Bluewater Bay 05 - The Burnt Toast B&B by Heidi Belleau & Rachel Haimowitz

Author:Heidi Belleau & Rachel Haimowitz [Belleau, Heidi & Haimowitz, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

They finished their donuts and followed them with a proper lunch before starting on their second, less supervised batch of donut batter. Derrick had gone quiet and sort of surly, though Ginsberg couldn’t figure out why. Even their unrisen donuts had come out great, and Jim was a hoot and a half, and even Victoria was behaving, begging quietly by the table rather than yipping at their heels. Unfortunately, Ginsberg couldn’t find any openings to ask what was bothering Derrick—not with Jim here, and honestly, not with his own growing concerns. That voice in his head that always—he squinted at his cast; well, okay, almost always—kept him safe. The one that was telling him Derrick was a giant moody grump because he was in a kitchen (gasp), because his peppercorns were pink, because there were no trees to chop or fires to light or animals to hunt while running a B&B, or whatever it was Derrick thought he needed to do to stop his dick from falling off.

But maybe, Ginsberg thought as he watched Derrick measure an eighth-teaspoon of salt so carefully you’d think he was making high explosives or something, he was being unfair to Derrick. Maybe this was just how Derrick reacted to change, or challenge, or both.

It was almost too bad Ginsberg couldn’t stick around to find out. He had about eight million errands to run before the concert tomorrow, including a three o’clock meet-up with Tori to discuss any last-minute details.

“Well,” Ginsberg announced when the mixer shut off. Was it his imagination, or did Derrick startle? They had been working in an unusually long stretch of quiet, he supposed, prepping endless batches of dough for tomorrow. “I have to head out. Errands to run, worlds to save, you know how it is.”

Jim snorted a laugh, but Derrick only flashed him a sad little smile and knuckled at a spot of flour on his chin. “Escaping, huh?” Derrick laughed . . . ish. “All right. See you later.”

“I should go too,” Jim said before Ginsberg could respond. Maybe he was sensing the awkwardness, or maybe he’d just had enough of Derrick’s Gloomy Gussing. “Remember: batter out of the fridge in the morning, at least—”

“Two hours to rise in a warm-but-not-hot place, I know.” Wow, Derrick really had been paying attention? His exasperation faded into a soft smile, and he touched Jim’s arm. “Thank you, Jim. For . . . you know.” He rolled his head at the counter, the table, the fridge. “Everything. It, um.” Another head roll. Derrick trying to express his feelings was starting to remind Ginsberg of a spooked horse. “It really means a lot to me that you, you know.” Jim smiled patiently but didn’t let him off the hook. “That you’re still here after everything.”

Jim grabbed him by both cheeks and plopped a big, noisy kiss in the center of his forehead. “Where else would I be, silly? Someone’s got to make sure you don’t burn this place down.”

That was me—literally—thank you very much, Ginsberg thought, and then, Holy crap, am I .

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