The Baker Gets His Man Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Rebecca Brochu

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-304-0

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Marie Medina

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE BAKER GETS HIS MAN

  Romance on the Go

  Rebecca Brochu

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  “You know eventually he’s going to call the cops on you. You do realize that, don’t you?” Jacob Stine jerked back from where he’d practically plastered himself against the storefront window of his bakery, a bottle of cleaning spray and newspaper forgotten in his hands as he whirled around to confront the voice.

  Kyle Dwight, his business partner and best friend, stared back at him, thick arms crossed over his wide chest and a dark brow arched high. Jacob debated playing dumb for a moment, but then he shrugged helplessly because he knew it would do him no good. Kyle had been his best friend since elementary school, and he knew Jacob like the back of his hand and had figured out how to tell when he’s lying without even looking at him years ago. Instead he adopted his most pitiful expression and shuffled closer to Kyle so he can beat his forehead against the solid wall of his friend’s chest.

  “I know. I’m pathetic and a stalker and he isn’t interested, so I need to stop. But I can’t.” Jacob whined low in his throat but smiled softly to himself when one of Kyle’s massive hands came up to ruffle his messy brown locks.

  “I didn’t say any of that, but you do look like a complete creeper when you’re drooling on the window because he’s outside with his shirt off.”

  “His shirt’s off?” Jacob whirled back around towards the window, his expression eager, only to feel his face fall when he noticed that the lot across the street was empty. Kyle chuckled behind him and Jacob turned back, best overly disappointed expression in place.

  “That was cruel, Kyle. Cruel and unusual. We’re not friends anymore.” Kyle swept him up into warm hug, and Jacob just snuggled closer to his friend’s chest, glad that the other man had never had a problem with indulging his own tactile ways. Kyle had always found the way Jacob descended into immaturity occasionally amusing. Their closeness had gotten them both mercilessly teased in school, but a few fights had proved that neither of them were pushovers, and after that they’d been left pretty much alone.

  “Am I … interrupting?” Jacob froze and then felt his face go red with mortification as he slowly turned in the circle of Kyle’s arms, disbelief and horror twisting in his stomach. He could feel more than hear Kyle’s choked off laugh, but he was too distracted to elbow him in the stomach like he normally would because standing behind them was the subject of their discussion.

  Race Carroway.

  The mechanic had moved to town and opened up his shop across from Sweetest Taboo, their bakery, about six months ago. Jacob had immediately been able to appreciate the way Race filled out the jeans and tank top he wore to work in. At first Jacob had felt nothing but shallow attraction to the stranger, but then one day he’d seen the mechanic’s normally dour face split into a wide grin as he laughed at someone on the other end of a phone call and he’d been gone. After that he’d wanted to do nothing more than make Race smile at him like that, to trace the dimples he’d seen from a distance with his tongue. Sadly all he’d managed to do was get himself stuck in the horribly embarrassing cycle of staring longingly out the window at Race’s shop in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him and hiding in the kitchen every time the man came into the bakery, much to the amusement of both Kyle and his wife Tara.

  Race looked disgruntled, thick blond brows drawn down in a heavy frown over bright blue eyes, and Jacob couldn’t help but notice that there was a smudge of grease high up on his temple as if he’d run his hand over his short cropped hair earlier. Jacob had to bite back a whimper because Race obviously hadn’t shaved and there was a thick layer of dark blond stubble spread across his sharp cheekbones. Jacob desperately wanted to find out what it felt like on his inner thighs at some point in the not so distant future.

  “Race! Good to see you, man.” Kyle untangled himself from Jacob, an amused smirk on his handsome face as he moved forward to clasp hands with Race.

  “Kyle.” Race sounded almost hostile, and it made Jacob frown because Race normally got along rather well with Kyle. Hell, everyone normally got along with Kyle now. For all of his size and intimidating looks he’d turned out to be surprisingly endearing.

  “Don’t worry, man, Jacob’s just being clingy. What can we do you for?” Kyle was already moving towards his customary place behind the counter, which left Jacob to fidget silently underneath Race’s heavy stare.

  “Just a sandwich to go. I’ve got a car coming in at three o’clock so I don’t have long for lunch.” Race didn’t take his eyes off of Jacob the entire time he spoke, and Jacob felt himself begin to sweat.

  “Want anything else? Jacob made a fresh batch of those cookies you like.” Jacob suppressed a wince because he and Kyle both knew he’d made those cookies only because they’re Race’s favorite. Race was the reason the bakery had a tray in the display window permanently dedicated to various pumpkin flavored goods even during the summer when only a few other customers bought them.

  “That’d be good.” Race finally looked away as he turned to head towards the counter to pay for his food. Jacob took the opportunity to wipe his sweaty palms on the front of his apron as he followed behind him and tried not to stare at his ass without the safety of the high counter to hide behind. He glared at Kyle and mimed punching him in the face, but Kyle just laughed lowly and Jacob was forced to pretend he was casually stretching out his arms when Race glanced back at him over his shoulder.

  “Jacob.” Race was suddenly in his space, the bag with his food held carefully in one large hand as he stared at Jacob in that intense way he had.

  “Y-yes?” He wanted to smack himself because he was twenty-six, not sixteen, and he should be over stuttering because of a pretty pair of eyes and a nice set of shoulders. But he knew Race was a lot more than that. He had seen it over the months they’d known each other, in the way Race was always kind and polite to everyone even if he was normally quiet and seemed almost solemn most of the time.

  “I’ll see you later.” Race smiled at him, just a small upturning of his lips but it was enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle and the deep dimples, which had been the bane of Jacob’s existence for months, appear.

  Luckily Race turned at that moment and headed out the door, long legs eating up the distance as he strode back towards his shop, so he didn’t see the way Jacob practically melted across the top of the display counter.

  Kyle, the bastard, just huffed out a laugh and ruffled Jacob’s hair again.

  “You’ve got it bad, Jay Jay, you’ve got it real bad.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Jacob huffed mournfully into the glass beneath his cheek.

  Chapter Two

  Jacob failed to contain his scream of frustration as he carefully coaxed the large white van onto the side of the road as a loud knocking noise from the engine warned him that something was seriously wrong. His day had been a string of one mishap after another, and he was simultaneously glad it was over a
nd pissed it had ended with the bakery van breaking down and leaving him stranded on the side of the road. It was enough to make him wish he’d paid more attention in auto shop in high school, but cars had never held much of an interest to him.

  Tired and ill-tempered, Jacob pressed his forehead against the steering wheel and forced himself to breathe and calm down. When he felt like he could speak without screaming again he dug out his cell phone, thankful that with everything else that had gone wrong he hadn’t forgotten it somewhere or dropped it in a toilet. As it was he had just enough battery left to make a short call, and normally it would be Kyle, who had actually paid attention in class, but he didn’t want to interrupt his and Tara’s monthly date night. Instead he thumbed through his contacts and his finger hovered over a number for a second in hesitation before he finally swallowed hard and put the call through.

  “Carroway Auto Repair.” Race’s deep voice came over the line, and Jacob let out a huff of relief.

  “Hey Race, it’s Jacob, Jacob Stine … from the bakery.”

  “I know who you are, Jacob.” Race’s tone was dry and even though he knew Race couldn’t see him Jacob rolled his eyes, too frustrated to feel ridiculous or nervous the way he normally did when confronted with Race in any way.

  “Right. Well, I’m broke down on the side of Highway 72, just past the water tower, and I’d appreciate a tow.”

  “Timothy has the truck for the night, and he’s about three counties over.” Race sounded vaguely apologetic.

  “Race, please just … I need you to do whatever you need to do to make sure that this night doesn’t end with me walking fifteen miles back to my house or calling Kyle.” Jacob heard a chair screech and what sounded like drawers being opened and closed and then Race was obviously up and moving.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.” Race hung up before Jacob could say anything else. Jacob did nothing for a moment but stare at his phone in silence, and then he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

  Jacob found himself bored after only a few minutes, and his fingers started tapping out an irregular rhythm on the steering wheel as he stared blankly at the dash and willed the time to pass. A loud rap on his window made him jump, and he was almost shocked to see Race staring in at him with an arched brow because it hadn’t felt like that much time had passed. Race made the universal sign for rolling down a window, and Jacob knew his face was flushed in embarrassment at his small lapse in attention.

  Still the frustration and general exhaustion of the day was too much and it continued to melt away the anxious sort of excitement that always twisted in Jacob’s stomach around Race. So he was able to unbuckle his belt and watch as Race took a step to the side when he pushed the door open instead.

  “That was fast. Thanks for coming, Race.”

  “No problem. Now pop the hood and let me see what I can do.” Race moved around to the front of the van after Jacob had reached back inside and pressed the release. Race spent a few minutes under the hood, and then he straightened and made his way back over to stand in front of Jacob again.

  “What exactly happened?” He gestured back towards the still open hood.

  “Nothing too exciting. I was coming back from a delivery, hit a pot hole and then it started making this loud knocking noise and I had to coax it to the side of the road.”

  “Sounds like you might have cracked a rod. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home and I’ll send Timothy with the tow truck in the morning.” Race moved back around, shut the hood with a bang and then gestured for Jacob to gather his stuff and lock the doors. Jacob slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and followed Race to the blue truck parked behind him, the name of the auto shop printed across the side in bright white letters.

  The ride was silent and slightly awkward to begin with. Jacob and Race had only been in such close quarters a few times without anyone else around to run interference, and there had always been a sort of tension between them. Jacob had hoped in the beginning that it was a sense of mutual attraction. Each week that passed without Race making a move had slowly killed that dream. Jacob himself had always been more cautious, had always preferred to be the one pursued instead of the pursuer. Still the tension between them had remained even though neither of them had acknowledged it aloud. Safely ensconced inside the truck Jacob felt his awareness of Race rush back in on him.

  He was aware of the way Race’s long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and how the muscles in his arm bunched when he shifted gears. The cab of the truck smelt like sweat and grease and a hint of the spicy cologne Race wore. Normally the combination would smell unpleasant, but it only reminded Jacob of days spent staring out the bakery window and watching as Race pulled himself, sweaty and disheveled, from underneath whatever vehicle he was working on. Jacob had always imagined what it would be like to make his way into the garage at night when Race was working late, to find him laid out on the creeper wrist deep in the undercarriage of some car or truck. To kneel on the cold concrete floor, unzip the fly of Race’s worn jeans, pull his cock out and swallow it down.

  Jacob had spent more than one night, alone in his bed, hand fisted around his own cock as he imagined the choked off sounds of surprise Race would make as he sucked him off nice and slow. He tried to shake the thought off, tried not to get caught up in the fantasy when Race was only inches away from him, but it proved harder to do than he’d ever imagined.

  By the time Jacob saw his driveway in the distance he was half hard and sweating lightly, desperate to get out of the truck before he did something he’d regret. Something like reach for the tab of Race’s jeans even though he was almost certain that Race wouldn’t welcome the gesture. He was already reaching for his seatbelt as Race pulled into his driveway, but Race clamped a hand down on his shoulder and stopped him from leaping out of the truck.

  Jacob twisted back around to face Race but even when their eyes met and held Race’s hand didn’t leave his shoulder. Instead his fingers spread out a bit until Jacob felt the pad of his index finger stroke slowly across the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt. Race held his gaze, and Jacob was helpless to look away, captivated by the feel of Race’s hand on him in a way that seemed so out of character.

  For a moment Race looked as if he had something to say, his brows furrowed and his mouth open. Instead he snapped it shut quickly and finally lifted his hand off of Jacob’s shoulder, wrapped his hands tightly around the steering wheel again and turned around to stare almost angrily out the windshield.

  “I’ll call you in the morning to let you know what it’s going to run you to get the van fixed and how long it’s going to take. I’ll try to bump it up the line for you since it’s for the bakery.” Race sounded collected, almost forcefully so, and Jacob almost hated him for being able to act so obviously unaffected.

  “Alright. I’ll talk to you then. Thanks for the ride, Race.” Jacob ground the words out, cock still half hard in his slacks. Frustration once again built in his chest at the realization that he’d probably just missed the perfect opportunity to tell Race how he felt.

  Jacob got out of the truck, slammed the door shut behind him, and stalked his way up to his front door. He fitted the key in the lock as he cursed angrily at himself under his breath. A hand clamped down on his shoulder unexpectedly, and he whirled around. His arm flew up to knock the hand away, and his fist curled to deliver a blow. The punch caught Race in the stomach, and the mechanic let out a pained burst of air, doubling over for a second as his fingers wrapped themselves around the wrist of Jacob’s offending hand. Horrified, Jacob rushed to apologize.

  “Fuck, Race, I’m sorry! You startled me, man. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.” Jacob ignored the hand wrapped around his wrist and reached out to grab Race by the shoulder.

  “You’ve got a good swing for a baker.” Race wheezed, and the words surprised a laugh out of Jacob.

  “Kyle taught me how to throw a punch when we were eight. Plus I’m a bake
r, not helpless.”

  Race looked up at him, and their eyes met and held again as Race’s grip on his wrist tightened for a moment. In a strange reverse Jacob opened his mouth to speak, to apologize again, but Race’s mouth on his cut him off before he could say anything.

  The mechanic’s mouth was hard, almost harsh, and for a moment their teeth pressed together painfully as Jacob made a startled sound in the back of his throat, too surprised to respond. It changed in an instant; Race’s mouth softened, the pressure eased, and his tongue came out to swipe almost hesitantly against Jacob’s closed lips. The movement pulled Jacob out of his surprised freeze, and he couldn’t fight the low moan that built up in the back of his throat as he opened his mouth for Race’s tongue.

  The sound seemed to spur something to life inside of Race because the kiss went wild. Race’s tongue became frantic as he dominated Jacob’s mouth, licking at his teeth and the hollows of his cheeks like he’d never get another chance to taste him. Jacob clung to him by the hand that was still hooked on to his shoulder as Race backed him up and pinned his other arm to the door by the wrist he still held tightly. Jacob’s body bucked up as Race pressed down with a dirty twist of his hips, and the friction against his cloth-covered cock was almost enough to make him whimper.

  Race broke the kiss and pulled away, panting heavily against Jacob’s cheek as he pressed their foreheads together.

  “Fuck. Fuck, I wasn’t gonna do this. Wasn’t gonna let myself. Been so good but you…” Race trailed off and before Jacob could puzzle out just what he meant his head was falling back to hit the door hard enough to hurt because Race had let his wrist go and instead started to paw at the front of his jeans. He froze for a moment, but when Race grabbed the tab of his zipper the reality of the situation sank in quickly.