The Baker (5 page)

“I’ll take a grapefruit juice, please.” Cameron folded the menu and handed it back.

“Sure thing,” she singsonged and sashayed away.

“She sure likes you.” Ian grinned.

Cameron rolled his eyes. “I seem to have that effect on women, not that it serves any purpose.”

“You have that effect on me too.” Ian had leaned closer and lowered his voice, but it probably wouldn’t have been necessary, not in a roomful of people trying to outtalk the noise of bouncy children, plates and silverware colliding, and everyone trying to speak at the same time. At least that’s what the din sounded like to Cameron.

Cameron smiled and sipped his coffee as he let the sound of that sink in and warm him from the inside out. “Good to know.”

Ian smiled back, and the more relaxed look almost made Cameron reconsider his questions. But in the end, he decided to forge ahead. He wasn’t one to procrastinate, and if there was a problem, he wanted to know what it was so he could do something about it.

“Did you have a good Hogmanay?” Cameron had researched some details on the Internet, and it definitely sounded like a fun celebration, what with all the food being exchanged and whisky being consumed.

“It was okay.” Ian shrugged and stared at the surface of the table. “The whole family gets together at my parents’ house, and with Aileen, that’s my older sister, and her husband Tom and three kids, the house was pretty full. Add me and Senga with her fiancé, and it became pretty crowded.”

“Only okay?” Cameron was now more convinced than ever that something was off.

“I was preoccupied.” Ian looked up, a deep sadness in his eyes. “My father gave me some pretty shocking news when I spoke to him about Tartan Day two days ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m still not sure what to do, but I’m pretty upset.”

“You want to tell me what he said?” Cameron wanted to hug Ian, try to make him feel better. But that idea was neither practical at the moment, nor did Cameron know if Ian would welcome the gesture.

“At first he was all excited about Tartan Day. I expected that, with how much he loves everything Scottish even if he’s never been to Scotland. And of course he immediately saw the advertising potential.” Ian sighed. “But when I told him the mayor wanted to make it about the younger generation, and he realized I was going to need his secret ingredients, he refused to give them to me. And when I reminded him that I’d worked there all my life and was going to inherit it at some point, he totally lost it.”

“In what way?” Cameron leaned forward, more than a little worried now.

“He told me I wasn’t ‘going to be inheriting anything until I settle down and start a family’ and that it was ‘long past time I found a wife.’ Can you believe that shit?” Ian’s cheeks reddened, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“That’s… I don’t know what to say.” Cameron leaned back in his seat and shook his head.

“Yeah, neither did I.” Ian rubbed his face with both hands. “He’s mentioned he wants to see me married a few times, especially every time that Aileen had another child, but I had no idea he was planning to give the bakery to her oldest son unless I produced offspring.”

“He said that?” Cameron wanted to jump up, find the man, and “discuss” some sense into him. The guy’s attitude was positively medieval. “He couldn’t let you have the bakery and then let you pass it on to the kid?”

“You see? That would make sense! Why didn’t I think of that?” Ian frowned.

“You were probably in shock. And trying to readjust your view of the man who is supposed to love and support you unconditionally.” Cameron grimaced. His own father hadn’t been a paragon of virtue, but the man had had his reasons.

“I guess. I feel stupid I didn’t speak up.” Ian sat there, shoulders hunched, looking crushed.

“Oh, hey, I hope you’re not about to faint because the wait wasn’t too long.” Their waitress chose that moment to make an appearance, carrying a tray containing a huge plate with Ian’s food, a big skillet, and an extra empty plate. A young waiter was right behind her, a tall iced juice glass in each hand.

“No, don’t worry.” Cameron smiled at her, trying to distract her.

“Oh, all right, then. Well, here you go.” She placed the plates and skillet on the table, then took the two glasses from her colleague and set them next to each placemat. She stepped back. “Anything else I can get you?”

“No thanks, we’re fine.” Cameron just wanted her to leave. Ian clearly wasn’t up for chitchat. And neither was he, to be honest.

Once she was gone, Ian relaxed a little. But he looked so tense, Cameron could practically feel the stress and anger rolling off him.

“Okay, let’s have some food first, then we’ll talk about what you can do.” Cameron picked up his silverware and examined his skillet. It really was the ultimate everything: grilled sausage, fresh spinach, fire-roasted bell peppers and onions, mushrooms, grape tomatoes, and seasoned red-skinned potatoes topped with melting cheese and two eggs. The cast-iron skillet was so hot the food still sizzled, and Cameron virtually felt his arteries clog up as he eyed the mountain of food. Maybe he should plan to move into the gym for all of next week rather than work out a little more for a day or so.

“Sounds good.” Ian was staring at his pancakes, drizzled with cinnamon sauce and cream cheese icing. Next to them sat two fried eggs, hash browns, and two strips of bacon. A small bowl containing syrup completed the picture.

“You might have to move into the gym with me.” Cameron nodded at Ian’s food.

“Possibly.” Ian smiled and dug in, looking a lot more relaxed than before. “Or I could knead the bread dough extra hard for a few days.”

Now
that
Cameron wanted to see. Those strong biceps flexing as Ian pounded the dough into submission—yum! Feeling himself blush at his suddenly vivid imagination of what else he might be able to do with Ian in a kitchen, Cameron turned back to his food and began to eat. The taste was okay, if a little greasy, and Cameron realized he must have been hungrier than he thought, because when he first looked up, he realized he’d finished most of it already, and Ian was looking at him with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Good, huh?” Ian let his smile grow and patted his flat belly as he leaned back. “There’s not much you can do wrong with pancakes and cinnamon, really. But it’s a little much, and I’m done.”

“It was okay, but I couldn’t eat like this every day.” To Cameron’s relief he wasn’t the only one who’d made a pig of himself. There was very little left on Ian’s plate. Only the syrup had vanished completely.

“God no!” Ian chuckled. “Between all the sampling I do at the bakery and food like this every day, you’d have to roll me everywhere.”

Cameron snorted softly at the image forming in his mind.

“I’d love to talk some more, but this isn’t the place for it.” Ian looked around, and Cameron followed his gaze. The line at the entrance had gotten longer with people beginning to come in for lunch. “I feel like we’re just taking up space.”

“I agree we should get the check.” Cameron flagged down their waitress as soon as Ian nodded. He turned back to Ian as soon as she nodded her understanding. “But I doubt it’s less busy anywhere else. So, how about we reconvene at my home? I’ve got a fireplace.”

“That sounds a bit better than my crummy apartment. My father doesn’t exactly pay us well.” Ian grimaced as he said it. “And you’re not a serial killer or anything, so I should be safe.”

Cameron laughed, then shook his head. Ian was refreshingly straightforward, and Cameron like knowing he always said exactly what he meant. Payment was quickly dealt with. Then they made their way into the desolate, snowy landscape outside. After clearing their cars of the light covering of white stuff, Cameron led the way to his small house north of downtown. Chestnut was a nice street, and the two-bedroom house on two levels was all his, except for a small mortgage. Ten years in the Marines with almost no expenses had allowed him to build a nice nest egg, and his salary as a detective was pretty good. He had no complaints. Cameron put his own car in the garage, leaving the driveway for Ian. Then Cameron led the way inside.

“You want a coffee or a drink? Or should we do the tour?” Cameron dumped his keys in their usual bowl on the table next to the front door and turned to face a wide-eyed Ian. “Here, let me take your coat first.”

“This is….” Ian looked around the hallway with the wooden stairs leading to the second floor and blinked. “It’s a great place.”

“I like it.” Cameron took Ian’s coat and hung it next to his own in the built-in wardrobe. Then he took his gun out of his holster, emptied the chamber, and put everything in the small safe he’d had installed at the back of the wardrobe. After locking it securely, he turned toward Ian. “Saving up while I was in the Marines helped though.”

“How long did you serve?” Ian turned to him, his curiosity clearly piqued.

“Ten years. I signed up when I was barely eighteen, which is a story I’ll tell you another time.” Cameron didn’t want to get into the old issues right now. He’d tell Ian once they got a little better acquainted.

“How old are you anyway?” Ian squinted as if that could help him assess Ian’s age.

“Thirty-three.” Cameron smiled. “I’ve been a detective for five years since I left active service. You?”

“Oh, I’m a baby compared to you.” Ian grinned. “I’m only twenty-nine. But you don’t have to worry.”

“No?” Cameron had no idea what Ian could be referring to.

“No. I’ve always liked older men.” Ian’s grin grew until he burst out laughing.

“Brat!” Cameron had to laugh as well though. “Okay, now we got that out of the way, let me show you around.”

It only took a few minutes to walk Ian through the kitchen and dining room, the living room with its view of a snow-covered backyard, and the small den on the other side of the stairs. Cameron decided to leave the upstairs for another time and just mentioned them for now. Despite all his fantasies, he wasn’t sure if they were ready for that. He wanted more, but he also wanted to make sure Ian was on the same page. And Ian had a ton of problems they needed to talk about first.

“So, coffee?” Cameron led the way back to the living room with its oversized sofa and the thick rug in front of the fireplace.

“Please.” Ian sat down and wiggled deeper into the cushions until a small smile on his face confirmed he was comfortable.

Cameron returned a few minutes later, two steaming mugs in his hands. Ian’s contained a little milk, just like he’d watched him prepare it at the diner, and his own was black.

“Thank you.” Ian took the mug and leaned back into the cushions while Cameron made himself comfortable at the other end of the sofa, not too far away but keeping a respectable distance. For now.

“I’ve been thinking.” Cameron sipped his coffee, but it was a little warm for him. Ian didn’t seem to mind and took a longer drink while nodding. “Have you spoken to your sisters about this sudden demand of your father’s? Would they support you if push came to shove?”

“No, I haven’t mentioned it to them yet.” Ian sighed and put his coffee on the low table in front of them. “I was too focused on trying to cool down to talk to them. And anyway, the celebrations were all a bit hectic. Not sure what they could do anyway. My father is pretty stubborn and autocratic, and they won’t know the secret ingredients either, but I’ll talk to them over the weekend.”

“It’s a start. Your father is a family man. You never know what might happen if you three suddenly form a united front.” Cameron took a few sips of his own coffee before forging ahead. “Your best bet is probably trying to figure out the secret ingredients yourself.”

“I could do that, but I don’t think it would work. It never did before, and I’ve tried. Just for the fun of it, you know? It must be something really obscure.” Ian sighed. “And anyway, he probably won’t let me represent the bakery anyway, since it is legally his, and he’d have to give his agreement, right?”

“Or you could see if the competition allows for individual entries and just compete as you.” Cameron secretly thought that was the best thing anyway. “After all, you have the talent and deserve the recognition. And from the looks of it, you’re not going to get it while working for your father’s business.”

“Now there’s an idea. I’ll have to look into that.” Ian frowned a little. “It certainly beats getting married and having a kid.”

Cameron’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Ian raised his eyebrows.

“Is that what you were considering?” Cameron could see how it might look like the easy way out.

“Fuck, no!” Ian shuddered. “But I bet it’s what my father thinks he can push me into by laying down the law like that.”

IAN DIDN’T
want to believe his father was trying to force him to get married so he could pass it on to the next generation. Yes, his father was old-fashioned and a dictator, but still, Ian had thought his children’s happiness meant something to the man. How wrong Ian had been. And there was no hope of support from his mother. She religiously followed anything his father decided was good for the family as a whole, or the children as individuals. As much as she’d always told them getting an education was important, the minute Ian’s father had decreed there would be no college for them, since you didn’t need a degree to run a bakery, Ian’s mother had never said another word.

“I’m glad to hear you’re not going to let your father push you into marriage.” Cameron had taken all the drama really well so far.

“It’s too important a decision to let him.” Ian sighed. “It’s not going to be easy though. I hate confrontation, and I’ve never been one to rebel, so I have no idea how I’m going to deal with it.”

“Did your sisters fight back?” Cameron raised his eyebrows in question. “If they did, maybe it will make things easier.”

“Not really.” Ian frowned, trying to remember. “When Aileen got married and expected her first child, she withdrew from the bakery and never came back, but I think my father sort of wanted that. He never let my mother near the business.”

“The man is a real chauvinist, from the sound of it.” Cameron snorted.