Page 29 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

I braved a sideways glance, instantly charmed by his easy humor. “I wouldn’t blame you at all. He’s quite dashing.”

“Fuck dashing. The dude is hot.”

“Very, but I don’t think he’s queer. That would be awkward.”

“Maybe. But this conversation”—he gestured meaningfully between us—“not awkward at all.”

“Not at all,” I replied primly.

We looked at each other and burst into laughter.

And just like that…we were on solid ground again.

The hum of train noise played in the background like a familiar melody I automatically elevated to “favorite song” status. I couldn’t tell if we’d reached a truce or had navigated an unwitting rite of passage from acquaintances to friends—either way, this was nice.

When our laughter subsided, we went silent.

I tried to conjure practical thoughts, like checking the train schedule so I wouldn’t be stranded in Bath. I’d called my mother earlier to let her know my change in plans and promised to give her my return info. But…my brain immediately turned to mush after that. I couldn’t think about my mother while sitting next to Scott.

He was too…much. Too big, too distracting, too—

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re not talking. That’s not like you.”

I shifted to fully face him, unsurprised to find him in my space. Or maybe I was in his. I breathed in the scent of his cologne, swallowing hard when I swayed into him like a drunken wallflower.

Before I could remind myself not to do anything stupid, Scott leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

And it was heaven.

I slipped my hand around his nape and slanted my chin, licking his lips and sliding my tongue inside.

One of us moaned…yeah, it was probably me. Our tongues tangled as I raked my fingers through his hair and deepened the connection. My world had suddenly condensed into a tiny pinpoint in space where this was all that mattered. This kiss, this train…this man.

I stopped thinking and did whatever felt right. I set my hand on his massive thigh, inching toward his crotch while I sucked his tongue and nibbled his bottom lip. Our feverish kisses made me bolder. I pressed my thumb against his denim-clad cock and rubbed it…back and forth, back and forth.

What was I thinking, and when had I become the king of bad ideas and public sex acts? It was definitely a recent development and not something I should pursue. I told myself to stop, but he was hard. I could see the outline of his thick cock clear as day. I wondered if anyone would notice if I got on my knees and—

“Hey.”

“Sorry, I—”

“We’re here. C’mon, Theo.” Scott grabbed my wrist and kissed my knuckles before ushering me off the train.

Stunning pink clouds crested the hillside as we made our way from the station into town. I huddled close when a brisk wind howled along the riverside near the abbey, thinking it felt different to stroll these streets with Scott than it had with Giles the other day.

The colors were crisper and my senses more in tune with my surroundings: The sharp clip of our footsteps as we navigated uneven sidewalks and cobblestone streets. The blue awning of the tourist shop next to the Abbey Hotel selling royal memorabilia. Crying seagulls hovering over the Pulteney Bridge. The modern-looking Waitrose market juxtaposing the colorful painting outside Saracens Head, a pub which claimed to have been in business since 1713.

I was curious about all of it, but I had other things on my mind.

Scott unlocked the door next to his bakery, stopping to wave to a neighbor holding a cat the size of a raccoon before motioning me to follow. We traversed a long, narrow hallway and climbed three flights of creaky stairs.

When he unlocked a second door, I stepped in behind him, shamelessly checking out the white walls, tall ceilings, and wide-plank hardwood flooring. The flat was sparsely furnished with a saggy dark sofa covered with a green tartan throw blanket that clashed with the red-and-blue faux-Persian rug, a small flat-screen propped on a dresser, and a floor lamp that was probably all the rage in the nineties.

He tossed his keys onto the round table next to the galley-style kitchen and shrugged off his coat.