by E M Lindsey
days would have been remotely enough to cure him of his heartbreak was absurd. At the time, it seemed like the only possible answer, but when he arrived in his mom’s little two bedroom condo that smelled like wet dog and old grape leaves, he knew it was a mistake. He got all the recipes he needed within the first six hours, then he spent the rest of his time using his nieces in an attempt to not think about Sam, or what waited for him in Fairfield.
His sister knew something was wrong, but she was pregnant and exhausted, and clearly not interested in helping him work through anything emotional. They weren’t close siblings anyway, really. He was away for Juniors during most of her formative years, and after his injury, he’d fled to the other side of the country. He knew his nieces through skype and the occasionally holiday home, and that was about it.
But he didn’t hate his time there, in spite of it not really helping much. The girls were cute and enjoyed being spoiled, and at the end of the trip, Sofia had turned to him after putting her youngest in the car and said, “You’re going to be a really good dad someday.”
He had no response to that, because the image flooding his mind was the fantasy of waking up in the morning with Maisy crawling between him and Sam, of them spending lazy weekends and busy Mondays together, and Maisy running around the restaurant, and Sam grinning at him from the window of the shop as he walked the little girl over to bring her daddy lunch. But it was completely out of reach —Sam had made that very clear, in spite of the text messages Niko was resolutely ignoring.
The last thing in the world Niko wanted was a bullshit apology to help relieve some of Sam’s guilt for being rude. He just wanted to move on, but he now understood it was going to take a lot longer than ten days to get over this. He wanted to punch every person in the world who said there was no such thing as love at first sight.
Maybe it wasn’t first sight, but he sure as hell felt something for Sam that couldn’t be described as a passing crush. It had solidified in a matter of weeks, in a handful of dates, and two fucks. Now he was dealing with the aftermath, but he couldn’t keep ignoring his life.
He made an appointment with Holland to meet the potential new chef right when he got back. She was a woman named Eleni Floros who had been born and raised in London, but whose parents had moved there from Elounda when her mother was still pregnant. It was as close as he was going to get to what he wanted, and Holland seemed sure this was it. His first step of the day, however, was to head to the shop. Because he was going to head this off before it became a problem, and just let Sam know that it was fine. It would have to be over—whatever it was between them, because he couldn’t handle anything casual—but it was fine. They could be friends, eventually. He wasn’t willing to lose what he had been building with the rest of the people there all because he let himself get too involved. He’d be mature and straightforward, and it wouldn’t be a big deal.
He’d keep his calm face on and fall apart in the privacy of his own home later.
Checking himself for the hundredth time, deciding he looked pretty good in spite of jet lag and massive lack of sleep, he grabbed his keys and headed out. It was a short drive to the shopping center parking lot, and he pulled around back so he was closest to Irons and Works, figuring he was going to need the short walk to the restaurant to compose himself after this was through.
He wasn’t even sure Sam was in that day, but he had to take the risk, and he still couldn’t bring himself to text the other man. He had to be spontaneous or he’d lose his nerve.
With a breath, he swiped his hands over his jeans, then peered through all the flyers pasted to the window. He saw someone’s head poking just above the low counter, but he couldn’t remember whose station it was. It was five minutes after opening, the sign blinking in the window, so he grabbed the door and strolled in.
The little bell sounded, but the person at their desk didn’t move, and he heard the faint sounds of music coming from headphones. It really only took him a second to recognize the hair and posture. It was Sam, and by some miracle, it was only Sam in the entire front of the shop. Which meant maybe his humiliation wouldn’t be public.
Biting his lip, he walked over to the counter and leaned forward to watch Sam draw for a moment. It was mesmerizing, the way his felt tip pen glided over the page, the thick lines creating images from nothing in a way Niko could never do. He almost lost himself in it until he reminded himself why he was there, then realizing he had no other choice, he reached out and tapped Sam’s shoulder.
Flailing back, Sam grabbed the edge of the desk to keep his chair from tipping as his eyes fixed on Niko. His mouth dropped open, his utter surprise making him look suddenly young and vulnerable. Then his expression shuttered, and he ripped his headphones off, throwing them on the desk.
“Sorry,” Niko said, shuffling his feet nervously. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Sam blinked, then shook his head. “No. That was my fault. I’m the only one here for the next hour so I should have had one ear open. I uh…” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You’re back.”
Niko shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’m back. Went home for a few days.”
“Matty told me,” Sam said. There was a tension in his voice, but he didn’t sound angry, or even really contrite. Niko hated that he couldn’t read him right then, because normally Sam was an open book. “You uh…you get in okay?”
Niko nodded and rocked back on his heels. “It was fine. Little bumpy and I hate flying so it wasn’t great. But yeah. I have a meeting in a few.”
“Oh.” Sam licked his lips, then wheeled himself a pace backward. “I won’t keep you then. It was good to see you, though, and if you want me to let Sage to know you’re back…”
“We have to stop sleeping together,” Niko blurted, his mouth getting ahead of his brain. At the sound of his own voice, he flushed, but there was no other way but forward from that moment. “That night at the bar…”
Sam held his hand up. He looked lost for a second, then he pulled himself around the desk, opened the little swinging door, and wheeled into the lobby. Niko hated how good he looked, arms bulging, a fresh bit of ink on his right hand which was shining with ointment. His hair was styled to perfection, his mouth set in a determined line as he approached.
“Look, I’ll let you say your piece, because you have every right to rip me a new asshole,” Sam said, “but please let me apologize first.”
Niko hesitated, his chest a little tight with want because he knew deep down, more than he wanted things to end, he wanted Sam to beg him to stay. “Okay.”
Sam dragged a hand through his hair, wrecking the comb lines, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “I had no right to be such a prick that night. I keep telling myself it was just panic and stress from the whole Maisy thing, but the truth is, I just really suck at this. I kept telling myself that you weren’t interested in me for more than a couple of fucks, so I let myself be an ass.”
“I don’t,” Niko began, but Sam rushed on ahead of him.
“More than one person has told me that you like me. I mean, that you’re into me for more than just sex. Hell, you all-but said it that first night,” Sam said, and Niko felt suddenly shredded at how Sam had been so aware and still so careless.
“Right,” he said, his voice a little ragged.
“You don’t owe me forgiveness, and if you never want to talk to me again, it’s the least I deserve.”
In the silence, letting himself hope just a little too much, Niko asked, “But?”
At that, Sam’s lips turned up just a bit. “But, I was hoping we could start over.”
Niko felt like someone had taken a sword and split him in two. One half terrified and ready to run, and the other so hopeful, he knew it could end up his ruin if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t know.”
“That’s fair. More than fair,” Sam said, now sounding far more open. He pushed his chair a little closer, and it was by some miracle Niko prevented
himself from stepping back. Or forward. His hands clenched at his sides as he met Sam’s gaze head on. “I still don’t have a lot of personal time right now. Rowan was able to delay this whole mess with Maisy’s grandparents. We had a pretty big victory in court the other day.”
Niko brightened for just a second, letting all the rest fall to the wayside. “The adoption?”
“Not yet,” Sam said, but he didn’t sound as shattered as before. “Her grandparents tried to have the case moved to Georgia where they could use the fact that I’m gay against me. But Rowan got the judge to deny them, and to have an entirely new caseworker assigned. Everything they did was thrown out, and I have to start over, but it won’t be like last time. No more fucking classes, no more rehab bullshit. It looks…it actually looks good.”
Niko couldn’t stop himself. He took the three steps between them to close the distance and dropped down, pulling Sam into a fierce hug. “You have no idea how glad I am.”
He felt Sam’s arms go viciously tight around him, his face burying into the side of Niko’s neck, breathing him in. When Niko pulled back, he didn’t go far, letting Sam hold him by the arms.
“I have to work a lot, to make up the time I missed, and to get my finances in order so everything looks good at our hearing. Rowan’s talking to the community, getting the old ladies in the neighborhood to give statements about what a good dad I am, getting everyone in the shop to testify to my character.”
“And me?” Niko asked softly.
“If you’d be willing,” Sam answered, just as quiet.
Niko huffed a laugh. “Dude, no matter what happens with us, that little girl belongs with you. I’d do anything to make sure no one can take her. I told you that before, and I meant it.”
Sam swallowed thickly, then nodded. “Thanks. It’s…it’s going to be a lot, but maybe we could start small.”
Niko frowned. “How?”
“Dinner. At mine, with Maisy,” Sam said. “I’ll cook and we can watch one of her movies, and we can…we can build a foundation from this. From something solid and good instead of…”
“Your man-pain?” Niko offered with a tiny grin.
Sam gave him a light smack on the arm, but he was grinning. “Whatever, asshole. But also, yeah. We started out in a kind of fucked up place—mostly on my part, and I want to do better. I want a chance to make something work between us, because I really like you. As in three little words like you that are way too soon to say.”
Niko felt like his head was spinning, and he had to force himself to stand up straight and take a step back. When he looked at Sam, he saw the panic in the guy’s eyes, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth work.
“I get it. That was too much,” Sam said, sounding just short of hysterical. “I didn’t mean to…”
“No,” Niko interrupted. “I mean, yes. I mean…I mean, I get it, and the whole reason I had to leave was because I was feeling that too. And then, when you said all that shit outside the bar, it hurt. More than I expected it to.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to show you how sorry I am for that, but I plan to try,” Sam told him. “Rowan was the one who told me I had to get my head out of my ass about this. When you left, I thought it was for the best, because all this shit is still happening and I didn’t think it would be fair to either of us. But he told me that maybe, in times like these, it’s a good place to forge something important and solid and good. So…if you’re willing…”
“I am,” Niko said, no longer able to hold back or listen to the little voice inside telling him to take care. He would, of course, because he was as pragmatic as he was romantic, but he wanted Sam far too much to say no. “I’m willing.”
Sam breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good. When are you free?”
“Any time,” Niko told him. “I have restaurant stuff, but I don’t plan to work all night. At least, not until the doors are open, and that’s months from now.”
“So, tonight, then?” Sam asked, sounding like he was almost afraid of Niko’s answer.
Only he shouldn’t have been, because Niko had only one response. “Yes. I’ll be there. And I can’t wait.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Niko tried not to look like he was fidgeting, but he was in the middle of massive sensory overload. Not only had the situation with Sam cleared up in a way he was almost too afraid to think of as successful, but the interior of the restaurant was finally being assembled, and the woman standing in front of him flipping through the six page document of potential menu items was someone he wanted to say yes to his job offer.
She was not quite five-foot-tall with olive skin, long black hair, sharp features, and even sharper wit. She was gorgeous and fierce, and he knew that she was someone he could actually trust to make this vision come to life. But he needed her to agree, needed her to understand his vision if it was going to work.
After a beat, Eleni let out a quiet laugh and looked up. “My mum could never remember the names of these dishes. The one she liked best was the cheese balls. My dad always called them goat’s bollocks to take the piss, and it would scare the shit out of my friends.”
Niko let out a laugh, just short of hysterical from his nerves, but she didn’t seem put off as she folded the pages back into place and laid the menu down on a dusty stool. “I never liked them,” he told her, “but we always had them on Sundays.”
Eleni glanced around the place, then back at him. “I have a Michelin star. I’ve owned three of my own restaurants—my one in Paris just changed hands because I had a shite breakup and needed to get the hell out of the city. I was offered a job in London at some swank little place whose name I refuse to remember because the job was for a sous chef. The head chef was a misogynistic piece of shit who told me I could have a proper sous salary if I could prove I had the stamina to handle his kitchen, and when I told some of my colleagues about it, none of them were surprised. I understand full well what it’s like to be someone like me in this business, but do you? You really want to deal with that? The restauranteurs are going to shred you for hiring a woman to run your kitchen.”
“They can go fuck themselves,” Niko blurted. “This is Fairfield, Colorado. As long as we slap organic shit on at least half the menu items and serve fair-trade coffee with the afters, every local and half the surrounding cities here will spend money.”
Her smile widened, and he could see how both her cheeks dimpled inward. “Is this an official job offer, or do you want me to cook for you first?”
“If I had a working kitchen, I’d take you up on it,” Niko promised.
“You haven’t a kitchen in your flat?” she questioned.
Frankly, he would have loved that, but he didn’t want to risk delaying his night with Sam for even a minute. It was too precarious between them to take the risk. “I do,” he said slowly, “but I’m meeting my boyfriend later for dinner and
I’m not sure I have time for a full test menu.”
She didn’t seem bothered at all, instead hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans and rocking back on her chunky boot heels. “Why don’t I cook you something to bring over to him. Trust me, if any food is going to get you a good shag, it’ll be mine. Pick your favorite off the menu and we’ll meet at yours. If you’re happy, we can talk numbers.”
Niko felt his gut unknot and his shoulders sag down. “Okay. That sounds fair. Let me write down my address and
I’ll stop by the market to grab what I need.”
“Your kitchen equipped?” she asked.
Niko smiled as he scribbled his address on the back of the menu and handed it back to her. “Fully. See you in an hour?”
“With bells on, mate.” She gave him a wink, then turned and walked out without saying goodbye.
Niko took a moment to bask in what looked to be a promising future, then gathered his things to head out.
* * *
The farmer’s market was a quick trip, and he had time to send a text off to Sam letting
him know that his new possible chef would be making up the dinner tonight, and that he’d be happy to take a rain check on Sam’s offer to cook. Sam texted back that he had a couple of appointments, and would be a little late, but was looking forward to it.
Niko didn’t know what to do with everything he was feeling, so instead he busied himself with laying out the ingredients, then taking a quick shower to rinse off the day since he wouldn’t want to waste another moment after Eleni was finished.
Just as he pulled on a clean Henley, his buzzer rang and he let her in, stepping aside so she could unlace her boots and peel away her coat. He showed her to the kitchen, and she gave a low, appreciative whistle as she took in the space. “So, you weren’t lying about your food experience.”
“Is that a thing?” he asked her, leaning on the back of a kitchen chair.
Eleni shrugged. “More often than not. Blokes think because they’ve eaten at some high-end place in the Maldives or something, they’re suddenly worldly experts in cuisine. It gets exhausting listening to that load of bollocks when I’m trying to be heard over their self-aggrandizing.” She brushed past him to get started, going through his cabinets like she already knew the place, and he leaned his backside against the table to watch her work.
“Is that what you really want, though? To move to some little town in the middle of nowhere Colorado and cook for people?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and grinned. “I got into this business because I love cooking. I quickly realized that owning your own place—you don’t cook anymore. I wasn’t about to try my hand at that celebrity chef nonsense, so I was presented with a choice. Either I give up cooking, or I give up owning. It wasn’t really that difficult in the end.”
“Why here, though?” he couldn’t help but wonder.
She shrugged, her arm moving fluidly as she began to chop the tops off the tomatoes with expert precision. “It wasn’t the town, though I stopped by the florist shop whilst I was exploring and the woman behind the counter was gorgeous. Not sure she fancied my sort, but she was kind enough to give me a free daisy before I left.”