The Boyfriend Recipe Read online

  My cat depositing a freshly-caught mouse on my pillow.

  My parents having naked, sweaty, kinky sex.

  Roadkill.

  Oh thank god. It worked. Now I just had to gather up the courage and-

  A tap on my window caused me to jump a foot in the air. The fabulous Julian Moore stood on the other side of the window with the kindest smirk I’ve ever seen. “You planning on coming out?”

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. “I came out years ago. But, yeah. I’m going in. Did that asshole show up again?”

  Over the past week, I’d seen Julian soothe and charm all sorts of aggravating customers, but one blond-haired hunk showed up every day and always made Julian lose his cool. Insults usually flew out of both their mouths, and I didn’t exactly know either of them at all, but I found myself on Team Julian ever since I saw him training Hunter’s friend Sean. Julian was always able to tell when he needed to step in to help the shy trans man and when to let Sean handle a situation himself.

  “Nah, he just texted.” Julian waved off my concern and rolled his eyes. “Have you ever met someone who uses semicolons in texts? Or memos? Or emails? He’s such a superior… No, sorry, I won’t rant. Come on, let’s go inside. Hunter’s anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

  “Is he nervous? I really don’t want to make him uncomfortable. He can cancel, you know. Or maybe you’d like to-”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Julian said, hooking my arm in his and leading me toward the bakery. “He’s looking forward to it.”

  “Really? Because I get that it’s an interesting form of revenge, and he really seems willing to do a lot to make this believable. I mean, most straight guys wouldn’t be so comfortable with… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely enjoying his company but I feel like an asshole for taking advantage of -” I had no idea why I was so comfortable being this honest with a relative stranger, but maybe Julian would have some insight into the man.

  “Wait wait wait. Hunter’s straight?” Julian asked. “He said that?”

  I tried not to laugh. Julian must not have ever seen Tonya. “He doesn’t exactly have to. I mean, sex is pretty much the only reason someone would put up with my sister for as long as he had. He was honestly upset when he confronted her.”

  “Straight…” Julian mused quietly, and I found myself questioning my assumptions. Maybe Hunter was just hurt at being lied to and my sister was a bombshell of a beard. Maybe I’d read things wrong and he’d been checking me out, rather than sizing me up, when he saw my nearly-naked, pasty, winter body in his kitchen. After all, there was that amazing kiss that he totally started. Perhaps his friendships had him questioning his sexuality. He and Sean may have even been a thing before Sean transitioned. Maybe dating my sister was a last-ditch effort to prove to himself that he liked women. Or maybe I was just so irresistible that I could turn straight boys gay.

  It was a nice little fantasy, but Julian obviously misconstrued Hunter’s thinking-out-loud a few days ago. I almost had, too. But if Hunter was so closeted that he’d date my sister, he wouldn’t be so comfortable being affectionate in public, right? I knew the reality was probably that Hunter was just extremely comfortable in his heterosexuality and comfortable joking around like this… especially since this could be such sweet revenge against a girlfriend that cheated on him.

  Pining after a straight guy, wishing this was a real date just wasn’t healthy. And I’d have enough unhealthy emotional shit going on all weekend. How had I let my cousin talk me into this wedding and this insane plan?

  “I don’t have a date, Brooke,” I’d told her last weekend, frustrated out of my mind. I was kept awake at night just imagining showing up, completely alone, to a big event just to receive hateful or pitying looks from 98% of the people I know and love. Brooke was adamant that bringing a date would assert that I was proud of who I was and refused to hide it. Plus, bringing someone I knew would make it easier to cope. But I didn’t have all that many local friends (okay, fine, I had no local friends). And all my college friends were living far away or were willing to move to a tiny, homophobic town in the bible belt to avoid meeting my parents again.

  “Well you’d better find a date,” Brooke said. “I don’t care if it’s a coworker or a homeless guy off the street or your best friend-”

  “My best friend already has a date,” I reminded her. “She’ll be the breathtakingly beautiful woman in the gorgeous white gown, grinning like a loon and sitting at the head table.”

  “Awww!” she crooned. “So there’s no fucking way you’ll miss my wedding. Right?”

  “Right,” I groaned.

  “And I would be heartbroken if you hid in a dark corner all weekend, so you’re bringing a date. I’d set you up, but neither of us knows a gay guy worthy of you. A few of them are married or practically married, and the other two are catty bitches who would just make the whole experience worse.” We both sighed. This was hopeless. Then Brooke’s tone transformed into the one that always preceded crazy schemes that inevitably ended up with one of us injured or filthy and me being grounded for a month while her parents laughed their asses off. “Wait… I happen to know of someone who’s smart and hard-working… I have a reputable source that informed me that his smile lights up a room, his ass was made for biting, and he’s so sexy you’d want to cry…”

  After 24 hours of voicemails, emails, and texts full of guilt-trips and conversation-starters, I finally gave in to Hurricane Brooke. I had refused to be a ‘bridesman’ and flaunt my sexuality by standing in front of the room in a hideous overpriced dress that I’d never wear again. Especially considering that I had never worn a dress in my life. And no, she hadn’t been so insane as to insist I wear a dress, but it was the only argument I could come up with that wouldn’t trigger a monologue about how much she hated self-deprecating remarks passing my lips. This was her wedding. She might as well pick my date. It was one weekend out of my life and I could survive it for her sake.

  But, holy shit, was this a horrible plan. Sure, Hunter was being a shockingly good sport about it all –in fact, he seemed to actually be looking forward to it– but he hadn’t met my family yet. My parents had been difficult to get along with even before I came out. Since then…

  I paused at the back door of the bakery. Hunter was a good guy, and he didn’t deserve the crap that he’d have to endure this weekend. Julian swung the door open and shoved me through it.

  “No backing out now,” he insisted, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed. “Hunter’s looking forward to this. The road trip will be fun, your cousin will be happy, and Hunter will be the perfect buffer between you and your moronic family. Honestly, you should be thanking your stars you didn’t inherit those genes.”

  We walked into the kitchen to find two men quietly working away. Hunter’s friend Sean looked up from whatever he was mixing, smiled winningly, and said, “Hi, David! Hunter’s up front, but he’s all ready to go and his bag and suit are in the little office right there. You two are going to have so much fun!”

  “Logan, say hi to David like you’re a normal human being,” Julian chided the silent, scruffy, muscular baker who was kneading some dough as if it had personally offended him.

  “Oh, uh, hi. You’re here for…” he trailed off, squinted at me, then shrugged and refocused on what had to be a truly evil ball of dough.

  “Don’t mind my brother,” Julian said. “He’s going through a rough time. But I’m sure he and his boyfriend will get back together soon enough. Or he’ll get over Chance and find someone better.”

  I could be wrong, but I was pretty sure I heard Logan quietly tell the dough, “He’s my Han Solo.”

  It was nice to know I wasn’t the only shy, crazy, gay dork out there. Or maybe I had misheard him, which just made me crazier and dorkier than most people suspected. Then again, I just forced my sister’s ex-boyfriend to sit down and talk to me, during which I presented a sitcomish plan to aggravate my
family because I was too much of a loner to have actual friends willing to attend a wedding with me so…

  “Maybe I should take the luggage to the car first,” I suggested, suddenly too embarrassed to face Hunter.

  “Nope! You’re just staying overnight. There’s not much to take and I am not letting you psych yourself out of this. We all agree that this is a brilliant plan and it will go wonderfully and Hunter will charm everyone and you’ll have a great time.” Julian said cheerfully as he led me towards the front. Okay, maybe dragging would be a more accurate description.

  “We all agree?” I asked.

  “I may have shared this with the whole Moore clan and all our friends. My mom’s especially into this. She can be ferocious about parents turning their backs on their kids. Honestly, it’s a good thing the wedding is so far away or else she may have driven up there just to give your parents a piece of her mind. Just kidding. Well, actually, not really. It’s been a while since she’s had a chance to chew someone out about it and, with Logan coming out, I think she’s just been waiting for an opportunity,” he babbled. “Hunter! Your man is here!”

  Hunter turned and smiled widely at me. His long, glossy hair wasn’t tied in its usual man-bun and he wasn’t wearing his standard Moore Delicious t-shirt. I’d never seen him dressed for socializing and hadn’t really thought he could look any hotter than he normally did, but he was a wet dream come to life in dark wash, slim-fit jeans and a tight black t-shirt.

  “Babe, you’re here!” he said as he crossed to me and brushed a light kiss on my cheek, as casually as if he did it every time we saw each other. “I’ve already packed some food for the road, or maybe for the room because I figure we’ll snack during pit-stops. Would you like coffee or anything?”

  “Actually, an iced coffee would really hit the spot,” I said, feeling guilty as soon as I said it. “If you point me in the right direction, I can make it myself. You’re already doing enough for me.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve already started on it,” Julian said. I reached into my back pocket and Julian scowled prettily. “Don’t you dare! You’re here as a friend today. Caramel, right? Hunter, I’ll make you one too. Go say goodbye to Sean and grab your bags.”

  I sheepishly thanked Julian, before turning to Hunter and grasping his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I’m sure it would be uncomfortable for you even if my sister wasn’t-”

  “It’ll be fine. I’ve faced uncomfortable situations before and I’m sure it’ll be a thousand times worse for you. Your sister is going to throw a very public tantrum regardless, and it will be all about her. Which it’s not, by the way,” he said, his eyes clouded with genuine concern. I wasn’t sure how to take that. After all, why else would he be doing this for a complete stranger? Hunter must have seen my confusion, because he added, “It’s really not. It’s about you being part of your cousin’s big day, and you having an ally over the powers of darkness. Don’t get me wrong. It’ll be a lot of fun to bait someone who cheated on me as much as she did. But I consider you a friend now and I’ll be there for you, okay? Now, we have a three-hour drive ahead of us, so let’s get on the road!”

  I took his bags before he could grab them and Hunter suggested I check out his suit, just in case I didn’t like it. But he had already sent me pictures of his outfits and I wouldn’t have nixed whatever he chose to wear anyway. Actually, to be fair, I would have probably taken him straight to a tailor and found the best-fitting blazer we could find off the rack if it had been truly hideous and fit horribly. But both of his selections were stylish yet understated and fit his body far too perfectly for my own mental and emotional health. Perhaps Julian helped him. Or maybe he was just the perfect fake-gay fake-boyfriend.

  A squeeze to my butt cheek made me jump and turn around to stare at Hunter. He flashed that little half-smile he’d given me after that heart-stopping kiss a few days ago and said tentatively, “Just getting into character?”

  Julian snickered –I’d forgotten we had an audience– so I gathered the courage to flirt. I took a step toward Hunter so we were mere inches apart, winked, and said, “Be careful, or I’ll start taking you seriously.”

  His gaze shot to my mouth and his lips parted but, before he could say a word or close the distance between us, Julian’s voice broke through the silence as he said, “Now that would be a travesty. Here you go, kids. Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

  “That doesn’t exactly leave much out,” the brooding baker snarked without looking up, and Julian released a melodramatic gasp. “Hunter, only do like half the stuff my brother would do.”

  “You’re not the boss of me!” Hunter retorted with a campish wave of his arm.

  Julian raised a single, supercilious eyebrow. “Actually, he is. Literally. Moore Delicious? Logan Moore? Any of that ring a bell?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hunter said as he opened the back door. “Money automatically deposits into my bank account and pastries magically appear as we need them.”

  Hunter gestured for me to precede him, given that my hands were full, and goodbyes were called out by all. Once the door closed, Hunter confided, “Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. Lately Logan’s been a little low on magic and there have been a few too many cinnamon rolls. The man’s been a total mess since his breakup and… everything else. But they’ll soon work things out in some dramatic and adorable scene set to heartfelt music, and then get old and grey together surrounded by a million dogs and cats.”

  “Really…” I said for the sake of saying something.

  He sighed and planted a hand on my back to urge me forward, towards my car. “Don’t mind me. Julian somehow convinced me to start reading romance novels. It’s a terrible, addictive habit that I may now have for life.”

  I chose not to comment on that habit, avoiding the thought of what subgenre he might be reading and how much filthily amazing sex those characters always have. Instead I asked, “A million dogs and cats? Do they not like kids or people in general?”

  “Oh no, they have a ton of friends and family and I’m pretty sure they like kids. But by the time they’re old and grey, the kids will have moved out and their friends will have families of their own and you have no idea how much those guys talk to their pets… Not that I don’t like pets. I have a dog of my own, now. A basset hound. I was going to get a cat, but when I saw Frodo, his face transformed from abject misery to this huge, goofy grin, and I just couldn’t walk away from that face. So, yeah, I have a dog now and my friend Sean’s going to be watching Frodo while we’re away. And…” We reached my car and Hunter finally paused to take a breath. A troubled expression crossed his face. “Sorry, I’m babbling. I might be a little nervous. But it’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the hotel and by then I’ll be all warmed up. I’m usually a people person. Sorry. But also I know some of your family is more than a little homophobic so if I do anything that goes too far or if you want to ramp things up, just let me know. I’m good with anything. Wait. That’s not true. I wouldn’t want your great grandmother to have a heart attack after catching us with our dicks out or anything like that. But your sister’s fair game. And maybe your parents, because I was pissed on your behalf at their little remarks, months before I met you and called you a slut and insisted you were committing incest.”

  I made a show of giving his bag one last push, as if checking to make sure our bags were well-situated on the back seats. Then I finally pulled my head out from the back seat, where I’d admittedly been hiding as soon as he’d started talking about rubbing our dicks together in various circumstances. Instead of kissing his face off, I squeezed his bicep lightly and rounded to my side of the car as I said, “You didn’t call me a slut. And you know we’d have laughed about the whole incest thing over a beer, if my sister hadn’t actually been cheating on you. Now get in so we have some time to change before the wedding. I can’t believe Brooke talked me into this.”
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  “It’s because you’re best friends,” Hunter said as he set our drinks in the cup holders and buckled in. “Now, we have six hours before the ceremony starts. We can take our time at rest stops, and still check into the hotel and change before heading out to the church. And let me know when you want me to spell you at the wheel, because you need to save your energy for dealing with everyone tonight.”

  I reached across the console and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Hunter.”

  He didn’t meet my eyes or say another word. Instead, he just brought our joined hands to his lips and brushed a small kiss across my knuckles. I gave his hand one last squeeze before reluctantly pulling my hand back so I could safely maneuver my car out of the parking spot.

  David and I had been getting along so well this week, but our interactions had been limited to that one dinner and text messaging, so I was still more than a little nervous about our hare-brained plan to piss off David’s sister, assert his homosexuality and his status as a member of his family, and somehow manage to avoid stealing attention from the real couple of the hour: the bride and groom. He swore it was the bride’s idea so… at least she was well aware of any complications that might arise. I’d have to trust his judgment.

  I reached out to take his hand at the first rest stop and he flinched before tentatively wrapping his fingers around my hand. The gesture had felt as natural as breathing. But, it obviously wasn’t natural for him. I mumbled an apology and attempted to snatch my hand back.

  “No,” he said. He stopped short, clasped my hand in a firmer grip, and tugged. I stepped forward and managed to quell an audible sigh of relief that he actually wanted me to stand closer. “You just keep surprising me, that’s all. I like holding your hand and everything else. Feel free to touch me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I searched his eyes but couldn’t find a hint of dissembling, so I brazenly suggested, “Maybe we should practice little things like holding hands a bit more. I mean-”