The Accidental Baker

by Clare London

  And how the hell did a sympathetic look make Henry talk when that was the last thing he wanted to do?

  “I’m tired,” he said. Well, blurted it out, more like.

  “Yes?”

  “Tired of the playacting. Trying always to be bright and sparky and generally arch. You’re right. I’m bloody unhappy.” He saw when people laughed at his jokes, his witty asides. But he also saw when they paled, or frowned, or flushed with embarrassment, yet were too polite to call him on it. “But I don’t know what else to do. How else to be.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s a matter of attitude.”

  “Like a glass half-full rather than half-empty? Dammit, I can’t!”

  “Fake it, then,” Abi said firmly. “Until you make it.”

  “I… don’t know how.” It was true. Henry had been queen of the bar for way too long. His sharp tongue was infamous. Even his best friends said so. Though there were less of those nowadays.

  “We’ll work on it,” Abi said. He patted the floor and—hold the front page for a globally astonishing headline!—Henry slid off the cupboard to sit beside him. The tiles were cold on his legs and arse, but at least he knew they were clean. He’d stood over Stuart as he scrubbed them earlier.

  And there, beside Abi, balanced on top of Henry’s discarded trousers, was the lump of chocolate and foil that had come off his jacket.

  Donnie’s disaster, he’d called it.

  Chocolate.

  Henry reached out a hand and, goddammit, stroked it.

  Abi chuckled. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s still in its wrapper. It’d be okay to eat, wouldn’t it?”

  Abi just smiled. He ran a hand down Henry’s cheek and sighed happily.

  Henry thought he blushed. There was no other explanation for the warmth on his skin. He picked at an edge of the foil, opening it an inch. “Abi, I’m starving.”

  “You’ve been on another of those fad diets, haven’t you?”

  “I have to keep fit.”

  “You already are. In every way that matters.”

  Henry was allowing this: this banal sap that somehow sounded genuine when Abi said it, in Abi’s honest, no-nonsense, smiling, sexy tone. And Henry was actually liking it. So was his cock, he realised, shortly before Abi’s hand ran up the inside of his bare leg and teased at the seam of his boxers.

  “No,” he said, almost coyly. “Not here. Not now.” Not the first time with a new, very unusual, very special man.

  “No,” Abi agreed. “But tonight, when we close up the bar, I’d like to take you home. And in the meantime…” He snapped off two pieces of the chocolate shape—could it really have once been a Stormtrooper?—popped one in his mouth and then the other in Henry’s.

  It was like a slice of paradise on the tongue.

  “He was a tosser, you know,” Henry heard himself saying. His voice sounded higher, softer than usual, bouncing off the tiled walls with a gentle echo. “My first real boyfriend. He thought he was better than me because he had money, because he could speak well. I got into fights at school because I was gay, because I hated being poor, because… well, because. And then, when I wanted to move to London, to re-invent myself, make something of my life—the tosser dumped me. Said I’d always be a council estate boy, always be trash.”

  Abi didn’t say anything, just squeezed Henry’s knee. Henry had never liked his knees, thought they were an odd, asymmetric shape. He didn’t give a shit about that now.

  “It broke my heart and I vowed, never again. Love ’em and leave ’em. Snap before you’re snapped. No vulnerability, no weak words of love, no commitment. Look after number one at all times.”

  Abi nodded. Picked up more chocolate and slid it with a smile and shameless seduction through Henry’s lips.

  “This is magnificent,” Henry said with some awe. “I didn’t know Donnie had it in him to create something like this.”

  “He’d be pleased to hear that, I think.”

  “Yes,” Henry said, with none of the usual clench in his gut at the thought of being pathetically loving to his best friend. “I’ll tell him.”

  “I love your voice,” Abi sighed.

  “I love your smile,” Henry said rashly.

  “Try it for yourself.”

  And Henry did. His cheeks felt odd, stretched like that. But he felt good, too, when Abi’s eyes widened in appreciation.

  And especially when Abi’s smile met his in another kiss.

  “You’re the sexiest damn beast I’ve seen this year,” Henry said, possibly too loudly. He thought he could hear muttering outside in the corridor. “Maybe for several years. And I want to impress you, so much, that I’m scared even to try.”

  Abi’s next kiss was deep, mischievous, and chocolate-flavoured. “I think you’re sexy too. You don’t need to try with me, Henry. Just be.”

  Henry sighed. “This soul-searching stuff is… draining.”

  “That’s not physical tiredness. It’s emotional weariness. You just needed a change. A new approach.”

  Henry actually just wanted to sit here on the toilet floor and rest his head on Abi’s shoulder, but he supposed that wasn’t on the cards for today..

  “Henry? I think I can hear Debbie and Stuart out there.”

  Henry clambered reluctantly to his feet. “I’ll give them the rest of the day off. You and I can work the bar tonight.” Then, worried he was assuming too much, he glanced at Abi.

  Abi nodded and grinned. “I’d like that.” His pupils had dilated again.

  “We can create an Easter cocktail together. Something sweet and fizzy and just fun! And tomorrow, I’ll call up Donnie and apologise for being such a diva dickhead. I may even offer to help him learn to cook.”

  “And if he has any of those delicious—”

  “—if battered—”

  “—chocolates left?” Abi said, kissing Henry’s cheek. “Tell him we’ll take the lot.”

  They could hear the scrape of a key in the bathroom lock. With Abi so close that Henry could still feel the heat of his hands and mouth, he strode to the door.

  “Henry? You know you’re still without your—”

  “I know!” cried Henry, throwing open the door in his underwear to face a startled Debbie and Stuart, and a dozen other patrons of the bar who’d obviously followed them, eager to see the inevitable scene when they released the monster from his cage.

  “Like I care about things like that anymore!”

  CHAPTER FIVE : DONNIE

  Donnie found the vet’s waiting room surprisingly comfortable. When he was still living with his family and all their pets, their local vet’s practice had been a chill, clinical-looking place with uncomfortable chairs and nothing to read except accusatory “How you should be looking after your pet!” leaflets. But Will’s place was painted in warm colours, with comfy seats and interesting charts on the wall, and a pile of paperback books on a high shelf with a notice that owners could borrow them if they got engrossed while waiting for their pet’s treatment to finish.

  He was sitting in the waiting room because Will had insisted Donnie didn’t drive anywhere while he was still shaken up.

  That was Will Cartwright, the kind vet who’d helped Donnie collect up his food bags, cleaned and put ointment on his scraped palms, and who’d made him so many cups of too-sweet tea that Donnie had finally, politely, refused any more. Will, whose glasses fell off his nose every time he turned his head too quickly, because apparently a parrot at his old practice had grabbed and twisted the arm of them, and he didn’t have a spare set yet. Will, that was, not the parrot. Will, who had just taken over from Dr Eleanor and was only doing half days for a week, because he had so many things to sort out at his new flat: there was a leak in the bathroom, the wrong size bed had been delivered, and the door of his second-hand cooker had just fallen off.

  Donnie had found the tales delightful. It all sounded familiar to him: his own disasters didn’t always stop at his baking.

  And
Will, the man? He was the kind of silver fox Donnie had always admired, with mature good looks but an ageless, infectious smile. He moved around his surgery with a quiet, professional confidence, even while he was also fussing over Donnie. Even when he had to stoop every now and then to pick up his glasses from the floor.

  Donnie was finding the sight of Will delightful too.

  It was a relief that Donnie’s phone hadn’t been broken in his fall. He’d called his friend Maisie to explain he’d be late for the Easter Egg Hunt event, but as soon as he explained what had happened, she came around to the surgery. She and Will—it was looking suspiciously like a conspiracy—insisted that he should stay there, or at the very least go home and rest.

  “The community centre will be full of a hundred screaming little tykes today,” Maisie said, surprisingly gleeful. “And I’m including my best friend’s twins in that description. It’s the last thing you need, Donnie.”

  “Rubbish. It’s just a few children, and you need pairs of hands—”

  “You’ve done extra hours this month already, honey. You painted that giant basket we’re using as a backdrop. And helped the church print their Stations of the Cross leaflet for weekend services. What with all the food you’ve also contributed…”

  “Sounds like you’ve done a lot already,” Will said. He looked embarrassingly impressed.Embarrassing for Donnie, that was.

  Maisie had gathered up Donnie’s food bags, waving away his worry that all the chocolate eggs were broken. “Children and chocolate, how do you think that’ll go? A match made in heaven, whatever the shape!”

  She also looked really happy with the scones—“a community centre favourite!”—and had even crunched her way through a couple of the giant sweet potato crisps as a late breakfast. Honestly, looking at them again in the bright light of Will’s surgery, Donnie reckoned she could have used one as a dinner plate. But she seemed genuinely to like the taste.

  The surgery was opening just as she left, lifting the bags high above a couple of wire-haired daschunds entering with their owner for the first appointment. Will dashed over to open the door for her, then reached in the tray and lifted a couple of the eggs.

  “May I?” he asked with a blush. “To keep for later.”

  Maisie had just looked at Donnie and winked.

  Good grief.

  And after that? The day had turned… unusual, to say the least.

  The first problem was, the new receptionist didn’t turn up. Donnie sat awkwardly in the corner of the waiting room, as another two owners turned up, one with a cat who was coughing loudly, and another with a limping dog. Will stuck his head out of his surgery door to greet them and apologise for the wait, but he looked frazzled. His gaze drifted over to Donnie, and Donnie half rose from his chair, ready to leave Will to his work. But Wills’ frazzlement turned into one of his charming smiles, apparently just for Donnie. In fact, he seemed to have difficulty tearing his attention away, back to the patients.

  Well. If he was here, and free for the day, Donnie thought the least he could do was to help Will out.

  He hopped behind the reception desk and woke the computer. It was already set on the appointments diary page. And if there was one thing he did do well, it was to use a data programme. The system at the packaging company where he worked had the most convoluted input parameters he’d ever come across. But he’d been the first to master it so quickly, and now most of the staff came to him with problems before calling out Tech Support. In fact, Donnie was thinking of preparing a training module for new recruits. The company was woefully short of resources, and he reckoned—without boasting—he was pretty good at communicating. He could take the presentation around to the other branches in the country, get everyone up to the same speed. He could…

  …pay attention to the young cat coughing vomit in the corner over her very embarrassed owner.

  Over the next few hours, Donnie found his way around the files, taking notes when he couldn’t, managed to find time to make tea for him and Will a couple of times, and answered the phone with the officious tone he’d heard Henry use so often with suppliers, staff, and—unfortunately so—Donnie himself. But Donnie’s version was way more friendly.

  He laughed with the cheerful owners, sympathised with those in confusion or distress, and kept small children amused with origami models, even if they looked less like a swan and more like a half-eaten sandwich.

  When six o’clock came around, he was still there. Wasn’t sure how it had happened, or whether Will would be annoyed at him getting in the way, but he felt he’d achieved a lot. The last appointment had been at five—another parrot that Will had eyed warily, and allowed Donnie to show to a seat out of glasses-grabbing range—and Will had been clearing up the surgery since then. Donnie had pottered around, collating his notes in alphabetical order, washing up the mugs in the small kitchen out back, strangely reluctant to leave. He’d even got rid of the cat vomit stain on the chair in the corner. He had a friend from his boxing class, Abi, who knew about all kinds of remedy: he’d ask him next week what to use to ease the faintly lingering smell.

  Finally, Will emerged from his office with his white coat over his arm and tiredness in his eyes. But he smiled brilliantly when he saw Donnie. “Oh, I’m so glad… I thought you might have left already.” He dropped into the seat beside Donnie. Their thighs touched all the way to the knee.

  “I wanted to catch up with you first.” Donnie cleared his throat: Will’s smile was distracting. “There’s a message from the parrot owner. He has another four with the same symptoms and he’s worried they’ve got psittacosis. Can he bring them in for you to take a look?”

  “I’ll deal with it.” Will winced. “I’ll get a spare pair of glasses as soon as I find where the local optician’s is.”

  “I know one,” Donnie said. “It’s by the library—”

  Will was shaking his head. “I can’t take directions now, to be honest I can barely remember where my new flat is. Perhaps…? No. Sorry.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “Perhaps you’d show me where it is, some time next week. But of course, you have your own work.”

  “No, I’d be happy to,” Donnie said quickly. Heavens, he could take a day off, he had loads of holiday left. He could take several, actually, and help Will reorganise that appointments system. It wasn’t the right time to say but, God, it was in an appalling mess! And the owners had been fun to deal with. Donnie hadn’t felt as useful, and as appreciated, for ages.

  And Will, the man…? Donnie could take even more days and just be with Will. He realised how much he wanted more of that.

  Will smiled, though wearily. “You were so useful today. I couldn’t have handled it all myself.”

  Donnie looked at Will’s free hand, which Will had rested in his lap. Will looked like he needed a squeeze, though Donnie didn’t quite dare. “I enjoyed it.”

  “That appointments system.” Will sighed and shook his head. “It’s the same one I had at my last practice. It’s like a half-obscured map through the mines of Moria. In dwarf language.”

  Donnie snorted. “I can cope with that.”

  “Yes,” Will said softly. He turned to look at Donnie, his eyes suddenly wide. “I see how well you can.”

  There was a silence that was sort of uncomfortable, sort of not.

  “It wasn’t just the computer,” Will said. “You were great with the owners. And the pets! Have you worked at a vet’s before?”

  Donnie smiled. “No, but I have a lot of siblings, and they’ve had a lot of pets. I mean, I don’t know about special breeds or unusual ones like that python the chemist’s wife brought in—”

  “Or that bloody parrot, my nemesis breed.” Will rolled his eyes and they both chuckled. “But it was more than that. You seem to know about daily ailments, and what certain pets shouldn’t eat, and how they should be held. All the important things. You also have the common sense to ask the right questions when someone’s crying t
hat their hamster won’t come out of its nest, or their rabbit won’t eat.”

  All the important things. Donnie hadn’t ever been accused of knowing that. Or credited with it, either. “I had no idea the animal life in this part of town was so exotic. But I’m not special. I just collect information, that’s all. And I like to talk to people. Unfortunately, I make mistakes all the time—”

  Oh! Will had taken his hand, quite impulsively. He was peering at Donnie very earnestly.

  “Donnie, I didn’t see any of that today. Who said you’re like that? And you are special. I’d say very special, even though I only met you today. You’ve been a tower of strength. I’d employ you tomorrow if you were free.”

  “You would?” That was a shock. Donnie had been at the packaging firm for years, and never looked for a new job, because he knew he didn’t interview well, and you couldn’t make too much of a mess with printing supplies and some cardboard boxes.

  Who’d have thought…? With Will? Every day?

  “Anyway, thanks for staying on. Let’s have some of this to celebrate another week survived,” came Will’s voice, breaking into Donnie’s surprised thoughts. “You deserve to taste some of your own creations.”

  He held out one of the chocolate eggs. Though this one was definitely a bunny. Wasn’t it? Whatever it was, after Will snapped a piece off for himself, Donnie took some too, and popped it in his mouth.

  “Wow.” Will was chewing. He had an odd expression, his eyes half closed, and his glasses off balance again. “You are one talented cook. This is marvellous.”

  Donnie was all ready to dismiss the praise, but, actually? It was marvellous, though he said so himself. He swallowed, savouring the sweetness. Reached for another piece, and one for Will, and let his hand rest back on Will’s. He wondered what the hell he’d done different with the recipe this time: the last chocolate he’d baked had tasted like his dad’s old slippers.

  “I’m glad I met you today,” Will said, his words a little shaky. “It hasn’t been easy moving here. I don’t know anyone, I had to shift all my gear at short notice. And although I try to be professional always with my clients, I’m not very organised myself. I suspect you’ve already got that impression.”