Free The Baker by Serena Yates Page A

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