Wolf Runaway by Alex Ankarr

Well, Penn is a slave – still. But now he’s a pampered pet, now he’s the master’s darling. You’d think he’d be satisfied with that, that he’d be content. But is he? Well, perhaps he might be – if it wasn’t for Lettice and Benedict Parrin, the dangerously liberal and political wolves in his master and lover Ree’s circle. If it wasn’t that Ree’s mother, the old Dam of the Hotstaat pack, is trying to get Ree married off to a suitable wolf-girl. If it wasn’t for his nature, if he didn’t hate being a slave, if he didn’t long to be free…

Is love enough to reconcile Penn to being a slave? Is he willing to risk capture and death, for the sake of freedom?

Set in an alternative universe’s 1920s Britain – with wolves!!  (Book 2 in the Wolf Wars quintet).

Image – Seton and Thompson, no known copyright restrictions.



Cupcake Kissin’ 46 – Alex Ankarr free online gay romance serial


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Cupcake Kissin’ 46 – Alex Ankarr

For a moment Caspar thinks that perhaps Mack isn’t aware that Adam is right behind him. And that’s because Mack’s attention is fixed right on Caspar, still. That’s when it isn’t flickering sideways, to take in Sam, lounging back in Mack’s chair like he owns it, pretty much like he’s the star of the show.

‘Hallo, Sam,’ is the first thing out of Mack’s mouth, as he hits that point standing in front of them. (And so does Adam, nearly, just skidding up to clamp on to Adam’s arm, proprietorial as can be).

‘Hey, man,’ Sam drawls back. The rest of the… gang, it feels like a gang, Caspar and Sam and these actors he barely knows, is largely unacquainted with, and he couldn’t say why – they just seem to all close in together, microscopically closer. He can feel the ripple of amusement all the way through them, through him, without hearing a sound. ‘How’s it hanging?’

Mack does look slightly, very slightly, marginally amused at that. At least there’s a twinge to his mouth, a slight tweak in its severe handsome line. ‘Fine. Yeah, good. Although it would be a damn sight better if I actually had the notes I sent you off for ten minutes ago. I see you’ve got other things on your mind, though.’ And he nods to Caspar, still pinned and perched on Sam’s knee, and strangely disinclined to move without being dislodged by Sam. Not even – or especially not – with Adam glaring at him, pushing in to line his body up and press up against Mack’s side, though Mack is disregarding him completely, looks like. Not even with Mack meeting his eyes, finally, though all up until this point – and it feels long, although it’s only been moments, barely that – he’s looked at every one but, every which way except Caspar’s way.

And Sam, he doesn’t seem much abashed by being chastised – not that Mack sounds particularly severe, only dry, very dry. ‘Yeah, sorry about that, man,’ he says, cheerfully – and his hand comes to rest on Caspar’s thigh, and squeezes it, before everyone, under Mack’s eyes. ‘I’ll get right on that.’

But Mack doesn’t appear to take much notice of his assistant’s assistant’s gross cheek and disrespect, or to care about it. He still has his eyes on Caspar, gaze locked, and unsmiling too. ‘How about you, Caspar?’ he asks, and Caspar has never seen his face quite so impassive. Certainly not when he was pouring his heart out a couple of days ago, about his uncomfortably open-minded parents, their grudging tolerance and preference for Adam. That could all have never happened, right now, for all the sign there is. (Not as if the weed didn’t probably help some, but Mack looks tight-assed rigid and sober now, like the very idea of imbibing is an adolescent joke and scandal.) ‘You look happy enough. And pretty comfortable.’

Oh, and yeah, that tone is definitely snide. Maybe even hostile. And Caspar kind of hurriedly recollects that this is, after all, a client – as well as a maybe-friend, as well as a regular flirter and flirtee. (And how that needs to be knocked on the head, and right quick at that.) And that he really doesn’t need, on behalf of the business, to alienate a guy who brings in a fair whack of money for them on a regular basis.

But in the moment right before he heaves and levers and jumps up to his feet, Adam gets in there and has his two cents in, to edify the whole bunch and boiling of them. ‘Probably is. The service class are more comfortable with their own kind, babe. Although it’s extremely rude of the pair of them to be cuddling in your chair.’ And he makes it sound like some extremely arcane and perverted sexual practice. ‘And acting like it’s some kind of joke. You shouldn’t let them get away with it, Mack. And you’re in a position to fire at least one of them,’ he finishes up, in a hard-edged voice. The voice is almost as hard as his eyes, which could probably cut diamonds and frozen carbon dioxide. The knuckles of his hand are white, where he’s gripping onto Mack’s arm, and it can’t be comfortable, although Mack doesn’t seem so much as interested.

It at least galvanizes Caspar, and Sam too, a fire lit under him and his casual insolence quite done with. (And Caspar can’t really a hundred per cent criticise Adam for that. Not that it stops him.) They are, the pair of them, leaping up as Mack turns his head – slowly – to look at Adam. He doesn’t seem in any hurry, and still there isn’t a speck of animation in his face, though the line of his body is very tense. But he does say, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ abstractedly, as if he’s thinking of quite other things.

And Sam has things to say, too, even to the point of speaking over Mack. ‘Sorry, Adam!’ he’s dashing out quick, looking a bit concerned. ‘Just kidding there, no offence! I’ll be off and get your papers!’ And that’s him good as gone, high-tailing it out no doubt, before Mack has a chance to think through it and fire his ass on the advice of his sweetie, Caspar thinks a little resentfully.

But he has better things to do than hang around the studio all day, worrying about things that don’t concern him, and watching Adam hang all over Mack. They have probably behaved rather badly, though, Sam and himself both. Or at least, if it’s not to be taken as a bit of a joke. Which Mack almost certainly would have done, he thinks a little bit resentfully, given the chance, and without his sweetie jumping down his throat to criticise and vilify them.

Still… ‘Sorry about that, Mack,’ he says, placatory and with the sweetest smile he can muster, not looking Adam’s way at all, doing his best not to so much as acknowledge his existence. He hasn’t missed the service staff snipe, and it’s not as if it’s the first time. ‘Just some kidding around, we didn’t mean any harm.’

And Mack opens his mouth to respond, and for the first time he doesn’t look like he’s holding thoughts private and reserving judgement. There’s a little smile on his face, even. Adam gets in there before him, though – still hanging on like an oversized koala bear, with a harsh expression on his admittedly handsome face. ‘You were shockingly rude,’ he snaps. ‘And it can’t be good for business. I guess shiftless minimum wage types like yourself just don’t know any better, owner or not. If you weren’t the boss I’d have a good mind to call your place of employment and make a complaint. It was an unacceptable bit of presumption, and just because Mack is a sight too friendly and relaxed with people who start to think they’re all kinds of important when he’s the least bit civil with them – ‘

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: Lyn Whitfield on Flickr, public domain.

Me and Pam, week 7

4914981236_d2440275e3_zWow, and it’s week 7 already!  ehhhh, no it’s not!  But it was!

The title of the week 7 chapter is ‘Baby Steps’ – one of my favourite admonitions to myself, so it’s gonna please me.  I guess maybe this week I should post another chapter of ‘The Entomologist and No-Spiders Man’ – that would be a baby step all right!

The main task for the week, though – as set by Ms Grout – is to write a six-word memoir.  Unsurprisingly, she gives as an example the ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn‘ story.  And attributes it to Hemingway – the pompous self-important old dud.  Although as far as I was taught, it’s actually ‘Baby shoes, never used’ and was written by Scott Fitzgerald in response to a challenge from Gertrude Stein.  Vastly superior!  Papa H, you were an ass, and a sucky writer too.

Ehh, this one is not as easy as it might seem.

Tooled-up, smiling, pretend to agree.  Hee-hee.  

Maybe!  Or something else, later.  I THINK HYPHENATED WORDS COUNT.  I TOTALLY THINK THEY DO!  Hey, I’m the one who’s tooled up, who’s gonna argue with me?



image – Nick Harris on Flickr, licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/

Buy ‘Hot Firefighter Feels’ – Gay Firefighter Romance!!!


Buy Hot Firefighter Feels by Alex Ankarr!

Chris is a fire-fighter: a good guy, a guy in uniform, a guy who’s into other guys. He’s good at his job, he’s attractive, he’s… lonely. And he just inexplicably dislikes the super-hot new recruit at the station, Dane. Really. Detests him. Can’t bear him. Well, there has to be some reason to explain the sparks and the friction and the heat between them, anyway…

Image – https://www.flickr.com/photos/47217301@N06/, licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Cupcake Kissin’ 45 – Alex Ankarr free online gay romance serial

cupcake kissin IMAGE

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Cupcake Kissin’ 45 – Alex Ankarr

No, no he doesn’t. It’s not the right word, and Caspar doesn’t really want to use the right word, not even to himself, because the right word is grim. And since he’s not the heroine of a regency romance, he doesn’t pretend to be uncomprehending and puzzled about why, really, Mack would look grim right here and now. He can only think of two reasons, really. One, that they’re in his chair, he and Sam, and he’s territorial and pissed off about it.

And that would be an extremely reasonable response, that’s what Caspar thinks. It is his chair, after all. And Sam is Mack’s assistant’s assistant, and Caspar is… well, currently, if you’re looking strictly at his actual functionality in this scenario, he’s the cupcake delivery guy onset.

Wooh, and considering how he’s getting used to thinking about himself – as a business owner, as a project planner, as someone developing skills and competencies in the food service and production industry… As well as someone who is finally, after a long penurious college career spent acquiring a whole different set of skills, making a very comfortable living that enables him to eat something that isn’t noodles on a daily basis. (On the basis of every meal, for that matter. He certainly got tired of noodles during his doctorate. He also doesn’t need to eat cupcakes, but what the hell, Honey Bunny cupcakes are the best, and everyone knows it.)

But here and now, the program’s baked goods delivery person does not have the kind of status that would make it at all appropriate for him to be planting his ass on Mack’s chair. Not when Mack is the god-damn star of the whole show. And glowering at him, right now, every bit as moodily as he’s ever done in character as a bad-ass bounty hunter who loves ’em, leaves ’em and delivers ’em hog-tied to the forces of the law.

Caspar has watched a lot of the show. Even lately, he hasn’t given up the habit, and habit seems about the right word for it. He wouldn’t admit to being addicted, even now, perhaps. But whether he’s working the appropriate number of steps or not, he’s not going to risk the shakes and the jonesing that missing an episode seems to bring on.

Anyway. So that covers half of the possible reasons why Mack’s glowering at him like he’s a porridge-stealing thief. And the other is that Sam’s dumb-ass scheme has a root of truth and utility to it. And that it’s maybe working, too.

Still, Caspar has his principles, and his deeply held, deeply rooted beliefs. He doesn’t believe in manipulating people. (He doesn’t believe in behaving like some dumb-ass heroine who heaves her bosom in a scanty bodice). On the other hand, here’s Mack. Looking frankly too hot to be legally loose, and making eye contact with Caspar that’s searing enough to cook a steak like a laser at a distance of fifty yards.

He does have his principles. He does, though he struggles to pull them up from the depths of his subconscious right now, to make himself do the moral and the upright and the not idiotically asinine and fatuously ‘romantic’ thing. He’s going to pull himself up off Sam’s knee, the great fat-head, and have a pleasant apologetic little chit-chat with Mack and get the hell out of here…

Right about never. Even though he’s got a grip on the arms of the chair, is right about ready to go with that plan and put it into action, he never does, because the will to get it done dies in him, has his arms going lax and his will to get the hell off Sam’s muscular and relatively comfortable thighs dying in him too.

It’s not just Mack who’s seen them, up close, that’s the thing. Over on the other side of the studio – and looking to be pontificating to a little huddle of admiring acolytes, or as if he has been up until that moment – is Adam. (Adam, of course. Probably driving Sara crazy, wherever she is right now. And plenty of other folks, allegedly.)

But Adam is arrested mid-lecture, as his eyes fix on them. On Sam, and on Caspar, and on Mack. Maybe on Mack most of all. And that’s all it takes. He springs into action, and he’s heading towards them without breaking into a run. Without quite breaking into a run, but it’s a damn close-run thing. (Not everything is wireless in this modern age, turns out. The set is still littered with cables and wires and god-knows-what, Caspar certainly doesn’t despite his less specialised engineering background. Adam might break his neck. Caspar’s heart bleeds.)

Yeah, Adam is worried, he can tell. And Caspar feels a smug, warm little coil of satisfaction burn up in his gut and heat it through.

It’s very wrong, he knows it’s very wrong, and it’s shameful, that he lets it affect his actions. But, on the other hand, fuck it. Adam is awful, and Caspar can’t quite get past his thing for Mack, and…

Maybe he’s a dumb-ass rom-com heroine after all. In any case he stops trying to get out of Sam’s grasp, and settles in quite comfortably. Everyone else can see the collision waiting to happen, too. There’s an indrawn breath from Cara’s direction, and slight snickers from the two other cast guys, DeLontyne and Merrian. And the general vibe about them, and everyone else in the immediate vicinity, is one that suggests a widespread desire for popcorn, and maybe three-dee, the better to enhance their viewing pleasure in the imminent spectacle. Yeah, it’s a show, in itself, and everyone’s settling down to enjoy it.

And it only takes moments, but those moments seem to expand long enough that Caspar feels, open-mouthed and gaping and with a tight expanding feeling in his chest cavity, as if Adam might never actually arrive on this side of the studio. But it’s illusory, and he does, and then suddenly there he is.

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.


Buy ‘A Highly Disciplined Booty Call’ – Naughty BDSM Gay Romance!


Buy A Highly Disciplined Booty Call by Alex Ankarr!

Philip broke up with his ex Adam months back, and for very good reasons. But he has a taste for caning and spanking, and Adam was always very good at scratching that itch. Is it really a good idea to make that call?

Image – https://www.flickr.com/photos/steph_lawton/, licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Zumba for the soul, week 6


So, what week are we on again?  *whistles*  well, time flies!  Moving on, in any case:

Zumba for this week!  (Or eight weeks ago, whatevs…)

  • I gotta make myself a pair of angel wings.  Ehhhhh really?  MORE ORIGAMI?  Well tell you what: I’ve got a poem halfway ready to go, about angel wings.  Serendipitous, no?  I think that counts.  I THINK THAT COUNTS.
  • Also: get a hold of three poems by Rumi, and read ’em.  Yeah, I can do that all right.
  • Aaaand I have to eat lunch somewhere ‘unusual’.  Considering I rarely eat any meal on time, and generally graze randomly on whatever’s in the fridge, I think just having a formal cooked meal at the dinner-table would count for this one.


image – Lavendar’s Legacy https://www.flickr.com/photos/soloflight/ licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/

Cupcake Kissin’ 44 – Alex Ankarr free online gay romance serial


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Cupcake Kissin’ 44 – Alex Ankarr

Sam’s dragging him somewhere, though, not just leaving it at a rib-crushing bear-hug and a little bit of a grope, a quick abrading of Caspar’s chin as he rubs his own furrier version over Caspar’s face. (He does still run through all of that, though, unabashed by his current non-Caspar’s-boyfriend status. For an initially shy guy he has very few inhibitions once he gets to know someone.) ‘Where are we going?’ Caspar asks, and he’s resisting a little bit. But Sam just has the edge of him in musculature and determination, and they go where he wants to go.

‘Come on, be social, don’t be a miserable pain in the ass like – some people we know!’ Sam says cheerfully. He doesn’t name names, but Caspar assumes on past form that he’s talking about Adam. He’s not thinking all that much when he’s dragged into the onset talent area, though. It’s where the cast members needed for the day’s upcoming scenes are lounging and chatting and not quite oblivious. Caspar knows about a third of them, by now, but –

‘Cara, DeLontyne, Merrian,’ Sam says by way of introduction, nodding his head as he makes some pretty damn sketchy introductions. There’s also the factor that he makes them as he’s sinking into the canvas ‘n’ timber chair beside them – yeah, Sam knows how to make himself at home all right – but no-one seems to mind. They don’t appear to mind, either, that he’s actually pulling – or, more accurately, yanking – Caspar onto his knee as he descends himself. (No-one asks Caspar if he minds or not, and certainly not Sam.)

Caspar has a feeling that this chair, which he’s sitting on by proxy – Sam on the chair, and his ass on Sam’s knee – is not the kind of chair that appropriately belongs to a star’s assistant’s assistant. Pretty damn sure, yes. But he doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it. He’s too busy being greeted by Cara (the bad-ass undercover agent tracking down Mack’s bounty hunter for his non-law-abiding ways – he knows her already), DeLontyne (the family patriarch who’s hired Mack – unknown) and Merrian (the sweet debutante who’s turning out to be a feisty handful and too much for even an experienced bounty-hunter to handle – unknown).

His brain should be working a lot better than it actually is, but he figures out who this chair that his ass-by-proxy is occupying belongs to, okay. Just a little late. Figures it out when someone leans over behind him, and says softly – maybe dangerously – in his ear, ‘Who’s been sitting in my chair, honey?’

Yeah, it’s Mack’s chair. And Mack is onset. And, no doubt, out of sight of Caspar’s previous eyeline, there’s a piece of paper with Mack’s name on stuck on the canvas back. God damn, but he should definitely have been on to that one.

Caspar, though, is old enough to be up to all the tricks, and to keep his wits about him, when he’s confronted by a flirty friend when he’s overstepped his mark. He supposes. At least, he manages to come back with a somewhat relevant response. ‘I don’t know, Pappa Bear, but I haven’t been anywhere near your porridge, I’ll swear to God.’

And then he hears the thin tinny echo of that reverberating around his head. And he asks himself whether it was in fact a response of the utmost wisdom? Or if flirting with Mack again (again, his little internal voice tuts at him, flirting with Mack again, oh hell) might be not the smartest thing, a little bit of folly that could lead him down a bad road.

And as Mack circles around them, and the rest of the assembled cast members snigger and catcall responses that taunt at the both of them (and Sam too), Caspar knows at least one thing. He knows that this – sitting on Sam’s knee, with Mack right here, when Sam has already been musing on the notion of making Mack ‘jealous’ as a good idea, as something that might shake up the situation and have something useful fall out… That’s not going to be a good thing.

No matter what the result might be, Caspar doesn’t believe that that kind of behaviour is ever any kind of good idea. He has a deep rooted objection and dislike of Machiavellian machinations and deep plots of convoluted evil, of trying to get people to behave in a particular way by doing dumb things like pretend to feel and act in ways you don’t really feel and don’t want to act.

He doesn’t live in a romantic comedy. He refuses to live in a romantic comedy.

And so he gives a lurch, because he intends to pull himself up off of Sam’s lap, which is a place where he definitely does not belong. (Because he’s no longer dating Sam, whether or not that is a matter of public knowledge, or not. And it will also take him up out of Mack’s chair, where he also definitely has no claim to lever his ass in and make himself so at home. Nor has Sam, for that matter. But Sam doesn’t seem to trouble himself over it, and seems quite at home just the same.)

But the lurch doesn’t take him anywhere, or nowhere substantive, or not immediately in any case. Because, yes, Sam does have slightly the edge on him in burliness and muscle. (Not that either of them are exactly hard-bodied and muscle-bound, not like Mack at all.) And he makes quite plain the fact that he’s not intending to co-operate at all, whatsoever.

So Caspar could get up, if he wanted to. Just as long as he’s prepared to have a public, more than slightly embarrassing tussle about it, that’s all. That’s the price that he would be obliged to pay, the toll that Sam is going to extract for any failure to play along.

And anyway, as he gives a very, very discreet push, against Sam’s arm around his waist, Caspar looks up. It’s just as Mack rounds the chair, and comes to rest right in front of them, and he folds his arms, right there, as he comes to rest and looks at them. Well, more accurately, he looks at Caspar, and he looks sober.

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: Lyn Whitfield on Flickr, public domain.

Buy ‘Let’s Play Doctor’ – Sexy Medical Gay Romance!


Buy Let’s Play Doctor by Alex Ankarr!

Joe is an orderly at a big teaching hospital. He knows that a lot of visitors have a little kink for anyone in a white coat. And sometimes he takes sexy advantage of it…

Image – https://www.flickr.com/photos/adrianclarkmbbs/, licence https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/

Cupcake Kissin’ 43 – Alex Ankarr free online gay romance serial

cupcake kissin IMAGE

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Cupcake Kissin’ 43 – Alex Ankarr

Caspar doesn’t really find it all that amusing. Maybe a little bit, but also a little bit sad. The note, after all, did not declare undying love nor any intention of breaking up with asshole Adam. ‘Who knows,’ he says, and scowls into the pyramid of cakes he’s standing on the customer side of the Honey Bunny counter, before he heads out. There’s a lull and Sandy is smirking and eyeballing him from the other side, occasionally making lewd gestures with her tongue that probably contravene health and hygiene regulations. ‘Probably just apologising. Making himself feel more comfortable about misbehaving slightly. That much we can identify for sure.’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ Sam muses, but Caspar doesn’t have time for this.

‘I’m taking the running menu to the apartment tomorrow. Make sure your middle-level boss isn’t late, I need her to sign off. And if you’ve told her anything, then I’m going to kill you,’ he says.


At Mack’s apartment, Sara knows everything – or at least, she knows as much as Sam knows – and Sam is a dead man. It might just take Caspar a little while to arrange it. He has his hands pretty much full these days, after all. It’s a lot more than her usual level of sly amusement, and he has trouble setting the table-cloth swatches in the appropriate pigeon-hole in Mack’s home office for his perusal later on. She won’t leave hold, and she won’t let go, and she won’t stop sniffing at him.

‘He hasn’t marked me, Sara, we’re not werewolves or anything. You read way too much paranormal romance,’ he says, as calm as he can manage it. ‘You make sure he looks at those swatches, time is ticking on. Now I’m out of here, I’ve got to – ‘

‘Do you think he’s really going to break up with Adam?’ Sara asks, following closely behind him. ‘Do you think you could make him? If I thought it would make Adam break up with him then I’d just spill the beans about your little fun druggy times up there in the rumpus room, but there’s no way Adam’s going to let his hooks out of a genuine legit celebrity. Even if he puts the show down every damn chance he gets. Hey, maybe we should be making Mack jealous. Neither me nor Sam have said a dicky bird about the two of you breaking up, we couldn’t decide if it was tactically advantageous or not. You know, we could work with that. We should work with that. That would be the next step that might elbow Mack over the edge of his havering about whether to stick with what he’s got or take a chance on– ‘

‘It’s the next step that I won’t be taking, Sara,’ Caspar says firmly. Because there is a limit, and there are things he won’t put up with even from Sara, who he really very much likes. Stupid dumb-ass rom-com tropes about making a guy jealous by pretending to be into another guy when it’s all just one sneaky underhanded Machiavellian manoeuvre is definitely one of the things that’s a no-no.


So of course, a couple of days later, he’s on the soap set making a delivery, and then he’s sitting on Sam’s knee in public, with an audience including Mack. He feels, even at the time, that he really should have predicted this outcome.

It’s not like it’s the first time he’s made a phoned-in delivery on-set, for other shows than Mack’s, even. They’re close to the studio, but sometimes Sara doesn’t feel like picking up her cakes and caffeine list, and sometimes she’s too busy. Sometimes the same applies to Sam, too. And since he and Sam broke up… (If you can call it that, for some very casual friendly dating. Considering they’re still kind of friends. Also considering they made out – yes – the other night after they’d both had a couple of beers. Caspar suspects that was because Sam was a little turned on by the thought of him having made out with Mack. But he doesn’t judge. He was a little turned on by the ghostly presence of the thought himself. Or the ghostly presence of Mack, maybe. His charisma bleeds over even when he isn’t around.) But yes, they are more than technically broken up, so Sam has less incentive than he might have had previously (even with his self-admitted ulterior motives) to make reason to visit Honey Bunny’s. Especially when Caspar is baking, or not on counter shift.

And Sam doesn’t have an assistant. (Yet.) So yes, it’s not a first for Honey Bunny’s to deliver, though it ‘s not official policy. Not even for Caspar to be the one to deliver. (Mucking in and getting his hands dirty. Or covered with cookie dough. It’s heavily implied, and at points explicit, in the clauses and terms of his bequest.)

Just not since beginning to date (or ‘date’) Sam, that’s all. Not when Mack has been around, or up so close at least. Not doing more than making a quick drop-off and scribbling out a written invoice.

He doesn’t get to do anything quite so simple this time, though. Getting past security is a breeze. He knows Andreas, the head-officer, by now, and is waved in. (After some obligatory flirting. Andreas isn’t gay – to the best of Caspar’s knowledge. It doesn’t seem to stop him, in a handsy and very terrifying way.) Then he’s dumping two baskets and a to-go cardboard pack of coffees in the craft area, but he doesn’t get to make the quick getaway he had planned. (Because he is a little bit tense, because the adrenalin is zinging through him like it’s going to ping right out of his veins and splatter the craft table.)

No, Sam is way too quick. Caspar was quite careful not to alert him to Caspar’s imminent on-set presence. (Not that he doesn’t trust Sam by now, except in all the ways he doesn’t.) But Sam seems sensitized to home in on Caspar wherever he goeth. Like, here.

© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014

No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.

Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.