Page 23 of Next Season
“Am I allowed to be here?” Riley whispered.
“I am king here, so…yes. I allow it. Now, let’s discuss tuna fish.”
He wrinkled his nose in a way I could only describe as cute. “It’s barely ten a.m. and I already ate some of this stuff. It hits different when you’re supposed to be eating Cheerios, if you know what I mean.”
“It’s no good?”
“Not great,” he admitted with a laugh. “But that’s probably because I was craving an omelet or a stack of pancakes or—hey, should you be helping them?”
I glanced over at the melee on the other side of the kitchen where Jason, a young fry cook was griping about burned bacon.
“No. I’m king, remember? I’m invisible right now. I don’t work the morning shift other than to supervise an occasional special. They are a talented group. They know how to make eggs and bacon without me looking over their shoulders.”
“King Jean-Claude,” he snarked.
“You catch on quickly. Now…tuna is terrible in the morning. I tried to warn you.”
“And I appreciate that, but…” Riley lowered his voice as he stepped next to me behind the island, the apron bunched in his fist. “That isn’t why I’m here.”
“Riley, tuna salad is the only reason we have,” I said solemnly. “Last night shouldn’t have happened. If I’ve caused you confusion, I’m sorry. I don’t want to add to it by giving you—what are the things you say when you want to say something nice and supportive, but it sounds like a greeting card?”
“Platitudes?”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. I want to be honest, and I’m honestly apologetic that I did…what I did.”
“Jerk me off?”
“Yeah…that.”
“We didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do, asshole. So don’t act like you corrupted me with your magic fucking tuna fish. It’s good, but it’s not that good.”
I raised a brow. “Blasphème.”
Riley barked a laugh. “You’re so…weird.”
“And you’re the one eating tuna for breakfast,” I deadpanned.
“Touché.”
“Hmm. The way I see it is this…last night was good, but it can’t happen again. I gave up straight men who’re thinking gay thoughts many years ago. You’re on your own there. The good news is, you have queer friends here if you want to talk about bisexuality or whatever. I’m not that person. I am zee tuna salad person only. And the best way for me to support your um…healing process with the vitamins and omega compounds, etcetera, is to teach you how to make it yourself.” I picked up a can of dolphin-safe tuna and gestured at the label like a game-show model. “We begin with…the main ingredient.Voilà!”
“Oh, boy.” Riley rubbed his jaw and shrugged. “All right, fine. You win.”
I opened four cans and drained the water, explaining the difference between tuna canned in water versus brine while he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid button-down shirt and tied the apron around his slim waist. If I’d thought he was sexy before, he was positively delicious now.
Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.Concentrate, concentrate.
“Brine is salt water. I love salt, but it can be overpowering and we have to acknowledge that some people prefer low-sodium diets,” I replied.
“You mean they’reonlow-sodium diets.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. We have the tuna, finely chopped red onion and celery, a bit of relish, garlic, salt and pepper, lemon juice, and of course, mayonnaise. After you drain the tuna, use a fork to separate it like so. You may finish the job while I measure the mayonnaise.”
Riley jabbed and poked at the fish with the prongs instead of the side of the fork. There was no point in discouraging him, so I ignored his messy technique and gave him a thumbs-up when it was flaky but not quite mutilated.
“Now what?”
“Add the mayo.” I passed the cup of mayo to him. “We are making enough for six healthy-sized sandwiches, so my recipe calls for one cup. This is a homemade mayo and it is literally my secret ingredient. You may substitute with store bought…and that is okay. Julia Child loved Hellmann’s. Use that.”