I mean, if that’s convenient for you—”

  “It’s fine,” Donnie repeated with another laugh. “I’ll come around to the surgery then.”

  Will hurried his last client out of the building at six forty-five, with indecent haste. To his delight, Donnie was already approaching the surgery. He was wearing jeans and a rather lurid, pineapple-print shirt, but carried it off well. Will knew that wouldn’t have been the case for him.

  “I’m so pleased to see you.” Will brushed his hands down his white tunic with some embarrassment. “I just need to take this off and leave it on my broken coatstand for tomorrow.”

  Donnie’s gaze darted over the uniform coat and his cheeks seemed to get pinker. Maybe there was even the hint of a murmured “Shame.”

  Will suggested Bar de Bijou for a drink but Donnie vetoed that idea politely but quickly. Instead, Will drove them to a quiet pub beyond the housing estate where they got a good beer and a plate of ale-battered fish and chips each, and found a secluded corner table to sit. They spent a couple of hours chatting about Will’s day with the animals, about the problems he was having getting the right furniture for his flat, about how lots of people dropped in on the surgery on its first full day to take a look at him. And how half of them didn’t even have pets.

  “People are friendly here, if you give them the chance,” Donnie said. “Just don’t let too many stop to chat or you won’t get anything done.”

  Will laughed, relaxed and happy. How long had it been since he’d felt like this?

  “How was the fish?” Donnie nodded at Will’s empty plate.

  Will had barely resisted licking up the battered, vinegary crumbs. “It was great. I shouldn’t have eaten so much, though.” He’d ordered a sticky toffee pudding dessert as well. That was a potential disaster-in-waiting for him, but it had looked so good.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about getting fat,” Donnie said, then blushed as if he realised he shouldn’t probably be making personal remarks like that. “So, do you have pets of your own? You were great with the animals in the surgery. My family has owned dogs and cats, or at least, some of my family, for some of the time. We’re a big, tangled group at the best of times. But there’s no point in me having any pet at the moment when I’m working all these hours, and live in a place no bigger than three shoeboxes joined together.”

  Will started to laugh, then stopped when he realised he wasn’t sure if Donnie was joking or not. “I’d love a dog,” he said instead. “My apartment’s too small at the moment but when I can afford a house with a garden, and near parkland, I’ll consider getting one, or maybe two. My family has always had terriers, though my mother has a couple of collies she keeps at the neighbour’s farm. And my cousin breeds German Shepherds. I knew a guy at the golf club carried his Shih Tzu with him everywhere he goes.”

  “You belong to a golf club?”

  “Hardly play nowadays,” Will said briskly. Donnie’s expression was odd, but he was still smiling so things must be okay. And Will didn’t want to expand on why he no longer went to his golf club, his gym, his squash club… no, he was starting a new life, right?

  “Sounds like your family is pretty grand,” Donnie said.

  “Grand?” But Donnie rushed on before Will could mull that over.

  “I was thinking I might one day get a small Corgi. Not that I’ve got aspirations to the royal family, though it’s great to see the love the Queen gives her dogs. She always looks so relaxed with them in the TV coverage, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so,” Will said, who’d never given it a moment’s thought before now. “They have a lot of health problems, actually. Corgis, not the royal family. Well, not necessarily.” What was he going on about? “I’m sorry, that’s shop talk, I can’t seem to switch off.”

  “I don’t mind,” Donnie said gently. His gaze was fixed on Will, his eyes bright.

  “What’s your family home like, Donnie? Where do you come from?”

  “Me?” Donnie’s eyebrows shot up. “Born and bred right here, on the housing estate. Went to the local schools. Most of my lot still live around here, too. Mum and Dad have a two-up, three down house a half mile from the community centre, and still some of the younger ones at home with them.”

  “How many?” Will asked, a little faintly.

  “Oh, only a few. Though there are grandchildren now from my older sibs. Makes for a lively time at Christmas!”

  “Yes, it must do.”

  “Shambles of a garden,” Donnie continued cheerily. “Woodwork in dire need of new paint, and always a couple of windows broken, but I haven’t had time to go round and help for a while. There were at least four broken-down motorbikes on the front path, last I counted. A couple of my half-brothers are starting up their own business.”

  Just the description made Will’s head whirl. He couldn’t take his eyes off Donnie’s mouth, smiling, sipping his beer, chattering so freely.

  Donnie must have noticed because he stopped talking. He ran a hand slowly along his thigh, as if smoothing out a crease in his jeans. All it did was draw Will’s attention to Donnie’s lap. Oh God.

  “Sorry,” he said. “For staring.”

  Donnie lifted his hand and brushed his fingers along Will’s jaw.

  “I didn’t get time to shave,” Will said in a rush.

  “I like the feel,” Donnie said. “Don’t be sorry.”

  “Actually,” Will said more softly. “I don’t think I’m sorry at all.” And in the shade of the potted plant beside the pub fireplace, they leaned closer and touched lips.

  CHAPTER 4

  Oh. Donnie felt momentarily dizzy.

  “Oh,” Will breathed, his lips still so close.

  How long had it been, Donnie wondered, since he’d been kissed so gently? So feelingly? They both sat back, a little breathless, a little bemused. Smiling, though. Will blinked at Donnie, his head tilted as if he was still waiting to hear more about Donnie’s life.

  But why would he be interested? Who wanted to hear about Donnie’s boring job, his little flat, his chaotic family, his oh-so-domestic leisure habits? His world sounded pretty flat compared to Will’s, with all his dog breeders and farmers and golfing buddies. Even Donnie’s friends in the parade had more interesting lives than he did. Henry ran the bar and had a glamorous sommelier background in London hotels, Maisie worked as senior stylist at the hairdressers—where she could feed her habit of changing hair colour every month—and she and her friends also helped out at the community centre. What’s more, a couple of summers ago, her uncle Rick had converted a huge but decrepit house on the outskirts of the estate into sheltered accommodation for the homeless.

  That seemed to impress Will. “How excellent. You were involved in the project?”

  “Just fetching and carrying. Nothing significant. Some fundraising. They needed a lot of money to fit it out for self-sufficient apartments. In fact, we’ve kept up the fundraising when we can. They always need money for repairs and supplies for the residents.”

  “Is that what the Easter eggs yesterday were for?�
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  “Well, they were mainly for the kids to enjoy. But I always do something for the monthly bake sales Maisie organises. She runs them through the church as well as the centre. Says you can’t go wrong with cakes, people always want to eat. Even mine.”

  Will frowned. “What do you mean, even yours? Your chocolate was fabulous. I can’t imagine your cakes are any less delicious.”

  Donnie blushed. “Most things taste okay if there are good ingredients in them. But I’m not much good on the presentation side of things.”

  “I think your presentation is just right, Donnie.” Will’s voice had dropped, his eyes were darker than before. Donnie didn’t think Will was talking about chocolate eggs any longer.

  He took Will’s hand on top of the pub table, a spontaneous gesture, but one that felt just right. And when Will smiled at him and tightened his grasp in return, Donnie knew it was perfect.

  Will insisted on dropping Donnie back at the parade, but when they arrived, he turned off the car and sat quietly for a moment. Donnie listened to the car ticking away as it wound down, wondering what was coming. Hoping for… he wasn’t sure what. Will barely moved beside him, staring forward through the windscreen, his hands tight on the steering wheel, the hint of his cologne in the air, the warmth of his body only a central console away from Donnie’s. He was frowning: it made his glasses slide farther down than usual.

  Did he have indigestion? They’d both been pretty greedy with the fish and chips, and Will had put extra vinegar on his. Or was he embarrassed that Donnie had upset the last inch of his beer all over the table when he wriggled out from his seat to go to the toilet? The bartender had laughed it off as no problem, and Will’s smile at Donnie hadn’t wavered—he had his own story about accidental spillages, though his involved a nervous kitten weeing on his surgery floor, and the barman backed away quite speedily on hearing it.

  Or—so much worse—was Will regretting getting more intimate in the pub? He didn’t seem to care about people knowing he was gay, but you never knew. If Will had a conservative upbringing, a posh, traditional family, and Donnie was hardly much of a catch…

  Oh well. There’d been an opportunity, Donnie thought with an internal sigh, but maybe it wasn’t to be. He was startled at how disappointed he felt.

  But then Will turned to him, with a determined set to his mouth, and asked to kiss him again. “Properly,” he said, huskily. “I’m struggling to keep my hands off you.”

  Wow. No one had ever asked Donnie’s permission. Not about kissing, and not about very much at all. Donnie couldn’t stop grinning as he slipped an eager hand around the back of Will’s neck and tugged him in for a proper snog. The windows steamed up pretty quickly. If they hadn’t been stuck in their seat belts, and Will’s car had been anything larger than a new model Mini, who knows what might have happened? Could have been arrested for indecent exposure, if Donnie had his way.

  “Do you want to come in for coffee?” he asked when they broke for air.

  Will looked despairing. “I want to. Believe me, I do. It’s just… I have an early call I promised to a client, and I need to do some reading up on this particular cat’s problem before we meet.”

  Donnie nodded slowly, watching the expression in Will’s eyes. It certainly looked like genuine regret. There was no mistaking how aroused he was under those expensive trousers. He ran his palm across Will’s chest, shamelessly feeling Will’s nipples harden under the cool fabric. He slid a finger cheekily in between two of the buttons. Then, sighing, pulled his hand away again.

  Will gave a heartfelt groan. “Donnie?”

  “Hm?”

  “Tomorrow? Can I see you tomorrow? Is it too soon?” He laughed, a tremble in the sound. “Am I coming across too needy?”

  “That’s okay by me,” Donnie said. Oh, but how!

  “We can have an early supper again. Don’t let them bully you into working late.”

  Will had been listening, possibly too closely, to Donnie’s work woes. Or Donnie had been complaining too much. “No,” he said. “I’ll try.”

  Still he was reluctant to let go. His fingertips kept tracing Will’s cheek, his ear, the edges of his neatly trimmed beard, the line of sinew to his throat. And when Will leaned his forehead against Donnie’s and kissed him again—sexy, even though it was with a closed mouth, and despite the fact the gear stick must have been jabbing him in the belly—it looked like Will was just as reluctant.

  Donnie stood at the doorway into his building watching Will drive off until his car vanished around the bend.

  Will.

  Looked like he had it bad.

  CHAPTER 5

  A few mornings later, Maisie dropped in on Donnie on her way to work early, but apparently with enough time to share breakfast with her best mate. She followed him into his open-plan kitchen/living room.

  “Wow, it smells great in here,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She had another new piercing in it, Donnie noticed. And this week’s hair colour appeared to be violet with lilac streaks. He liked the way she was a walking advertisement for the salon. Her expression was a little sly as she glanced at the kitchen counter. “Are those cookies?”

  Donnie smiled and nodded. He often got up early to bake before work, and always baked extra for his mate Mais: she was usually his first taste test, “just to help you out” she’d protest with a greedy twinkle in her eye. Now she giggled and bit into one, warm from the oven. Some of them had broken into odd-shaped pieces, though the dough had gone into the oven in similarly-sized round lumps. But the blissful look on her face? It told him he’d got the recipe right, if not the look of them.

  He nudged past her to pick up his messenger bag, slung on the back of the kitchen chair. “I have to leave soon, Mais. My shift’s starting half an hour earlier this week.”

  “Extra workload?” Maisie frowned through a mouthful of crumbs. “You know there’s the working time directive to protect employees?”

  Donnie had signed his rights away to that, the first week he started at the factory, but he wasn’t going to provoke Maisie with that reminder right now. “No, I’ve flexed the start and finish time, so I can leave earlier.” It meant he could arrive home in time to meet Will as he left the surgery. He was growing used to that routine, it was something to look forward to after the factory. Will, glowing with pleasure from the work he’d done, from the people he’d helped.

  And okay, to be honest, the white coat was a hell of a turn on.

  “To meet Will, isn’t it? That’s every day for a week!” Maisie crowed. “You’ve pulled a sugar daddy there, kid. How unutterably cute.” She sat herself down on the vacated kitchen chair and reached eagerly for another of the biscuits. “These are great, Donnie, even better than your sultana snaps. I could do with six trays of these for the next bake sale at the community centre, is that okay?”

  Donnie knew only too well he’d give in to her begging, even if he had to stay up all night to bake. But that wasn’t what had struck him most. “Sugar daddy? What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, you can’t deny Will’s older than you.” Catching sight of Donnie’s frown, she amended it to, “A bit older than you.”

  “He’s only in his thirties.” Well, actually, very late in them, but who cared? “And I’m late twenties.” And only just, at twenty-six.

  “Well, he’s obviously got money. No one starts up their own business without some financial muscle, and probably a lot of smart contacts. Brainy, too. Yeah, you fell on your feet there.” Then she must have remembered how Donnie had, in reality, fallen at Will’s feet when they met, and burst into a cackle of laughter.

  Donnie had some trouble mustering up a smile in return. Yes, Will had the age advantage, with all the mature looks and life experience that came with it, but Donnie wasn’t sure about the sugar daddy implication. He wondered how many other people looked at them together and thought that. “It’s not really like that, Mais.”

  “Well, you look good on it,” Maisie said w
ith a sigh and rather dreamy eyes, though that may have been choc chip overload: Donnie was always over-generous with that ingredient. “You haven’t stopped smiling all week and I may even wheedle a few cakes off you as well as the biscuits, while you’re in this good mood. Just make the most of it, is all I say. Though you always bounce back from any upsets.”

  Donnie loved Maisie, he really did, and although she was a bit too free with her judgements sometimes, he’d never thought she was deliberately malicious. Well, except perhaps to Henry when they got into one of their legendary verbal fights. But something about her careless words caused a slow, twisting lump in the base of his gut. In the space of a few sentences she’d suggested he was after Will for his money, and implied he should take advantage of it for as long as it lasted. Because, presumably, that wouldn’t be for long, what with Donnie being such an immature youth in comparison, though luckily—and as always—Donnie would take any heartbreak in his stride.

  And, rather sadly, that was based on reality. Donnie rarely planned his dates beyond a couple of days, judging on past experience. It was pure luck that he’d met a hot guy like Will, and Will wanted to spend all this time with him. Donnie didn’t really dare expect more. And it wasn’t because he considered himself some kind of loser, he was being realistic. What was he doing, acting like he was in a sappy romcom every time Will’s name was mentioned? Imagining, if this were a movie, the focus would blur, the music would swell, and everyone would be wandering in slow-mo? After all, Donnie didn’t see himself in the hero when he watched those romcoms: he was usually the plucky best friend.

  Ah, but Will…

  “Your eyes have gone funny,” Maisie said conversationally, still munching.

  They left the flat, bickering casually. Donnie was still thoughtful as he walked to his car, parked behind the parade. He glanced quickly at the vet’s as he passed, but it wasn’t open yet. Starting work early meant he missed Will arriving. But tonight, they were staying in: Will was coming around for supper. Donnie had pored over his cookery books for inspiration, washed his sheets, and thrashed the dust out of the old sofa’s cushions with manic enthusiasm. He was hoping Will would stay over.