Page 3 of Leo, My Partner

The cupcake is placed in front of him, and he picks it up in the same graceful way he did the cookie, peeling the wrapper from the base.

“That’s a red velvet cupcake with homemade vanilla icing,” I say.

Leo takes a generous bite, and to my immense pleasure, he groans as he starts chewing. He waits until he’s swallowed his mouthful before he gives me the verdict. “That’s delicious. Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever had a cupcake that moist. Looks like you were right about them being better than you described.”

I want to laugh at the word moist because I’m obviously a child, but I stifle it by sheer force of will. “Thank you.”

“Another cookie?” he asks, pointing to the one with the cinnamon on top.

“Mhm.”

I slide it over to him. “That’s snickerdoodle and marshmallow.”

Leo takes a bite, then his eyes roll to the back of his head. He groans in satisfaction. Fuck, there’s nothing hotter than a man enjoying my food and making it obvious he loves it. “Okay, I don’t need to taste more. Whatever you want us to showcase, we will. You’re truly talented, Ty,” Leo says earnestly.

I duck my head, smiling. “Thank you.” Those two words don’t seem like enough, but it’s all I can muster right now.

“You’re welcome. How long have you been baking?”

“All my life, really. My parents loved to cook, and my mother and I spent a lot of time tweaking old recipes and making up our own. The snickerdoodle and marshmallow cookie is the first recipe we wrote in our family cookbook,” I tell him, pointing to the cookie.

He nods, picking it up and taking another bite. Once he swallows, he says, “I think that one is my favorite. Your mom will be proud to see your creations in front of people.”

I smile sadly. “She would have been. She died two years ago.” I swallow down the pain of her loss. “It means a lot that it’s your favorite.

“I’m sorry,” Leo mutters. Something about his condolence sounds … hollow. Not like he doesn’t mean it. Like it’s a reflex because that’s what people say rather than him actually empathizing.

That’s probably not the case, and my grief is overshadowing his sincerity. Maybe my assessment of him is all in my head.

“Thank you,” I mutter, accepting his condolences. Not wanting to dwell on my pain, I search around for something to talk about. I’m not sure why. He’s already said he’s going to showcase my goods. I should go home and geek out in peace. “Who’s the shop named after?”

“My old boss. He died about a year ago. Left the shop to me and my best friend.”

And I bring the conversation back around to death. I’m really knocking it out of the park here. Though he might know some of what I feel since someone close to him died. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “Fuck, I shouldn’t say fuck. Dammit. Shit. Fire me now.” I drop my hand and lower my head.

Leo’s laugh makes my chest feel light. Something about him makes me feel good. It’s weird since, again, I don’t know him. “I’m technically not your boss, so you can say fuck if you want.”

A relived chuckle bursts forth. “I’m actually going to quit while I’m ahead.” I clear my throat and ask, “Do I need to sign something or…?”

“Yeah. It’s a quick liability contract, but I don’t have it. June, my business partner, will send it to you when he gets back, along with the quantity of items we want on a given day and some other stuff I have no idea about. He does the paperwork because he’s more organized than I am.” Leo jokes. Then he winks at me again.

I’m not sure why, but that wink sends all the blood from my brain south to my dick. It wasn’t even overly sexual, but my brain takes in his flirting, his deep, penetrating gazes, and his probing questions and thinks the wink adds the cherry on top of my “I want Leo” fantasy cake.

I have to get out of here. If I don’t, I’ll say something stupid, like I think he’s hot, and since he’s not my boss, we should have a drink and see where the night takes us. That’s crazy on many levels, namely that I don’t know if Leo is even into men. His bulging biceps look like they could pack quite the punch, literally. I’d rather not get my ass beat because I hit on a straight guy.

Standing quickly, I scoop up the basket and almost topple my chair over. Leo stands at a more sedate pace, an eyebrow raised.

“Thank you, Leo. Mr. Anderson. Thank you. I appreciate you seeing me today. I can’t wait to work with?—”

“You have really interesting eyes. I’m sure you get that a lot.”

That comment deflates me. Of course that’s why he’s staring at me. I already get asked if I’m wearing contacts because it’s a novelty to see a Black person with any color eyes besides brown. Add to that one is an almost piercing blue? Yeah, I get the looks and questions. That’s the only reason Leo was staring at me so hard I thought his gaze would sear my retinas. It’s my eyes. Nothing more.

Sighing, I nod. “So I’ve been told.” I shouldn’t be upset. I need to push this silly crush out of my mind. “Thank you again.”

I turn away before he can say anything more. I almost make a clean getaway, until I trip over a bag on the floor I didn’t see. Tumbling forward, I throw out my hands to break my fall, but one swipes on the edge of another chair, and the other scrapes against the floor.

“Son of a bitch!” I curse, my hands burning. I turn them over and cringe at their state. Blood is trickling down one of my palms. Thankfully, the other is merely skinned. How fucking embarrassing.

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