Chapter Eight
Jack stood up from the table, smiling as he saw Martha Jones enter the restaurant. He waved to capture her attention. Spotting him, Martha grinned and headed in his direction.
"Jack! It's so good to see you." Looking a little flustered, Martha took her handbag from her shoulder and placed it on the table. "I'm sorry I'm late. It's been a nightmare of a morning."
"Don't worry about it. I only got here a few minutes ago myself." Jack held out his arms in invitation. "Do I at least get a hug?"
Martha rolled her eyes, but a bright, unrestrained smile spread across her face. "Of course you do. Come here."
They embraced and Jack gave her a kiss on the cheek as they drew apart.
A few years younger than Jack, Martha was a dark-skinned beauty: slender and elegant, with sleek ebony hair a few inches past shoulder-length, warm, dark brown eyes and an uninhibited, infectious smile. She was also intelligent, down-to-earth and not afraid to speak her mind. They were all qualities that Jack admired.
They'd met several years ago in London when Martha had been working as a freelance journalist before she'd relocated back to Wales. Jack had always been very fond of Martha, and although they didn't see a lot of each other, they'd kept in touch and occasionally socialised. The last time he'd seen her had been at a local gallery event, where he'd met her latest beau, a ruggedly handsome Welshman by the name of Tom Milligan, who was a paediatrics doctor and worked at the same hospital as Owen.
He pulled the other chair out for her and once she was seated, he sat down again himself. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Martha Jones. How are you?"
"I'm good. Busy, but good. Actually, I'm sort of on cloud nine at the moment." She lifted up her left hand and gave a playful wiggle of her fingers. "Tom proposed the other night."
Jack blinked, wondering how he'd missed the sparkling diamond ring. As much as he was delighted for Martha, he hoped that he'd managed to hide his dismay over the news of yet more impending nuptials and another deliriously happy couple. He was now more convinced than ever that marriages were reaching epidemic proportions. He beamed at her, hoping it didn't appear forced or insincere. "Wow. Congratulations! Tom's a lucky man."
Martha gave him a coy smile. "Well, I'm marrying a handsome doctor, so I'd say we're both lucky."
"I'm very happy for you, Martha." Jack reached for her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "So, when's the wedding? And, more importantly, am I invited?"
Martha laughed. "We haven't set a date yet. We've agreed on a long engagement since we're both busy with our careers at the moment. So it won't be until at least sometime next year." Her expression turned hopeful. "But when the time comes, I'd like you to be our photographer. I know it's not the sort of thing you usually do..."
Jack waved away her hesitation. "It would be an honour."
Martha smiled again. "Thanks, Jack."
A waiter appeared and they quickly perused the menus and ordered their meals, then chatted and caught up on their respective lives until their lunches arrived.
After sampling her chicken salad, Martha fixed Jack with a curious gaze. "Tell me about this bakery you're so interested in. What's going on, Jack?"
Jack finished chewing on a mouthful of succulent, roasted lamb and reached for his glass of merlot, taking a sip. He wouldn't normally drink alcohol during the day, but with Martha's happy news, they'd decided to treat themselves. "I've sort of become friends with the owner. He's a really nice guy, very talented, and the bakery itself is fantastic. Incredible food and the best coffee I've ever tasted. It's only been open a few months, but they're struggling to get the word out and people in the door. I'm trying to help promote it. I did the photography the other week, and we've just finished creating a website."
He retrieved his wallet and slipped out one of the bakery's crisp, white business cards, sliding it across the table. "It's called Myfanwy's. Just Google it and you'll find the website. We've got a Facebook page set up as well."
Martha looked down at the card before retrieving a leather organiser from her bag and slipping the card inside. Her eyes fixed on Jack again. "Why do I have the feeling there's more to it? Promoting a bakery... it's not exactly your usual line of work."
Jack chuckled at Martha's perceptiveness. "Okay, I admit that my motives aren't entirely selfless. It's the owner. His name's Ianto." He smiled as he said Ianto's name, unable to help himself. "Jones, actually. Ianto Jones. I'm a bit... well... let's just say I'm a bit smitten."
Martha's eyes widened, then she smiled, shaking her head. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd say you're more than smitten. You're all..." She shook her head again, giving a soft laugh. "For a moment there you were all dreamy-eyed."
Jack shrugged almost sheepishly, but then he laughed as well, wondering how it was even possible that one quiet, unassuming Welshman could have this kind of effect over him. "Okay, I admit it. I'm completely besotted. He's..." He paused, trying to find words that would do Ianto justice. Gorgeous, witty, intelligent, sexy, unpretentious, adorable, disarming, captivating... the list was a long one, but any description he could think of seemed woefully inadequate. He sighed and gave Martha a rueful smile. "I've never met anyone like him. He's really something, Martha."
"He must be." Martha was staring at him, her expression somewhere in the region of dumbfounded. It was pretty much the reaction that Jack expected. Anyone who knew him even slightly would know how out-of-character this all was. He still couldn't quite believe it himself. Martha continued to scrutinise him. "So it's serious, then?"
Jack sighed again and shook his head as the reality of the situation deflated his enthusiasm. He reached for his wine and took a more generous sip. "We're just friends. Barely even that if I'm being completely honest. He says he's not interested. Not just in me, but in men, period."
"Oh, Jack." Martha looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
Jack waved away her concern. He was a long way off from admitting defeat, no matter how much the odds seemed stacked against him. Ianto was a difficult man to read and didn't give off any definite vibes one way or the other, at least not that Jack could recognise. Still, something told him that he'd be a fool to give up, especially when he knew from experience that someone like Ianto Jones didn't come along every day. He just hoped that he wasn't letting his ego and pride – and admittedly his lack of familiarity with being rejected – override his common sense.
Pushing the negative thoughts aside, he tried to regather his confidence. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not giving up. At least, not yet. Regardless, I want to see Ianto's bakery do well. He's put so much work into it, and he deserves for it to be a success." He summoned up the most beseeching look he could muster. "Will you help? A feature in the local media could really make a difference."
Martha studied him for a moment, but then, to his relief, she smiled and nodded. "Of course I will." She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "But try to be careful, Jack. I'd hate to see you get your heart broken."
Ignoring the awareness that it was a very real possibility, Jack gave Martha a grateful smile and squeezed her hand. Then, after taking another sip of wine, he turned his attention back to his lunch.
###
Two and a half days later, Jack stood at the front door of Ianto's flat, a bag filled with Chinese take-away in one hand and a six-pack of Double Dragon beer – Ianto's favourite – held against his chest with the other.
Ianto's flat was located in one of the nicer, greener parts of Grangetown, in a neat row of modern, nondescript three-storey brown brick buildings situated along one side of a court and facing a large expanse of well-kept parkland. The building contained six flats, arranged symmetrically two per floor, each with two pairs of white-framed windows facing the park, the front entrance and stairs dividing the building into two equal halves. Ianto's flat was on the second storey of the left-hand side of the building.
There was off-street parking along the front, and Jack had parked his sleek, royal blue Peugeot coupé in one of the several spots for visitors, which Ianto had mentioned when providing his address. Only a few miles north of where Jack lived and a couple of miles west of the older and more urban area of Grangetown closer to the river and the city centre, the location seemed to strike a good balance of pleasant, quiet surroundings, affordability and probably a decent amount of space for the money.
He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in his stomach as he nudged the buzzer beside the door. He'd been looking forward to this, but now that the evening had arrived, he was nervous as hell. It wasn't actually a date, he reminded himself, no matter how much he wished otherwise. It was nothing more than a relaxed evening watching movies and hanging out with a buddy, just like he'd done countless times before with Owen.
Which hadn't stopped him from spending twice as long as usual preening in front of the bathroom mirror followed by the best part of an hour riffling through his wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit for the occasion. The irony that he hadn't put nearly as much effort into the actual dates he'd gone on wasn't lost on him. In the end, thoroughly disgusted with himself, he'd settled on an understated and comfortable pair of jeans – which nonetheless hugged him in all the right places and accentuated his not inconsiderable assets to good effect – and paired them with a simple white t-shirt, dark tan belt, matching trainers and a light blue v-neck cashmere sweater. The sweater wasn't overly tight, but it was still snug enough to highlight the definition of his chest and flatness of his abdomen without appearing too much like he was trying to show off. It wasn't exactly something he'd lounge around in to watch movies at home, but he hoped it didn't give the impression that he was trying too hard. The fact that nothing could be further from the truth would remain his little secret.
Just as he was resisting the urge to free one of his hands to check his painstakingly styled hair, the door swung open and revealed Ianto. All thoughts over the adequacy of his appearance immediately fled from his mind.
Their eyes met, and Ianto's lips lifted in a cautious smile. "Hello, Jack."
Jack was used to admiring the Welshman in his neat work attire of trousers, shirt, tie and apron. He always took particular notice of Ianto's tailored trousers – sometimes plain, sometimes pinstripe, usually in various shades of grey, but sometimes navy or black – and the way they clung to his hips and framed his pert, shapely backside to perfection. However, seeing Ianto dressed down for the first time was an equally captivating sight, and Jack couldn't help raking his eyes over the tall, lean body that had become the focus on his most erotic fantasies.
In place of Ianto's work trousers was a pair of fashionably faded jeans which hugged him very fetchingly. His feet were clad in a pair of grey sheepskin slippers, and a Henley-style long-sleeve shirt in navy blue, with the sleeves pulled up to the elbows, completed the outfit. The collarless shirt showed the pale column of Ianto's neck and accentuated his broad but lean shoulders. The top couple of buttons were open, revealing a further sliver of skin and a smattering of dark hair that trailed up to the hollow of Ianto's throat – which Jack had first observed when Ianto had removed his tie at the beginning of their previous evening together. That tantalising glimpse had caused him to fantasise in vivid detail about running his fingers through an ample endowment of downy chest hair. Just the thought of Ianto bare-chested and delectably furry made his mouth water.
Realising that he was staring and had yet to speak, he summoned up his widest and brightest smile, telling himself to relax and enjoy the evening ahead. "Hey, Ianto. Sorry I'm a few minutes late." He held up the big bag of takeaway as his excuse. "Took a bit longer than I expected with picking up dinner."
"That's all right." Ianto stepped back from the doorway, clearing his throat. "Er... come in. How are you?"
"I'm great." Jack crossed the threshold, taking in his surroundings with interest as Ianto closed the door behind him.
To his immediate left was a reasonably sized living room, and a little further down the hallway was a doorway leading into what was obviously the kitchen. A closed door at the end of the short hallway suggested a bathroom, and on his right were several built-in cupboards bracketed by a pair of doors, which he assumed led to the bedrooms. The walls, ceilings and trim were an inoffensive off-white and the flooring was cherry-coloured laminate, giving way to neutral carpet in the living room, which was furnished simply with the requisite sofa, coffee table and television unit.
A pair of bookcases were filled with a large collection of neatly arranged books, some DVDs and a few photographs, and there was an armchair in the farthest end of the room, beside the pair of windows. Several framed prints decorated the walls and added some colour to the otherwise neutral palette. Jack recognised a couple of Monet's along with what appeared to be renditions of local landmarks and some photographs that appeared to have been taken in Paris. Rhys had mentioned that Ianto had spent a year in the French capital studying and working before returning home and opening the bakery.
Just like the flat's inhabitant, Jack's first impression was of tasteful understatement and impeccable neatness, perhaps almost bordering on obsessive. Ianto Jones was clearly a man who liked his world organised and orderly. Which didn't exactly bode well for Jack, who continued to hope that Ianto could eventually be coaxed into casting aside his heteronormal limitations and expand his horizons both romantically and sexually.
Still with his hands full, he toed off his trainers and nudged them out of the way, not wanting to risk being deemed an inconsiderate guest. "How about you? How are things at the bakery?"
Ianto took the beer from Jack as he handed it over and headed into the kitchen, glancing back as Jack followed. "Good, actually. We sold everything we made today. A lady from a nearby estate agent came in and bought afternoon tea for their staff. Said she looked online to find somewhere new to try and saw the website."
"That's fantastic, Ianto." It had been a couple of days since Jack had visited the bakery, having decided that he didn't want to risk wearing out his welcome now that they were spending time together after hours. The last time they'd spoken was when he'd phoned Ianto after his lunch with Martha to give him the good news. Ianto had said that a couple of customers had mentioned finding out about the bakery online, and Jack was overjoyed to know that the website was already yielding some new business.
He put the bag of food down on the rectangular meals table near the doorway and looked around as Ianto put the beers into the refrigerator and extracted a pair of cold ones. The kitchen was a good size with worktops wrapping around two sides and another pair of windows facing out over the park. A gleaming coffee machine and top-end mixer occupied the worktop closest to the refrigerator. It wasn't a fancy or upmarket kitchen, but it was certainly serviceable, and it looked spotlessly clean. He imagined Ianto spending countless hours here perfecting his baked creations.
"It's not quite as good as it sounds. We've been cutting back on what we make each day so we don't end up with too much wastage." Ianto gave a little shrug as he put the beers down on the table and began retrieving plates and cutlery.
"Still, it's progress, no matter how small the steps. As the saying goes, mighty oaks grow from little acorns. And don't underestimate the power of word of mouth." It was Jack's turn to shrug. "Who knows how many people that lady and the rest of the staff will talk to and mention the bakery?"
"Well, fingers crossed. But, yeah, it was a good day." Ianto put the plates and cutlery down, along with a stack of paper napkins, then peered into the bag of food. He looked up at Jack with a frown. "There's a lot of food here. Er... how much do I owe you for my share?"
Jack shook his head. "Nothing. It's my treat. I always go a little overboard, and I got us a selection since I wasn't sure if we like the same things. Besides, it's always good to have leftovers." Admittedly he'd ordered far more than they could eat between them. He smiled to himself, thinking Rhys would be pleased that he was helping to keep Ianto well-fed.
Ianto looked like he was going to protest, but seemed to think better of it and graced him with a small, but seemingly sincere smile. "Thanks, Jack." He picked up the plates again, nodding towards the doorway. "I thought we could eat in the other room, if that's all right? We can start watching a film."
"Excellent idea." Jack clapped his hands together and grinned. "Let the Bond-athon begin!"