Page 22 of Holiday Wishes and Tentacle Dreams

On the other hand, he’d already made his bad first impression, hadn’t he?

Nope, that didn’t help. He understood himself well. Given the chance to fuck something up, he always would. His therapist would call that “self-sabotage” and “the voice of your illness,” but Jake knew better. The evidence backed him up. He was a fuckup.

If only he could invite Doren in without having to talk to them. Then they could eat pie, another prime opportunity to avoid speaking. After that, maybe Jake would calm down enough to figure out what the hell to say.

Not having any ideas, Jake continued to stare out at the water, the tide carving grooves in the sand as it went out again. It eddied around a series of rocks, and Jake got lost in the patterns.

Patterns in the sand. Maybe that could work.

Grabbing a heavy sweater and heading out to the beach, a current of nervous electricity pulsed through Jake’s body. This was silly, wasn’t it? So silly that he should forget it and go eat the rest of the pie by himself.

Except hedidlike Doren, as much as he thought it would be a terrible idea to be in a relationship again. But maybe it wasn’t about a relationship. Maybe they could be his friend.

Jake had withdrawn from many of his friendships during his time with Phil. That should have been a red flag, but he’d always justified it to himself. After all, forging a lifetime commitment took work. Only in retrospect did he see the error in that. How Phil encouraged his isolation.

Well, if he wanted a friend, he had to dosomething. This was a step forward.

Finishing up, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. There in the sand in large block letters, he’d written the wordsCome in for pie?with an arrow pointing toward the house.

That should do the job. Dorothea was right. He should freshen up now, otherwise Doren would catch him in his pajamas. His hair was wild, and his morning breath sour. He hadn’t showered every day since he arrived—sometimes the depression made that seem like an impossible task—but he could get himself together for Doren.

The knock on the door wasn’t a surprise. Jake had seen Doren reading his message through the bay window, and watched them walk up to the house, the sun bathing their perfectly tanned muscles in an amber glow.

Jake didn’t know why he’d thought this would somehow be better than just going out and talking to Doren. If anything, he wasmorenervous as he opened the door.

The blonde surfer stood there, shirtless as always, a wide smile dominating their face. A bolt of lightning shot down Jake’s spine as Doren’s bright blue eyes fell on him. They were the color of the ocean—not the choppy gray of the Maine waters, but the sky blue of the Caribbean.

“I heard you might serve pie,” Doren said with a smirk. Jake didn’t understand how they weren’t shivering, wet and shirtless in the freezing weather.

“Do you want a towel?” Jake asked. That was the first line he’d planned. He’d said it successfully. Go him.

“Sure!” Doren chirped, stepping in as Jake tossed them one of the beach towels he’d retrieved from the closet of the spare bedroom. The surfer slowly dried off, somehow making the simple act of running the absorbent fabric over their skin the sexiest thing that Jake had ever seen. Ending with a frantic toweling of their hair, Jake couldn’t help but smile at the wild mop left behind when they’d finished.

For a moment, an embarrassed expression flashed on Doren’s face. “Do I look crazy?”

Jake shook his head. Not even a little. Instead, they looked like a statue, a perfect creature of the water deigning to spendtime on land just for him. It stirred something in Jake that he thought was dead. His stomach flipped with anxious excitement.

He hadn’t been excited about anything for months.

Jake gestured to the table, where he’d laid out two pieces of pie, accompanied by forks and mugs. “I hope you like coffee.”

Doren nodded, sliding down into the chair. Their movements were smooth, almost liquid, and Jake found their presence so appealing. He sat across from the surfer as they picked up a fork and took a bite.

The moan that issued forth from Doren’s mouth was the filthiest noise Jake had ever heard. He’d never gotten an erection from sound alone, but the crotch of his jeans was getting tighter by the second. Jake’s reaction when first eating Dorothea’s pie had been strong, sure, but the noises Doren made were positively obscene.

“So you like it?” Jake pushed around the piece of crust left on his plate.

“This is amazing!” Doren was still chewing a mouthful as they answered. “You created this concoction?”

“Um…yes.” Wait. Why had he lied? Just because Dorothea told him to? Sure, he wanted Doren to like him, but atsomepoint the surfer might ask Jake to bake them something.

God, his skin was so hot. He shouldn’t have lied. He was so bad at it, and now his lower back was damp with sweat, and he was having trouble keeping his breath even. Why was he so obvious?

“You are an exemplary baker. You should sell these. What else can you make?” Doren ran a finger across their plate, sweeping up a streak of blueberry sauce and bringing it to their mouth to suck the juices off.

At the sight, Jake forgot all about the lie and nearly came in his pants.

Jake coughed, clearing his throat and his mind before answering. “I really only do pies. That’s…kind of my thing?”