Ian had never noticed how conceited his father was, but with his newfound distance, it became painfully obvious. The man was at the very least arrogant, probably veering toward deluded. He’d made it sound as if it were his
right
to win the competition.
“Now, off to work. The bread won’t sell itself.” Without another word, not even waiting for Ian’s and Senga’s reaction, their father checked his watch, nodded, and walked off to open the store.
Whatever he and his sister thought was clearly not relevant. Ian couldn’t wait to find out what the mayor would actually say. All he could do for now was hope that Matthew’s message meant what Ian hoped it meant, and that his father wasn’t as well connected and informed as he wanted to believe.
When eight thirty finally came around, Ian and Senga joined their father in the employee room and listened to the mayor being welcomed to the talk show. A few general comments followed, then the interviewer asked if there were any interesting festivals coming up. The mayor launched into an explanation of Tartan Day, how it would allow the Scottish American community to showcase their culture, and how that would benefit all of Casper.
Then he started talking about food and the competition. The mayor mentioned some of the Scottish-run businesses in town, including the Scottish Bakehouse. Ian glanced at his father and thought he saw him grow two inches, fueled by pride. But when the mayor started explaining the rules, saying that the competition would be open to anyone who wanted to participate, both businesses and individuals, the smug look on Ian’s father’s face vanished as if it had never been there.
“What is he talking about?” Ian’s father switched off the radio, cutting off the mayor in the middle of a sentence. “That wasn’t what we agreed on.”
No, Father, that wasn’t what you wanted him to do. I bet Mayor Tadman never said he’d actually do what you suggested.
Matthew’s father was much too smooth for that.
“Never mind, I’m going to win this anyway. Some would-be Scottish housewife isn’t going to beat years of experience, family tradition, and refined recipes.” Ian’s father looked at Senga, then Ian. “Well, haven’t you got anything to say?”
Senga shook her head, not that their father was paying attention.
“No, Father, I’ve got nothing to add.” Ian was proud he’d managed to sound cool and collected. Inside he was shaking with nerves. The thought of his father finding out Ian was planning to go up against him in the competition terrified him. He’d have to put that off as long as possible, since his life at work would turn into hell the second his father found out.
“Didn’t think so.” Their father smiled triumphantly as he left the break room, clearly believing he’d won already.
“Just you wait,” Ian whispered.
Senga’s eyes widened. “You have a plan?”
“Yep, I have a plan, and it’s top secret.” Ian lifted his index finger and pressed it against his tightly closed lips for emphasis. But he winked to lighten the mood.
Senga giggled. Then she pressed her hand to her mouth, but it didn’t hold back the soft, amused sounds she made as her eyes twinkled with mirth.
That’s better!
ON FRIDAY
night Cameron was pacing from one wall of his living room to the other, with an occasional glance out of the front window to check whether Ian had arrived yet. He had tried to be patient, read a book, listen to music, but nothing had worked. And even though he knew Ian wasn’t late, it felt as if he’d waited forever for him to arrive.
By now it was eight days—eight whole fucking days—since their first kiss on New Year’s Day, and Cameron was going crazy from withdrawal. He’d been attracted to Ian before then, hell, why else would he have kissed the delicious baker in the first place, but once they had started making out, Cameron was lost. Ian’s lack of experience in the kissing department excited him, and his craving for intimacy was obvious. They had talked a little, with Ian blushing adorably most of the time, about the difference between hookups and sharing a real connection with someone. Apparently, they had both exchanged hand jobs and blown strangers in dark bathroom stalls and behind bushes in certain parks in Cheyenne. Cameron had briefly wondered if he’d met Ian before, but that train of thought was pointless. Those meetings were anonymous for a reason and were probably better left that way.
But while Cameron had always enjoyed kissing men who had seemed at least vaguely attractive, Ian had apparently kept that particular activity out of his casual encounters. It made what Cameron shared with him on his blessedly wide sofa even more special. It had been harder than he’d ever imagined to stop there and not drag Ian upstairs to find out what he looked like naked. Cameron didn’t want to move too fast. He needed to make sure they were both ready for the next step. He didn’t care about fast or not; when it was right, it was right. But based on Ian’s dazed look and somewhat glazed-over eyes as a result of the kiss, Cameron hadn’t been too sure Ian was in control of all his faculties at that point.
So Cameron had gently pushed Ian out of his house, damn his attack of gentlemanly consideration. Now he regretted it, because contrary to what he’d expected, they hadn’t managed to meet up again since then. Either Ian had a commitment or Cameron did, and unless they were careful, considering all the commitments they both had, they wouldn’t ever get to have another date. It was overly dramatic, but there was a reason for that fear. And not all of it was due to the need to juggle two men’s working lives and personal commitments. A lot of it was because they had to be careful about where they went, what they did, and who saw them together. Too much of appearing too friendly, and rumors might start before they were ready to make any decisions about coming out. This town was small enough, and they were both well-known enough, for the risk to be considerable—hence their decision to meet at Cameron’s house for a Friday night of dinner and a movie.
None of that had stopped Cameron from coming to the bakery every day, under the perfectly believable guise of needing more donuts for his colleagues. The station had never been so well supplied, and Cameron had made sure most of his “donations” were anonymous, so people wouldn’t get suspicious about his sudden interest in the sweet treat. As it was, the first rumors about a “donut donor” were beginning to make the rounds, and some of the members from other precincts found increasingly creative reasons for having to come downtown. Ian’s donuts were becoming the talk of the Casper police force, and since the little business cards Cameron always left with his “donations” tended to vanish in equal numbers as Ian’s sweet treats, Cameron hoped some of his colleagues found their way to the Scottish Bakehouse and gave it a monetary boost.
But seeing Ian briefly—sometimes way off in the kitchen not even in the shop itself—and actually talking to him were two very different things, and one of the topics Cameron wanted to discuss tonight was a better way for them to see each other more often. Ian seemed interested, from what he’d said on the phone during their almost nightly calls, but Cameron planned to make sure he actually was as keen as Cameron himself.
So where the hell is he?
Cameron pulled his phone from the pocket of his comfortable jeans for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening. Just before seven. And still no message.
The sudden swipe of headlights crawling across the front window a few minutes later made Cameron jump.
Sheesh, nervous much?
After checking if it was Ian’s car pulling into the driveway—and who else would it be on a Friday night?—he managed to hold back from rushing to the front door for an entire three seconds before deciding to forget about decorum. He wanted to see Ian, hold him in his arms, and kiss him breathless. At this point he didn’t care if Ian knew.
Cameron raced to the front door and opened it right when Ian got out of his car. The cold winter air hit Cameron in the face like an icy slap, but he didn’t care. Only the need not to display his enthusiasm openly, and giving the neighbors a show, stopped him from rushing out there and pulling Ian into his arms.
Ian grinned and waved at him, then rounded the car and opened the trunk.
Cameron came close to whining about the delay, but when Ian pulled a promising-looking box with the Bakehouse’s logo from the depths of his trunk, Cameron relaxed. Some things made a delay excusable. But Ian didn’t close the trunk and move closer to the house. Instead he stared at the back of his car, tension in every muscle visible to Cameron, and bit his lip as if trying to make up his mind about something. Then he looked up with hesitation in his eyes.
Cameron had no idea what was going on, but he wanted Ian inside, the front door closed against the cold, and both of them safe from curious looks, in that order. So he nodded and crooked his fingers in a “come hither” gesture he hoped would answer whatever question Ian was pondering.
Ian sagged in relief as a slow smile brightened his worried face. He pulled a duffel from the trunk—
yes!
—and proceeded to close and lock the vehicle before making his way over to the house.
“Hi.” Ian’s smile had blossomed into its devastating full potential.
“Hi, yourself.” Cameron couldn’t help but grin. “Come on inside.”
Cameron had rarely stepped aside so quickly, and as soon as Ian’s feet had crossed the threshold, Cameron closed and locked the front door before stepping into Ian’s personal space and opening his arms.
“Give me a second.” Ian sounded out of breath. “I’ve got precious cargo here.”
Cameron grabbed the box and put it on the small table under the mirror, right next to the ceramic bowl that held his keys. There was only just enough space for the big box of goodies, but that was all he needed. When he turned back, Ian had dropped the duffel and was already crossing the three feet of distance that now separated them. Within seconds they embraced each other and pulled close enough for Cameron to feel exactly how excited Ian was to see him without the prying eyes of bakery customers watching them.
Cameron tightened his left arm around Ian’s middle, slid his right hand up to cradle the back of Ian’s head, and bent to bridge the five inches separating them in height so he could kiss Ian’s full lips. This time neither of them hesitated. Cameron licked Ian’s lips, then pushed inside, and Ian sighed as he welcomed him, tongues sliding against each other as they reacquainted themselves with the feeling of being so close.
After a while Ian tightened his arms around Cameron’s neck and began to grind his hips in a slow rhythm that made Cameron even hotter. It was as if they were slow dancing to a song in Ian’s head, but the only sound was their rapid breathing, the occasional moan, and the rustling of their clothes. Cameron closed his eyes for better focus and began to respond with his own movements. The heat between their bodies rose as they continued to kiss, and it brought out the subtle notes of Ian’s soap or deodorant mixing with the sweat of working all day. It was a heady combination, and Cameron soaked it all up while never stopping his exploration of Ian’s hot and very responsive tongue and lips.
When Cameron finally ran out of breath, he pulled back and opened his eyes. Ian looked as dazed as Cameron felt.
“Wow.” Ian swallowed. “It’s even better than I remembered.”
“Yeah.” Cameron nodded. “You want to take this to the sofa? I know you’re probably hungry, and so am I, but I know I won’t be able to eat until we take the edge off.”
“You mean….” Ian widened his eyes, but his simultaneous smile confirmed he was on board with the plan.
“Come on.” Cameron took Ian’s hand and pulled him along, not that he was resisting, more like a little dazed, into the living room with one of the best furniture purchases he had ever made. At thirty-nine inches in depth it was only four inches wider than a standard sofa, but that brought it in line with a twin bed and made it possible for two grown men to be comfortable lying down—as long as they liked each other a whole lot. The black leather kept things cool in summer and warm in winter, and any beer he’d ever spilled had been easily washed off with a moist cloth. He was pretty sure other—substances—would be as trouble-free to remove.
As soon as they reached the sofa, Cameron pulled Ian closer again. The next few kisses were a little slower but no less passionate. It was as if they’d both grasped there was no need to hurry. Nobody was here to interrupt them, and they had the whole evening ahead of them—even the entire night, if Ian’s duffel meant what Cameron hoped it did.
Ian restarted his mesmerizing grinding motion, pushing their equally hard cocks against each other through the fabric of their pants, and Cameron responded by pushing until they tumbled onto the surface, both grinning while attempting to continue their kisses. It made for a somewhat odd but very pleasurable combination of body contact in unexpected places and a triumphant fluttering of Cameron’s heart every time he managed to recapture Ian’s lips.
“I’ve never had so much fun kissing someone.” Cameron pulled back to catch his breath and to consider his best strategy to get them more naked.
“And I had no idea it could be like this. But I bet the combination of some of the things I want to do with you and the kissing would be even more awesome.” Ian wiggled a little bit, as if to illustrate his point, or maybe to tease.
Cameron didn’t care which it was. He grinned as he tackled Ian’s belt, button, and zipper in rapid succession, sensing the heat of Ian’s groin on his skin before he felt the hardness of his cock right through Ian’s nicely tight briefs against the back of his hand. Clearly straining to contain Ian’s erection, the tent only grew when Cameron slowly stroked the thick shaft through the black fabric.
“God, that feels so good.” Ian bucked his hips a few times, then pulled back and began to fumble with Cameron’s jeans. “You too.”
“I feel good too, don’t worry.” Cameron chuckled at Ian’s exasperated sigh and held still so Ian could free him from the confining tightness of his jeans. The excited gasp when Ian found out exactly what Cameron was
not
wearing under his pants aroused him even more.