Page 23 of Before They Were Lovers

Day smiled when God begrudgingly shoved a piece in his mouth.

Once he finished cooking their breakfast, he set God’s plate in front of him and then sat on the remaining stool to eat with him.

He’d eaten his eggs and bacon and was about to pour himself his third cup of coffee when he noticed God staring at him.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You cook really good.” God scowled.

Day chuckled. “Am I offending you with an edible breakfast?”

“Who taught you how to cook?”

Day squinted.

“Mostly me,” he answered. “Eating out costs a lot of money. We’re not exactly earning six-figure salaries.”

“So you taught yourself how to make perfectly fried bacon and sausages without the black crust all over them?” God stabbed at his eggs. “And look at these damn eggs. They’re all fluffy and yellow and shit.”

Day shook his head. “Are you insane? I’ve cooked for you hundreds of times. You’rejust nownoticing your food wasn’t burned?”

God waved his hand over Day’s plate. “And your exotic fruits.”

“You’re calling grapefruit exotic?” Day asked in a bored tone, finishing his last piece. “My groceries aren’t imported from Dubai, God.”

“Stop trying to be funny. I’m serious, Day. Everything tastes fuckin’ delicious!”

Day blinked, feeling confused as hell. “Um, thanks…for that…very passionate compliment.”

“What’s for dinner, huh?” God’s tone was so low he was almost growling. “Beef Wellington foie gras, or are you gonna design us a fancy charcuterie board of cured meats and olives?”

Day couldn’t help the sharp laugh that burst from his mouth. “Where’d you learn those dishes?”

“I googled ’em last night!” God barked.

“Why were you googling gourmet dinners?” Day laughed louder.

God didn’t answer as he continued to seethe like a poked grizzly.

Day covered his grin. He was starting to get it now.

After God learned Prescott was a renowned chef and Day’s best friend in college, he must’ve assumed they’d had some steamy, all-night sampling sessions.

God was jealous.

Oh, I’m loving this.

His partner may not have remembered everything he’d confessed to last night, but Day loved that it was all true. God wanted them to be together. But they couldn’t, so he didn’t want anyone else to be with Day either.

Hookups, one-and-dones, or being jerked off in a club bathroom, God would probably be okay with. But romantic dinners on a yacht, flowers with special meanings, and making love on twenty-thousand-dollar beds adorned with rose petals…? His partner was drawing the line there.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” God leaped up so fast he knocked his stool over. “You know I don’t like it when you mock me, Day.”

He’d seen God’s temper plenty enough times that it didn’t rattle him. He understood how his partner expressed his anger or…hurt. Instead, Day stared up into fierce green eyes as God towered over him, his hairy chest still damp from his shower.

“Did he teach you how tocook, Day?” God rumbled.

Day stood, glared back, removed all amusement from his face, and answered. “No, God. We nevercooked. Not last night…not any night.”

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