Page 19 of Finding Grey
“No, I suppose not.” I rested my chin on one upturned hand and watched him unwrap the first parcel and place it in the flour. “How did you learn to cook?” I asked, making conversation. I wanted to keep talking to him, as if we were friends, as if I wasn’t paying him to be here.
“YouTube,” he said with a laugh. “I ended up in this job by necessity with almost no notice. Cooking wasn’t a skill I possessed, but I knew I’d only need about a dozen recipes to get started. I spent an entire week doing nothing but watching YouTube and cooking. After that, I was set.”
“Does that mean I’ll be eating the same meals more than once?” I tried to sound offended, but Sean laughed it off.
“Hell, yes,” he said with an emphatic nod.
I tutted in response. “I knew there was something dodgy about this place.”
The chicken parcels were moving swiftly now, from flour to egg to breadcrumbs and onto another plate. I became entranced by the speed of the process. “You’re so efficient.” My idea of cooking involved ordering prepared meals from a service that delivered to the door. I could unwrap and microwave like an expert.
“You should see me when I’m feeding ten.” His smile was genuine this time, and it made my insides go flippity-flop. “If I do serve something you’re not keen on you should come straight out and tell me so I don’t serve it again,” he added. “I’m not the kind of man who makes the same mistake twice.” He glanced my way. “Not usually, anyway.” His subdued tone made me wonder if he had something other than cooking on his mind.
“What if I declare every dish a disaster?” I teased, wanting to bring the previous lightness back to his face. “Will I get to watch you freak out about running out of meals?”
“Possibly.” He coated the last piece of chicken in breadcrumbs and added it to the pile. “But hey, if that’s what gets you off, I’m sure I could manage to learn some new recipes for you. That’s what I’m here for.”
My mouth went dry and I swallowed hard. “Careful, Sean. You basically just said you’re here to do whatever it takes to get me off. That’s quite an offer.” Fuck, I was doing it again. Turning the conversation sexual, trying to provoke a reaction from him. And react he did, in all sorts of interesting ways.
There was a slight intake of breath as he straightened. Then, his head tilted to one side. “I suppose it is,” he drawled. “You looking to accept?” The words were a challenge, and the dubious quirk to his mouth said he didn’t think I was up for it.
He was right. “Don’t worry, mate.” I forced a smirk, as if my own words had been nothing more than a joke. There was nothing funny about the erection I hid behind the counter. “I would never expect you to compromise yourself.”
“What a relief,” he said dryly, before moving over to the sink. “I’m not in the habit of putting myself on the menu—unintentionally or otherwise.”
“A boundary that’s been lamented by many a guest, I’m sure.” When he looked up, I winked at him. He gave a quiet chuckle and shook his head at my antics, but he couldn’t hide the flush that crept up his cheeks. Fuck, he was adorable.
Turning on the hot water, he scrubbed the thick coating of breadcrumbs off the tips of his fingers, before working a thumb across each palm. I watched every movement with avid curiosity. I’d often wondered what it would feel like to have a man’s hands on my body. They would be larger than those of a woman, stronger. A man could hold me down if he wanted to, take me places I’d never been. All at once, the vague speculation sharpened in focus. I wanted to know what Sean’s hands would feel like. How would they move? Where would they wander? I could write whole ballads about those hands.
The notion caught me by surprise. Was that what I needed to get me writing again? Not a change in location, but a change in subject matter?
With the exception of Grey, I’d never used my attraction to men as an inspiration for my music. The control I had over my sexuality was tenuous enough. If I’d started exploring such provocative themes in my work, there was no way I could have stopped them bleeding into my personal life. Then, it would only have been a matter of time before I was found out, my secret splashed across websites and magazines around the globe. Male rock musicians who fucked other guys and still held on to their rock star status were few and far between. There wasn’t enough false bravado in the world to convince me I would be one of them.
But now, after nearly a decade of strangling that part of myself into submission, I was on the verge of losing my career anyway. The allowable emotions I’d restricted myself to were exhausted, mined of every riff and verse they had to offer. If I wanted to revitalise my creativity, perhaps it was time I turned to the emotions that hadn’t been allowed. The desires I’d worked so hard to deny. They already had me salivating at the mere sight of a man washing his hands. What could they do, those rich and wild emotions, if I gave them permission to come out and play? The question sent quiet tremors through my limbs. What if?
No one would have to know. I could use the flip side of my sexuality to inspire new music without getting caught up in the physicality of it. Being warmed by the fire didn’thaveto mean getting burned. Right?
My gaze shifted to Sean. The man who’d captured my interest the first time he smirked at me. The man who could bring my own personal ghost back to haunt me with a single glance. Forced to be here, but noton the menu, he was perfect for my needs. I continued to watch him as he wiped counters and washed dishes. He had no idea he’d been promoted from his role as host. Within the space of the last few minutes, Sean had become my muse.
“What do you say to cooking up two of those kievs tonight and joining me for dinner?” I tried to keep my tone level and free of innuendo, but his wide-eyed expression implied I’d somehow betrayed myself anyway. “You don’t have to,” I rushed to assure him. “I know it’s not part of the job. But, if you don’t have other plans, eating alone all the time gets old. It would be nice to have some company.”
He shut off the water and wiped his hands before responding. “Thank you for the offer, but I do… have plans.”
My burgeoning bubble of excitement deflated. “Right, of course you do.” Men like Sean didn’t sit around hoping some burnt-out musician would invite them to dinner. They had real lives, with friends and lovers and… “Girlfriend?” If I’d bitten off my own tongue, it still wouldn’t have prevented the question from coming out of my mouth.
A brief hesitation came before he replied, “Boyfriend.”
My already hard dick pulsed. “You’re gay?” Christ, he really was perfect.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” I’d suspected as much, but the confirmation would make it harder to stick to my newfound plan of using his presence to explore my innate attraction to men—without acting on it. My brain understood he wasoff the menunow, but how long would I last before begging him to serve himself up on a platter for my experimental pleasure? Maybe this much perfection wasn’t such a good thing, after all.
“Are you sure?” There was a sort of baffled defensiveness about Sean as he watched me, and I realised he’d misinterpreted my sudden silence. The irony almost made me laugh. Here I was, trying to figure out if I could trust myself not to jump him, and he thought I’d turned homophobic on him.
“There could be a problem, Sean,” I conceded with an exaggerated frown. “You are supposed to be taking care of my needs. What if I need something while you’re out on your date?”
His mouth turned up at the corners and the defensive stance relaxed a fraction. “Like what exactly?”
“I don’t know. I could need a fresh towel. Or my pen could run out of ink.” I should have stopped there, but some masochistic part of me wanted to push a little further. “Maybe I’ll decide I want a snack. I do get hungry at the oddest times.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowed, but his lips twisted in amusement. “I put fresh towels in your bathroom this morning.” He bent to pull open a drawer before slapping a half-dozen ballpoint pens onto the counter in front of me. “Also, there are a number of delicious snacks readily available in the fridge and pantry. In case you get… hungry.”
“Endlessly efficient, as always.” I released a heavy sigh, dramatic in its disappointment, as I stood to leave. “I suppose I can survive without you.” Now I’d decided to indulge my true nature, extracting myself from his company caused an almost physical pain, but it had to be done.
“We could um…” He paused to clear his throat and I looked up. “We could eat together Friday night.”
I blinked in surprise before smiling at him. Today was Wednesday. Two more nights and Sean would be mine—sort of. “I’d like that. Have fun on your date.”But not too much fun.
He nodded, watching me as I escaped back to the patio. When I reached the table, I picked up a pen and one of my notebooks. Without pausing to think or evaluate, I wrote a few random words on the page. Then a few more. Then a phrase, which turned into the start of a verse. The words were rough. They lacked rhythm and nuance. But they were honest. And I was writing.