Kitchen Gods Box Set

by Beth Bolden

  “I couldn’t get the patio,” Miles apologized after they sat down. “It was too late of notice. And even I don’t have that sort of power.”

  “I’m impressed you got a table at all,” Evan said. He wasn’t disappointed they weren’t on the patio. How could he be when he was here at all? The most any of his pseudo-dates had ever done was bring over Chinese or pizza before a hookup.

  Miles had brought him to Terroir. The place he’d once described as the finest restaurant in America. The only Michelin-starred restaurant in California.

  “Can you blame me for trying to impress you?” Miles said, reaching over and brushing his hand over Evan’s knuckles.

  Evan hid behind the menu, most of which was incomprehensible to him. He didn’t know what half the words meant, and he didn’t think he could really get away with googling them on his phone.

  “Uh, yes,” Evan said. “I was impressed by you before we even met.”

  “But then I made a shitty impression,” Miles grinned charmingly, “so I’m just making up for lost time.”

  “Well, if that’s the way you’re going to play it, then figure out what I should be trying,” Evan said, smiling back and feeling lighter than he had in forever. Maybe ever.

  This must be what relaxing felt like. Or maybe it was love. It was fabulous either way, and he felt as light as the bubbles in his champagne flute. If anyone, especially Xander, tried to take this away from him, they were going to find out just how hardcore Evan Patterson could be.

  “Yes, sir,” Miles said smartly, and Evan couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter.

  Suddenly he was very sure it was going to be one of the greatest meals of his life, and that had nothing to do with the food.

  * * *

  Evan was really damn sure it wasn’t just the food when Bastian Aquino showed up at the table between the main course and dessert.

  “Miles Costa,” Chef Aquino said, a self-satisfied edge to his voice, like he’d believed that Miles really couldn’t stay away and that belief was now justified.

  He was a powerful man, with short dark hair just beginning to silver at the edges, intensely dark eyes, and a pair of serious biceps bulging under his immaculate black chef’s jacket.

  Evan was struck a little dumb. It wasn’t his finest moment, but pictures didn’t do Bastian Aquino justice. He looked like he could snap his neck just as easily as he could a chicken’s. Evan swallowed hard when Aquino turned his attention to Miles’ dining companion.

  Him.

  “You’re the individual who lured Miles away from my kitchen with promises he’d be famous,” Aquino said, a crease forming between his brows.

  Evan decided he might as well own it; if Aquino killed him in the middle of his restaurant, then at least he’d die a happy man. “Yes, I did.”

  Miles blustered across from him, a frown on his face. “That’s not exactly true,” he said.

  Evan smiled. “Maybe next season when Miles is on the Cooking Channel, we can invite you to guest star with him.”

  Aquino clearly didn’t like that at all. “Food doesn’t need fame,” he said. “Was the food up to the standard?” he questioned, directing it to Miles.

  Evan supposed he should be a little offended, but then Miles was the professional between them. What would Evan know, besides that everything had been delectable and incredible?

  “Your lamb was a little overcooked,” Miles said, laughing. Evan thought that if Aquino killed both of them, Miles would go out happy too. A month ago, that might not have meant much to Evan, but it meant everything tonight.

  Bastian Aquino practically growled. “I forgot, you’re just a pastry chef.” Then he smiled, and it was like the sunrise over the desert. Evan was surprised at how handsome he was when he wasn’t wordlessly threatening people’s lives.

  “Dessert is still to come,” Miles said with a lot of satisfaction. “Tell René that he’d better send his best.”

  Aquino gave a sharp nod. He turned to Evan. “He is happy. Thank you for giving him what he needed.”

  When Bastian Aquino left, just as abruptly as he’d arrived, Miles giggled. It might have more to do with the thrill of love than the wine they’d drunk tonight or even the fantastic food—no matter what Miles said about the lamb.

  “What exactly is it you’re giving me that I need?” Miles asked with a quiet snort, probably thinking Evan was going to say something dirty and inappropriate. And ninety-nine percent of the time, Evan probably would have. It wasn’t like his wall was coming down; instead, it felt like he was welcoming Miles inside.

  Evan hoped the truth of it was in his eyes when he replied, “Everything I can.”

  * * *

  Later that night, lying in bed with Evan drowsing against his chest, the TV turned on low, a text came through on his phone.

  Leaning over, he must have shifted Evan too much when he reached over to grab it, because he made a sleepy, annoyed noise.

  “Sorry,” Miles said. “It’s Gina.”

  “Gina?” Evan asked, and Miles felt like a shitty brother, or maybe just a shitty person. How had he not texted her lately? How had he not told Evan about Gina?

  “Gina is my younger sister,” he said. “We’re close. Well, we used to be, I mean we still are, she’s just in her freshman year of college in Berkeley and we’ve both been a little busy.”

  Evan propped himself up on an elbow, hair mussed, eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. He stopped Miles’ heart, because only in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d get to see the other man like this.

  “Is she okay?” he asked.

  Miles didn’t know what had given it away. The late hour, maybe? Or his own worried expression?

  The text had said: You’re in Napa and no text?

  Miles had felt guilty enough that he hadn’t told Evan about Gina; now he was feeling doubly guilty.

  A second text came in before Miles could even reply to the first. If I keep guilt-tripping you, will you let me meet him? Brunch. Noon.

  “Xander,” Miles growled. He was really regretting introducing Gina to Xander. There was always another shoe to drop with him. He’d assumed things were good between them after their conversation today, but then he’d gone and texted Gina and told her all about Evan.

  “What did he do now?” Evan didn’t seem particularly concerned, which was good, because he had nothing to be jealous of.

  “Interfered,” Miles said reluctantly. Was he ready for Gina to meet Evan? Was Evan ready to meet Gina?

  “Isn’t that what he’s best at?” Evan wondered.

  “My sister wants us to stop by Berkeley so she can meet you tomorrow,” Miles said. “I’m guessing she got a whole series of texts from Xander after he got off work.”

  Evan’s arm was still across Miles’ bare chest, so he couldn’t help but feel him tense.

  “Is that okay?” Miles asked gently. It seemed so unfair that he could have this whole incredible, infuriating, real relationship with his sister, and Evan had nobody.

  “Are you asking if I’m ready to meet your sister or if I’m okay that I don’t have a sister?” Evan questioned.

  Miles flushed. It was a good thing that they’d both been lowering their shields, but he hadn’t realized he was so easy for Evan to read.

  “It’s okay,” Evan continued with a little smile. “Lots of people don’t have sisters, I just happened to be one of them. I’d love to meet her, if you’re good with it.”

  They’d acknowledged to each other and to several others that they were dating now, but it was definitely something more for Evan to meet his family. Miles’ heart had made the commitment already, there was no going back from that, but now he had to make sure his head was on the same page.

  “I’m good with it,” he decided. As if there had been any other decision he could make. Evan would torture him slowly and Gina would help Evan finish him off.

  He was in this now, and the truth was, he wanted to be.

  �
�Then I guess we’re going to lunch with your sister,” Evan said. He seemed calm enough. “I’m glad I brought another bow tie.”

  “Someday,” Miles said, cradling him in his arms, and then suddenly rolling him underneath his body, hovering above him. He let his hips drop, flush and hard, against Evan’s. “I’m going to tie you up with those fucking bow ties.”

  Evan’s gaze was bright and challenging. Miles couldn’t get enough of it. “I’d love to see you try,” he said.

  And how was Miles supposed to ignore a dare like that?

  * * *

  Evan didn’t think he was nervous—at least not precisely nervous. Apprehensive was probably the better term. It wasn’t like he could do research to help him feel more comfortable; Gina was a person, not a location or a task or an activity. Any research he did should be restricted to brunch, conducted by actually talking to her.

  He’d never had to go to brunch with a sibling of a boyfriend before. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really had a boyfriend before, definitely not in the sense that he and the other guy had actually agreed that’s what they were. He’d had half-assed relationships, he guessed, if that was what it meant when you drifted together, spent time together, slept together sometimes, and eventually drifted apart.

  But nobody had ever wanted him to meet their family before. And it wasn’t like Evan had any family for them to meet. None of the handful of guys in college had even known he was a foster kid; it definitely wasn’t something he’d ever talked about.

  But Miles knew, and he didn’t care. It certainly seemed like he more worried about Evan’s feelings than if Gina approved.

  “She’s going to love you,” Miles said as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. His smile was sweet and reassuring.

  “I’m not worried about that. People usually like me.” Evan shot Miles a coolly sardonic look. “You’re the only one who didn’t, and that turned out okay.”

  Miles laughed. “I did too like you.”

  “You had a very strange way of showing it,” Evan retorted as they got out of the car.

  Miles caught Evan’s arm as they walked towards the entrance. “You should . . . um . . . definitely stay quiet about that part of it,” he murmured. “Especially to Gina.”

  Evan might not have had any blood-related siblings, but he knew exactly how this worked. “So she can’t give you any shit about it, right?” He grinned. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re so cruel,” Miles groaned in exaggeration. “I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

  But then a high-pitched voice yelped Miles’ name, and Evan had the luck to see Miles’ face the moment a tall, slender girl with long, curly dark hair piled on top of her head, came into view.

  Evan had already figured out that Gina meant a lot to Miles, but seeing the joy on his face, then watching them wrap each other up in a tight, prolonged hug, made it crystal clear.

  The first thing Gina did when Miles released her was turn towards Evan.

  “Hello,” she said in a friendly, conspiring voice. “You must be Evan.” She extended a hand and Evan shook it immediately. She turned to her brother. “You didn’t tell me how cute he is!”

  Miles flushed, and Evan was greatly amused at his discomfort. “But,” Gina continued with a quick, clever grin, “I shouldn’t be surprised at all. I know what this one is like. But you, you I’m definitely looking forward to getting to know better.”

  Gina tucked her arm in his without prompting, and the stacked turquoise bracelets on her arm rattled.

  “I’m hoping so,” Evan said, and to his own complete surprise, he really meant it.

  Miles threw his hands up in the air and made noises about going to get them a table.

  “First, you need to tell me if he ever apologized to you,” Gina said.

  Evan was more than a little shocked that she knew so much. “No. Yes. Not exactly precisely when he should have.”

  Gina’s expression was grave, belying the flushed excitement on her cheeks. “He’s sort of an oblivious asshole, sometimes. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that.”

  Evan laughed. “No, no, you don’t. I know what I’m getting with him.”

  “Good.” She leaned closer, bracelets clanking again. “Xander told me he took you to Terroir last night. Was it amazing?”

  “It was terrifying, intimidating and incredible,” Evan said.

  “Miles tried to take me there once and I told him, over his dead body,” Gina said. “I’m much more comfortable grabbing a burger.”

  “Don’t worry,” Miles said dryly, “I’m sure you can get a burger here.”

  “It’s breakfast, Miles,” Gina replied, all deadpan voice and sparkling eyes, “that means bacon and eggs and something sinful, like a cinnamon roll or a Danish as big as my head.”

  Miles ruffled her hair affectionately. “I’ll have to send you a box of goodies. We’ve got tons of extras in my freezer. Some of them actually edible.”

  “Don’t believe him,” Evan inserted. “All of the ones he saved are definitely edible. More than.”

  “Oh, I like you,” Gina said. “A lot, I think. You’re going to be great for him.”

  Evan looked steadily over at Miles, who was still beaming at his sister. “I’m sure as hell going to try.”

  Reaching over, Gina squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  Evan was sort of glad when this was the moment the hostess called Miles’ name to let them know their table was ready. He was a little mistier in the eyes than he felt comfortable being, especially with someone he didn’t know, even if that someone was Miles’ sister.

  * * *

  “And I’ll have the pineapple upside down pancakes,” Evan said to the waitress who was taking their order. “And a side of bacon. Extra crispy, please.”

  “I’ll have all this right out,” the waitress said, stuffing her pad back in her apron, and moving on to the next table.

  Evan only knew something was wrong by the strangled, stifled noise Miles made.

  It hit him all at once. So long, being so careful, so cautious, never visibly enjoying any of the cookies he’d been making, or the macarons, or even the incredible dessert last night at Terroir.

  No, all it took to screw him up was Gina beaming at him like an idiot, casually accepting, like he was going to be around for a long time. Like he was going to be a member of their family.

  Miles made the sound again.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Gina asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  “I think he just discovered that I like sweets,” Evan said evenly.

  Gina looked confused. Miles looked murderous.

  “Explain,” Gina said, looking rapidly more interested by the second.

  But before Evan could open his mouth, Miles had cut in. And he sounded pretty pissed, but not cruel, or cold, or truly angry, which was better than Evan could have hoped for. After all, there had only been a limited amount of time he could keep this secret while dating an extremely talented pastry chef.

  “The second day Evan and I worked together, he told me that he did not like sweet things. No desserts. No cookies. No pastries. Nothing. And he,” Miles said, mouth twitching, like it was difficult for him to keep a straight, annoyed face, “kept up this charade until this moment.”

  “I was a little distracted today,” Evan added, by way of explanation.

  “You didn’t even break over the dessert course last night at Terroir,” Miles said incredulously. And that had been difficult, but truthfully, the toughest times had always been whenever he was eating something that Miles had made. There was something about taking what Miles had made with his own two hands and then putting it into his mouth that always made the taste even more exquisite.

  Even the batches of peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies that hadn’t quite turned out had nearly made Evan moan once or twice.

  “You were right,” was all Evan said. “They should have used thyme, not rosemary, in the wh
ite chocolate lemon mousse pyramids. But you were right about the gold; they certainly looked impressive enough.”

  Gina was giggling so hard she nearly choked.

  “You guys . . . you are . . . perfect . . . for each other,” she managed to get out in between hysterical chuckles.

  “You’re not mad?” Evan asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  Miles just shrugged. “If I remember correctly, that was the morning after I filmed myself baking Ding Dongs. Anything you said that day is just payback for the video. Besides,” he lowered his voice, “I definitely plan to get you back, at the soonest possible opportunity.”

  “Gross,” Gina exclaimed, but she was smiling so big, her smile took over her face. And Evan couldn’t help but smile right along with her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As shitty as leaving LA had been, it was worse going back.

  It was like the fury of a rainstorm after the weatherman warned you to bring your umbrella. Expected, completely inevitable, and very shitty.

  “I can’t believe you’re not worried,” Evan said to Miles as they walked into the lobby of Five Points. They weren’t holding hands, but Miles liked to think just about everyone could see the growing attachment between them.

  “It’s pointless,” Miles said. “Has anyone ever convinced Reed Ryan to do something he doesn’t want to do?” Besides—and he wasn’t quite ready for Evan to find out about this yet—he’d played the last card he could think of, and if that didn’t work, maybe it was right for Pastry by Miles to die off.

  “When I was really lonely last year, sometimes I pictured Jordan doing lots of stuff he didn’t want . . . at least initially,” Evan said.

  Miles burst out laughing. “Of course you did.”

  “Have you seen them?” Evan demanded, laughing with Miles. “I mean, that’s a lot of hotness to contain in one relationship.”

  Of course, that was the moment they ran into Reed, in the corridor outside their adjoining cubicles.