Of Cocoa and Men 01 (2 page)

He wasn’t sure what made him look over at the booth in the corner; maybe he’d done it inadvertently while trying to avoid looking at anyone else. He really did want to get to the kitchen and get to work without having to deal with social niceties with anyone. Of course the man sitting in the last booth, hunched over a steaming mug like it was the very much-needed hair of the dog that bit him did not look as if he and social niceties were very well acquainted at all. Connor was intrigued.

It could have been the heavy scruff on the guy’s face. It could have been the muscles that were clearly trying to break through the tight T-shirt. Or maybe it was the leather pants. It was probably the dangerous look in the dark eyes that glanced up to meet his, though. Connor had a bit of a thing for bad boys. Not that he’d ever actually dated one, but they were his true type nonetheless. And this guy had bad boy written all over him.

He didn’t realize he’d actually stopped until the guy in the booth straightened, holding Connor’s gaze all the while, and cleared his throat before growling out, “What?”

Pulling himself back to the here and now, Connor shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry.” The little squeak in his voice had him fighting not to wince and he turned, fleeing through the doors to the kitchen and trying to make it look like that wasn’t exactly what he was doing. Unfortunately, he’d never mastered the art of making a quick retreat look casual and uncaring.

The swinging doors hit him on the butt once he was through, and, though he moved around busily, he wasn’t really doing anything for a good ten minutes before his heart stopped racing so hard.

Connor told himself off. It wasn’t like he was going to approach the bad boy out there. Hell, he didn’t even know if the man was gay, and he had a hunch asking someone as muscular and strong if he wasn’t gay would not be very good for Connor’s health. Of course, no one had ever said he couldn’t indulge in a fantasy or two in the wee hours while he took care of the morning wood with a smidge of lube and his hand. He’d have to file this particular bad boy away for later.

Once he had the bread started, he indulged in a peek out one of the windows in the double swinging doors, jerking his head back immediately when he realized that not only was his bad boy still out there, the man was looking right at him.

He spent the rest of the morning steering clear of the windows and the pass, but no matter how hard he worked at not looking, he couldn’t keep himself from wanting to.

Old Story, New Story

Dayton tried to forget about Connor, but he’d seen the man twice now, and Connor’s scent was in his nose. Lilton wasn’t his usual hunting grounds for a reason, though. He avoided trolling for sex so close to home -- there was also the little matter of Lilton having very few men of his persuasion to troll after, but that was neither here nor there. He had enough of a reputation already, both with the town and with the pack. If he didn’t have to hear about it from either side, he was a happy wolf.

Sometimes, even going out of the area for his hook-ups didn’t save him from a lecture from Donald. The man thought that just because he was Alpha, he needed to have his finger in everyone’s business. Donald was kind of like the town gossips like that. The thought had Dayton sniggering.

“You think this is funny?” Donald was in full nag mode, his nostrils flaring, his eyes full of self-righteous anger. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to sprout a muzzle and ear hair. Pointy ears. Maybe the beginnings of his tail. The days after the full moon were always like this -- Donald always felt the need to throw his weight around a little. Dayton thought it was to cover feelings of inadequacy.

He had to swallow his laughter. “Listening to you go on and on like one of the old gossips? No, I don’t find it funny at all.”

Donald sputtered and glared, and Dayton would swear his ears actually did change back and forth a few times.

It was probably a good thing they were alone. If anyone else had been around, as Alpha Donald would have had to attack Dayton for insubordination and Dayton would have had to defend himself and that would lead to that whole pesky becoming the new Alpha thing. There was a reason Donald never had these little chats with him in public. He might not be the brightest bulb shining, but he wasn’t stupid and they both knew that Dayton could kick his ass without trying. Hell, a bunch of the pack males could -- some of the females, too -- but like Dayton, none of them particularly wanted the job. It was thankless, and you had to put up with jerks like him.

“I don’t find it funny either, Dayton. It’s embarrassing.”

One of Dayton’s eyebrows went up and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he was going to have to reassess this whole Donald not being stupid thing.

“It is! The rest of the pack thinks I can’t control you. Not to mention the townsfolk barely tolerate us as it is, and you’re just making it worse. You need to find a mate -- a
female
mate -- and make babies. Contribute!”

Dayton stood up tall and growled. “Aside from the fact that I do most of it away from Lilton, my business is my business and no one is going to tell me what to do -- not the townsfolk, not the pack, and not you.”

“I’ll kick you out of the pack.” Donald took a breath, clearly working up to a whole new tirade. Dayton wasn’t going to let him unleash it.

“Consider me kicked out.”

Donald’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. Before the man could say another word, Dayton turned and walked out.

He wasn’t putting up with that shit.

***

Dayton went to the Silver Kitchen Diner and parked his Hog out back. He didn’t usually show up here during the day, but he was growly and out of sorts thanks to that stupid fucker they’d let be Alpha and was craving chocolate like he needed it to breathe. He took off his helmet and left it on the back of the bike, noticing the little red car parked next to a pile of crap in front of the diner’s back door. It was really little; it was tiny, like a little clown car. Shit, he’d bet he could pick it up and move it.

He went over to check it out, see if it was a real car and caught a scent. Connor. From the diner. He put his nose in the air and scented harder. Yeah. It was him. Dayton could tell from the way his prick perked up and took notice. Connor smelled better than anyone he’d scented in a long time. Better than any of the guys he’d ever taken out behind the clubs or to a hotel that rented by the hour to fuck. Better even than anyone in the pack.

His nostrils flared. He wanted Connor. A lot. Rules be fucking damned. He’d tried to be good. He’d tried to keep his hook-ups well away from the town and the pack and he was still getting reamed for it. He’d still walked out of the pack for it. If he was going to do the time, he might as well get to do the crime. Sort of. Not that getting into Connor’s pants would be a crime. Hell, not getting into them would be.

He went back to his bike and settled against it, arms crossed as he waited for Connor to come out.

About forty-five minutes later, Connor came around the side of the diner. He stopped at the pile of crap and cursed, kicked it. Dayton headed over.

“...calling the inspector. Let’s see how you like those apples, Bill Deans.”

“I like apples.”

Conner jumped at his words and whipped around. Dayton smiled, hoping he didn’t look
too
wolfish.

“What?”

“I said I like apples.” Dayton moved slowly toward Connor, not making any sudden movements. Yeah, Dayton was stalking Connor like the prey he was.

“You like apples?” Connor still looked confused.

“You said you hoped he liked those apples...”

“Oh... Oh! You heard me.” A blush climbed up Connor’s pale face.

“I did. Who’s Bill Deans?” The words came out with more of a growl than he’d intended, but he wanted Connor for himself. Of course he was in the mood for a tussle, so if this Bill Deans wanted to fight him for Connor, he was up for that. Men tended to be a little less enamored of that sort of display, though. A potential wolf mate would have dug it.

Connor made a face as he said the name, looking both angry and disgusted and Dayton relaxed a little.

“He owns the diner. This stack of garbage has been blocking the back door for weeks now and I have to go around to the front to get in and out. It’s not safe!”

“No, it isn’t. I take it you’ve complained.”

“I have. Repeatedly.”

“So why hasn’t he done anything about it?” Dayton was back to growling, but now it was about thinking this Bill Deans was an asshole.

“Because he doesn’t approve of my lifestyle and this is his little way of showing it.” The words were dry, resigned.

Okay, make that a major asshole. Maybe king of the assholes. Dayton’s growls got louder.

Connor glared at him. “And don’t you start growling at me. The way I live my life is
my
business and if you don’t like the fact that I’m gay you can take your attitude and shove it in that pile of garbage there.” Turning to unlock the car door, Connor continued muttering. “Stupid small town attitudes. Why do people even give a fuck who I do or do not fuck. Jesus. It’s not like I’ve been laid since I got here in the first place!”

The muttering continued as Connor put on his seat belt, started the engine and drove off, the little car maneuvering like a dream.

Dayton was left standing alone in the back lot, watching the Mini disappear down the road wondering when he’d lost total control of the situation.

The Gift of Garbage

Connor grumbled as he drove through the pre-dawn to the diner. He was still in a rotten mood from his encounter with the hot -- but a little scary to be meeting him all by himself in the back of the diner -- biker yesterday. If he hadn’t thought it would get him pounded into the asphalt, he would have followed his desires and kissed the man full on the mouth. That would have showed him.

To make matters worse, he’d called Deans again after getting home and not only had the man pretty much laughed at him, his threat to go the fire inspector had resulted in much merriment and a “Go right ahead,” from Deans. The man probably had the inspector in his back pocket.

It didn’t matter. Connor was going to call him anyway. He’d looked up the number, and it was written on the back of an envelope in his pocket. As soon as it was a decent hour, he was calling it. Whether Deans hated Connor or not, the garbage blocking the back door was a fire hazard, dangerous -- and not the fun spanky kind of dangerous like the biker had been.

Connor rolled his eyes at himself. He was not going to glamorize scary biker man. He wasn’t. Even if the leather-covered muscles had been sexy as all get out. Damn it. He clearly needed to get laid. It was going to have to wait until the weekend, though, because he was an early to bed, early to rise and get to work kind of guy, which was not conducive to trips into the big city to find a gay club and get his rocks off. In fact it wasn’t conducive to doing anything past nine p.m. Which might, in part, explain his lack of laidness over the last year or… well, three or four, to be honest.

He pulled up into the spot next to the back door, still trying to talk himself out of thinking yesterday’s biker had been hot -- it didn’t help that he’d been half-fantasizing about the guy ever since he’d caught that glimpse of him in the dinner itself the other day. Of course the guy had been less scary in the back booth with a mug of hot chocolate in front of him than he was outside at full height, making Connor jump as he suddenly appeared out of nowhere. To be fair, he’d been distracted by the garbage still being there and probably wouldn’t have noticed a marching band with full colors so it probably wasn’t the biker guy’s fault he’d been so startled.

Conner was almost at the back door when he stopped short.

Almost at the back door. Which no longer had garbage in front of it. Which was now accessible.

He looked around, finding the garbage in a pile in the parking spot with the sign “reserved for owner.” His eyes widened in surprise and he started to laugh. That was the perfect spot for that garbage.

It looked like someone in town was on his side after all. Chuckling a little, he called out “Thank you,” to the sky, and grabbed his key, using it to open the back door and head into the kitchen. He had a feeling his pastries were going to be especially tasty today.

***

Dayton sat on his Hog, watching as Connor disappeared into the diner.

“You’re welcome,” he said, grinning widely.

There. Step one in wooing the town baker had begun. It was a stupid word -- wooing. It sounded too much like cooing and like hearts and candies and flowers. Of course there were going to be hearts and candies and flowers, so he supposed it was the right word after all.

He didn’t know if it was the way Connor smelled, or the way he’d gone off on Dayton, rejecting him before he’d even made his advance, but he was hooked. Big time. And he knew that nothing was going to break the surprising spell Connor had over him except for indulging himself in the man. He could think of worse things to have to do. A lot worse things.

He started up his hog and pulled off the shoulder, headed out of Lilton for the city. He had some shopping to do.

Secret Admirer

On Wednesday, the garbage had been moved from in front of the kitchen door to Deans’ parking spot.

On Thursday there was a brand new industrial mixer in the kitchen next to the old one that he had to share with the cook. There was a piece of paper taped to the top with big, bold letters, “Baker mixer only.”

Friday brought a large box of imported Belgian chocolates seated next to the mixer, along with a big bag of chocolate nibs, and a smaller bag of powdered cocoa from the same company. He’d been wanting to try those for his chocolate pastries for ages, but they were more expensive than he could justify -- he’d either have had to jack up his prices or lose most of his profit, neither of which was a good thing when he was trying to build both clientele and savings.

Saturday came with flowers. There had to be three hundred of them in the various bouquets, from roses to lilies, orchids and carnations, all in a rainbow of colors. They covered every free surface in the kitchen and he had to bring them home over two days, his little Mini stuffed full on both trips.