Page 13 of Sugared

There was nothing to fight in the kitchen, so he pulled his hand back and sucked the icing off his thumb. That was a whole other kind of mistake, because Ean’s gaze turned hazy and dropped to Leland’s mouth as he sucked his thumb.

The heat between the two of them was enough to make the industrial ovens in the kitchen jealous. Leland wanted Ean so badly that it short-circuited his brain.

“Yoo-hoo, Mr. Page. What should we do with the extra garlic?” someone called behind him.

Leland let out a disappointed breath. “Good job,” he told Ean, his voice rough with desire. He turned to head over to the others, but stopped long enough to say, “We should talk about this after the supper tonight.”

Ean looked suddenly worried. Leland wished he had the time to reassure him that it could be a very good talk. The only thing he was able to do with a room full of student chefs and a supper that was just over an hour away was to lean in and kiss Ean’s cheek again.

He wanted to kiss his mouth, but that would have opened a can of worms.

Everything seemed to speed up from that point. The afternoon class finished the side dishes and started in on poaching enough salmon to feed the sixty people who had signed up for the Valentine’s supper.

Except that fifteen minutes before the first course was meant to be served, Robert walked into the kitchen and said, “There seems to have been some sort of error with the bookings. We’ve got the wrong number of guests. We need supper for a hundred people tonight, not sixty.”

“Do we have enough food?” Ean asked, looking particularly anxious.

Leland winced, hoping that he could help Ean overcome his insecurity about food someday.

In the meantime, they had a supper that needed serving, and since the afternoon class had already left, it was just him and Ean who needed to figure things out.

“We can make more veggies and potatoes,” he said with a nod. “We’ll have to divide the salmon fillets a bit, but there’s enough sauce to cover up any cuts.”

“You’re a genius, Leland,” Robert said, happy and a little oblivious to the feat he’d just asked Leland and Ean to perform. “And so are you, young Ean.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ean replied, seemingly surprised that anyone would compliment him.

That was something else Leland wanted to talk to Ean about when they had time. Ean’s self-esteem needed serious work.

There wasn’t time, though. With the sounds of guests arriving and chattering away in the dining room just outside the kitchen growing, Leland and Ean went into high production mode to make certain supper for sixty people turned into enough for a hundred.

“You’re doing loaves and fishes miracles in here,” Rhys Hawthorne commented at one point, as he, Early, and a few other of the people who had been hired to wait tables for the night rushed around, gathering up plates of salad and bowls of soup to take out for the first course.

“We’ll do whatever you need us to,” Ean answered him without missing a beat as he plated up veggies for the main course.

Leland was so proud of him he could burst. More than that, thanks to Ean’s hard work and natural talent for all things culinary, the supper went off without a hitch.

“This is beautiful,” Leland overheard a middle-aged lady say as he and Ean helped the serving staff in the dining room, delivering the cakes to each table. “Are you responsible for this?” she asked Leland.

“Only partially,” Leland told her with a smile. “Ean here is our pastry chef.”

The woman beamed at Ean. “You’ve done an amazing job. I’m certain Hawthorne House is happy to have you.”

“Oh, I…I’m just learning,” Ean said, blushing bright pink to match the cakes he’d decorated.

“Just learning, you say?” one of the gentlemen seated at the table asked. “Are you one of Leland’s students?”

“Sort of?” Ean answered.

“When you’re finished your training, you and I should have a chat about employment in the kitchen at The Chameleon Club,” the gentleman said with a wink.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ean lowered his head.

“I’m serious,” the man said. “Perfectly serious. The Chameleon Club is hiring right now, and you’re exactly the sort we would love to bring on board.”

A twist of jealousy hit Leland. He realized that the gentleman was Patrick Tate, the HR director of The Chameleon Club. He actually had the authority to hire Ean. More than that, The Chameleon Club, somewhat like Hawthorne House, was a bit like a hotel in that it had dozens of rooms and suites for members of The Brotherhood to stay in when needed. Tate could be offering Ean more than just a job. He could be offering him a place to live as well.

Just like that, everything that Leland had become so cozy with in the last few days could be taken away from him. The Chameleon Club had everything Ean needed, and it made more sense for Ean to move there than to stay with him. The Brotherhood had been specifically designed two centuries ago to aid and assist the gay community with exactly the sort of situation Ean was in now. And what did Leland have to offer but a questionably appropriate relationship that had sprung up overnight?

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