Of Bread and Boyfriends: Baking Bears, #4

By Hollis Shiloh

Jacob is a wolf shifter and a country boy, the alpha of a hardscrabble pack barely making ends meet.  He loves his home and family dearly, but times are tough.  It's a lot of responsibility to carry.  

The newcomer to town, a handsome, shy bear shifter, has caught his attention in a big way.  Jacob has no problem with being gay.  He just wishes he could get Henry to talk to him for more than a couple of seconds at a time.  And maybe marry him tomorrow.  Henry's annoyingly hot friend keeps getting in the way, though...

Henry is a sweet, gentle baker who has problems of his own.  He isn't sure he'll ever be ready to commit to a mate, but he's definitely drawn to Jacob.  He daydreams about him, bakes for him, looks forward to his every visit...but wolves don't do casual, and Henry can barely make plans past next week, much less for his whole future.

Fox shifter Atticus, Henry's dearest friend, has complicated feelings of his own.  He loves Henry devotedly, even if his feelings will never be returned.  This new, prickling tension between him and the wolf shifter is no fun.  Does he have to keep feeling things for guys who will never be interested?  Besides, he plans to stay single for life.

Can Jacob, Henry, and Atticus each figure out what they want out of life—and what, if anything, they'll be to each other?

low heat
~55,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spare Words Press
• Release date: Mar 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393931683

Book preview

Of Bread and Boyfriends

by Hollis Shiloh

Chapter One

JACOB

Jacob eyed himself in the mirror, and rolled his short sleeves up slightly further.  He was already wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off his muscles, but it couldn't hurt to accentuate the biceps a little more. 

Jacob was no weakling.  He was a strong and confident wolf.  But somehow in person, next to the bear shifter he was going to see, he felt small.  It couldn't hurt to accentuate his assets, such as they were.  Maybe someday that would get him more than a grunt.

The annoying thing was that he knew the great big bear shifter was—or could be—interested in him in return.  Pheromones didn't lie.  But something was holding Henry back.

Going to the bakery today, Jacob? asked his young cousin, Kyle, watching him with an expression that was a little too knowing for his age.

Maybe, said Jacob, stretching the word out.  I have some errands in town.

Uh-huh, said the twelve-year-old.  Can you tell him I like the stale donuts best?

Tell who? said Jacob unconvincingly.  After Kyle was orphaned, Jacob had brought him into the pack.  He'd grown much more secure—and less thin—over the last year and a half, though Jacob knew it still wasn't always easy for Kyle.  At least he had a home, and enough to eat, and the support of a small but kindhearted pack of wolves.

Your boyfriend, said Kyle with a cheeky grin. 

I don't have a boyfriend, said Jacob, although he was glad that at least Kyle had used that term.  Boyfriend could mean so many things—a little attachment or lots, something serious or something light.  The term shifters would usually use for how Jacob felt about Henry was a much bigger deal.

But you'll tell him I like the donuts best, right?

You don't need any more donuts.  You're a growing boy, lectured Jacob, trying to sound stern and like a proper leader.  He was only a little more than twice Kyle's age and sometimes had to work at it.  He finished slicking his hair neatly into place and regarded himself in the mirror, thinking he looked good, a bit like a movie star, if not quite so handsome and charming.  He hoped Henry liked the James Dean look. 

Not that the bear ever really said what he did or didn't like.  Jacob had to guess.

Still, since when had Jacob ever disliked a challenge?  He'd gladly taken on being the alpha at a much younger age than was usual, even though it meant a lot of responsibility and sometimes heartache.

Chocolate donuts, added Kyle, incorrigible to the last, as Jacob walked off and headed towards his aging truck.  At least it was still good for driving to town, and the occasional hauling trip. 

He and his pack mates and cousins would get odd jobs that way—hauling wood chips, hauling things to the town dump for people, that sort of thing. 

Lately, they'd been flipping things they found beside the road on trash day.  It was surprising the things people would throw away.  An old, oversized metal locker might seem useless to someone, but if you could haul it away, strip and paint it, and fix up the doors, it was a good item to sell. 

They'd found a thrift store where they'd set up an arrangement to sell things and got to keep most of the money from it.  Nearly every week they had more items to add: hand-carved crafts, repaired and repainted chairs, tables, or shelves. 

It was proving steadier work than the garden stuff, since you could do it year round if you were resourceful and didn't mind a lot of driving.  Jacob didn't, but he thought the wear and tear on the truck might be a problem before too long.  Still, the pack was making money, everybody was eating, they were doing okay.

You couldn't even call his trips to the bakery every week—at least—an extravagance, since he went there to buy the stale bread the bakery hadn't sold previously.  He was helping the pack by bringing home food.  Henry gave him a good deal on it. 

The fact that he got to see Henry made it an even better deal.

As he got in the rusty truck and started the engine, he realized he was humming to himself, a happy little sound like a man looking forward to the best part of his week. 

Was that pathetic?  Maybe.  He checked his reflection in the cracked rearview mirror and hummed a little more, anyway.

THE TRUCK RUMBLED TO life with only a brief delay, and grumbled into town as he coaxed the gears into place through all the hills and turns.  He waved to a lady they'd done yard work for the previous season, and she waved back, even though she was currently raking her own leaves, her wispy hair escaping in the fall breeze, a single leaf stuck in her hair. 

He wondered if she'd need any gutters cleaned.  There was no way she'd want to do that by herself, at her age.  Making a mental note to find a way to ask without sounding rude, he chugged on into town.  It really was a beautiful day: blue skies with lots of white clouds, and the occasional darker, rain-laden cloud among them, so far passing by. 

It might rain later, but his instincts told him no, it would be clear all day, into a crisply chilly night.  Time to start a fire in the old fireplace for the night times.  Of course, the wolves could always choose to simply shift and pile up together for warmth, but as long as they had enough wood, there was no reason not to light a fire and enjoy at least some of the evenings as a human. 

Personally, Jacob liked structuring his life so he could enjoy both ways of being to the max: a wolf lots of times, running around in the woods, or play-roughhousing with his pack, or for eating.  He also liked being a human so he could work and drive—driving was really fun—and chat with people, and generally get to experience the whole human side of life.

Jacob was a pretty easy-going guy, and had thought he didn't have too many worries in life.  Sure, the pack wasn't rich, but they were all healthy right now, and happy, and there was enough to eat.  They got along well with the neighbors, and found work they could do often enough to keep things going.  It was a small pack on not much land, and there weren't a lot of jobs around here, so he felt lucky to be able to keep them all going. 

Sure, they could probably earn more money if they were willing to relocate, but then they'd have more expenses, too, and really, living here—where his roots were, where his pack had land and trees they'd grown up around—was probably worth millions if you had to pay out of pocket to acquire it.  If things got a little hand to mouth sometimes, it was still all good.

He hadn't expected to be alpha of the pack so young, but it was all right once he got used to it.  They elected their officials in this pack, so he hadn't inherited it.  They could unelect him any time, and, he sometimes thought, they probably would if he ever did get anywhere with Henry.

Bear shifters weren't known for their love of wolves, or, well, anybody or anything.  Henry was the first bear shifter Jacob had ever met, though.  He didn't seem unfriendly, just very private.  He lived alone, but right in town.  He'd rented a place just off the main street, a small apartment where he apparently stayed alone and didn't get many visitors, and went to bed early every night. 

Not that Jacob had tried to spy on him.  Just.  It would be hard to miss where he lived, wouldn't it?  And he might have happened to mention Henry now and then, just casually, to people in town.  Could he help it if they volunteered information like that?

Though it hurt to think the bear might be lonely, it was nice to think maybe he didn't have a significant other waiting in the wings, ready to swoop into town any day and take him away.  Anyway, he'd probably have said if he did, to warn Jacob off. 

After all this time—months now—Jacob still wasn't sure whether Henry wanted to send him away or get closer to him.  It really bugged Jacob sometimes.  Mostly he thought he had a chance.  But he didn't necessarily think it was a big chance.  After all, the bear might truly want to be alone. 

Not everybody had to find wolf shifters sexy.  Even though he was really interested, there was no guarantee that interest would be returned.

Would it help if I told him I thought we could probably be mates?  It would probably just send him off growling.  Or maybe into hibernation.

He thought about these things, as he so often did, on the drive into town.  The drive seemed to take longer than it used to, but also to be over too quickly.  The trip held such anticipation.  When he got there, he'd see his mate—his—that is—the bear shifter. 

He didn't get to go every day, or even every week.  Sometimes he was too busy with other things, or they could only spare the gas to go into town for a job, and had to combine chores like getting bread, and if he wasn't the driver, it wouldn't be him.  But he went when he could, and he anticipated it so much, he was almost sorry to get there too soon and know the trip was that much closer to being over. 

It was a strange way to feel, but then, he'd gotten used to feeling strange ways, ever since he'd caught sight and scent of that handsome, grumpy bear shifter. 

Henry had thrown Jacob for a loop, that was for sure.  And apparently the loop kept on going, because so far, he saw no end in sight.

MAIN STREET, WHERE the bakery sat, was small and old-fashioned looking, with lots of faded brick buildings.  Once there had been thriving general stores and haberdasheries.  Then Five-and-Dimes and ice cream shops.  They'd gone on to being video stores, pet stores, hardware stores, and diners.  Nowadays, lots of the buildings didn't have any businesses at all in them, and some were boarded up or falling down.

Though there were a couple of new businesses in the last two years—and they'd be the new businesses until something newer came along, if it did.  Just like the bear would always be a newcomer, unless there was a major influx of new people.  That, or maybe twenty years from now people would forget he wasn't a local.

It made Jacob a little sad to think of the bear shifter being made to feel like an outsider.  Jacob had certainly tried to be friendly.  Then again, there was no real indication that Henry felt one way or another about the town or anybody in it.  Or about any particular wolf, living just outside it with his pack, for instance.  The only thing he seemed to care about was baking.  That, and keeping himself to himself.  He didn't really spend time with anybody aside from his fox friend.

Jacob liked to see (and smell) the bakery in a prominent place along the main strip.  The sign wasn't anything fancy, just big, white letters painted across the glass window: BAKERY.  The bear could have put up a fancy sign, or had something painted in fancy calligraphy, but instead he'd put all his effort into the things he baked.  They were worth eating, and he had regular customers among the locals, and some from far away who drove for miles and miles and raved about the bread. 

Those far-away folks drove fancy Lexuses you could see your reflection in, instead of broken-down trucks and cars with two-toned paint jobs, but it was hard to be mad about it when they were spending money in town.  And when you drove that far just for some bread, why, they'd often stop and get gas, or try something from the ice cream place down the street, or maybe get some fresh fruit from one of the farm stands.  So it was good they came for the bread.  They were spending money on other things, too.  Sure, some folks might mutter a bit, but most people were glad to see some faint hints of tourism, even if it was bread tourism.

Apparently Henry was real popular through the internet, or possibly from the job he used to do before this one, also as a baker, somewhere fancier than this town.  Jacob thought that was pretty interesting, but so far he hadn't managed to figure it out.  He didn't have internet and looking it up would mean waiting in line at the local library, where the computers were very slow, and he usually had a lot of other things he was supposed to be doing in town, when he made the trip.  So of all the ways he might have almost-sort-of spied on Henry, the internet wasn't one of them.  He'd just kept his ear to the ground...and his nose to the sky, so to speak.

He raised his nose now slightly, sniffing.  Mm.  Cinnamon, for sure.  What was the master baker creating today?  It was thrilling to think about him making everything with his own hands. 

Henry didn't have employees to help with the baking, though there was a fox there, a sleek, too-knowing fox, who ran the cash register and made small talk and was so clearly and obviously gay that even some of the little old ladies thought he was probably a little light in the loafers and they didn't ask him if he'd maybe like to meet their unmarried daughters after church.

Jacob disliked him on principle.  One, because he was a fox, and two, because he was always laughing at Jacob, with his eyes if nothing else.  He clearly thought it was hysterical to have a wolf shifter sniffing round the bakery, trying to get the attention of the bear who ran the place.

Well, maybe Jacob was obvious—at least to another shifter—but he didn't have to like being laughed at.  He was an alpha.  He had some dignity.

He got out of the truck and slammed the door hard so it would stay shut.  Then slammed it again.  Then another time.  Finally it stayed shut.  He straightened his shirt a little and glanced up self-consciously, hoping he hadn't been spotted.

The fox shifter, in his human form, was looking out the window, his mouth open in a laugh, his eyes dancing.  Jacob scowled at him and made his walk a little tougher as he strutted up to the bakery's door and yanked it open.

Jacob still got the invitation to meet people's daughters after church, even if he was a shifter.  He wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing, but sometimes it made life easier.  At least no other shifters brought up something so silly to him.  It was harder to fool shifters, by accident or on purpose.

It made life a little easier to be thought of as a tough guy and nobody you could walk all over, so he didn't go around coming out to the townspeople on the regular.  He figured it would become clear enough when he got his mate, whom he had always assumed would be another wolf.  He'd had daydreams about it—somebody passing through.  They'd take one sniff and fall into each other's arms, positive it would work out just right, and the other wolf would stay and join the pack and be happy here, among his trees and in the small town.

He'd known it could work out differently, of course.  Maybe it wouldn't be an easy and sudden match they were both sure about, or maybe his mate wouldn't want to move here.  He'd tried not to think about those possibilities, though. 

He'd never even imagined his mate wouldn't be a