Sweet Nothings by T. Neilson

Author:T. Neilson [Neilson, T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64080-248-3
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2018-04-03T00:00:00+00:00

IT was nearly two thirty by the time Tristan got back to his cabin. He needed to nap. The early mornings were vicious, and if he didn’t get some rest, he’d be a wreck the next day. But there was so much to do—with the shop, with his life, with Jake, and with the cabin. It was a vacation rental, so not as expensive as a hotel, but it was still eating into a very finite pot of money, and he needed to find something else. Checking out ads, viewing apartments, and haggling with landlords sounded like so much fun. Especially with all his spare time. He’d get right on that.

All of a sudden, he saw the appeal of having an apprentice. There was no one but him to fire the ovens, start the dough, and get the baguettes up to Simon’s. It was going to have to be him, even if he was too angry to sleep. He needed that money.

But the situation with Christopher, and then the conversation with Simon had gone so horribly wrong that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had planned to come back to the cabin to flop down in his bed and sleep the sleep of the righteous. But instead he was tense and keyed up. He locked the deadbolt on the door, slid the second lock into place, and then went to the bathroom to shower the dust and flour off his skin and out of his hair. By the time he was done, the long day and the nasty excitement of the afternoon were starting to catch up with him. His body felt thick and sluggish, exhausted really, but the flywheel of his brain was still spinning through those damn conversations.

He pulled the black-out curtains and threw himself onto his bed. It would have been great to have the melatonin he used to take, back when he’d been baking regularly and it was summertime in New York and impossible to fall asleep without the windows open. But the last thing Tristan wanted to do was take pills, especially after today.

He set his phone for five p.m. so he’d have time to get out to his mom’s for family dinner. Because, goddammit, no matter what Christopher said or Simon thought, he was his own person. So he closed his eyes and willed his brain to shut up, shut off, and go to sleep. After about four thirty, it finally worked.

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