Recipe Of Love: A Contemporary Gay Romance (Finding Shore Book 2) by Peter Styles & J.P. Oliver

Author:Peter Styles & J.P. Oliver [Styles, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-18T18:30:00+00:00

9

Peter

The day after their movie night, Peter looks for Drew every time the bell on the door rings.

That’s not necessarily unusual—he spent a good portion of the last week doing that, waiting for Drew. What’s unusual is that not seeing him isn’t a disappointment; it’s not him realizing that Drew doesn’t give a shit. It’s him realizing that Drew’s not here yet.

The distinction is astronomically important.

Peter heads back to the kitchen. It’s a slow day and he’d normally be bummed about that, but right now, he’s having a hard time being bummed about anything.

Having the hottest guy he’d ever seen splayed across his couch really did wonders for his mood.

Peter can barely stop himself from whistling as he works on a pie. It won’t be half as good as Drew’s but Amelia’s rarely has desserts all done up—he really should take one out of Sal’s book and hire a baker. Drew’s presence, despite highly uplifting Peter’s personal sex life, has done a number on the town. He thinks everyone might have a sweet tooth now.

Despite trying to reign in his good mood, Damien stares at him blatantly and with an astonished look on his face all morning.

By the time Peter is rolling out dough for the pie, his friend and employee decides he can’t take it anymore. Damien slams a spoon down, splattering sauce on the wall and counter.

“Gotta clean that up, man,” Peter says, barely taking his eyes off the dough. Drew would absolutely laugh at him. He’s following some hand written recipe, for god’s sake.

Damien lets out a strangled huff. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” He frowns at the recipe. It says four tablespoons of baking powder. Surely that’s a mistake. This is the filling.

“What is going on with you?”

Peter finally glances up. “Nothing is going on with me.”

“You’ve been MIA for, like, days—Nick hasn’t seen you at the bar. You haven’t left the house since that night you went to the bar, alone, might I add, as if you couldn’t have asked me or Allison or anyone.”

Peter fidgets. “I just—didn’t think about it.”

“You never do,” Damien sighs. “Is this about Kyle?”

Peter blinks. “What? No!”

“Is it—is something going on with the business?”

“Nothing unusual.”

Damien frowns. “Then what is it? Nothing’s changed and—”

Peter watches as something lights underneath Damien’s skin and he narrows his eyes. “That new guy. That customer that came in the other day, the one you went and sat with. That was weird. Is that what this is about?”

“No.” But it didn’t sound half as forceful or true as the others.

Damien snaps his fingers. “Who is that guy?”

“He’s no one!” Peter turns his focus back to the dough. He rolls it on the table and groans when the texture seems off. “I’ve fucked up this pie.”

“You always fuck up the pie,” Damien says automatically. He grabs the spoon he threw earlier and stirs the sauce bubbling on the stove. “Who the hell is that guy, Pete?”

“He’s just the pastry chef at Sal’s.”

“At Sal’s?” And this time, Peter almost doesn’t blame Damien for the incredulous expression.

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