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

by Clare London

  Will… the violin strains teased inside his head.

  “Oh, for god’s sake, let it go!” he yelped aloud, startling a woman with a buggy as she passed on the pavement.

  But the kid in the chair giggled and started humming the song, making Donnie grin back.

  He hoped it was a good omen.

  Because maybe things were starting to come together for him at last.

  CHAPTER 6

  Unfortunately, Maisie’s teasing nagged at him for most of the day. Donnie was always cheerful. Donnie would bounce back from anything. Donnie didn’t mind providing whatever anyone required, going wherever anyone needed him, didn’t mind being teased about his kitchen disasters, wasn’t expected to land a rich, handsome, attentive, eager boyfriend…

  Okay, so she hadn’t exactly said that. But maybe that was how people saw him. Good for free baking, for extra biscuits, for free babysitting, for lifting furniture, putting up shelves, for providing a shoulder to cry on, for thinking of other’s needs first. He’d done it all in the past, without complaint.

  Oh, things annoyed him, of course they did. But he’d learned early on in life, as middle child in a family of eight half-and-whole siblings, that he didn’t achieve anything by making a fuss. Better he just kept quiet and got on with things. Over the years, he’d become the man they all came to for help, comfort, and support. Donnie was the giver of the family—and now his community—and he was happy to help. Usually.

  But maybe it was time to help himself?

  “I can’t do overtime tonight,” he said to his boss. “Sorry,” he added, though there was no need. He often covered staff when they were off work, for whatever reason. Donnie himself was rarely ill, and usually had to be bullied into taking his holiday. He was always the reliable stand-in. In fact, he’d done a massive amount of extra hours over the last month, while his boss swanned about the Caribbean on a friend’s yacht.

  But tonight… tonight he had that date with Will, didn’t he?

  Maisie was right to think it was significant, that they’d seen each other every day since they met. Donnie was secretly, mutely, deep in his deepest thoughts, really keen on Will. Will: handsome and mature and inevitably wise, with eyes that sparked interest and delight when he smiled. Will, who smiled a lot at Donnie. Who didn’t only smile, but wanted to touch, and kiss…

  Oh.

  They’d kissed a lot since that first date. Will’s car and Donnie’s battered old sofa had seen some action, including both of them getting half naked. By now, Donnie was pretty keen on going further. And tonight? Just might be the night.

  So…

  “Not tonight,” he repeated now, facing down his boss’ grim stare. “I can’t do extra hours.”

  When they’d talked about Donnie’s job, Will had told Donnie he was entitled to a life of his own, to a proper work/home balance, to make his needs known, firmly and clearly. Donnie agreed, though secretly thought it was pretty easy to do that when it was only him and Will.

  Now his boss’ expression grew sly. “Just an hour, Donnie,” he wheedled. “I have to leave early for my boy’s parents evening at the school. You know how important it is to be there for your kids.”

  Not personally, Donnie thought, with a flash of spirit. Maybe he’d like kids one day, but if he did have a child, he’d be sure to make time for their needs too. His boss had never made much of an effort as far as Donnie knew. He’d heard the man complain about boring and unnecessary school events far too often. What’s more, “just an hour” would stretch into the late evening hours, Donnie knew. It always did.

  And compared to an evening with Will? That was what Donnie wanted; that was his real need. Since meeting Will his optimism was riding high, his tolerance of human nature had blossomed even further.

  But not to the extent of missing a date with Will.

  “No,” he said, clearly and firmly. “And that’s an end to it!”

  “I’m proud of you,” Will said later, as they sat on a bench in the park, watching the end of a casual but enthusiastic football match with the under-21 team from the community centre. Donnie had met Will at the surgery, they’d locked up together, and decided to take a walk before supper because the weather was so mild. “I know I haven’t known you for very long, and who am I to give an opinion, when I often work long hours too? But it’s obvious they take advantage of your good nature.”

  What a tactful way of describing slave labour, Donnie thought wryly.

  “I’m flattered, too.” Will had that lopsided, nervous smile on his face whenever he talked about their budding relationship. “Flattered it was our date that inspired you to take a stand.”

  “So, we are dating?”

  Will looked momentarily horrified. “God! I mean, yes… I mean, I… you don’t think…?”

  “I’m teasing you,” Donnie said, though he was gratified Will had been so shocked at the thought they weren’t. “I’m not sure when things go from having a drink and a snog to a proper dating, boyfriend thing. I really hoped we were.”

  “I think we’ve definitely gone there by now,” Will said with mischief in his voice. “The clue is I have a spare toothbrush in my pocket I could leave at your place. I mean, if that’s ok?”

  He looked suddenly nervous again, which made Donnie laugh. “Of course it is.” Even Donnie’s flat could find space for an extra toothbrush. In fact, if Will was willing to stay over, maybe Donnie could empty a drawer for him to leave a few other supplies. A washbag, a phone charger, some underwear…

  Will cleared his throat. “And I can’t help recalling on Wednesday night, falling asleep on your couch after watching the football highlights—”

  “Watching? I seem to remember—”

  “Sucking each other off?” Will chuckled, his cheeks red. “Yes, there was that too.”

  Oh. Fuck. Donnie went hot then cold all over and his jeans got tight around the crotch. It was like a Pavlovian response. He liked the way Will was nervous at first but could get really filthy when he let loose.

  “So, having established all that, we can… um... share personal problems?” he said tentatively.

  Will frowned. Was he worried or disapproving? Donnie wasn’t sure.

  “Okay,” Will said. “I’m sitting down, I can take it. Are you dangerously ill? Are you broke? God, are you married?”

  Donnie gave a shaky laugh. “No, usually, and no.”

  “Thank God, I thought for a moment—”

  “But,” Donnie sighed, “I was fired from my job today.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Will was concerned they were still on the park bench an hour later.

  He’d never for a moment imagined this result, when he’d encouraged Donnie to stand up for himself. Will would never have accepted the crap job in the first place, of course, but surely none of this was Donnie’s fault. “They can’t do that,” he said for possibly the ninth time. “You have a contract, you have rights.”

  “It’s a zero hours contract,” Donnie explained again, though his tone never got edgy with Will. “I can be “let go” with nothing but a week’s notice. And my boss let me go with never a second glace. It didn’t help that I refused to do overtime, but they’d apparently already decided they didn’t need me any longer, and were just waiting for an opportunity to tell me. The boss’ son is arriving on a holiday placement at his dad’s firm, and he’s some kind of computer whizzkid.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “Because that’s the role that’s kept me in place this long already. But the son’s cheaper, as he’s working more or less for bed and board at the family home.”

  Will could guess what Donnie’s hourly rate was. It’d be difficult to find anyone cheaper unless they were a bloody volunteer. “Nepotism,” he hissed with venom.

  Donnie gave a weak smile. “I’ll get another job. Henry will give me some shifts at the bar in the meantime.” His voice was calm but he sat very tensely. He couldn’t have been comfortable on the rickety bench
.

  Will couldn’t shake off his anger. He hadn’t been this furious at the unfairness of life since his previous practice manager made an aggressive and very unwelcome pass at him, causing Will to leave that practice altogether. And, in the process, to lose his boyfriend—but that was another story entirely. Because now he’d met Donnie, and Donnie was the most amenable of men: he didn’t deserve to be treated like a disposable wipe. “It’s not right.”

  “No, it’s not. But you know what?” Donnie gazed straight at him, his lovely bright eyes almost fierce. “I’m also sort of relieved. I can usually find a way to enjoy whatever I do, to add value. But it was pretty difficult to do that in print supply packaging.”

  Dear God, Will thought, his gaze on Donnie’s brave smile, his heart thudding with anger at anyone who’d take advantage of that kindness. “I’d say you’re a damn sight better off out of it. But what will you do now? What qualifications do you have?”

  Donnie tensed up again.

  Oh God, Will thought, how rude was that? “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “It’s okay.” Donnie took Will’s hand between his and held it tenderly on his lap. It was as if he felt he needed the connection, just for a moment, perhaps while he faced the big wide expanse of unemployment stretching ahead for an unknown time. “Not much really. Some GCSEs. I started a BTEC in Catering and Hospitality but…”

  “It was no good?”

  “It was okay. But I dropped out.”

  Did Donnie really want to talk about this? Did Will wish he’d kept his clumsy mouth shut? He opened that clumsy mouth again, to apologise, to comfort, to explain he had the empathy sometimes of a small wet lettuce, then Donnie spoke again.

  “It was my choice entirely. I got the opportunity to move into my flat after my first year. There was never much room at home, and… well, I was excited to have my own place. I took a temporary job at the packaging firm to manage the rent in the first few months, while I looked into financial grants, to resume my course. But… well, you know how it goes.”

  Well, in fact, Will didn’t. He’d gone from a fee-paid school into further education, then on to vocational training, and never really had to worry about making a choice between study or a roof over his head. His family had money to help him through, and he had the brains to study for a professional qualification. It gave him a jolt inside his gut to compare his life to Donnie’s.

  “And so, I’ve been there ever since.” Donnie sighed softly. “Could be worse.”

  “Donnie, you mustn’t be so trusting. So accepting.”

  “No?” There was a look in Donnie’s eye that made Will uneasy. “Something you should know about me, Will. What I said about my job being so boring? That just about describes my whole life. I mean, that’s okay by me.” Now he sounded rightly defiant. “But I don’t have any grand ambitions. And things often go wrong for me.”

  Will didn’t know whether to feel confused, hurt, or anguished: an unusually messy situation for him. He’d spent his whole life learning how to manage life, how to get the best out of it, how to be in control of his emotions, and encourage others along his own, serious path, with the promise of mutual success. Yet now he’d met Donnie who seemed to operate on another plane entirely.

  He took a deep breath. “Would you consider…?”

  “What?” And now the tension in Donnie’s body crackled with anger instead. “Shit, Will, if you offer me money, there’s no way. I don’t want us to fall out over this!”

  “No! I meant, would you consider working at the practice? You were so good that day you helped out. I can pay you. It’s a genuine job. I’m still using temps because I can’t find anyone suitable. But you may not want that at all. If not, I understand.”

  “Well,” Donnie said, and paused.

  Oh God. There were many times in Will’s life he wished people were small, pliant, furry animals, much easier to deal with than the mess of emotions and thought processes that made up most humans. This was one of the most supremely critical times of all.

  “Let me think about it,” Donnie said.

  He looked a bit pink. Maybe he was still distressed about being fired. But then Will, peering more closely and worriedly at Donnie’s face, saw a twinkle in Donnie’s eyes that may not have been a reflection from the nearby street lamp. Enough to set Will’s heart racing, anyway.

  “Let’s have supper first,” Donnie said quietly. He stood and took Will’s hand. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Donnie’s flat was small but cosy and tidy. Best of all, Will thought, but wasn’t sure how to express, it was full of Donnie-type things. Paperback romances he was reading, with bookmarks tucked into them made out of recipe cards. A football scarf signed by the community centre team from when they won last year’s local league. An apron with a naked male torso on the front; a pile of brightly coloured drinks coasters; movie ticket stubs tucked behind one of those Chinese cats with the big grin and a waving arm. Apparently Maisie had bought him the cat last Christmas as a good luck charm. It still had a blob of toffee welded to its nose from where the sugar thermometer had blown up during Donnie’s Boxing Day experiments with toffee apples.

  Donnie made them a meatball dish. At least, that’s what he said it was. Some of the meatballs were the size of peas, some like flat tennis balls. Donnie apologised before Will had even started eating but Will didn’t know why: it tasted fabulous. He knew he shouldn’t, but he took a second helping regardless, plus a lot of garlic bread. The bread slices were very ragged round the edges, but that gave them an extra crunchiness.

  Donnie’s day had been so dreadful, Will thought he should probably leave after dinner, but Donnie didn’t seem to expect it. He wouldn’t let Will wash up, then bustled about in the kitchen, clearing away. So, Will sat for a while on Donnie’s rather lumpy sofa, updating some papers for work on his phone.

  “You’re meant to be off duty.” Donnie sidled onto the sofa beside him, leaned over and kissed him.

  Oh yes. It was marvellous. Every time. Will loved the taste of garlic on Donnie’s lips, the slick but gentle touch of his tongue. He dropped his phone on the side table, next to a lurid looking paperback he’d been curiously side-eyeing, slipped an arm around Donnie’s shoulders and tugged him in closer. With a shared chuckle, they leaned back on the sofa.

  Donnie had quickly picked up on Will’s nervousness and didn’t push too hard. It was yet another reason Will was so taken with him. Will wasn’t a prude; he wasn’t in any way reluctant to have sex with Donnie. God, no way! That didn’t explain his situation at all well. But he was still jumpy like a bloody baby faun.

  He’d left his last practice full of pain and anger and humiliation. The owner was a respected, experienced vet himself, and at first Will had been honoured to be brought into the business. And then he started to feel uneasy around his boss. Encouraging taps on the shoulder started to linger; a guiding hand on his back became unpleasantly possessive. Will took pains to avoid being alone with him, while he tried to decide what to do. Until the day he couldn’t avoid it, and the guy had cornered him in his office and tried to push a grasping hand down Will’s trousers. One very anguished and furious argument later—full of his boss’ blustering threats and denials—Will had given his resignation.

  No one had listened to his accusations with any credence. He’d worked out the rest of his time on secondment at another, nearby, practice.

  He’d mentioned this briefly to Donnie, but not in great detail. Why bother? It was meant to be over and done with. He was starting again, here at his own practice. Now he wanted to be bold and proud of his sexuality, to bring his confidence and experience to bear in the same way as he did in his work. He really didn’t want the sudden touch of a hand on his hip or his neck to make him startle. But it did.

  But now, with Donnie?

  Donnie somehow, innately realised this. Whatever Will said, or didn’t, Donnie had taken every step gently and respectfully.
Not that they weren’t excited by each other: there was no mistaking the firm, easy way that Donnie caressed him tonight. Will was beginning to realise this was one area where Donnie knew exactly what he wanted and liked, and he was teaching Will to be the same. With a sudden rush of pleasure, Will relaxed back on the lopsided cushions, his hand on Donnie’s head as Donnie slid to his knees on the rug at the foot of the sofa. Donnie reached slowly but surely to Will’s waist and flipped open the button and zip of his jeans.

  “You’re wonderful,” Will blurted out.

  Donnie smiled, his hand slipping in under the open flap, brushing the front of Will’s underwear. “Sez you, with your dick about to meet my mouth.”

  “Is it?” Will’s whole body flushed with excitement.

  “If you want that.”

  “Yes. God. I mean. Oh yes.” What was it about being here with Donnie that made Will feel like an inarticulate teenager again?

  “Because whatever we do, it’s okay,” Donnie said softly, his palm gentle on Will’s cock. “Just tell me if you want to go slow. We can do whatever you like, when you like.”

  It felt like a gift. Donnie said it so easily, that he wouldn’t mind what they did or didn’t do, even though Will could see Donnie was as excited as he was himself. Donnie’s cock was a thickening bulge inside the front of his jeans.

  “I don’t need to be so cautious, I know,” Will said haltingly. “Not of you. But… sometimes I am.” Is that arsehole of a boss going to mess up my future as well as my past? The thought hit him with unusual viciousness.

  “Will.” Donnie’s voice was soothing, his touch firm but not demanding. “I just like having you here. You don’t have to explain being cautious.”

  Donnie didn’t say “nervous”. He didn’t say “cowardly”. He didn’t sound judgemental at all, that a near-forty-year-old man was skittish around sex. Will felt a strange tightening in his chest. It wasn’t a coronary, thank God, though that would probably be his mother’s brusque professional diagnosis. Not that he was going to tell her about this—about Donnie on his knees, smiling up at him, his hand cradling Will’s balls. But the sudden clench startled him with its savagery. He thought he recognised a mix of gratitude, astonishment, and something much stronger than attraction. It wasn’t something he’d ever felt before.