Page 64 of Kitchen Gods: The Complete Series

At Wyatt’s curious look, Ryan continued. “I go back. Work with some charities. I was born here, but I can’t forget where I came from. I might be a good baseball player but I’d be a shitty person if I did that.”

“Is she in the area?” Wyatt asked, and Ryan nodded. “Maybe she’d be willing to teach me sometime. I’d love to learn to cook some Puerto Rican specialties.”

Ryan looked surprised, which Wyatt shouldn’t have let get to him, but it did anyway. “Really?”

“Of course. And not just for your benefit either. For my own.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her. Maybe arrange something next week.”

“Maybe she can even teach you something,” Wyatt added slyly.

“How do you know she hasn’t already?” Ryan asked with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe I’m fantastic.”

Wyatt couldn’t have denied it even if he wanted to; Ryan was fantastic. Just not in the kitchen. He held out the big chef’s knife he’d been using to clean and chop the cilantro. “Come here and show me then.”

The way Ryan eyed the knife was proof enough, but Wyatt was genuinely curious how much Ryan knew. He ignored the spark of electricity that pulsed through him when Ryan took the knife and their fingers brushed.

A micro-second, and he was stupidly breathless.

“What is this?” Ryan asked, frown creasing his brows. “Some sort of weed?”

Wyatt sighed. “It’s official, you are not fantastic. It’s cilantro.”

“Oh, that goes in guacamole, right?”

“And about a thousand other things.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Ryan played lost, hefting the knife up and posing like he was at the plate.

“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know how to chop so I’ll conveniently come closer and show you?”

Ryan batted his eyelashes. “Would it work?”

Too well, Wyatt thought, but before he said it out loud, he remembered that they were supposed to be working on being friends.

Shoving his crotch against Ryan’s incredible ass was not a proposition that would ever lead to platonic friendship.

“Sorry,” Ryan said awkwardly into the silence that had descended between them. “It’s sort of my natural inclination to flirt outrageously with the hottest guy in the room.”

“Or the only guy in the room,” Wyatt pointed out wryly.

Ryan didn’t need to say that he’d gone after him that night at Temple, and he definitely hadn’t been the only guy in the room then. He only shot Wyatt a significant look that said it for him.

“I need to check in with Eric. How long until dinner?”

As much as Wyatt wanted Ryan to stay in the kitchen and keep flirting outrageously, it was definitely better for him to put some distance between them.

It was only the first day of them attempting friendship, and Wyatt had a feeling it wasn’t going to get easier—and it was already god damned hard.

“Half an hour or so?” Wyatt said, quickly calculating the remaining tasks he had to do.

“Perfect.” And then he disappeared, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and leaving Wyatt to dinner and his increasing dilemma. “And you’re going to eat with me. None of this upstairs, downstairs bullshit. We’re friends, remember?”

Despite how terrible this day had ended up becoming, Wyatt couldn’t help but smile.

“That was fucking incredible,” Ryan said, leaning back on the sofa, and rubbing his flat stomach. Wyatt remembered the flex of his abs as he’d nibbled his way down them just the night before.

The night before they’d been unabashedly making out on this couch. Now they were sitting a healthy distance apart, and Ryan had put on a nature documentary without even asking Wyatt what he wanted to watch.

Wyatt had gotten the memo though; they needed to put some metaphoric and actual space between them, before they both forgot that this couldn’t go anywhere.

He knew he should be relieved that Ryan had stopped trying to seduce him; he wasn’t.

“Thanks,” Wyatt said. “I was a little concerned that you wouldn’t like my food after you hired me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “You’re one of the best chefs in the world. What is there to worry about?”

Wyatt might not have the stone-cold arrogance that some chefs had, but he’d always believed, deep down, that people should eat and enjoy what he served.

It was more complicated to address Ryan, because from the beginning he had never been just another diner to Wyatt. Not even just another boss.

It was probably a symptom of Ryan giving him a blowjob before Wyatt had ever imagined he could work for him. Or maybe it was because the first night they’d met, before they’d ever spoken, Wyatt hadn’t been able to look away from his face.

“Want to make sure you’re satisfied,” Wyatt pointed out. And then flushed when he belatedly realized how that sounded.

Ryan chuckled humorlessly. “My stomach certainly is.”

Wyatt didn’t know what to say, so he said the wrong thing. It was a lifelong habit; one he regularly cursed. This was absolutely no exception. “So what happens now? You find some other guy to pretend to date?”

Ryan’s face closed off instantly. “Basically, yeah,” he said.

“Is that what you were calling Eric about?” Wyatt knew he was pushing; it wasn’t fair to either of them, but despite all his best intentions and his resolve, he wanted to know if the offer was still open.

Could he still change his mind?

Could he still drive up to Napa and confess all to Nana?

Ryan would probably even come with him, if he asked. All he would have to do was kneel in front of her chair, feel her blue-eyed benediction on his face, and tell her the truth.

It would be wonderful, but it might also be horrible.

She might never forgive him for lying. She might not ever forgive him for who he was.

Something of his indecision must have flashed across his face because Ryan stood abruptly. “We had a lot to talk about.” He barely paused as he walked out of the room, plate in hand. “That was great, thanks. I’ve got some . . . stuff to do.”

Wyatt was barely to the kitchen when he heard the garage door open and the throaty purr of the Tesla engine as it pulled out of the driveway.

It was only when he was elbow-deep in hot soapy water, washing the dishes from dinner, that he realized that Ryan had avoided the question, and then not answered it at all.