Chapter One | Ethan

I slung my arm around Owen's shoulder, pulled him to me, and kissed his head. An act of comradery. The guys around the table had started teasing Owen about his self-imposed celibacy. He'd begun having the most incredible dreams about fucking famous men.

It was beyond entertaining.

The meeting of the Salish Sea Society was well underway. We had polished off our first pitcher of beer and Liam had gone to replenish the pale ale. It was the only night of the week I allowed myself to stay up late. I had a punishing early morning schedule when it came to running my coffee shop. I made all my own baked goods. My day started while it was still dark outside.

"Talking about sex," I started. I had stuff I wanted to share. Last night's hookup had been incredible on many counts. "Had this guy, Carlos, over last night. The sex was en pointe. Dirty talking, sweaty sheets, smacking my ass until it turned cherry red kind of fun."

Owen groaned and rolled his eyes.

I sat up straighter. "But that's not the best part." I paused. "Okay, maybe that was the best part but there were other parts that made it memorable."

"Spit it out," Noah urged.

Liam set the new pitcher of beer on the table and slid into his seat. "What did I miss?"

"Ethan had hot and dirty sex last night," Owen said as he refilled his pint glass .

"Nice." Liam laughed and held up his hand for me to high-five. I gave him a good smack on his palm. Our friend Liam was always quick to congratulate steamy conquests.

"He's a photographer," I continued. "Brought a polaroid camera with him."

"He packed a camera along to a hookup?" Noah looked concerned.

"He cleared it with me first." This next bit made my cock hard thinking about it. "He took a few nude photos of me after we had sex. Said he liked my tousled hair and the freshly fucked look on my face. They came out really good. He let me keep them."

"Do you have them on you?" Liam asked.

"Oh, my god, Liam," Owen shouted. "Why would you want to see them?"

"Because, dear Owen, I can enjoy erotic art without it being weird."

I dug around in my jacket. I had brought them with me. I was proud of them. They were tasteful, other than the fact I was posed nude on spunk-covered sheets, my exposed cock spent. One thing you couldn't accuse me of was being shy. Especially, when it came to my body.

I handed the stack of polaroids to Liam to look through.

Liam nodded his head as he flipped through each picture. "These are good."

Noah stretched his arm toward Liam. "Let me see."

"Hang on." Liam swatted Noah's hand and turned one photo toward me. "I like this one best. You've got those hooded eyes and parted lips I like to see on my bottoms."

Owen slapped his hand over his face. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Give me." Noah snatched the photos from Liam's hands. He smiled as he scanned through them. "Too bad you can't get one of these blown up for above your bed. "

"Actually." There was more to the story. "He's asked if I want to do a nude photoshoot."

"For whom?" Owen asked as he leaned toward me.

I furrowed my brow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, who is going to see the pictures?"

"Oh." This was the exciting bit. "He puts together coffee table books of naked men."

Owen slumped back in his chair. "Jeezus, Ethan."

Liam laughed as he filled his glass. "I think it's hot. Imagining people looking at your naked body. Maybe wanking off while salivating over it."

Owen nearly choked on the beer he was swallowing. "I don't know why I'm friends with any of you. I'm hanging around with three sexual reprobates."

Noah pounded Owen's shoulder. "Such a prude." He handed the pictures across the table to me. "Does the photoshoot include sleeping with this Carlos again?"

I shrugged. We hadn't discussed the parameters of what we were doing other than we both weren't looking for anything romantic between us. There had been obvious sparks, but they were strictly sexual. We'd exchanged numbers. I hoped he'd become a good friend.

"I wouldn't be averse to a quick fuck first," I said. "He's seriously skilled."

Owen grunted. "From fucking all those nude models, no doubt."

"You're just jealous," Liam stated.

"No," Owen replied. "Who I'm jealous of is Noah and Brody."

Owen turned his attention to Noah who had slowed down his beer consumption. He was probably going to be closing the pub tonight. I hadn't seen any of the usual managers around.

"How are the wedding plans coming along?" I asked .

Noah sighed. "Brody is in charge, but my mother wants to hijack the entire celebration. Thankfully, Brody is stubborn when it comes to her. We've talked at length about what we want. He won't stray from it, and he is quick to defend me when my parents try to bulldoze me under."

"He's got your back when it comes to those two," Liam said. "You're lucky."

Noah smiled and I swear to God, his eyes twinkled. "My man is the best."

My mind wandered, reducing the conversation around me to a hum. I studied Noah's face. I wanted that. The look in Noah's eyes as he spoke about Brody. The absolute love that had woven itself through every strand of Noah's being. I did—I wanted that too.

But life wasn't providing me with any options.

Not a suitor in sight.

I spun my glass, ignoring the banter circulating around me.

It had been six months since I ran into Daniel at the grocery store; the older man who had caught my attention when he used to frequent my coffee shop still took up space in my head.

I couldn't shake him. I'd been certain he would accept my invitation to visit my shop on a weekend after his company had moved him to an office on the other side of town.

His eyes had registered interest.

Hesitant interest, though. The man who dressed like an 80s English professor wearing adorable tweed jackets with leather elbow patches was probably straight.

Straight and married.

Although, I hadn't seen a wedding ring on his finger.

The meeting wound down and I wandered home, thinking about him. I hadn't thought to ask for a business card from him. Even though I had the perfect excuse for needing a corporate tax accountant like Daniel. I had incorporated my coffee shop last year and I needed help.

I ran an old argument through my brain.

Even without a business card, it wouldn't take much effort to find out which accounting firm had been occupying a space in the nearby collection of offices.

I shook my head, dislodging the thought from my mind, and unlocked the front door of my apartment building. Contacting Daniel under the guise of business would border on stalking.

If he wanted to see me again, he knew where I was.

Monday mornings were the worst out of the entire week. No one functioned well on less than four hours of sleep. I was no exception. After the meeting last night, I hadn't been able to fall asleep right away. My alarm sounding at 3:20 am was an unwelcome intrusion on my restless night.

I hauled myself out of bed and found a fresh set of clothes among a pile of clean clothing on the end of my bed. It wasn't uncommon for my clothes to never make it into the closet.

The most efficient shower ever, then I was dressed and in my car headed toward Cook Street Village, where my coffee shop was located. I walked into the dark silent space and flicked on the lights in the kitchen section. After I'd exchanged my light jacket for an apron, I hauled open the door of the fridge. Inside, I had croissant dough at various stages of laminating. Making croissants was a three-day process. One I had perfected while in Paris, France during my two-year pastry chef schooling. I had headed straight there after graduating from high school.

My dream of owning my own coffee shop with fresh baked goods came to fruition nine years later when my grandma, my dad's mom, passed away. She had left me a significant amount of money with instructions to follow my dreams with it. I had jumped at the opportunity.

I plopped the dough down on the pastry counter and rolled it out into a very precise rectangle. I would be making two kinds of croissants. The classic crescents that I would be using to make breakfast sandwiches and rectangular ones I liked to wrap around sticks of chocolate.

I was just finishing cutting and rolling the dough to put in the oven when my baked goods assistant, Claire, arrived. She was charged with making banana loaf, zucchini loaf, three kinds of muffins, an assortment of cookies, and cake pops. I still had some Danishes, cream horns, and chocolate éclairs to make. There was a reason we started at four in the morning.

"Have a good meeting last night with your friends?" Claire asked as she began dumping ingredients into one of the three mixers we had. We'd soon have them all going.

"My date on Saturday night took nude pictures." I grinned as I put my croissants into one of the ovens. "I passed them around to the guys. Of course, Owen refrained from looking at them."

Claire laughed. "I'm not surprised. The man has sense, whereas you have no shame."

I joined her in laughing. "Guilty."

"I don't want to see them."

I snorted. "Wasn't going to show them to you."

I had spent some time flipping through the photos last night before bed. Seeing my body like that, freshly fucked and hanging onto the enduring euphoria of amazing sex had precipitated a stream of images containing the games Carlos and I had played in bed. He'd spent the time to discover some of what I liked. A rarity among the men I usually slept with.

Squirming and panting in bed on my own last night, I'd stroked myself to crippling release. I should have slept sounder than I had .

Claire flicked on the first mixer, snapping my mind back, prepared for the whirring sound to impede our conversation. We had to switch to talking loudly.

"Do we have that new employee starting today?" Claire shouted.

"Yup. She goes by Susie."

"Trans?"

"I think so. I didn't ask, obviously. Pronouns are she/her."

"Does she have experience on the espresso machine?"

"Two years."

"Thank God. It must be a nightmare to train people on that thing."

She was right. We didn't have that kind of time to dedicate to a new hire. I needed someone who could jump right in with the front-of-house staff and pick up the slack. I usually scheduled a team of three out front working the till and filling drink and food orders, including a manager.

The new hires had to fit in—instantly.

As with all coffee shops, we had rushes at certain times of the day. The before-work crowd and the lunch crowd mainly. Then the students studying, businesspeople having meetings, seniors' coffee groups, and moms and dads with strollers kept the shop buzzing all day.

Most days we closed at 6 pm. The exceptions: the first Thursday of each month, the coffee shop hosted an underage drag show, both audience and participants. It gave the kids such a boost to dress up and lip sync to their favourite music along with a variety of the city's drag queens, kings, and things. On the last Wednesday night of the month, we had an open mic night where writers could read their poetry or an excerpt from one of their books. Both nights were very popular, and I was thrilled to offer the community some special nights to gather.

I'd been taught to give back .

Three hours later, my baking tasks complete, I headed to the front to start slipping today's finished baked offerings into the glass-front display. I perused the seating area. I'd tried to make it as cozy as possible while providing a variety of seating options. There were three sets of two leather armchairs, two long wooden tables with stools that seated six people, stools along a counter in front of the window, and eight tables and chairs for two that could be combined for more to join.

The first of my employees wandered into the space.

"Good morning." Eric yawned and flicked on the panini grill.

"Morning. You have a good weekend?"

Eric shrugged. "The usual. Gaming with my roommates."

I'd never gotten into gaming. At thirty-six, I probably should have been caught up in the trend of my generation's youthful endeavour, but I could never see the appeal. My parents owned a large piece of property out in Saanich with a barn and two practice areas. We'd always had horses growing up. My two older sisters and I had been heavily into equestrian sports.

Then and now, I preferred to be outside rather than cooped up in front of a game console. In addition to riding horses, I loved surfing in Tofino and snowboarding at Mount Washington.

I still had a horse out at my parents' named Phantom. He was a seven-year-old gelding chestnut quarter horse full of spunk. He loved show jumping and I'd started training him in the art of dressage. I threw a western saddle on him sometimes. The change kept his mind stimulated.

Eric fired up the espresso machine next. He was my manager from Monday to Friday. We opened at 7:30 am seven days a week. I left him to his daily routine and went back into the kitchen. Claire was cutting up cold scrambled baked eggs for the breakfast sandwiches .

I helped her arrange the perfect cubes of egg with slices of cheddar cheese and crispy bacon in the cooled croissants. My other two front-of-house staff arrived, including the new hire.

I smiled as I approached her. I was excited to have her on staff.

"Susie. Welcome to your first day."

She grinned at me. "Ready to work."

"Perfect." I motioned to Eric. He came over to us. "This is Eric, he will run through our procedure manual with you after the morning rush. Stick with solely making coffees until then."

"Any questions before that … just shoot them at me," Eric said.

Everyone behind the counter prepared for battle, I unlocked the front door and turned on the OPEN sign. A queue had already formed along the front of the building.

Out of habit, I looked for Daniel in the line of faces.

"Good morning," I addressed the early starting patrons as they streamed into the shop. We wouldn't have a lull for another couple of hours. When we did, I'd take a second to text Owen to check in on the start of his day. It was a morning ritual I cherished.

At least I had the love of my friends in my life.