Page 60 of Home Grown Talent

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. He stopped whisking, wiped his hands and grabbed his phone, swiping the recipe open again, then scrolling down to the video option near the bottom. Snatching up his coffee, he found the part where the chef was making the sauce and hit play. He was so absorbed that he forgot about his pans for a few crucial minutes. When he remembered, he lurched back around, yelping when he saw the egg yolks were beginning to look distinctly scrambled. “Fucking fuck!”

Abandoning his coffee cup on the worktop, he grabbed the whisk, and started furiously beating the eggs, but it only seemed to be making things worse, the egg mix turning into a thick, curdled mess. And fuck, he was sweating now. When had the kitchen got so hot?

That was when the smoke alarm started screeching—fuck, he’d forgotten about the bacon too!

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed, abandoning the eggs again, this time to yank out the grill pan and stare in dismay at the charred remains of what had once been top-quality bacon. And hell, the smoke alarm was still shrieking, and Mason had been sleeping so peacefully!

Owen tossed the ruined bacon, grill pan and all, into the sink and snatched up the tea towel from the worktop, intending to wave it under the smoke alarm till that horrible piercing noise finally stopped. But he must have set his coffee mug down on a corner of the tea towel because, as soon as he pulled, the mug toppled over dramatically, spilling coffee down the length of the worktop and all over the split muffins waiting patiently to be put in the toaster.

“Oh, fucking hell!” he yelled.

And then the doorbell rang.

Owen dropped his head into his hands and let out a muffled scream. When he looked up again, Mason was standing in front of him, biting his lip against a smile and looking ridiculously, adorably sleep-rumpled… not to mention deliciously naked.

“Having trouble?” Mason asked, raising a brow.

“A bit,” Owen admitted.

The doorbell rang again, a long, leaned-on ring this time.

“Get the door,” Mason said. “I’ll sort this out.”

“Okay,” Owen said, relieved.

He assumed it was going to be a delivery guy, but when he swung the door open, he blinked at the two men standing there.

“Surprise!” Aaron sang, holding up a bottle of champagne and another of freshly squeezed orange juice.

“What—?”

Lewis grinned at him evilly. “You didn’t really think we were going to let your television debut pass unmarked, did you?” He stepped inside, moving past a blinking Owen. “Did you burn your toast?”

Just then, the smoke alarm abruptly stopped—Mason must have managed to switch it off.

Shit, Mason.

Owen turned his head, “Lewis, wait—”

But Lewis was already disappearing down the corridor, and now Aaron was pushing past him too. “Just as well we brought food then,” Aaron said. “I have literally every breakfast pastry known to man—or Waitrose, anyway. Baggsy me one of the hazelnut chocolate croissants.”

Shit.

Owen shut the door and hurried after them, but already he was too late. By the time he reached the living area, Lewis, Aaron and Mason were all standing staring at one another. Mason was holding the tea towel—now stained with the coffee he’d mopped up—over his crotch like an improvised fig leaf, and somehow, it made him look way more naked than if he hadn’t bothered.

“Wow, Mason! Hi!” Aaron gushed, too cheerfully. “Sorry, we didn’t realise you were here, but it’s great to see you.”

Mason smiled weakly. “Hey, Aaron. I, um, just got up. That is, I was asleep, and then the—” He nodded helplessly at the smoke alarm.

Lewis turned to Owen and raised a brow. “It looks like your kitchen had a nervous breakdown.”

“I was trying to make Eggs Benedict.”

“Enough said,” Lewis replied, adding for Mason’s benefit, “He’s only a very slightly better cook than I am.”

Mason gave a slightly strangled laugh at that, mumbled something about putting some clothes on, and fled for the bedroom.

Once the door had shut behind him, Aaron turned to Owen with a rueful expression. “Sorry about this. We just wanted to surprise you—we didn’t know you’d have company.” He paused, then added, “We probably should have thought. Do you want us to go?”