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“So you’ll do it?”
“Of course I will.”
“Yay!” Peyton clapped their hands and jumped off the stool. “I’ll just tell—”
“Hssst!” Melina poked her head around the door. “He’s heeere!”
And Gany’s heart jolted all the way to his throat. “F-Finn?”
“Who else?”
Peyton nudged Gany’s ribs with an extremely sharp elbow. “You asked him out yet?”
Gany planted his fists on his hips. “Will you two stop trying to set me up? I don’t havetimeto date.” Not to mention the inclination, since the residual trauma from literally millennia of sexual harassment wasn’t the best foundation for a relationship. His therapist was helping him work through his issues, though, and when he looked into Finn’s sad, soft eyes, he thought he mightalmostbe ready.
Maybe.
Dr. Kendrick had told him that he wasn’t required to conform to anybody’s timeline but his own, that he could pick the ways he felt comfortable to ease into intimacy. A little daily flirting with the counter or a table between them was… safe, and gradually, over the last few months, the feeling in Gany’s midsection when he thought of Finn touching him—or of him touchingFinn—had morphed from writhing adders to joyous butterflies.
He glanced down at his apron.Ewww. The cheerful pink and white stripes were splotched with brown and red, and though it was only chocolate, vanilla, and raspberry sauce, the colors conjured up more ominous scenarios.
Gany untied it and yanked it over his head to toss into the laundry bag. “How do I look? Is my hair okay?” He rubbed his nose. “Do I have flour all over my face.”
Melina slanted a smile and patted his hair. “You look adorable, as usual.”
“Thanks.” Gany blew out a breath between pursed lips. “Here I go.”
As he turned, he heard Peyton mutter, “No time to date, my ass,” followed by Melina’s snicker.
He ignored them and pushed through the swinging door into the storefront.
As soon as the door closed behind him, welcoming him into the bakery with a tinkle of its little brass bell, tension seeped out of Finn’s shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and there it was: vanilla, cinnamon, coffee, citrus, and… His nose twitched. Underlying the delicious aromas he expected was the smell of scorched pastry and burnt chocolate, things he’d never detected at Nectar & Ambrosia before.
He shrugged it off. Every baker, even someone as talented as Gary, probably had off days. After all, nobody was perfect.
He inhaled again, his were senses seeking that seductive scent that was Gary and Gary alone: honey-sweet, with the tang of mint and salt, like a beehive in a garden overlooking the sea.
Melina was still behind the counter, steaming milk for a… cappuccino, according to Finn’s nose. She grinned at him before turning to say something to the customer.
Finn glanced around. As usual at this time of day, the shop’s tables were mostly empty, since humans were on their way to work. Later on in the morning, people would drift in with friends or books or laptops, to settle in for a longer stay.
Finn edged toward his usual table, a two-top tucked into the far corner next to the end of the pastry case. He was early—it wasn’t even eight yet, so Gary wouldn’t be out for a chat for at least twenty minutes.
Shit.If he’d taken longer walking through the park, he’d still have an excuse:Can’t call Tanner now, not when Gary could appear at any moment, because that would be rude.
But that tactic wouldn’t work this morning. His eagerness for the bakery’s sensory hug, his desperation for Gary’s smile, had cut his stellar avoidance skills off at the knees.
Stop putting it off, asshole. You don’t have a choice anymore.
He sat on the edge of the chair facing the back wall, shoulders hunched, phone cradled in both palms, and pulled up Tanner’s contact. He took a steadying breath, fingers hovering over the screen.
For fuck’s sake, justdoit.
He jabbed the screen and then held the phone gingerly to his ear.
It rang once, twice, three times. Four. Finn was about to hang up when it connected.
“Hi, this is Tanner Araya.”
