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He sat down at the counter, pen in hand, and started sketching. Del’s email had included the flavors they’d opted for in their other cake, but had also said they wouldn’t mind if Gany experimented a little with a couple of the layers, as long as at least one of them was lemon and at least one filling was raspberry. Decorations, though, were completely up to Gany.
What if he leaned in to his roots, to the Mediterranean slant he wanted to give the business? A honey cake layer with walnut filling? A deep chocolate olive oil layer flavored with almond? The raspberry filling would be fantastic with that. Maybe a light Italian sponge. That might work for the lemon layer, but how should he flavor the filling?
He wrinkled his nose. Not rose, no matter how pervasive it was in Middle Eastern desserts. No florals at all. Heloathedthem and avoided them in all his recipes, probably because Zeus’s soap was heavily scented with lavender, although it was always undercut by the ever-present pong of Olympian spunk—a combination Ganyneverwanted to experience again.
Finn’s scent was so different. He’d clearly bathed last with a rather harsh soap, but its harsh antiseptic echo didn’t fully mask another, luscious scent, like forests and lakes and fresh breezes from the mountains. Firmly anchored in the earth, where Gany wanted to keep his own feet planted forever.
“Stop daydreaming about your crush,” he ordered himself sternly, gripping the pen tighter. “There’ll be time for more with him later.”
He tapped the pen on the pad, once, twice, bearing down harder with each strike.Wouldthey have time, though?
Gany’s tempo increased, jabbing the paper faster and faster in keeping with his swirling thoughts and the knot in his middle. Yes, the dogs had accepted him, so Finn would be here for at least a week. But what then? Would Finn vanish into the sunset to cast himself on his cousin’s mercy? What if his cousin didn’thaveany mercy? Would he stay here? Did Ganywanthim to stay? What would happen when TD and Lonnie came home?
Gany looked down at the pad to see that he’d defaced the cake sketch with dozens of tiny pits. “Oh, for the love of—”
The doorbell rang, and Gany fumbled the pen, dropping it on the floor at his feet. He picked it up, frowning. TD hadn’t mentioned that he and Lonnie were expecting a delivery. Unless he had and Gany hadn’t been paying attention, which wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility.
The bell rang again, and he set the pen next to the pad and stood, peering into the backyard through the kitchen window. His view was limited from this angle, but he saw one of the pups—not that he could tell the difference unless they were standing together, since Sir was always on stage left, Bear in the middle, and Ozzie on the right—dash past, clearly unconcerned about whoever was on the doorstep.
The bell rang a third time, in an elongated jangle, as though the visitor had grown impatient and leaned on the buzzer. Gany hesitated, biting his lip. It should be fine. It was probably fine.
Oh! TD had mentioned once that they had the dogs’ food delivered regularly, so that’s probably what this was, and since the dogs were the primary god deterrent, and they weren’t reacting, the person at the door was clearly no threat.
Gany chuckled as he crossed the living room. “Not everything is about you, Ganymede.”
Through the uppermost circular window, he could see a brown ball cap with an orange patch sporting the silhouettes of a dog and cat. Yep, dog food delivery. Had to be.
He pasted a smile on his face as he flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. “Hell—”
The woman on the porch, the cap pulled low over her brow, grabbed Gany’s biceps and yanked him outside. “Ha! Got you first!”
Gany squinted into the bill’s shadow. “Artemis? What are you—”
“Let go of him.” Finn’s voice almost reverberated in the air, deep and rough, like a velvet saw blade.
Artemis released him, although she looked just as surprised about it as Gany. She backed up a couple of steps, frowning at Finn, who stepped out the door and stood by Gany’s side, a warm, solid,reassuringpresence.
Finn angled his head toward Gany, but didn’t take his gaze off Artemis. “Do you know this person?”
Gany folded his arms and glared at the goddess, who was wearing jeans, Birkenstocks, and a cropped green tank that revealed an opal navel ring. The orange patch on her hat bore the name of an animal rescue league, not the pet supply.
“I do. But she shouldn’t be anywhere near this house.”
“Restraining order, huh?” Finn said.
“Something like that. She’s not allowed to cross the threshold.”
“I didn’t,” Artemis said sulkily. “You came outside.”
“I only came outside because you yanked me through the door.” Gany rubbed his biceps. “And may I say… ow? I’d think you’d have learned your lesson about”—he glanced sidelong at Finn—“attacking men.”
“I wasn’t—”
“If you grabbed him without his consent,” Finn said implacably, that burr of command still in his voice, “you attacked him. Now I think you’d better leave.”
She bridled at that. “Who are you to give me orders, cur?”
Finn grinned, his teeth, glinting white in the sun, looked sharp and almost lethal. “I’m the guy with three really big guard dogs behind me.”
