Riley shrugged. He was facing the sink, but Seth could see the quirk of a smile he wasn’t even trying to hide. “I got hungry.”
“Oh myGod.”
Seth hurried to take Riley’s place at the sink, shoving him bodily so he could wash his own hands. He ignored Riley’s husky laugh, rushing over to the cakes and grabbing the first. Seth set a cooling rack over the top and flipped it, sighing his relief when it came out clean.
He frowned to himself as he started on the next. “Why did I make two different orange-flavored cakes? What was I thinking?”
Riley came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Seth’s waist. “You were thinking that orange is the best and most delicious flavor in the whole world.”
Seth laughed, charmed in spite of himself. This fucking kid. “No one thinks that.”
“I do.”
“You’re delusional.”
“You’re snippy when you’re nervous,” Riley countered, pressing a kiss to Seth’s neck.
Seth frantically brushed the glaze onto his first cake with a pastry brush. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”
“Aren’t they all coming because of Violet’s blackmail? You might be expecting too much.”
“Only one is coming because of blackmail.” At least, Seth thought that was true. Hehopedit was true. This was going to be a sad-sack event if it wasn’t.
It was the first official meeting of their book club. So far, interactions between the members had been limited to a group chat where Seth had announced the first book—a gothic classic as anod to both Riley and Violet—which had been met with multiple thumbs-ups and zero actual conversation.
Of course, Seth had seen everyone individually, serving them pastries here and there as they came into the bakery. But there hadn’t been much time for book discussion.
In the past few weeks, Seth had gotten back into a routine. He’d reverted back to his regular bakery hours without fanfare, and the town had seemed willing to forgive his repeated absences. (A few regulars may have made some pointed comments about his inferior immune system failing to protect him from the Pacific Northwest’s wet winters, but that was neither here nor there.)
Riley and Violet had been taking turns documenting Seth’s baked goods and posting them to social media, which had already been serving to increase weekend foot traffic to Coastal Crumbs. They also, for whatever reason, seemed equally determined to documentSeth, sneaking photos of him in his aprons and headbands and posting those photos almost as often. But the posts seemed to do well, so Seth let it be.
“Pretty privilege,” Riley had said to him smugly.
Whatever. Seth was pretty sure it was the headbands that stole the show. (He had a new vampire bat one he was particularly proud of.)
Riley liked to edit and post the photos while curled up in bed with Seth, usually with an ASMR video playing in the background.
It was funny—Seth had always liked living alone. He’d found a certain joy in surrounding himself with people during the day but still having his own space to return to.
It turned out, though, that Seth didn’t mind cohabitation at all, if it was Riley he was doing the cohabitation with. When it was Riley Seth was waking up to, and chattering to all day, and cozying up with at the end of the night as Seth scrolled through YouTube videos and Riley read his books. Then it was easy. Natural. Perfect.
They didn’t have to sleep as often either, which meant getting to enjoy long walks in the woods late at night, followed by hours of tea and conversation with Riley’s moms.
Funny, too, how Seth had been a little scared of Riley’s intensity toward him at first. Or, to be more accurate, how Seth had been scared of how drawn to it he’d been. But Seth could understand it now, after his own transformation. Seth had the same intensity inside him, simmering under his skin. A constant pull to his mate, a love that was a little sharper than Seth had grown up thinking love should be.
But that was fine. What was a little bit of sharpness between vampire mates?
They hadn’t heard from any escaped paranormals yet, but sometimes he or Riley thought they caught a strange scent, on the coast or in the woods or—one time—in the middle of town. They hadn’t been able to follow the scents to anything concrete, but maybe that would come with time.
For now, with Riley’s extremely unhelpful presence plastered to his back, Seth brought the two cakes to the front of the bakery. They’d pushed two of his tables together, spreading the chairs around them, and Seth placed one cake on each. He’d also made coffee for those freaks that drank the stuff at night, and Luke was?—
Well, Luke was at the door.
Seth let him in, and Luke held up a paper grocery bag with a cheerful grin. “I brought beer! And some wine, in case that’s more anyone’s thing. My sister said I should. And, um, soda for Violet, because she threatened bodily harm if I left her out.” Luke set the bag down on the table and eyed Seth’s offerings with a hopeful gaze. “Damn. Something smells good.”
“Thank you.” Seth shifted on his feet, hyperaware of Riley at his back, emanating smugness. “We’ve got orange Madeira with acinnamon-rum glaze and a Harvey Wallbanger cake. That’s, um, also orange.”
“Fuck yeah.” Luke took a seat, grabbing a beer out of his bag and popping the top with the edge of Seth’s table. “God, it’s nice to swear sometimes. No little ears listening.” He gave Riley a belated nod. “Hey, Riley.”
