Page 9 of Stolen

“This food is fucking perfect!” Andrew, one of the football players started. “Props to whoever the chef was!”

“Yeah, it’s almost as good as my mom’s home cooking. Almost,” Chris joked, a soccer player, his Cockney accent thick. “She would kill me if she heard me say that, though, so keep it quiet.”

“You can thank Jacob and Bradley for all of this,” I added to the conversation. “They were kind enough to cook us all this welcome meal, of sorts.”

“Ha! Welcome to getting snowed in,” Chris joked again. “Thanks, though. It’s way better than eating protein bars for dinner. None of these guys know their way around the kitchen.”

“Speak for yourself.” Diego, a baseball player, playfully rolled his eyes. “I know my way around the kitchen. But I don’t makeall this money just to cook for myself! That’s why I have Chef Tati.”

The athletes began to loudly whoop and whistle, some of them even pounding the table for full effect. I raised an eyebrow, before I asked, “Uh, what’s the deal with Diego and Chef Tati?”

“He’s just mixing business and pleasure,” Keith answered, his attention still on Jacob. “But if you ask me, nothing wrong with that.”

I ignored the blood boiling in my veins as I sliced into another potato. The guys continued to have a rowdy conversation, as I focused on the meal in front of me. It was bad enough that Keith had even decided to go along with this photoshoot when he knew I was heading up the project. It was even worse that he seemed determined to go after Jacob, casually eye-fucking him right in front of me.

“You like the potatoes, huh?” Jacob smirked as he asked the question. “Bradley was pretty proud of those.”

“All my compliments to the chef.” I took another bite. “So, if Bradley handled the veggies, does that mean you handled the meat?”

I blushed as soon as I finished talking, realization creeping up my cheeks. “I have no idea why I said it like that.”

Jacob didn’t react. “You’re right. I did handle the trout and the crab. I usually like to catch the trout myself, but in these conditions, it just wasn’t going to happen.”

“Ah. So, you two just raided the fridge, then?”

“One of several, yes.” He nodded. “How do you feel about steak?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it something you’d eat If I made it for you someday?” His tone was sincere, like it was less of a thought exercise and more of a promise.

Just then, I felt a pleasurable chill down my spine, as I noticed that Jacob was giving me his full attention, like no one else was even in the room.

Like Keith didn’t even exist.

“Leo? Your verdict on steak?” Jacob smiled. “Please don’t leave me in suspense over here.”

“Right. Sorry. I’d eat steak, if you made it for me, Jacob. I’d probably eat whatever you made for me since you’re obviously a pretty good cook.”

“Good.” Jacob nodded again before he went back to eating his dinner. “I’ll be sure to keep that on the menu, then.”

Jacoband I were the last ones at the dinner table.

The guys had gone into a different room, arguing over some upcoming boxing match and who they each had bets on. Bradley had silently gone with them, seeming to get along with everyone despite being sparse with his words. I’d wrapped myself in a nearby blanket as I watched Jacob start to plate all the leftovers.

“Do you need me to help with anything—” I started.

“Nope. This was my treat to you.”

“I thought it was you and Bradley’s treat for everyone?”

“Same difference.” Jacob pulled the last of the potatoes into a bowl. “Either way, the idea was for you to enjoy yourselves, not be worried about clean up.”

“Maybe being worried about clean up would be good for some of these guys.” I laughed. “It might help build character.”

“Speaking of cleaning up…” Jacob’s words trailed off, as he leaned against the table. “I think you should head for the sauna.”

“What?” I asked, right before Jacob’s earlier offer came to mind. “I, uh, kind of thought—I didn’t think you were serious?—”

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