Page 1 of Bears & Bakeries (Sweet & Stocky #2)

ONE

Taking Stock

October 2013

L ocky Sorenson was trying to avoid getting a boner.

It wasn’t sexy. Like, at all .

It might’ve been, if this were the set of some trashy porn film—standing in a steamy locker room with the 49ers defensive line, all soft lighting and barrels of baby oil and one of those awful soundtracks going boom-chicka-wow-wow in time with the thrusts.

If that was how pornos even looked these days?

Locky didn’t know.

He hadn’t seen one in almost a decade.

But this wasn’t a porn set. Or his bedroom. Or one of the very limited spots where getting a boner might be acceptable. This was the break room of SunSpark Industries, the San Francisco tech darling where Locky had been an accounting middle-manager for the last seven years. And he wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of sweaty football players, but sixty of his colleagues—none of whom wanted to see Locky pitching a tent in the middle of their cupcakes.

None, that was, except the man currently talking to him.

Locky hadn’t met Marty before, a beardy little pocket otter who’d just started in sales. And Locky really wished he could stop meeting him now. Because Marty was flirting with him. Like, obscenely . Not even attempting to hide his intentions out of fear that Locky might be straight or taken or prone to bursting into red-faced panic whenever cute guys hit on him.

“So, you’re the famous Locky Sorenson?” said Marty, looking like he might whisper the word daddy at any moment.

Locky tried to ignore the prickles across his skin, but the man was standing too close and smelling of spicy cologne, like sweat and musk and fingernails running down his spine.

“I don’t know about famous ,” said Locky. At least, he was pretty sure he’d said it. He might have just bleated out some random throat noises, like a chubby little Chewbacca. “It’s just a few cupcakes.”

“ Hardly . I’d barely got to my desk before people were asking about my welcome lunch. I thought they were just keen to meet me, but apparently they couldn’t wait to get their lips around your delicious cakes.” Marty gave him a long look up and down. “And I can see why. They’re even better than the hype.”

Locky gulped. He didn’t usually go for younger, shorter guys. But there was something about Marty that made Locky want to pick him up and slam him against the wall. Which was a thought he really didn’t need to be having right now. “It’s... It’s nothing,” he stammered. “I do it for all the new starters.”

“And for birthdays and anniversaries and farewells, I hear? You even got the flavor right. How did you know red velvet was my favorite?”

Locky cleared his throat, cursing the fact that he’d chosen today to actually wear a tie. He could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing against the knot. “You know Evelyn? In HR? The one who onboarded you?”

“Ah, of course. That fun facts sheet she got me to fill out? I thought that was a weird touch for a Fortune 500 company.” Marty took a big lick of the icing, holding it on his tongue for far too long before finally swallowing. “If you’re free this weekend, maybe I could show you what else I like?”

Locky’s lap was hot enough to burn pancakes when he was interrupted by the most blessed sound in the world.

“Damn, Boss Man, you totally nailed these?—”

Locky snatched the woman’s arm, dragging her away so fast she left a spray of crumbs in her wake. “Adriana! I totally forgot about the... thing... with the... Vanderbilt account...”

His voice trailed off as they reached a safe distance. Locky peered through the gap by her elbow, practically hearing his own cheeks sizzling. If she hadn’t come along when she did, Locky might have left a wet stain on his suit pants.

What the fuck is wrong with me.? Random boners are for thirteen-year-old schoolboys, not thirty-five-year-old accountants!

Adriana—a Puerto Rican skyscraper with sleek black hair and a pants suit to match—raised a sly eyebrow. “You’re looking a little hot? Did I interrupt something?”

“Quiet you. Or I’ll actually create a Vanderbilt account and make you work it over the weekend.”

“ Pffft , what else is new?”

Locky understood the sass. His team of fifteen had only just finished a super-secret project for the Chief Financial Officer. A whole month it had taken them—late nights and weekends too. He didn’t know why they needed an urgent update on the company’s accounts, and management wasn’t jumping to explain.

“Lachlan, what are you doing?” said a young man by his shoulder. Jared, the second of his junior managers, was dressed like always—an extra from the film Wall Street. One who couldn’t grasp that business styles had changed since 1987. And that wearing suspenders and aviator reading glasses made him look a smidge serial-killer-y.

Not that Locky could talk. He rode his bike to work most days and always forgot at least one piece of business wear. If it wasn’t for the spare stack of shirts that Evelyn shoved into his desk drawer at regular intervals, Locky would spend half his days pretending that his chest hair was a really thick sweater.

Locky sighed. “Buddy, it’s been over a year. Are you ever going to call me Locky ?”

He consciously didn’t add, also, my name isn’t even Lachlan . Because being stuck in this office for fifty hours a week was bad enough without Jared calling him Havelock .

“Yes, Lachlan. Sorry, Lachlan,” said Jared, not meeting his gaze. “Are you aware it’s three minutes over our allowed break? According to subsection 33.6 of the Employee Handbook?—”

“ Dude , chill!” grunted Adriana. “The company owes us one.”

Locky perked up. “You’re right, dammit! Everyone’s been working so hard, why don’t I take us to that new make-your-own-pizza place? It’s only a few blocks away.”

Suddenly, Locky’s fears about cute guys flirting with him were swept away on the thought of a counter full of ingredients he could experiment with. A place where he could create his own masterpieces like blue cheese and pear, walnut and prosciutto, arugula and apple!

“Oh, I don’t think we could do that,” said Jared, rubbing his hands.

“Yeah,” said Adriana. “I’ll snatch a few minutes on the break, but I’m not heading out for a whole afternoon on company time.”

“What’s with this work ethic?” Locky huffed. “Who chooses boring spreadsheets over free pizza?”

“People who don’t have full blown ADHD?” said Adriana.

“For the last time, I don’t have?—”

“Oh, did you finally get a diagnosis? said Jared. “That’s amazing. Welcome to the neurodivergent family, Lachlan!”

“God, this has really backfired.”

“Yup. Sorry, Boss Man. But some of us actually like our boring?—”

Adriana’s silence was sudden and made even more alarming by the way it rippled through the break room. Soon, every face was glued to the headline on the business channel.

Delphine General in shock buy-out of SunSpark Industries.

Locky’s eyes bulged.

Delphine General was the biggest player in the American green innovation industry—four times bigger than SunSpark.

And they didn’t buy their competitors to help them grow.

They bought their competitors to gut them.

“Oh,” said Locky, as the silence turned to panic. “So that’s why we did the weekend work.”

* * *

“ Blergh! ” said Locky, tossing his access pass across the food court table.

His housemate, Kai Kimura, stared at it through a mouthful of burger, one of the three on his tray. “The world’s most unflattering photo? Thanks, you shouldn’t have.”

“Keep it. It doesn’t even work anymore. I’d just gotten my bike out of the basement when I remembered those socks Evelyn got me.By the time I’d turned around, they’d already locked me out.”

Kai sucked the barbecue sauce from his fingers. “Seriously, did you whisk your hair that morning instead of brushing it?”

“Not all of us can look like beefy underwear models in our pass photos!”

“Speaking of,” said Kai, reaching for his designer belt, patent black and perfectly complimenting his ass-hugging suit pants. “Want to see my latest?”

Locky ignored the question. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours fielding questions he didn’t have answers for. Trying to project stability when he didn’t know what was coming.

That had been the worst part, even more than his own sudden unemployment—the fact he couldn’t protect his staff, the people who looked up to him.

He’d call everyone over the next few days. Make sure they were adjusting. Offering assistance with their job hunts. Calling in favors and trying to smooth their transitions.

Adriana would be fine, once she’d stopped kicking holes in the wall. And Delphine might even want to keep Evelyn—as soon as they’d made her fire everyone else. But Jared? Poor fucking Jared. The kid was a brilliant accountant, but he was awful at job interviews, having even worse panic attacks than Locky.

Kai was unmoved by Locky’s dark mood, inching his pass closer until it booped Locky’s nose.

He groaned.

Because of course Kai looked flawless.

Kai’s mother was of mixed Japanese, Filipino, and Native Hawaiian heritage. Even now, in her fifties, she was so beautiful that she could’ve starred in tourism ads. Alongside a six-foot-six mountain of Midwestern muscle for a father, no wonder they’d produced a son of heft and height, with skin the color of swaying coconut palms, hair so black it almost glowed blue, and a bone structure that belonged on a catwalk—his high cheeks and square jaw visible even through his thick beard.

Under his perfectly tailored suit, Kai was tattooed and furry and huge. Strong as hell, but with just enough padding to be more muscle bear than gym hunk.

Locky batted the pass away. “What’s the gig this time ? Another startup?”

“Nope, Apex Leisure. They’ve got resorts all through the Americas. I might even get a stint in Puerto Vallarta and miss the fucking winter.”

“You’re never letting that grudge go, are you?”

“Seriously! A man from North Dakota and a woman from Hawaii fall in love, and where do they settle down? At the woman’s tropical dive resort? Or in a freezing wasteland with more oil rigs than people? I’ll give you one guess!”

Locky rolled his eyes. He’d heard this rant so many times he could recite it by heart. “Will you bother learning your coworkers’ names this time?”

“Don’t get snippy at me for following the money, babes. You could’ve done the same thing instead of making excuses.”

“What excuses?”

“ Oh, Kai, I don’t want to be an independent consultant like you. I don’t want to change job every three months and never know where my next check is coming from. I’d rather work for one company for seven years. Because it’s stable and boring and I’m a total fucking pussy. ” Kai took a big bite from his second burger, speaking through a mouthful of meat. “How many times have I told you: treat jobs in this town like men. Get in, milk ’em dry, then hop the hell off.”

“And throw them away when you’re done?”

He’d reluctantly concede Kai’s point about his career—deep down, Locky knew he’d stayed too long at SunSpark, all in pursuit of some job security that clearly never existed.

But he wasn’t going to take relationship advice from him. Kai was a pump-and-dump kind of gay. His longest relationship had been three days, and that was only because he’d received a shelter in place alert during a one-night stand.

“Rude,” said Kai. “I give repeat performances to some guys.”

“ When? ”

“I mean, I must have? Statistically? Even if only by accident? And stop changing the subject. We’re talking about your hideous job, not my delightful sluttiness.”

Locky grabbed a napkin, scraping sauce from Kai’s beard. “I happened to like my job.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“No, I fucking didn’t. But it paid well, and I liked my team. It was rewarding to foster their talents.”

“Gross, you sound like a corporate infomercial. Speaking of, I saw the final stock price. You’ve been taking your annual bonus in stock, right? Like I told you to?”

“Yes, Dad. Every year.”

“ Nice . So that’s a sixtyish grand payout when the sale goes through?”

Locky slumped onto his forearms. “My twelve pieces of silver.”

“Oh, please. I saw the takeover terms. Full benefits and a three-month exit bonus for every employee? In a booming job market? Your precious staff will be fine. So chill out and enjoy your windfall.” There was an uncomfortably long pause as Locky avoided eye contact. “Havelock Sorenson, you are going to spend some of this money, aren’t you?”

“Well...”

“It’s sixty grand! The mother lode! You could buy a boat or a sexy car or go traveling around the world.”

“Sure. But wouldn’t it be more sensible to put it into?—”

“If you say ten-year bonds I will flip this fucking table!”

“I’m pretty sure it’s bolted to the floor.”

“For God’s sake, Locky, this is your one chance to get out of accounting. To explore other options. Like your bakery idea. You could finally make that a reality?”

“Jesus, not this again. If I wanted to waste the money, I’d just get the boat.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste! I’ve told you; it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Then why hasn’t someone done it already?”

“Because most business ideas are only obvious in retrospect. It still takes one person to do it for the first?—”

Locky shoved the remaining burger into Kai’s mouth. “Eat up, dear. We can’t have you wasting away. And are you coming tonight?”

“I sure hope so!” said Kai, chewing.

“To the meeting , moron. It’s open night. A lot of new people will be there.”

“Dude, you were fired half an hour ago. The meeting can survive without you for one fucking night.”

“No,” said Locky. “I’m their leader. They need me.”

And after today, Locky might need them even more.

* * *

The apartment was dark when Locky got home—blackout curtains to avoid sun damage on Kai’s expensive furniture.

The ginger tail of Kai’s tabby cat, Apricot, swished against Locky’s hateful suit pants. That might be the only good thing about today—he wouldn’t have to wear them for a while.

The downside? All the terrifying shit that came with job hunting. Updating resumes and getting references and prepping for interviews. Months of instability and uncertainty and sleepless nights and money stress and?—

Locky caught his rising pulse and breathed deep on the dark air. Therapy had been way too costly to do long term, but at least it had given him some killer breathing exercises.

He flicked on the lights, warm and industrial, with those curly filaments you saw in trendy cafés. Apricot sagged like hot mozzarella as Locky placed him on the marble counter, cream and gold and flecked with black. Exactly the kind of tidy glamour you’d expect from Kai.

Locky tapped his crumbling laptop until his favorite online radio station was playing— Just Jazz , a mix of ragtime and swing and big band music.

As brassy notes filled the kitchen, Locky looked at the corner of the media player. It said live in glowing green, with 60,000 listeners online.

That made Locky breathe a little easier.

Because that meant he wasn’t alone.

Locky hummed the familiar music—“Summer Song” by David Brubeck, even though it was closer to winter than summer. He wrapped a butterscotch-colored baker’s apron around his stocky frame, looped over bulky shoulders and tied above his big bubble butt. Kai had recently washed it for him, and the canvas smelled of starch and Calabrian lemon. The smell of promise and possibility.

Kai often joked that it was strangely hot seeing Locky dressed like this—aproned up and with a collared business shirt underneath, rolled over his furry forearms and unbuttoned past his clavicle, letting thick tresses of sandy blond poke out by his well-bearded chin.

An alluring combination of house-proud poppa bear and thick-chested Scandinavian woodworker .

Breathing a contented sigh, Locky laid out his most precious possessions—a complete set of bakeware that he’d bought from a thrift shop after leaving Seattle. It was a sleek mix of vintage steel and ceramic, coated the color of fresh buttermilk.

Even just looking at the pans, set up neatly in their vintage display caddy, calmed him. On those nights when his heart beat too fast and sleep wouldn’t come, he’d stay up baking until dawn, creating new and exciting treats. Letting the ingredients tell him what they wanted to be.

As bags were unclipped and jars unscrewed, Locky was kissed by the sweet smell of vanilla and the rich, earthy aroma of baker’s yeast. Glass bowls were blessed with snow-soft powdered sugar and the gentle swish of flour through a silver sieve.

As Locky settled into the familiar routine, the tension in his shoulders was replaced with a little bop. The songs flowed like melted butter. The room grew warm with the radiant heat of the oven.

And, just for a moment, the world seemed a little more manageable.

* * *

Locky arranged the chairs around the church basement. There was space for twenty in the inner circle, with another thirty against the walls. Usually that would be overkill, but tonight was a Tuesday—open night.

The night when anyone could observe.

Locky had found that a crazy concept at first, having strangers stare at the regulars like they were actors in a really depressing play. But his mind had changed when he’d seen just how many people would watch for weeks or months from the sidelines, only to finally pluck up the courage and join them in the middle.

Locky filled the drip coffee with heaped scoops of a rich, dark grind—far more expensive than the collection bowl covered. He’d never bought coffee this fancy for himself, sticking to whatever charcoal floor sweepings were on sale that week. But when it came to others, he’d much rather welcome people with the best than quibble over a few bucks.

It was the same with the three dozen donuts, pink iced and rainbow sprinkled. He could have just bought a few boxes on the way over, but it was so much warmer to cook them from scratch. To make people feel comfortable and welcomed and supported.

Because Lord knows, they needed it.

With everything in order, Locky opened the doors. Familiar faces greeted him. Some he hadn’t seen for a week. Some he’d seen only yesterday. And some he’d never seen before—startled eyes and scared glances.

Locky took extra care with them, speaking gently and smiling softly.

Kai came in just before seven, still wearing his suit. He’d never been like Locky—he didn’t come every night, and definitely not to the same group. He preferred to go to different meetings around town, mixing it up based on wherever his latest job was. But, asshole though he sometimes was, he’d still come here tonight. Because he knew that Locky would appreciate it. Because he knew that Locky might be struggling.

Kai peered around the room. “Is the witch here?”

“Evelyn’s still at SunSpark. I think she’ll be working some late nights for a while.”

“You think ? I don’t like those odds. I’ll sit by the door, so I can make a getaway.”

Locky snorted and dragged Kai to the seat beside his. Soon, Locky was the only one left standing, positioned so he could see everyone in the room and anyone else who might enter.

There came a familiar pause as every eye turned to him. Some relaxed. Some nervous. Some ashamed and desperate and hopeful that this time— this fucking time —it might be different.

And a brilliant calm swelled in Locky’s chest. The knowledge that he was their rock. That he was their certainty. Because even if he couldn’t protect his staff, he could at least protect these people.

“My name is Locky Sorenson,” he said, his voice as warm as fall leaves. “And I’m an alcoholic.”

* * *

“Another incredible meeting,” said Kai, with revolting sincerity. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Ewww,” said Locky, in the middle of stacking chairs. The rest of the regulars had already left for the diner, and Locky would join them once he’d tidied up. “Who the fuck is this, and what have you done with Kai?”

“Yeah, that was never going to work, was it?”

“No, weirdo. What do you want?”

“I was thinking about what you said over lunch.”

“Come on, man! It’s been a hell of a day.”

“And there’ll be more like it if you get another shitty office job. Just give your bakery idea a chance.”

Locky was too drained to have this conversation again—one that came up every few months, whenever Kai tried to make Locky live his dreams . “For the last time, the bakery was a throwaway idea. I haven’t thought about it for years.”

“But you could think about it. That’s the point. I know you’ve got baggage about money. And given the shit you went through, I get it?—”

“It’s not that!” snapped Locky, before forcing himself calm. Kai was only trying to help, after all. And Kai, of all people, knew the pain of that particular issue. “Sorry it’s... Okay, maybe it is that. But it’s not just that. Even if I wanted to test the idea, which I really don’t, I haven’t got the first clue how to open a small business. Social media? Marketing? Shop fitting? Making a catchy menu? I don’t know how to do any of that. I bake random cakes and I can do accounts. That’s it .”

“Hello? Kai Kimura here? World-renowned project manager and best friend, at your service?”

“You work for the same Fortune 500 companies as me! You don’t know shit about small business permits and niggling state regulations that could send you bankrupt.”

“I thought you might say that,” said Kai, whipping out his phone and revealing the slick website of a Mr. Benedict Owens, Small Business Adviser.

Locky froze. Because the webpage was having an immediate and counterproductive impact on his dick.

Kai had mentioned Benedict over the years—his old college roommate—but Locky had never actually met the guy.

Which was definitely a good thing.

Because Benedict was stunning .

Locky wasn’t usually attracted to Kai’s business friends, with their expensive suits and stony faces. But there was something about Benedict that fizzed deep into Locky’s balls. Thick eyebrows were set above an even thicker beard, complimenting long lashes and round cheeks. It was a roundness that implied a thick-set body that Locky really didn’t need to be thinking about right now.

Locky coughed. “He looks... nice?”

“Yeah, he is. I haven’t seen him in a few years, but he’s a small business wizard. Helps them get off the ground and navigate the bureaucratic shit.” Just as Locky started to protest, Kai added, “Listen, jackass, just meet with him. He’s not some sleazy operator. He’ll give you an honest assessment of your business idea. If he thinks it’s crap, then I’ll drop it for good, and you can hunt for another awful accounting job.”

Locky gargled in frustration. “And if he’s suffered a head knock and actually likes the idea?”

“Then you’ve got to entertain it.”

“Kai...”

“Don’t Kai me. I’m not asking you to open the actual store. Just work with him to make a business plan. Get yourself in a position where you could open it down the line. Deal?”

Locky groaned. “ Fine . Anything to shut you up.”