Let It Beatle Box Set - 7 Gay Romance Stories

by J. D. Walker

  I looked at my cell phone, willing the minutes to six o’clock to move faster so I could get my fix. I had it bad, and I didn’t care. Woody, along with my older brother Rafe, the town sheriff, teased me something awful about my fixation on this place, and the man who owned it.

  While I berated myself for my ridiculous behavior, my stomach growled. And, as if he had heard my insides rumbling, René looked up to see my truck parked outside his glass window, and smiled.

  * * * *

  As soon as René turned the sign to “Open” and unlocked the door, I rushed inside, not only because I was hungry, but it was also warmer in there. The heater in my truck was on the fritz. Mmm, the decadent scents of spices, bread, chocolate…well, you get the idea. This early in the morning, I was the only one in line. That would change later on. During the busy months, René hired some extra hands to help him with the huge crowds he attracted to his shop.

  It was cold outside, what with it being January and all. Though most places in town were slow this time of year, Crumbs Together had a steady business because people liked tasty treats, and they came from miles around to get them. It also didn’t hurt that the proprietor was as delicious as his sinfully tasty creations. God, I really needed to stop.

  “Hi, René,” I greeted him, rubbing my hands together to warm them as I watched him prepare my hot beverage of choice. He knew by now that, if nothing else, I always had his spicy hot chocolate in the mornings.

  “Serge,” he replied, smiling as he placed a cup of wonderfully smelling cocoa before me. “What will it be today?”

  I blinked for a second, blinded by his happy expression and the hair that he’d tucked behind his ears gleaming in the soft light of the shop. “Uh, two cinnamon rolls, a couple pumpkin vanilla bagels, cream cheese, and a loaf of French bread, please.”

  He winked at me, and my stomach flip-flopped. “You got it.”

  I tried not to ogle the man as he put together my order. Once René placed the bulging paper bag in front of me, he rang me up and I handed over cash.

  “You know,” he said as he leaned on the counter, “I’ve never seen anyone put away as much of this stuff as you do. I mean, I’m flattered and all, but you haven’t gained an ounce, and you’re in here practically every day. You got a secret I need to know about?”

  He can’t be flirting with me, can he? “I’ve always had a high metabolism. I got the lucky gene, I guess, where I can eat whatever I want and never gain a pound. At least, for the time being.” I shrugged. “And yeah, your stuff is wicked good. I’d crawl on my knees through the dessert to get one of your pastries.” I actually closed my eyes and took a deep breath, barely stifling an indecorous moan.

  When I heard René chuckle, my eyelids popped open. “A true connoisseur, I see. Well, to show my appreciation for your loyalty, let me give you a sample of something I was thinking of introducing later this year. Be right back.”

  I watched him hurry through the door leading to his work area and smacked myself on the forehead. Had I just told him I’d crawl on my knees for his food? Geez, my motor mouth was in fine form today. If I could smack the back of my own head, I would. Right now.

  Seconds later, René returned, and in his hand was a chunk of something that had multicolored layers—perhaps chocolate and peanut butter? It was wrapped in plastic. He handed it over and said, “This is between you and me, okay? I’m taste testing it with a few friends, but since you seem to be such a fan, I want to get your opinion, too.”

  I took it reverently. “I’d be honored, thank you.” I placed the treat in my paper bag. “Okay, so I’m heading over to your new place to do some measurements and planning so I can let you know what the schedule will be regarding completion. Do you want me to stop by this evening or tomorrow to give you a rundown?”

  “Stop by my house tonight. I have some houseguests for a week or so, but they’re harmless. Maybe a little loud and boisterous, but they’ll leave us alone while we work.” He smiled slightly. “Well, I hope they will. Say, eight o’clock?”

  Harmless, boisterous houseguests? Okay…

  “Yeah, sure, that’ll be fine.” I backed away. “Thanks again, and you have a good day,” I said before running into the door behind me. I knew I was red all over by the time I actually got out of the shop and into my truck. God, René must think me the most incompetent buffoon, the way I acted around him. Not sexy at all.

  * * * *

  I had a good idea of what would be needed and the timeframe for the renovation when six-thirty rolled around. I’d finished the food I’d bought from René by one in the afternoon, and had left the mystery treat for last.

  As I drove back up the highway for home, I decided to try it out. When I took my first bite, I had to pull over to the side of the road before I caused an accident. My eyes closed of their own volition as I savored the flavors of raspberry, peanut butter, chocolate, and a hint of coconut melt on my tongue. I finished the treat in seconds flat. I licked my fingers. Mother of Pearl, that was delicious. I would be the first in line for these, when they came out. I remained in a state of bliss for a few minutes longer, then got back on the road.

  I stopped by the cabin I shared with Woody to clean up before my meeting with René. Would a suit be overkill? I mean, the man’s house was practically a palace compared to most of the other homes in town. It had two stories, and an upper and lower deck. And who were these fricking houseguests? I was overreacting, but I couldn’t help it. My man-crush had invited me to his home and I had nothing to wear. Who knew I was such a fussy diva?

  As I stood in front of my closet, a towel around my waist since I was fresh out of the shower, Woody walked into my bedroom. “Tell me you’re not still trying to decide on clothing?”

  He sat on the mattress as I tugged out yet another shirt and discarded it on the bed. “I’m being ridiculous, but he says he has people staying over, and they’re probably European and famous and I want to at least fit in a little.”

  “Why should it matter?” Woody asked.

  Because I always feel like I’m playing catch up. To everyone.

  “It just does, okay?” I finally decided on a wine-red turtleneck and newer-looking jeans. “Where’s Rafe, anyway?”

  “Had an AA meeting. He’ll be home later.” Last year, Rafe had finally owned up to being an alcoholic, and gay—the main reason he’d hidden behind the bottle for so long while screwing every woman he could find—after making a spectacular ass of himself in front of me and Woody. It had taken a while to get us back to where we were today. I’d like to think we were all the better for it.

  Five minutes later, I was dressed but I still had stuff strewn all over the bed. “I’ll put everything away,” Woody said as he grabbed a hanger. “You go deal with your obsession, but try to chill, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I replied and left the room.

  * * * *

  The drive to René’s house wasn’t long. It was further up into the hills than even Mom and Dad’s place, with a lot of land surrounding it. Expensive-looking cars were parked in the driveway, which meant my beat-up truck stood out like a beacon.

  Lights were on everywhere and I could hear music playing. It sounded like a party was in progress. I turned off the engine, grabbed my backpack, and went to the front door, which I belatedly realized was slightly ajar.

  I pitched my voice as loud as I could as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. “Hello?”

  A familiar head appeared around a corner. “You’re early,” René said in greeting as he came toward me with a smile. He looked scrumptious in snug jeans and a bronze-colored, long-sleeved silk shirt. “Glad you could make it.”

  With that, he led me upstairs. The music was louder on the upper floor, and I could hear laughter. I entered a room behind René that was filled with lots of men—all of them fucking hot—frolicking, dancing, eating, or flirting with each other. Before I could ask what we were doing here, René asked me to wait by the door.

 
I watched as he turned down the stereo and got everyone’s attention with a clap. “I have to work for a little while, gentlemen. Try to restrain yourselves for an hour or so, won’t you?”

  I heard a few groans, but no one seemed upset. In fact, I was cruised by a few of the guests. Since I knew I had nothing to offer, I shrugged it off and followed my host to a tiny office at the end of the landing.

  René gestured to one of the chairs at a small round table. He took the one next to mine, and I noticed he smelled of vanilla and nutmeg as I sat. Before I embarrassed myself by drooling, I retrieved some paperwork out of my backpack so we could get the ball rolling.

  * * * *

  “Bottom line, I can probably have the place ready in early spring. What do you think?”

  René was smiling. I saw that as a good sign. “This is amazing, Serge. Your ideas are excellent. If things work out as well as I think they will, you’ll be getting lots of referrals from me. Those knuckleheads down the hall? They’re all professionals in their own right—chefs, venture capitalists, lawyers, pilots. They either have a project of their own, or know someone who does. I’d be more than happy to send their business your way.”

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence. I hope I won’t disappoint you.” I gathered up the documents and stood. “I should get going.”

  René stood and walked to another, smaller desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope. “Here is the first check. You’ll get payments weekly, per our agreement.”

  “Thanks.” I took it and stashed the envelope in my backpack.

  We walked downstairs. René stopped briefly to tell the guys they could be rowdy again, then he followed me out the front door. He stood off to the side as I placed my backpack on the passenger seat and got into my truck.

  His hand on the open door, René asked, “You didn’t tell me what you thought of the dessert I gave you this morning.”

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. “Oh man, yeah. You hit the jackpot with that. I might be ordering huge quantities when you start offering it to the public.”

  René chuckled. “That good, huh?”

  I nodded, closed the door, and started the engine. “Well, I think so,” I said through the open window. “But I’m not an expert or anything.”

  “Hey, wait,” he said, hand back on the door. “Are you hungry? Do you want some dinner? I could whip something up.”

  Tempting, but I wasn’t up to dealing with the statues of David in that house. I couldn’t compete. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the shop to get my fix, as usual.” I hesitated, then said, “Hope you have fun with your friends. They seem like a nice bunch of guys.” And way out of my hemisphere.

  He watched me for a few seconds before replying, “They’re good people. Appearances mean nothing to them. I’ve known every one of them since college. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other. Some of them are even ex-boyfriends, and we still hang out. Weird, huh?”

  Way to make your sexuality clear, buddy. “Nah. It’s good to have people in your corner. ‘Bye.” I turned the truck around and headed down the driveway, briefly glancing at the rearview mirror to see René still standing where I’d left him.

  I told myself that the cold pizza leftovers in the fridge at the cabin were what I deserved. I had no business ingratiating myself with René. Nothing good could come from it. Better to admire from afar.

  * * * *

  January turned into February and I was making steady progress on the new bakery. René and I scheduled a walk-through for a late Saturday afternoon after his shop closed so he could see how things were going. It also happened to be Valentine’s Day, and Woody and Rafe had plans for a fancy restaurant up the coast, and a night at a bed and breakfast.

  By the time René showed up, I was tired from a day of hammering, painting, and installation. “Serge?” he called from the front.

  “Come on back and watch your step,” I replied and tried to wipe the worst of the dust from my face. I knew there was stuff in my hair, too. Definitely not going to impress anyone with my dress sense today.

  René appeared, and took one look at me before laughing. “Oh, man! And I thought I looked bad when I was covered in flour.”

  I glared at him. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

  He attempted to contain his mirth, but it took a minute. “Sorry, it’s just cute, is all.”

  “Whatever.” I walked to one of the huge sinks I’d put in and washed my hands. “Ready for the tour?”

  Finally calm, René said, “Sure.”

  We spent the next couple of hours going over every inch of the place. When we were done, René seemed satisfied with my progress. “This is excellent work, Serge. I’ll start working on a PR angle soon, because it looks like you’re on schedule. When will the outside be finished, do you think, so I can have photos done?”

  “Less than a month. The whole thing will be ready by April, but I will at least have the outside looking spiffy so you can start promo.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” He leaned against a bare wall and watched me sweep the floor. “You have any plans for Valentine’s Day? I heard your brother and Woody are doing fancy stuff up the coast.”

  Man, this town…“Yup.” I continued with my task, tummy making hungry sounds since I hadn’t eaten anything since about two that afternoon.

  “Some of my friends are in town again, spending Valentine’s Day together instead of by themselves elsewhere. Want to join us? There’ll be lots of food and I know you’re hungry. I can hear your stomach complaining all the way over here.”

  Since the time I’d been at René’s house, he was constantly inviting me over, and I just as steadfastly refused. I didn’t want to intrude, and I felt I had no place in his world except as someone doing a job he was paying me for. As much as I lusted after the man, I knew my place.

  So, reluctantly, I shook my head yet again and focused on the task at hand—getting the floor clean. “Thanks for the invitation, but I know that Woody left some stuff in the oven and I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings by not eating it.” Weak, as excuses went, but it was all I could think of at the moment.

  “You sure that’s the only reason?”

  I looked up and caught his stare. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but there was no way I would be sharing my thoughts on the matter. “What other reason would there be?” I replied, emptying the dustpan into a nearby garbage can.

  “I don’t know, but there is the fact that every time I’ve asked you over, you refuse. There must be a reason.”

  Oh dear. “It’s not like that.”

  René crossed his arms on his chest. “Then tell me what it’s like, because I’m about to be highly offended.”

  “Why is this such a big deal anyway? I’m doing a job for you, and I don’t want things to become…weird.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “You’re making things weird! I thought we were friends, or something like it. If nothing else, we bond over pastry. Can’t we be more than employer and employee?”

  I set the broom in a corner. “What good would that do? It would only make me want—” I needed to shut the hell up.

  “Want what?” René insisted, following me as I turned out the lights, then locked up the building after gathering my stuff.

  Shit. I should learn to zip my lips. I haphazardly stashed everything in the truck. It was in the fifties right now, which was mild, for February.

  I turned to face René, the security light in front of the premises shining above us. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t mean to offend you, okay? I really do have food at home and I’m tired after a long hard day. All I want is a shower and to relax in front of the TV while watching Jessica Jones.” Please believe me.

  René searched my face, then sighed. “Fine. But the next time I ask you over, you’d better say ‘yes.’”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I
guess that’s better than nothing.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you Monday for your hot chocolate?”

  I may never wash that cheek again. I mustered up a smile. “Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”

  * * * *

  March brought brisk winds, rain, and intermittent warmer temperatures as I finally finished the façade for the new bakery. It also meant that René could start his PR campaign for the new franchise.

  With St. Patrick’s Day looming, the town was in the throes of bar crawls, parades, and everything green. I started the day a little behind on said holiday, so when I opened the door to the bakery, it took me a second to realize that someone not René was behind the counter.

  “Hi?” I said, not sure what was going on.

  “Hey, you must be Serge,” the stranger said before preparing my hot chocolate just the way I liked it.

  “Where’s René?” I asked after nodding my thanks for the cocoa. René must have told him my preferences.

  “He has the flu and called me to man the shop for a few days. Name’s Bryce, by the way.” He gave me a friendly smile, which I returned.

  “Nice to meet you, Bryce.” I studied him. “You look familiar. Were you at René’s house that one time I came over?”

  “Yeah. I remember you and that wine-red turtleneck. Totally hot, by the way, though I knew I didn’t stand a chance since you were blind to everyone but René.” He winked at me.

  “I—” I hadn’t been that obvious, had I?

  “Not to worry, I’m not poaching on his turf. But I’m sure he’d love a visit from you. He’s real grouchy when he’s sick, and none of us can get him to smile or sit still. Maybe you can.”

  What turf? “I’ll stop in on my way home from work this evening. I’m sure he appreciates your help.” René was really lucky to have such dedicated friends. “You a pastry chef, or something?”

  Bryce nodded. “Yup. René’s trying to convince me to work in that new place you’re fixing up for him. I haven’t decided yet.”

  Wow. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then? If you’re staying with him right now?”