The Accidental Baker by London Clare

Author:London, Clare [London, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Published: 2019-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR: HENRY

“What the hell is it?”

Henry Vickers twisted at the waist in front of the sink in the Gents, trying to see down the length of his back.

The toilet mirror at Bar du Bijou was the minimum size for guys to touch up their hair, not for a full twirl facility. He could only see down to his shoulder blades. But so many people had been staring at his arse this afternoon, he knew something was wrong. Of course, he knew he had a superb arse—could bounce a penny off those buns, though he hadn’t done that party trick since late 2010—but he could tell it wasn’t that kind of attention.

Standing behind him, though the space was rather squashed for three patrons at the same time, his employees Debbie and Stuart smirked. Their gazes were also on Henry’s arse.

“Is it chocolate?” Debbie hazarded a guess.

“Better not be anything more gross,” Stuart said.

They glanced at each other, screwed up their faces, and made an ewwww look.

The door swung open again and Henry tensed, in case a customer, no, client, was coming in. The bar had been quiet since the lunchtime trade ended, but who knew when a coach party of gorgeous creatures may arrive, demanding service, on their way to one of the fashionable clubs in town? His chagrin gave way to relief when he saw it was Abi, the new guy. Tall, dark, with the most astonishingly bright smile. Though what was more perplexing, Abi kept full wattage on it all day, every day. Who the hell had that much to be happy about?

Abi’s gaze settled on Henry with smiling, yet genuine, concern. “What’s happening?”

That smile. Henry felt a weird, worryingly familiar frisson in his groin area. Oh dear me, no. He had only one rule when it came to men, and that was don’t soil on your own lawn. Of course, he’d noticed Abi’s good looks when the guy started—no way was he completely dead from the waist down, despite so few prompts to his libido over the last year—but there were plenty of cute boys out there for Henry to play with when he had an itch to scratch. Cute boys whose salary wasn’t paid by Henry himself.

But Abi’s smile… open, fulsome, clear of mockery. That was something totally new. Weird. Henry took a quick glance at Abi from under his lashes. He was beautiful, actually. “We all have to be beautiful bitches,” Stuart had told Abi when he started in the bar. But the word bitch scratched at Henry’s ears today, like a rather vicious, long-beaked, mean-spirited bird.

That’s not Abi.

Henry felt oddly shamed. And it had always been one of his favourite epithets.

Abi stepped closer. “Henry, are you okay?”

“There’s something stuck on me,” Henry said. As Abi’s smile moved to puzzlement, he added, “On my behind.” He wouldn’t have believed a man with skin as dark as Abi’s could show such a deep, delicious flush.

“Well, on his trousers, to be precise,” Debbie added helpfully. “Take a

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