The Delicious Series: The First Volume

by Stella Starling

  “Stairs? That seals it. We’re skipping your place. I’m sure I can drum up an extra toothbrush and whatever else you need.”

  “I feel like I should be arguing, but honestly, Ben, thank you. I’m so tired right now that I can’t…” Gavin’s voice got tight, and his breathing sped up, getting shallower. “I’m going to need to figure out—”

  Ben slipped a hand around the back of Gavin’s neck, kneading gently. The man was obviously prone to worrying, and Ben had already learned to recognize the signs as Gavin started to wind himself up into a ball of stress.

  “You don’t need to figure it out right now, Gav,” Ben said, happy to see some of the tension ease out of Gavin’s shoulders as he rubbed his neck. “We’ll be home in ten minutes. Everything at the bakery is handled for tomorrow. Just relax. Let the painkillers do their magic, and we’ll sort the rest out after you’ve had some sleep.”

  Gavin looked over at him, then rolled his eyes as a faint blush colored his cheeks. “Right. About that. I should probably apologize for being so forward while under the influence. And—God, since I just took more of those damn pills—maybe beg forgiveness in case it happens again.”

  Ben couldn’t resist teasing him. “You’re going to try to get away with slapping my ass again, aren’t you?”

  Gavin laughed, shaking his head as his blush deepened.

  He looked out the window, avoiding Ben’s eyes.

  But he didn’t actually deny it.

  The morning air was still cool as Ben rounded the corner at the end of the block, and he slowed to a walk as he came in sight of his house. It was tempting to push until the end, but he’d been running for too many years to deny that a little cool-down time was important.

  “Good morning!” his neighbor, Rob, called out from across the street. “Thanks for the reminder about the new recycling schedule, Ben.” Rob paused in the act of opening his car door to nod at the blue recycling bin waiting by the curb.

  “No problem,” Ben replied as he approached his own driveway. “Focus on the four,” he added with a wink, quoting the City of Tulsa’s latest recycling motto. He waved to Rob as the other man drove away, then plucked his phone out of the armband he wore while running when it vibrated for his attention.

  Found Ernie. McD’s finest delivered as promised.

  Ben smiled, pausing outside his door to appreciate the pre-sunrise colors as the morning sky lightened before tapping out a quick reply.

  Thanks, Brat.

  Ben hadn’t wanted to drive all the way over to his usual running trail around Woodward Park that morning, worried about being too far away if Gavin had woken up and needed something. Luckily, it had turned out to be a day that his sister was able to make it out for a run. She’d grumbled about him skipping out on her, but had readily agreed to take care of breakfast for the homeless vet when Ben asked.

  Ben lined up his running shoes on the rack inside the coat closet, then made his way down the hall to check in on Gavin. Ben’s lip quirked up as he peeked in at him. Still sleeping. The night before, Gavin had fallen asleep on his back, lightly snoring before his head even hit the pillow. When Ben had left for his run that morning, Gav had been on his side, curled tightly around a pillow with the blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon. Now he was sprawled out on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed. The man was obviously a restless sleeper; not even his clunky cast had managed to keep him in one position. Probably the kind who would steal all the covers in bed, too.

  Not that that was any of Ben’s business, of course.

  His eyes skimmed over Gavin’s muscular back and lighted on the alarm clock on the nightstand. Six-fifteen. Ben was running a little behind. He stripped off his running clothes as he headed upstairs toward his bedroom, already going through the day’s schedule in his mind. He’d have to double-check a couple of items when he logged onto his calendar later to be sure, but he was pretty sure he could get away with making it a half day. He should be able to spend the afternoon with Gavin. He really didn’t want him to have to face handling the logistics of life with a broken foot on his own.

  He flipped the water on and stepped under the shower head, not bothering to wait for it to warm up. He needed to be quick so he could get into the bank early. He also needed to be quick to avoid thinking inappropriate thoughts about Gavin. Even if he could excuse it happening occasionally—images his brain had latched onto for some reason, harmless fantasizing in the heat of the moment—it felt different with the man in question sleeping downstairs.

  The night before, between Gavin’s exhaustion and the effects of his painkillers, he’d needed help working his jeans off over the bulky cast. He’d flopped back on the bed, shirtless and laughing, and left it to Ben to get his pants off. Which had been… interesting.

  “I know I should be embarrassed about this,” Gavin had said, propping himself up on his elbows and flashing his dimples at Ben as he nodded toward the raging hard-on tenting his boxers. “But I’m sorry, I’m too tired to bother. Can I just save the embarrassment for tomorrow?”

  Even if it was drug-induced, Ben rather liked Gavin’s lack of embarrassment. The man was comfortable in his own skin, and as far as Ben could tell, he tended to say what he meant, and mean what he said. It was refreshing. And he’d take the fact that Gavin was obviously attracted to him as a compliment.

  Unless Gavin’s flirtatiousness was just drug-induced.

  Gavin’s friendliness had never included any sign of personal interest, and the night before, he hadn’t tried to do anything about his arousal. Which was good, of course. Ben wasn’t sure how he would’ve been expected to react if Gavin had. It was one thing to imagine touching the other man in the privacy of his own thoughts, but if Gavin had done more than just laugh about it… if he’d reached for Ben, invited him to join him in bed, insisted that he continue undressing him once Ben had finally managed to get his pants off—

  Ben chuffed out a breath, forcing that line of thinking away. It was exactly the direction he’d decided not to let his mind go in, he reminded himself firmly.

  He finished showering quickly, pointedly keeping his thoughts off his houseguest, then dressed and headed downstairs to figure out breakfast. Or more accurately, to choose between the two options he rotated through for his typical morning meal: oatmeal, or a protein shake. Boring, or even more boring. But healthy. Except, he realized, this morning he really only had one option. The sound of the blender was sure to wake Gavin if he went the shake route, so oatmeal it was.

  “Oh my God,” Gavin’s sleep-scratchy voice sounded from behind him. “Your kitchen is gorgeous.”

  Ben grabbed a second bowl out of the cupboard, unaccountably pleased to find that Gavin was an early riser, too, and then stifled a laugh when he turned and saw the expression on the other man’s face. Gavin’s attention was riveted to Ben’s oven, his expression pure lust.

  “You have a double oven,” he said, hobbling toward it awkwardly with his crutches. “KitchenAid. I love convection ovens.”

  “I hate to disappoint you,” Ben said. “But it came with the house. I can probably count the times I’ve used it on one hand.”

  Gavin shot him a look of pure disappointment, tsking quietly, and Ben’s smile widened. Gavin was adorable.

  He was also still in pain.

  Gavin was still in his boxers, and he’d thrown the old Fleet Feet Half Marathon t-shirt Ben had left in the bedroom for him on. Despite his obvious pleasure at the sight of Ben’s kitchen appliances, though, his mouth was pinched at the corners and there was a faint, vertical line was etched between his brows. Ben crossed the room in a couple of strides, taking him by the arm.

  “Have a seat,” he said, guiding him over to the tall stools at the kitchen-island counter. “Let me get your pain pills.”

  Gavin laughed, the hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks as he shook his head. “I’d better stick to Tylenol. I can’t believe I slept this late, but I’m definitely going to need a clea
r head today. I have to get my car. I just talked to Lucy, and she’s got the morning baking handled—thank you for helping me set that up, by the way—but I need to get into the bakery as soon as possible.”

  Ben frowned, shaking his head before Gavin finished speaking. “I know you were out of it last night, but we talked about this, Gavin. Everything’s taken care of for today.”

  Gavin’s hands tightened around the glass of water Ben had set in front of him after he was seated. “I can’t just not be there,” he said. “Delicious is my life, Ben. And besides, I need to get home and—”

  “Gavin.” Ben tried not to smile at the already-familiar signs of impending panic. Not that it was funny, of course. But it was kind of cute. “Stop,” he said. “You can’t get up three flights of stairs with those crutches.”

  “I can,” Gavin said stubbornly. “I’ll manage it. I have to.”

  Cute or not, Gavin’s anxiety weighed on Ben’s conscience. This was his fault, and there was no way he was going to let him feel like he had to go through it alone.

  “Listen,” he said, squeezing Gavin’s shoulder. “Here’s the plan. First, I’m going to feed you an incredibly bland breakfast and find some equally bland painkillers for you, and then you need to rest. If you don’t mind giving me your keys, I’ll take care of collecting your car when I go in to the office. I’m going to take a half day, and when I get home, we’ll figure the rest out, okay? Together.”

  Gavin blinked at him.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything.

  Then he opened it again. “Why?”

  Ben shrugged, not wanting to admit how guilty he felt. Besides, he suspected Gavin would just try to dismiss that line of reasoning. The shrug didn’t seem to cut it, though, since Gavin was still giving him a questioning look.

  “That’s what friends are for,” he finally said.

  “We’re not friends.”

  Ben frowned, not liking the sound of that. Even if, technically, it could be argued that it was true.

  Gavin had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I mean, you’re my banker,” he added. “And this is really going above and beyond ‘hometown service.’”

  “Maybe I can be more than just your banker,” Ben said.

  Gavin’s eyes widened for a second, making Ben realized how that might have sounded.

  “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” Gavin said, cutting him off with a laugh. “And if you’re sure you want it after putting up with me last night, then you’ve certainly earned the title. Friends it is.”

  “Right,” Ben said, still feeling mildly dissatisfied with the conversation. Not that anything was wrong with friends. There was a lot he liked about Gavin. He wanted to be his friend, so it really shouldn’t annoy him to hear Gavin agree to it. “I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

  “Thanks… babe,” Gavin called after him as Ben hustled down the hall toward the medicine cabinet.

  Ben grinned, his annoyance vanishing.

  Friends or not, he really couldn’t let Gavin get away with calling him that.

  7

  Gavin

  Brandon, the high-school senior who covered the front counter at Delicious in the afternoons, looked up with a smile at the sound of the little bell that announced Gavin and Ben’s arrival before turning his attention back to the customer in front of him. Gavin paused in the doorway to glance around the bustling shop, then let out a little sigh of relief.

  His bakery was still there.

  Gavin had started his working day at 4 a.m. every day, like clockwork, since opening Delicious a year and a half ago. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual day off, because, so far, it hadn’t happened. Being away from the bakery all morning had made him antsy, and even though he’d known it was irrational, he hadn’t been able to shake the fear that the whole thing would have burned down or blown up or otherwise fallen apart in his absence.

  But apparently that hadn’t happened.

  The front of the shop was filled with customers, and Brandon was joking with them in his usual laid-back way as he competently rang up their orders. When Gavin awkwardly clumped around to the back, he saw Danny’s head bobbing, earbuds firmly in place, as he decorated a counter-full of cookies shaped like rocket ships and planets. Lucy was there, too, the bakery’s phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. She was efficiently packaging online orders and, from the sound of it, negotiating a better shipping rate with one of their suppliers at the same time. She smiled at him in greeting without breaking her stride, and Danny whipped around to see who she was looking at.

  “Oh, honey,” he said compassionately, popping his earbuds out. His eyes flicked between Gavin’s cast and his crutches with a look of sympathy, then his gaze moved past Gavin, landing on Ben. Oh, Lord. His sympathetic expression was replaced by something more devilish. “And hello,” Danny said, eyeing Ben up and down with blatant approval. “You must be Gavin’s knight in shining armor?”

  “Danny,” Gavin said, shaking his head.

  “What? You’d rather have me call him your ‘hot banker’?”

  “Oh my God,” Gavin muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up as he twisted to look behind him in the vain hope that Ben was not, in fact, still standing right there.

  He was.

  “I’m Ben,” Ben said, putting a hand on the small of Gavin’s back as he stepped around him to shake Danny’s.

  “I… see,” Danny said, eyeballing the casual touch with a complete lack of subtlety and an overabundance of glee.

  Ben didn’t seem to notice. The man was either oblivious, or… or nothing. He was oblivious.

  Danny grinned. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Ben.”

  “I need to grab a few things from my office,” Gavin said, hoping to cut off whatever additional commentary his friend had brewing.

  “No!” Danny said, his attention instantly diverted. He moved to block the prep counter, making a shooing motion with his hands. “Gav, you know I love you, but please don’t come near my cookies. Those crutches are just too awkward, honey, and we’ve got too much going on back here. Out.”

  “Danny, I need—”

  “To stay out of the way. I know you’re the boss, but seriously, Gav. Tell me what you need and I’ll grab it. Go wait at one of the bistro tables with your… um, Ben.”

  Gavin frowned. “Are you sure everything’s under control? You guys haven’t called me all day.”

  Danny rolled his eyes. “Luce?” he called over his shoulder.

  Lucy was still on the phone, but she gave Gavin a thumbs-up, then mimicked Danny’s earlier shooing motion.

  “Maybe I should just check—”

  “Nuh-uh. Go, Gav,” Danny said insistently. “I’ll collect whatever boring paperwork you can’t live without, but then I really do need you to get out of our way. We just got a huge surge of new orders from the new referral program you set up, and that means I’ve got to hurry through the fun bits so I can help Luce get them ready.”

  “Did they come in through the website? Is the order tracking software applying the referral credit for the new customers? Because—”

  “Yes and yes. Your systems are foolproof, honey. Stop worrying and go sit down,” Danny said, a hint of steel under the laughter in his voice.

  Gavin hesitated, but finally gave in. Danny was right. The prep area was crowded at the best of times.

  “It really does look like they’ve got it under control,” Ben said reassuringly, following him to the front of the store. “I knew you had a well-run business on paper, but this place is impressive. I can see why my future sister-in-law wants you to do her wedding cake.”

  Gavin’s laugh came out more like a groan as he lowered himself into one of the ornate, metal chairs that Danny had helped him pick out for the front of the shop. God, he’d been on crutches for less than a day and he was already getting sick of them.

  “Not you, too,” he said, responding to Ben’s
comment.

  “What?” Ben asked, reaching for the crutches and leaning them against the wall next to the little round table as Gavin stretched out his leg with a sigh.

  “Danny is on a one-man crusade to get me to start doing wedding cakes, but honestly, I don’t have time to set up a marketing plan, much less play with recipes.”

  “You have the time now,” Ben said with that sexy little half-smile that Gavin really needed to train himself not to notice.

  He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that Ben had rearranged his whole schedule just to help him out. He wasn’t used to being dependent on anyone, but Ben’s good humor and easygoing nature were disarming, almost making Gavin forget that he was inconveniencing him.

  “Are wedding cakes something you want to do?” Ben prompted, making Gavin realize he’d gotten lost in his own thoughts.

  “I… ”

  Saying no to the subject had become a habit, but something about the way Ben was looking at him—patiently waiting for an answer as if he had nowhere he’d rather be, nothing else he’d rather be doing—made Gavin swallow back his knee-jerk response and actually think about it. Cakes were one of the things he used to enjoy baking the most, before he’d opened Delicious. And while he may not have looked at the world through the same romantically rose-colored glasses that his best friend did, he did sort of love the idea of creating something that became a part of other people’s happily-ever-afters. Still, it would require a lot of extra work to make it happen in a way that was commercially successful.

  “Maybe…?” he finally said, his uncertainty making the answer come out more like a question. “I guess I could at least look into it, since I’m going to have some downtime.”

  Ben laughed, reaching across to squeeze his hand. Gavin bit back a smile at the already-familiar gesture. The man did like to squeeze him.