by Max Hudson
“Love Worth Pursuing”
An M/M Gay Romance
Max Hudson
© 2020
Max Hudson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.
Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images and are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.
Edition v1.00 (2020.09.23)
http://www.maxhudsonauthor.com
Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: E.W. Gregg, Bob, RB, Big Kid, Jennie O., and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
“Steven Wo-Wo… Wo-jick?” the taxi driver asked, peering harder at the phone which clung to his windscreen.
“Yeah, it’s pronounced ‘voy-chick’ though,” Steve Wojcik replied with a laugh as the driver got out and walked to help him with his bags.
“Ah, sorry man,” the driver said. “If it’s any comfort, people butcher my name all the time. Call me Hussain usually. Don’t know if it’s a joke or they really can’t read it says Hassan. Not hard to say, I wouldn’t think.”
“Not at all, Mr. Hassan,” Steve said, loading his last bag into the boot of the car and making his way around to the back seat.
“So, Mr. Voy-jick, you headed to, um, Aberystwyth, right?” Hassan asked as he slipped into his own seat.
“You’d think that would be hard to pronounce, right?” Steve remarked with a laugh.
“Oh, for sure,” Hassan laughed back. “What takes you to Wales, then?”
“Just work, you know,” Steve replied, leaning back in the chair, flinching a little as he felt his phone vibrate already, as though on cue. “I’m a travel writer. Sort of compile guidebooks and pamphlets and stuff for this company, so they can sell package tours to folks back home.”
“America, right?” Hassan asked. “Sounds like an American-ish accent to me.”
“Well, my mother was English. But I think she lost the accent long before I was born. And I feel more like a citizen of—”
“The world?” Hassan interrupted.
“Nowhere,” Steve corrected with a chuckle.
It didn’t quite land the way Steve had expected it to, and a silence descended over the taxi quite suddenly. Steve felt his phone vibrate so hard it was audible in the silent taxi. “I better get that,” he said, pulling his phone out and opening messages.
“No problem,” the driver said, “mind if I put on some music?”
“Not at all,” Steve replied, scrolling through his messages casually as he heard the sound of old school rock turn on and escalate gently until it was almost loud enough to be annoying.
The messages were all from work. Predictably. Somehow he never got his full brief, all the information, in one or two emails. No, it had to be a continual stream of small updates, different perspectives from every single member of the team, none of whom seemed to be talking to one another at all, just dumping information on him. Steve had no idea how this total shamble of a team managed to plan entire holiday packages for dozens of queer people a week.
Still, at least they were aware enough of their own mess to cut him some slack. They weren’t organized, so he could get away with pretty much anything and still seem to have more of a plan than they did.
Looking at the list of messages, Steve sighed, made sure his phone plan had switched over to the new international rate he had signed up for, and began reading everything. Janine wanted him to check out some cultural spots, for older couples. Devon was asking if he could go as far as Cardiff to write up some reports on a couple of night clubs. And countless suggestions for different specific places he had to check out, many of which were at least an hour away from Aberystwyth. He was going to need to ask for a lot more spending money if he was going to manage all of this. Steve quickly sent a message to Alex, his manager, explaining this, then leaned back in the seat.
He had only intended to close his eyes for a moment, but it had been a busy three days, and he’d been sat in front of two very loud children on the flight. It must have all caught up with him, as he awoke nearly three hours later, to the driver, standing by the open door, saying his name with slight frustration. Steve rubbed his eyes gently.
“Ah, sorry man,” he said with a yawn. “Been a long week.”
“No problem, no problem, I just got to get to my next customer. And home,” the driver said.
“Is this it, then?” Steve asked, unbuckling his seat belt. “Found the B&B alright?”
“Yes, yes, pretty easy. It’s right there.” The driver said, pointing behind himself at the Welsh Lion Bed and Breakfast.
Steve stepped out and stretched, checking out the front of the building. It was adorable. The perfect image he had built up of a quaint little Welsh home, almost. Of course, checking it out online had helped. Old stone, covered with a light layer of plaster and masonry paint, keeping the shape and texture. Black framed windows and doors, a sign with understated lettering and a bold red dragon emblem.
In the time Steve took checking out the building front, spinning a thousand ways he could describe it for the introduction to his book, Hassan had loaded all five bags into the entryway and rang the doorbell.
“Ah, thank you so much,” Steve said, waking from his daze a little. “Wait, let me give you a tip.” He opened the app and winced a little at how much twenty percent would be. But it’s only fair. A couple of clicks and it was done. Another seventy pounds gone.
The driver hadn’t checked the tip, he just waved from his seat. Steve smiled and waved goodbye also before walking up just as the door opened.
“Hello, do you have a reservation?” asked a flustered looking young woman.
***
Half an hour later, and Steve had got in, unpacked and worked out that he absolutely could not get any writing done in his room. It was gorgeous, undeniably. A low, double, four poster bed, low ceilings with feature beams, dry and fresh flowers at every corner, gentle afternoon light shining in through the impeccable window.
It was cozy. Too cozy. He couldn’t expect himself to be able to start writing without falling asleep. And he needed to write down all that was in his head before he slept and forgot about it.
Taking his computer case, wallet, and phone, Steve stepped out onto the street, looking up and down for a place nearby where he could chug coffee and do some work. Definitely not a pub. That would be too busy, too loud, and probably stink of beer, from what he’d been told. A cafe, one that opened late, that would be perfect.
Steve then spotted a little bakery two stores down from the B&B, a sign out front advertising all day pastries, bread, and coffee, as though placed there specifically for him.
“Fate seems to like me today,” Steve remarked, making his way over.
Sure enough, the bakery advertised it would be open until seven in the evening every day. Just enough time for him to get a bit of work done after exploring.
He cautiously peered in through the window, happy to see there is nobody else there, and opened the door. A little digital doorbell made a slightly annoying, buzzing ring as he stepped inside and looked around.
No member of staff was visible either. Steve assumed that whoever works there must have heard the bell, so he proceeded to walk around. The cafe area was mostly in the very front of the store, with ten little iron-wrought tables in a wide-open space, two chairs at each one. The main shop was on a level two steps up, with four more tables in the middle and a wide space between the tables and the shelves. The shelves down one side were stocked with fresh baked bread goods, some packed in plastic, most in glass bins, with tongs and paper bags provided either for customer or staff use. Down the other side were home baking items, fresh flour and sugar, nuts and dried fruit, leavening and even some trays and pans and mixing bowls. At the very back was a till with a glass cabinet displaying a sparser range of cakes, sweets, miniature pavlovas, and chocolate items. A smaller shelf rested on the edge of the counter, with sale goods scattered across it.
to the back room, was open, a light shining through and the sound of a dishwasher rumbling from within. Steve spotted a bell on the counter and rang it before checking the sale shelf.
“Ah, sorry to keep you waiting,” a voice exclaimed, suddenly loud in the quiet little cafe.
Steve startled, half trying to put down the bag of bread rolls he was holding. Fumbling, he hit the shelf at the wrong angle and it instantly toppled over, scattering an array of cookie cutters, bagged baked goods, and assorted cupcake toppings onto the floor. One toppings tub burst open, scattering sprinkles all over the floor.
Steve looked up sheepishly at the man who had emerged from the back of the store.
“Well shit,” the man muttered, standing still as a statue.
“I… I’m sorry,” Steve said, struggling with the words as he felt his breath swept out of his lungs.
The man before him was gorgeous. Slightly shorter than Steve’s six feet, with a mess of wavy, chocolate brown hair that contrasted with his soft, milky white skin. Freckles adorned every inch of his face, cluttered in some places, fewer in others, mostly clustered around his cheeks, right beneath the gray eyes that glinted a little in the incandescent lighting. The man was wearing a sweater with the sleeves rolled up, a large dusty apron with a name tag, and clean blue jeans, all of which accented his slightly chubby physique. His freckled forearms were clearly strong and veiny, the muscles not defined or cut, but so obviously hard and firm under his soft skin.
“It’s no problem,” the man said, finally smiling. His smile was beautiful too; pearly white, near-perfect teeth except for a slight gap up front.
“Let me help,” Steve insisted, getting onto his knees, placing his laptop case on the floor, and beginning to pick up items and place them on the counter.
The man chuckled a little, taking a broom from behind the door. “You don’t have to, but I’m not going to stop you either,” he replied.
It didn’t take long to pick up the items, and the staff member made quick work of cleaning the floor.
“So, what would you like today?” the man asked as he emerged again from the back room, drying his hands with a clean dish towel.
“Uh, can I just have a cup of coffee? Black, but some sugar. And I’ll pay for the sprinkles,” Steve replied, finding it hard to not stare at the man, but even harder to look away.
“Oh, you don’t have to, things happen,” the man insisted.
“I would feel better if I did,” Steve said.
The man nodded. “Total comes to two fifty.”
Steve paid and took a seat on the upper level, carefully choosing the table nearest the step. Not so close as to seem weird, not so far as to be unable to see the man as he worked. He took out his laptop and began to set up to do at least a little work. If he could even manage it now, he had something absolutely beautiful to be distracted by.
“Here you go,” the man said in a sing-song voice as he set down a cup of coffee and a small plate with a slice of fluffy cake covered in thick white buttercream and blue sprinkles.
“Uh, I didn’t order the cake,” Steve replied.
“You’re polite, and it needs to be sold by end of day anyway,” the man said. “Still good to eat, don’t worry about that. Unless you have any dietary restrictions?”
Steve shook his head. “No, no. I would rather pay for it, though.”
“Tell you what, if you like it, come back tomorrow and buy a fresh slice, I’ll be baking another one in the morning,” the man said, flashing that beautiful smile.
Steve nodded. “Uh, sure. Thanks...” he peered at the name tag on the man’s apron… “Euan.”
Chapter Two
Steve felt glad he didn’t need an excuse to return to the bakery the next day. After a morning exploring Aberystwyth, collecting pamphlets and checking out tourism information desks, the skies opened and a literal curtain of rain fell down on him. Despite having an umbrella, the wind turned it inside out, and his clothes wound up drenched.
He had raced back to the B&B, showered, got into dry clothes, and made his way next door to get some writing done.
Euan was there, as were a few customers. A couple at a table by the window were eating some sort of small pies and chatting. Euan was assisting an older lady, filling bulk bags as she pointed out what she wanted.
Steve and Euan’s eyes met, and Euan smiled. “Please take a seat, I will be with you right away.”
The table Steve had last sat at was holding the older woman’s bag and the bags of bulk items Euan was packing. And the two tables nearer the shelves didn’t seem like a good idea. Steve didn’t want to possibly be in the way, and have to move. So, he began to set up on the table that was closest to the counter. He took out the notes he had been taking. He’d thought it would be smart to take paper notes, that way he wouldn’t be risking dropping or losing his phone as he wandered around. Now he regretted it. The pages were still damp and somewhat stuck together. From the top page it looked like the ink hadn’t run, but it would take a while before he could check those notes.
“Hey, what can I get you?” Euan asked.
Steve jumped a little. He hadn’t noticed, but Euan was done and the woman was on her way out the door. “Uh, coffee, black, sugar, thanks.”
“Want a slice of cake?” Euan asked. “Made another one. Today’s is chocolate though. Wanted to make a change.”
“Cake would be nice,” Steve replied.
“Coming right up,” Euan said with a wide grin.
As Euan went to get the order ready, the couple by the window walked up to the counter to pay. Steve felt almost a bit nervous that he would be alone with Euan now. It was probably not a great idea to try and work with such an attractive man there to distract him. But the cafe was convenient. And besides, he would rather be distracted by Euan than by anything in a pub.
What he hadn’t anticipated, was when Euan, placing the coffee and cake down, pulled out a chair for himself. “Mind if I sit with you and have my own coffee?”
; Steve felt his mind blank a little in surprise.
Euan seemed to read the silence as a rejection. “Sorry, I’ll just-”
“No, no, feel free to sit down,” Steve replied. “I was just a bit surprised.”
“Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t. It just gets so boring some days. When my regulars are in, I like to sit with them and have my coffee,” Euan said.
“I guess I can see that, “Steve said, looking around. “It doesn’t really happen much in the states. Not very busy?”
“Most of our money comes from making bread and cake deliveries to local restaurants,” Euan replied, pouring a large amount of cream into his coffee before checking to see if it was cool enough to drink. “My father likes me to keep the store open, for the regulars and anyone from the B&B. Not much, but I’d rather do some stuff to keep him happy.”
“I’m staying at the B&B,” Steve said. “Nice little place. Just too cozy to write in. I can’t focus if I am too comfortable. Say… are you familiar with Aberystwyth, then?”
“Grew up here, spent nearly all my life here, barring a bit of time at University,” Euan replied.
“When you aren’t too busy here, would you mind telling me a bit about the town? I’m writing a book and some articles for my company, so it would be nice to have someone to tell me about the area. And, I mean, you’re nearby, and you want company, so… you scratch my back I scratch yours?”
Euan chuckled. “Sure thing, I would love to help. What are you working on now?”
“Nothing,” Steve said, pointing at his note pad. “Got to wait for that to dry.”
Euan laughed again, louder now. “Give that here, I’ll put it on a radiator to dry out.”
Steve picked up the note pad and passed it to Euan, their fingers brushing lightly and lingering a little. Steve jumped, feeling his cheeks flush, and withdrew his hand. Euan nearly dropped the note pad, but caught it and smiled. There was something in that smile, something mischievous, knowing… Steve’s gaydar was on full alert. And the possibility that Euan was not just playing, but actually interested, was tantalizing. He smiled back, knowing how awkward he probably looked, and watched as Euan made his way to the back of the shop.
