Year’s Day.” Ian finished packing up the donuts, closed the box, and placed it on the counter. “Would you like to try one?”
“Yes, please. I have no idea what’s inside, but I like surprises. I’ll try to figure out what the ingredients are.” Mr. Detective looked back up. “Gives me a fun mystery to ponder.”
“Okay, I’ll get you one in a small box.” Ian wasn’t going to ask about the other mysteries, the not-so-fun ones, in the man’s life. He might be a homicide detective, and eww, Ian wasn’t going there. “Anything else I can get you?”
“Nah, I’m okay for now.” Mr. Detective grinned again. “But if your stuff tastes as good as it looks and smells, I’ll definitely be back. Can’t believe I’ve worked here for five years and have never noticed this place. Don’t tell anyone, or they’ll take my badge.”
Ian laughed as he rang up the purchase and took the guy’s money. As far as I’m concerned, you can come back anytime, Mr. Detective!
Chapter Two
CAMERON LEWIS barely made it out of the Scottish Bakehouse without drooling. He’d wanted to stay and talk to the gorgeous baker some more. The short black hair and sparkling blue eyes in a sweet, slightly round face had caught Cameron’s attention first, but the strong upper arms and broad chest had kept him wanting to ask the guy to take off his clothes so Cameron could see the body hiding beneath them. The baker had moved gracefully as he put together Cameron’s order, and his blush—despite how inane, not to say inappropriate, Cameron’s comment about the buns had been—was adorable.
Adorable? What the hell am I thinking?
Cameron shook his head as he made his way to his unmarked car. He was already late for the Monday morning departmental meeting, and his colleagues got grumpy when the man, or their one female detective, in charge of getting breakfast was late. Cameron put the boxed donuts in the backseat, then hid the smaller box with the black bun in the trunk. He intended to keep it to himself. Guessing ingredients in food was one of his favorite pastimes, and “reporting back” on what he had identified was a brilliant excuse for seeing the baker again—even if he did say so himself. Waiting for his next stint on donut duty a few weeks from now wasn’t good enough. No, later today sounded much better.
Cameron made it to the meeting barely in time, and the donuts were snapped up before he could blink. With fifteen people attending, including himself, two dozen donuts was cutting it close, it seemed. Everyone got coffee and settled down, but Cameron became completely focused on eating his donut. He’d snagged a simple glazed one, and when he bit into it, he almost moaned aloud. Man, that’s good.
“Good, isn’t it?” Terry Winter, Cameron’s partner before Cameron was promoted to sergeant of investigations, smiled at him with a wicked look in his eyes.
“Good doesn’t even come close.” Cameron wasn’t going to wax poetic in front of the department he headed. But the sweet fluffiness of the dough melted in his mouth, and the slightly cinnamon-y aftertaste was divine.
“Told you, that place is special.” Terry grinned. “We only discovered it a couple of weeks ago and decided to give the honor of trying out their stuff to you.”
“In case the stuff was bad?” Cameron grinned. Friendly ribbing was as much part of his work as a police officer as it had been when he served in the Marines. He’d left active duty just over five years ago, but sometimes he missed his buddies. What he didn’t miss was the hiding he’d had to do due to DADT. Not that he’d consider coming out now, not without an excellent reason, but at least he had that option without being dismissed immediately. Whether he’d still have a career if he did was a different problem. Casper might be Matthew Shepard’s birthplace, but it had a long way to go on the Municipal Equality Index recently published by the Human Rights
“Yes, please. I have no idea what’s inside, but I like surprises. I’ll try to figure out what the ingredients are.” Mr. Detective looked back up. “Gives me a fun mystery to ponder.”
“Okay, I’ll get you one in a small box.” Ian wasn’t going to ask about the other mysteries, the not-so-fun ones, in the man’s life. He might be a homicide detective, and eww, Ian wasn’t going there. “Anything else I can get you?”
“Nah, I’m okay for now.” Mr. Detective grinned again. “But if your stuff tastes as good as it looks and smells, I’ll definitely be back. Can’t believe I’ve worked here for five years and have never noticed this place. Don’t tell anyone, or they’ll take my badge.”
Ian laughed as he rang up the purchase and took the guy’s money. As far as I’m concerned, you can come back anytime, Mr. Detective!
Chapter Two
CAMERON LEWIS barely made it out of the Scottish Bakehouse without drooling. He’d wanted to stay and talk to the gorgeous baker some more. The short black hair and sparkling blue eyes in a sweet, slightly round face had caught Cameron’s attention first, but the strong upper arms and broad chest had kept him wanting to ask the guy to take off his clothes so Cameron could see the body hiding beneath them. The baker had moved gracefully as he put together Cameron’s order, and his blush—despite how inane, not to say inappropriate, Cameron’s comment about the buns had been—was adorable.
Adorable? What the hell am I thinking?
Cameron shook his head as he made his way to his unmarked car. He was already late for the Monday morning departmental meeting, and his colleagues got grumpy when the man, or their one female detective, in charge of getting breakfast was late. Cameron put the boxed donuts in the backseat, then hid the smaller box with the black bun in the trunk. He intended to keep it to himself. Guessing ingredients in food was one of his favorite pastimes, and “reporting back” on what he had identified was a brilliant excuse for seeing the baker again—even if he did say so himself. Waiting for his next stint on donut duty a few weeks from now wasn’t good enough. No, later today sounded much better.
Cameron made it to the meeting barely in time, and the donuts were snapped up before he could blink. With fifteen people attending, including himself, two dozen donuts was cutting it close, it seemed. Everyone got coffee and settled down, but Cameron became completely focused on eating his donut. He’d snagged a simple glazed one, and when he bit into it, he almost moaned aloud. Man, that’s good.
“Good, isn’t it?” Terry Winter, Cameron’s partner before Cameron was promoted to sergeant of investigations, smiled at him with a wicked look in his eyes.
“Good doesn’t even come close.” Cameron wasn’t going to wax poetic in front of the department he headed. But the sweet fluffiness of the dough melted in his mouth, and the slightly cinnamon-y aftertaste was divine.
“Told you, that place is special.” Terry grinned. “We only discovered it a couple of weeks ago and decided to give the honor of trying out their stuff to you.”
“In case the stuff was bad?” Cameron grinned. Friendly ribbing was as much part of his work as a police officer as it had been when he served in the Marines. He’d left active duty just over five years ago, but sometimes he missed his buddies. What he didn’t miss was the hiding he’d had to do due to DADT. Not that he’d consider coming out now, not without an excellent reason, but at least he had that option without being dismissed immediately. Whether he’d still have a career if he did was a different problem. Casper might be Matthew Shepard’s birthplace, but it had a long way to go on the Municipal Equality Index recently published by the Human Rights