by Jill Haven
Ellie nodded at me as we entered the building, but she didn’t smile. It took everything I had not to jog down the tiny corridor to the day room. Inside, everything looked the same. The usual residents went about their usual activities, and the television played away to itself on the same channel in the same corner. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Alice, you have a visitor,” a nurse announced as she entered the room behind August and me.
Mom rose from her seat and walked delicately toward us, a blush staining her cheeks. “Oh, my.” She fanned herself with a hand and let loose a giggle. “Two such handsome gentlemen. I am a lucky girl.”
I took the arm she offered and led her back to her chair. Crouching at her side, I looked up at her familiar face. “You doing okay, Mom?”
“Mom?” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s not exactly what a girl likes to hear.”
I laughed, but a small shard of uncertainty lodged in my chest. “Well, what should I call you?”
“My name is Alice, but you can call me…anytime you want.” She winked and giggled again.
I rocked back on my heels and cast a glance to August.
He stepped forward and addressed my mom. “Hi, Mrs. Storm, it’s August. We met not too long ago.”
Mom glanced between the two of us. “I’m not sure I like your jokes. You’re not being very funny. How do we know each other again?”
“I’m your son, Mom.” Those weren’t words I’d ever expected to say to my mother.
She shrieked a sudden laugh. “Oh my God… Do you say that to every girl you meet? I’ve seen better lines down the middle of a street.” And those were words I never expected to hear from my mother either.
I shook my head.
Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Wait…wait. I thought you were friends of Jimmy’s, or something. But I don’t know. Do you even know my brother? What are you doing here? I think you need to leave.” Her words came out in a stream of panic, and August’s feet made a shushing noise on the carpet as he took a couple of steps back.
“It’s okay,” he said calmly. “Looks like this is our mistake.” He took hold of my upper arm. “Come on, Ewin, we’ve bothered the wrong person.” Then he addressed Mom again. “We’re really sorry to disturb your day.”
She sat, face averted, and nodded. “That isn’t a nice thing to do to a stranger,” she said.
I barely noticed the other patients or staff as I left The Cedar House, my head down against meeting their eyes, vision blurred.
August nudged me around to the passenger side of my car, and as soon as the door closed behind me, cocooning us both in the small space, a sob broke free from my throat.
He leaned over the center console and pulled me to him, resting my head in the crook of his neck, where his scent entered my nose and I breathed him in, willing the usual sense of calm that filled me at his proximity.
“I don’t think I believed how bad it is,” I murmured against his warm skin. “I haven’t been watching like I should.” I closed my eyes as more tears slid free.
He clasped the back of my neck, his fingers stroking the edge of my hairline. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
“Mom’s going to go soon, I might have already lost her…” My throat closed around the words and I stopped talking.
“You’re not doing this alone. I’m right here for you. I’m not going anywhere.” He spoke through gritted teeth, as if holding back tears himself.
“I just wish I could take it all away from her.” She didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve the confusion her disease caused.
“Let me take you home, Ewin,” August whispered. “I love you. Let me show you how much.”
August kissed me softly, gently, each movement of his lips slow, the touch of his tongue, teasing. I sank back against the pillows of his bed and opened my mouth, responding to his explorations. Time slowed as we kissed.
When he drew his hands to the hem of my T-shirt, his movements were unhurried, and my cock stiffened in anticipation of his touch on my skin. Goosebumps rippled over me, and August chuckled.
His hand glanced over the bulge in my jeans, and I jumped.
“Hello, there,” he murmured, his breath tickling my neck. “Time to take this off.” He tugged my T-shirt until I sat up and drew it over my head in one swift movement.
“Better?” I smiled as he nuzzled my shoulder then flicked his tongue across my collarbone and shivered as I clutched his ass in my hands, rocking him until he dry-humped against my thigh.
He gasped. “Take me again tonight, Ewin. I want you.”
I threaded my fingers in his hair and guided his mouth back to mine, plunging my tongue inside, showing every movement I wanted to make with my cock in his ass. As he moaned, I rolled us over, my need to dominate him growing.
“I’m going to put my big, hard cock in your ass,” I said.
“Yes, please.” He wriggled beneath me as he undressed, hurriedly sliding his pants down his legs, unbuttoning his shirt.
I reached my hand into his boxer briefs and grasped his cock. “This is mine.”
He arched his hips, thrusting against my palm. “Yes,” he whispered. “Make me yours.”
I shivered with desire at his words, at his willingness to submit, and a wave of tenderness filled my chest at his trust in me and the love strengthening his scent. I bowed my head, touching our foreheads together as I nudged my cock against his, teasing him. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I’d fallen in love with him. I loved August and I wanted to show him how much.
The shock I expected at the realization didn’t arrive. It was as if my brain had accepted my love for August before I even acknowledged it to myself.
“Let me get you ready.” I reached for August’s lube.
“It won’t take much.” He ground his hips against mine. “I feel like I’m really wet already.”
“Underwear off,” I instructed, and he complied. Then I slid my finger around his asshole, and he moaned, even before I nudged a fingertip inside.
He was right about the lube. Like before, he didn’t need much stretching, and my cock strained to enter him and fill him with my cum, making him mine.
I dropped my head to his neck, panting in his ear as I tried to slow myself down. “I want you so badly.”
“Then take me,” he answered, and nudged our cocks together. “You’re the one still wearing your underwear.”
“Are you still on your suppressors?”
He hesitated then nodded. “I forgot one when I first found out about Dawson, but I’ve taken them since.”
I stilled. “I didn’t bring any condoms.”
“We don’t need them. I’m not in heat anyway, remember, and I’m sure the suppressors are working. I’ve taken every dose since that missed one.”
I nodded. “Okay.” And he wiped every trace of doubt away as he grasped my cock.
“Now put this inside me.” He grinned and kissed my chin. “Fuck me, Ewin. Love me.”
He parted his legs, allowing me to sink into the gap and nudge against him, and I drew a long breath in.
“You feel so good,” I groaned as I pushed into him slowly, then faster as I felt no resistance. “You’re so wet.”
“It’s all for you.”
I thrust into him, slowly at first, then faster. I pushed against him again and again, searching for something I didn’t quite understand, almost losing my fragile grip on my control around August. His scent swelled around me, driving me on as I drove my cock into him without mercy. Fuck it all… I wanted him to take all of me.
Suddenly, his face contorted, and he gasped my name as his ass clenched around me. My cock swelled, locking me into him, and I tensed as I began to empty my thick cum deep inside him, August’s body milking each drop.
August shimmied his hips a little. “You feel so good in there.”
I fell across him, still locked into his body, still quivering with fresh releases of cum. A tremor ran through me, and I laughed as I
tried to lift my weight from him. “My God, it’s never been like that.”
“We’re meant to be.” He wore a lazy smile, and his eyes remained closed as if basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.
“Yes,” I agreed as I kissed him again, speaking between touches of my lips against his skin. “We are absolutely meant to be.”
17
August
July 22nd
The atmosphere in the kitchen hummed with an electricity it hadn’t before, and the doors to the dining room bumped open and shut behind black- and white-clad servers. We had a full evening of bookings ahead, and we all busied ourselves prepping our stations. Most of the mentors had returned to their usual restaurants, but a few remained for last-minute questions, technique guidance and help if we got overwhelmed.
Holy shit, opening night. It felt like attending my own premiere, or something, as if I was a debutante at a coming-out ball rather than just doing my dream job.
Ewin entered the kitchen, sexy as fuck in his black jacket and pants, although I felt a little guilty for noticing when I had so much to do. His eyes gleamed and he moved rapidly, as if running on sheer adrenaline.
He stood in the center of the kitchen and cleared his throat. “Everyone. I just want a quick word. I won’t take up too much of your time or we won’t be ready. Firstly, thank you. You’ve all worked incredibly hard since you started, and I couldn’t be happier that you are my team, here in Cedar Falls, my hometown. You know, this is probably my most important restaurant for that reason. Many of the people you will feed here know me. I grew up with them, beside them, under their watchful eye, sometimes, and their opinions matter to me—possibly more than that of any of the great critics.” He paused. “But no pressure.”
I cast a glance at my teammates. Some of them laughed nervously, but most just fidgeted.
“You are absolutely representing the Storm brand tonight, and also me personally, because I handpicked all of you to be here. My judgment is on the line tonight, people. I won’t waste your time with last-minute instructions, but I have one quick announcement then you can go back to your stations and continue prepping for those doors to open. We are very lucky because I have been able to persuade Jonas to join us here permanently instead of returning to my Indianapolis restaurant. He will take the position of head sous chef and will be on hand to any of you who needs advice or an extra hand to keep things running smoothly at your station. He will report directly to me.” He looked at Jonas. “Congratulations, and welcome to our team.”
I grabbed Jonas’s arm. “You never said! Congratulations.”
Around us, several people applauded.
“Jonas, I just need you to choose an assistant from this band of troublemakers, and you’re good to go.”
Jonas smiled. “That’s a hard decision,” he said. “I’ve seen each and every one of them make improvements over the training period, and I’m really excited to be working at this branch of STK Storm with such talent.” Then he looked at me, and my heart lodged in my throat.
I almost couldn’t draw enough air around the lump there, and elation warred with a sudden sense of foreboding as he spoke.
“I choose August. I’ve had the privilege to see his dedication to his job close up, and I know he can inspire others to love food and cooking the same way he does.”
Excitement fizzed through me as Ewin nodded slightly at me, his grin wide across his face, and the scent of honey and spice signaling his approval.
“Congratulations, August,” he said.
I glanced around the kitchen, catching Jared’s deep scowl as he glared at me, and an unexpected shiver took away my high.
“Right. Doors open in ten minutes. Stations, everyone,” Jonas announced as Ewin headed to change into civilian clothes for the first night among his guests.
I headed to my station to wait for the first orders to come in, adrenaline heightening my senses. As I checked over my last-minute preparations, I bounced a little and swung my arms, trying to get rid of my nervous energy.
Jonas passed by on his final checks. “You got this, dude.”
I smiled and retied my apron, my go-to action when I got nervous in the kitchen.
When the orders started coming, they arrived constantly and fast. I’d kind of known Ewin trusted me on the busiest station, but I hadn’t really understood the importance of my area in the kitchen. When we’d run the test dishes, we’d all been fairly equal, but actual customers, each with individuals tastes and appetites to accommodate, skewed those test expectancies.
I swiped the back of my hand over my sweaty forehead as I lined up two more steaks to go, and I smiled at the rush of the work, the constant sensory input, the relentlessness of it all.
Jonas hurried toward me. “Dude, check your station. We’ve got some returns.”
“What?” For a moment, I didn’t understand him. These were dishes I’d practiced all day every day for weeks. I could make them asleep, I could have made them if Jonas had sliced me in half lengthways and taken one side away. “But I’ve been tasting them.”
Of course I’d tasted the sauces and au jus before serving—chef rule number one, and there were a lot of number one rules.
He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s down to customer taste.” He looked at the paper in his hand “Send these out again—less salt.”
The two remakes added a little extra pressure, squeezing my timeline, but nothing I couldn’t handle, and just as I had them ready to go back, Jonas rushed toward me again, two more meals I’d just made in his hands.
“Too much pepper.” He clanked them down on my workbench and hurried off without another glance at me.
I sighed. Shit. Maybe I just didn’t understand customer tastes and expectations, yet. Jonas was probably right, they all had their own tastes, and an average customer didn’t share the same palate as a chef. I rolled my sleeves up and went to grab two more steaks. As I did, I looked into the fridge and back at my workstation where the orders were piling up. These customer returns certainly couldn’t continue, so I needed to figure out what the guests in the restaurant wanted from their meals.
As I headed back to my range, Jonas appeared a third time, carrying another couple of plates.
“I don’t know what to tell you, August.” He shook his head then lowered his voice. “But Ewin’s out there and he’s getting pissed.”
My earlier excitement turned into the first flutters of panic. Every time the doors to the dining room banged open, I looked up expecting to see Ewin marching toward me or another server returning plates of uneaten food. I looked at Jonas.
“I don’t know what’s going wrong. I made them exactly as we practiced.”
He face remained blank, tension showing around his mouth. “You need to figure it out, dude, and quick. I don’t have time to stand around at your station helping my assistant get his shit together all night.” Then he grimaced. “Sorry. That sounded harsh. Look, kitchens are always stressful, especially the first night, but you can’t let opening night nerves get to you. Too much is riding on this.”
As he spun to walk away, I looked at the returned dishes piling in front of me. What the fuck? I hadn’t even formulated a plan to fix the mess before the doors cracked open and Ewin strode across the kitchen, his cheeks flushed red, his eyebrows drawn down into a deep scowl, and his eyes flinty as they sought me out. Behind Ewin, Jared caught my eye and smirked. I ached to flip him the bird, but instead I focused on Ewin.
“Are you fucking up on purpose?” Ewin barked the words as he reached me, and I cringed as the others in the kitchen all seemed to half turn to our conversation.
Irritation flared inside me, hot and quick, but I took a deep breath and swallowed it back down. Ewin was the boss at work—now wasn’t the time to forget that.
“Absolutely not.” I kept my reply brief as I cleared the mess in front of me. “I’ll get it together.” Maybe I just needed to do more tasting before I let anything else go.
“You bet
ter.” Ewin whirled around and stalked away, back to front of house, and I sucked in a quick breath to prevent the sob forming in my chest as the gazes of my coworkers flickered toward me. Shit, I had to get a handle on this. If I messed it up, I messed it up for everyone.
I implemented a series of triple-checks, tasting sauces and seasoning at three points during my cooking and plating process. By the end, I was convinced every plate I sent down the line was among the best I’d ever produced for Ewin, and I relaxed a little. But the same dishes returned, and horror lodged in my chest as Ewin marched back to my station, his face ruddy, his shoulders set. I’d never seen him so angry.
“There’s something wrong somewhere else along the line—” I started.
“You don’t get excuses, August,” Ewin snapped, cutting me off. “You just get to fix it.”
I edged closer to him. “Look, I think I’m being set up,” I murmured for his ears only.
It sounded so irrational but what other explanation was there? I was literally tasting things three times at my station, and it all tasted good—really good. It shouldn’t have been coming back to the kitchen.
He tapped his fingers at the edge of my worktable, drumming out his frustration, and blew out an abbreviated sigh. “My kitchen isn’t the place for drama, August. I thought you understood this.” He shook his head, his mouth a flat line. “Maybe you just aren’t ready?”
I couldn’t believe it. Not what I was hearing, not the words he was saying. Surely Ewin didn’t believe it either?
“Maybe you’re just cracking under the pressure of tonight, of your first real experience of restaurant service, of being named Jonas’s assistant?” He shook his head. “Fuck. There are customers out there. We don’t have the time for this tonight, or the time to sink into clawing back our—my—reputation after a dud launch.”