“I don’t think he normally does that, does he?” Tristan’s gaze darted around frenetically as he spoke. “Maybe he’s got suspicions. Maybe he’s trying to scope us out.”
Henry rubbed his chin. He still hadn’t taken a bite of any of the food he’d grabbed. “Or maybe he liked what we made. Come on, Dexter Wilson likes your onion blossoms. How many people can say that?”
“It could be.” Tristan shrugged. “I’m sorry. You’re probably right, but ...”
“Hey, I get being concerned. Given everything.” Henry nudged Tristan in the side. “Those cheese and onion things were damn good. Simple, but when you nail it, you nail it.”
Tristan nodded, shaking himself. “I may have nailed it, but you really nailed it. Winner boy.”
Henry chuckled. “I have to admit, I’m feeling pretty fucking decent.”
“Yeah, no shit.” A string of nervous laughter crept past Tristan’s lips, and he finally stepped up to the table to grab something. Of course, he went straight for Henry’s turnovers. “You have reason to feel good. I mean, seriously, congrats on winning.”
“Well, it’s about time I catch up to you. You won the second fucking challenge, right? Don’t think I forgot it.”
“Yeah, but that was close and you know it. We both know how to make cake. Mine's better, that's all.”
“Oh, how humble of you.” Henry sighed and stepped away. “You’re right, but still.Somehumility might be in order, don’t you think?”
“We’re in the final four people here.” Tristan moved away from the table too, a sampling of pastries in his hands... and two fig turnovers. “Come on, final four. I know the show means exactly shit in reality, but we’re better than everyone we’ve beaten so far, right? Alittleego seems appropriate to me. I expected yours to behugeby now.”
Henry shook his head. “Hell no. If anything, taking this long to win, and seeing thatKatherineis in the running with me? I’d discounted her out the gate, but I obviously judged her wrong, and I’m eating that crow now. Being wrong this much is... humbling. And there’s no room for ego if it’s going to get in the way of me winning.”
“Buzzkill.” Tristan nudged him in the side in a very non-Tristan way. “Enjoy the moment. You won. I won’t even mock you for being cocky. Much.”
Henry laughed. “You’re in an awfully good mood.” He almost didn’t want to say anything else, in case he scared it away.
“I finally get to show you that surprise I bought for you.”
Ah. So he’d been waiting for Henry to win. “Then we should go fast.”
Then Willa walked up, smiling wide and bright, and Henry knew their hotel room foray would have to wait. She grabbed Henry by the shoulders and looked him in the eye.I guess this is considered A-OK in New York.“Congratulations are due to you. You’re a good baker. Blew everybody ten feet back with those turnovers, didn’t you?”
“Well, we all do what we can do and try to make it work.” He shifted back enough to get out of her grip and grinned gently at her. “I got lucky this time.”
“Lucky? Don’t be modest. If I had been able to bake like that at your age, I’d be rich enough to retire by now.” She winked at him. “Seriously. Good job, kiddo.”
And she wandered off. Tristan smiled coyly, and once she was out of earshot, said, “Should I be worried about you two?”
“Long-distance would never work.”
Tristan nodded with a chuckle. “So... same as usual?”
That meant separate rides back to the hotel, meeting clandestinely in Tristan’s hotel room. Apparently even his excitement about this surprise of his wasn’t enough to wash that caution all the way off. “Of course.” Still, Henry was endlessly curious about this surprise, enough to overcome his annoyance with the situation.What the hell do you have planned, Delgado?
Tristan stared into his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Come on, you can’t keep it to yourself forever.” He had been fantasizing about this moment since that first wrestling match/blowjob, and fantasizing even harder since he’d made his excursion to the drugstore. They were in the final four now, so it was time for a celebration. That didn’t keep his stomach from jumping. Exciting or not, this was a big step. A step Tristan hadn’t taken in alongtime.
It was good jumping, though. The kind that wound him up as he stood there. In spite of all his rules and his desire to keep himself out of the Delgado curse... he cared more about Henry than he should have. What would Henry say when Tristan brought up sex? He could say no, after all. He could deny Tristan. He could freak. He couldlaugh.
But Tristan didn’t actually think those things would happen. He knew the way he felt around Henry, and he’d only felt anything close to it with one or two other guys. Then it had been nothing near this level of intensity, but similar, and unmistakable.
Tristan was ready. As ready as he was going to be for a “let’s have sex” talk. He drew in a breath meant to steel his nerves, grabbed the bag that was meant to make an amazing night, and stepped into the room that was originally meant to be his alone.
Henry was sitting on the bed cross-legged... and shirtless. Damn it, why was he shirtless already? Tristan absorbed the vision of his hard, wiry body and little tuft of chest hair, his happy trail across softly defined abs, well-muscled arms ending in the gnarly, rough hands that could only belong to a professional baker.
New knots tangled into Tristan’s nerves. Knots of passion and longing and fire that burned hot and bright. “So... your surprise.” Taking in Henry’s slight smile, the expectant glint in his eyes, Tristan couldn’t find any words. So he dumped out the contents of the bag on the bed next to Henry. KY and a variety pack of Lifestyles tumbled out. He swallowed to try to wet his throat, but no luck, so his voice came out weaker than he intended. “Surprise.”
Henry shuffled the contents of the bag around with one hand as scarlet fire blazed up his cheeks. Redder than Tristan had ever seen him, including when he’d been standing over a steaming pot with the clock ticking down. “You... Wow.”
