by Beth Bolden
“How about . . .” Wyatt hesitated, and then decided to just go for it. “Would it be okay if I invited some friends too?”
“I didn’t even know you knew anyone in LA. I’d love to meet your friends,” Ryan said, and sounded so god damned sincere, Wyatt wasn’t even sure he was acting. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe that was the attitude Wyatt should take. It was all real, until it wasn’t.
“They’ve been super busy filming, but I bet I could drag them away for an evening,” Wyatt said. “You probably don’t watch any of the Five Points culinary shows, but they star in Pastry by Miles.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Tabitha works for Five Points. Not in the culinary department, because that would be an epic fucking disaster, but yeah, I do. Once in awhile. I heard about that new show. Heard it’s good.”
“Yeah, I worked at Terroir with Miles Costa. He and his boyfriend, Evan, produce the show and star in it.”
“Well, I’m dying to meet them,” Ryan declared. “Invite them!”
* * *
It was easy to suggest inviting Miles and Evan to the barbecue. It was another to actually do it.
“Did you drown in the Pacific?” Miles asked when he picked up the phone.
Like Miles hadn’t been so overwhelmed with filming the second season of Pastry by Miles, practically on top of finishing the first season, that he hadn’t bothered to keep in touch either.
“No,” Wyatt said testily, flicking through recipes on the iPad he’d set up on a cookbook stand. “I’ve been busy.” That was actually a lie, but Miles didn’t need to know that.
“Actually, Xander told me that you’re barely working at this private chef gig. Lots of time to experiment in the kitchen, time off to go surfing, all those extended naps in the afternoons.” Miles made the fairly innocent word nap sound as dirty as it could.
“That is . . . almost completely a lie,” Wyatt protested. He hadn’t been whiling away the afternoons by having wild sex with Ryan every day, though if the opportunity had come up, he wouldn’t have said no.
“Xander doesn’t lie,” Miles retorted. “That’s his whole problem.”
It was definitely one of Xander’s problems; he was painfully, bitterly honest. Wyatt wouldn’t say he was lacking in tact, more like it was completely absent from his vocabulary.
But Wyatt didn’t want to talk about Xander. Of course he didn’t really want to talk about himself either, so changed the subject. “How’s season two going?”
“Going to be a wild success, of course. Even better than season one. Cooking Channel has been making overtures about season three but I need to get Evan away from the studio before he forgets where we live.”
“You should get away like . . . tomorrow night, for example,” Wyatt offered.
“Tomorrow night? I was thinking more like a three-week trip to Fiji. One of those huts overlooking the water. No Wi-Fi, no laptop, no cellphones. Definitely no clothes.”
“That too,” Wyatt said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “But circling back to tomorrow night, Ryan and I are hosting a barbecue at his place, and you and Evan should definitely come.”
“You and Ryan?” Miles sounded suspicious, like he had a feeling where this was going, and really, honestly, he didn’t have a fucking clue.
“Ryan needs to give the impression that he’s settled and responsible to his team, so I’ve agreed to act as his . . . partner socially,” Wyatt improvised. It didn’t sound much better than saying the phrase, fake boyfriend, and Miles was going to figure it out in ten seconds flat, but it made him feel better.
“You’re going to be his fake boyfriend,” Miles said flatly. “And this barbecue is what, your coming out party?”
Miles had always been too smart for his own good.
“Yes,” was all Wyatt could say.
“We’ll be there,” Miles said with absolute finality, shocking the hell out of him. Wyatt had at least expected him to have to consult Evan and their mutual schedule together.
“Really?”
“You like the guy, right?” Miles asked.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t guess. I do. I do like him.”
“And you’re sleeping together.” Miles didn’t even phrase this as a question.
“How did you know?”
“Because,” Miles said impatiently, “that’s what always happens in these scenarios.”
“It’s not what you think,” Wyatt protested.
“I don’t think anything,” Miles said gently. “Only that you’ll probably put yourself out there and then get crushed to shit by the hot football player.”
“Baseball. He plays baseball.”
Miles’ silence in response was telling. So he’d nailed it on the head. It wasn’t necessarily going to end that way, there were lots of ways it could end. That was definitely the way Wyatt kept imagining though, and dreading.
“We’ll be there,” Miles finally repeated. “What time? Text me the address. Actually,” he paused. “Text Evan the address. He can add it to the schedule.”
“Sure.”
“Xander said he seemed nice.”
Wyatt nearly dropped the phone. “Xander hasn’t even met him yet!”
“I’m sure he did some sort of creepy digging. YouTube binge-watching all his interviews or whatever.”
“He means well,” Wyatt said. “He’s really worried about Kian. I’m surprised he made the time from his schedule of worrying about Kian to worry about me.”
Miles sighed. “When we first met him, I didn’t expect that he would end up so fiercely protective.”
Wyatt couldn’t help but be reminded of something Kian had said the other night. That just because he was an asshole didn’t mean he wasn’t deserving of love.
“Someday,” Wyatt promised, “we need to figure his shit out.”
Miles laughed. “Maybe when we don’t have enough shit of our own.”
“There,” Wyatt said, “I just texted Evan the address, and now he’s going to find you in approximately five point three seconds and demand to know what’s going on.”
“Probably.” Miles sounded happy about it. “Hey, you don’t need me to bring anything? Some sort of dessert?”
Miles was an incredibly talented pastry chef, and Wyatt probably should have taken him up on the offer. It wouldn’t be any trouble for him, even as busy as he was, and trouble and the effort for Wyatt would be far more substantial. But there was some stubborn part of him that wanted to make this dinner all himself. Also, it would definitely keep him involved and busy enough that he wouldn’t have the time to worry about what might happen at it.
“Nah, I’m good,” Wyatt said.
“Your loss,” Miles retorted. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ryan walked back into the kitchen five minutes after he’d hung up with Miles.
“Everyone on my side is confirmed. Eric is thrilled,” Ryan said, making an expressive face of distaste.
“I bet he is,” Wyatt said. “Miles said he and Evan could come too.”
“Eric practically fell over himself at how excited he was that you knew the stars of Pastry by Miles. He likes the connection and they’re popular on social media. He thinks it’ll be a great fit.”
Wyatt had thought it would be a great fit because Miles and Evan were his friends. But apparently genuine friendship wasn’t all that was required these days.
“I’m sure he’s disappointed that you ended up with the slightly less famous chef from Terroir,” Wyatt said wryly.
Ryan surprised him by coming up next to him, and wrapping an arm around his waist, leaning in to brush a quick kiss across his lips. “But I’m not disappointed, and that’s all that matters,” he said seriously.
“Say that after I’ve attempted to make a dessert,” Wyatt joked weakly. He felt even less comfortable with how demonstrative and affectionate Ryan was now. Like the last barrier had been lifted and he could act however he wanted—and what he wanted was to act like Wyatt was his b
oyfriend.
Just go with it, don’t fight it, he reminded himself.
And in this scenario it meant acting like he’d just gotten what he wanted too: Ryan as his boyfriend.
“I’m sure it’s going to be great,” Ryan said loyally. “And I’m happy to help with whatever you need.”
Wyatt turned slightly, pulling Ryan fully into his arms. “What if what I need is a very dirty nap?”
Tugging on his hand, Ryan smiled slyly. “Then let’s go take a nap.”
* * *
The next day it was tough not to regret spending hours “napping” in Ryan’s bed. He’d had a big list of stuff to do, including shopping and prep, and instead he’d let himself be talked into a few hours of sex alternated by actual sleeping, followed by ordering pizza in and making out on the couch.
Frankly, it hadn’t even required much convincing on Ryan’s part, but Wyatt was slowly, but surely, getting to a better place with that.
Acting like they were just together with no weird faux bullshit had been the answer to all of Wyatt’s questions about what he should do. The strangest—and the best—thing was that Ryan didn’t ever hesitate, or pull back, or question anything Wyatt was doing.
It was all good. Great, really. Except that how great it had been yesterday meant that he was now at the grocery store at six in the morning, shopping for the barbecue.
“You really made me come grocery shopping,” Ryan whined, slouching against the cart, a hoody pulled over his head, eyes sleepy. “At six a.m.”
“Didn’t you tell me once that Colin O’Connor does his own grocery shopping?” Wyatt asked.
Ryan sighed. “I did tell you that, didn’t I?”
“He probably doesn’t go this early,” Wyatt suggested.
“I was going to say that if you’d ever met O’Connor, you’d know he probably does. But why would you have met Colin O’Connor?”
Wyatt elbowed him in the ribs. “Unfair. True, but unfair.”
“I mean, he’s okay. Everyone always wants us to be great friends, I guess because we’re both gay and athletes and out of the closet. But that’s not really much basis for a friendship, is it?”
Wyatt piled a handful of watermelons into the cart that Ryan was half-heartedly pushing. “You have a point.”
“He’s nice and all. But we’re not friends.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt teased, “you seem really happy about that.”
This time Wyatt caught an elbow to the ribs. “If he wanted to be friends, it’s not like I’d turn him down, but he’s so serious and settled down. I heard he and his husband were adopting. Or doing in vitro or something. That’s not really my scene.”
Wyatt could see that. “I think people who believe you’re friends are probably assuming that you two have experienced situations that nobody else has.”
“You’re saying he’s punched out a homophobic asshole on his team?” Ryan sounded so hopeful, it was hard not to be endeared even further. And Wyatt was already very endeared. He kept expecting to reach the ceiling on endeared, only to discover that it kept going up and up and up.
“He might have. That seems like the sort of thing he’d do,” Wyatt said. “And if you want me to be impressed at your prowess and convictions, I sure am.”
Ryan scoffed. “If I was trying to impress you, I’d do this.” And he pressed Wyatt against the cart in the middle of the produce section, hands pulling up Wyatt’s t-shirt and settling, cold and certain against his stomach. Wyatt was just about to protest, but Ryan kissed him instead, swallowing all his words.
There wasn’t anyone to see; nobody to photograph them. But Ryan did it anyway, so Wyatt decided when they finally broke apart that spontaneous kissing was definitely allowed. He was going to be taking a lot of advantage of that ability.
“Where are we on the list?” Ryan asked breathlessly, digging for it in his pocket. “You got watermelons. Did you get strawberries or mangos?”
“I think there’s also pineapple and avocado,” Wyatt said, pulling the cart towards the fruit displays because Ryan had given up on pushing it. He was whipped because that fact didn’t even annoy him.
“Double strawberries,” Ryan pointed out as Wyatt began to sort through the plastic containers. “Whatever that means.”
“It means that I need strawberries for the salsa and for dessert.”
“You know, you didn’t have to do this. We could have just gotten the dinner catered.”
Wyatt was still absorbed in picking strawberries. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’m a professional, I can handle a little dinner party. Also, isn’t this why you hired me? Because I don’t think you hired me to make your smoothie or grill your chicken at night. Or give you a morning blowjob.”
“You’re very handy,” Ryan said in lieu of an apology. “I’m spoiled rotten, I know.”
Wyatt began loading pineapples in the cart, then moved onto mangos. “You absolutely are.”
“You love it,” Ryan teased, and Wyatt had to hold the answer back, because damnit, he did. He kept creeping closer to that revelation, and every minute they spent together like this, he sped up. Soon enough it was going to be inevitable that he didn’t just love that Ryan was spoiled rotten, but every damn thing about him.
“Where to next?” Ryan asked, shoving the pen behind his ear. “I think you got all the produce and the fruit.”
“You’re a good grocery shopping partner,” Wyatt pointed out as they headed towards the butcher. “I’m impressed.”
Ryan preened. “You’re never going to regret agreeing to be with me.”
He wasn’t wrong; even if it all went wrong, and Wyatt ended up with a broken, demolished heart, he didn’t think he’d regret it.
* * *
“Hiding out?”
Wyatt glanced up and saw Tabitha lingering in the kitchen doorway. He was putting the final touches on the main course of the barbecue—tri-tip steaks that he was planning on grilling and slicing thin.
All the cold salads were prepped and in the fridge. He’d set up the appetizer buffet in the backyard, and put Ryan in charge of drinks. Everything was coming together, and he was feeling calm and collected, until Ryan’s best friend decided to drop by the kitchen to check in.
He knew he wasn’t intimidated by Tabitha because of her beauty. It was probably because it felt like she saw right through him, past his skin and his rib cage, to the frantically beating heart underneath. The traitorous heart who was just about ready to topple head over heels in love with Ryan.
“I’m finishing up prep,” he said. “I’m not just here as the eye candy hanging off Ryan’s arm.”
Tabitha walked in, setting her glass on the counter with a click. “You’re not even here as eye candy.”
“Tell Eric, who’s already been through here, telling me to change my shirt, fix my hair, get ready for a hundred pictures that I’m apparently going to have to take tonight. All demonstrating just how hot Ryan’s new boyfriend is.”
Wyatt had told himself not to let Eric get to him, but it seemed to be a losing battle.
“Eric’s an asshole,” Tabitha said.
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Wyatt said crossly, “and yet we all still have to deal with him.”
“Someday, Ryan will get fed up, and he’ll dump him. For someone with an actual shred of empathy. But Eric makes him lots of money so that probably won’t happen for awhile.”
Tabitha didn’t need to point out that Wyatt would likely be long gone by that point.
“Are you here to take a selfie with me?” Wyatt finished rubbing the dry seasoning mix onto the meat, and then transferred it to the tray.
“Actually,” she said, “I’m here to ask if you need any help. Which seems a little ridiculous, I’ll admit, but my mother always tried to drill manners into me. Even if it was mostly unsuccessful.”
“Actually, you can help me,” Wyatt said. “Grab that salt, I need to season the meat and I don’t want to wash my han
ds again.”
“You’re going to let me do something this important?” Tabitha asked skeptically, while still coming around the corner of the island and picking up the salt shaker.
“It’s just salt. You seem very intelligent. I’m sure you can manage,” he teased.
“How much?” she asked, shooting him a grateful look. He didn’t imagine that many people upon meeting her for the first time noticed her intelligence first.
“Just shake it liberally all over,” he said. “And then the pepper grinder next.”
She did as directed, as he rubbed in the seasonings further. “Would it be patronizing to tell you that you did a good job?”
Tabitha shook her head. “I like praise, and you’re good at it.”
“Praise?” Wyatt questioned, as he walked over to the sink, scrubbing his hands under the spray.
“Yes, and putting people at ease,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons Ryan likes you.”
He turned, grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands off. “You mean that’s why Ryan picked me.”
“No,” she insisted with a sharp shake of her head, “that’s not what I said. That’s why he likes you.”
Before she could elaborate, Ryan burst in. “The grill’s ready, I think.”
“Good,” Wyatt said, hefting the tray.
“Miles and Evan just got here,” Ryan said, trailing after him, Tabitha bringing up the rear. “I love them already, though I was surprised at how uptight Evan is.”
“Everyone is, after they meet Miles,” Wyatt said.
“Miles and Evan?” Tabitha questioned. “From Pastry by Miles?”
“Yeah, they’re friends of mine. Miles and I worked together. Lived together too, for awhile.”
She let out a heavy sigh and shot a glare at her best friend. “And you didn’t tell me they were here? I’ve been dying to meet them!” She elbowed her way between Wyatt and Ryan, escaping out the back door first.
“Are you ready for this?” Ryan asked quietly as they paused on the threshold. To Wyatt’s surprise, he didn’t sound ready; he sounded apprehensive.