11. Chapter 11 #3
“Twist my arm.” Tristan grabbed two plates from the cabinet, taking samples of everything and making Jax put the tray down on the counter so they could eat and talk.
Time passed far too quickly as they chatted about tea, work, and other topics.
Strange, Jax usually got annoyed with people after a while, needing his space, but the more he knew about Tristan, the more time he wanted to spend with him, and it made his pulse and his stomach flutter whenever he thought about it.
He’d learned Tristan’s name only a few months ago, yet here he was, pondering four-letter words that began with L . But he felt uniquely comfortable with Tristan, comfortable in his kitchen and his life.
And Tristan certainly liked watching him cook, so once the dough was ready, Jax turned it into a lesson, showing Tristan how to run it through the machine and create thin sheets, which he laid on the counter.
“It’s important not to overfill. I’d rather have more ravioli with less stuffing than busted ravioli.
” Using a piping bag, he placed careful dollops of bacon-ricotta in even rows on one of the long stretches of dough.
Taking the second piece, he slowly placed it over the top, moving at a turtle’s pace.
“You have to put this on carefully, get all the air pockets out. That’s the big secret, no air pockets.” Once the sheet was lowered, he patted his fingers around the lumps of filling, and then whipped out his fluted pastry wheel, cutting squares with decorative edges.
“How many times have you made this?” Tristan cleaned up behind him, intuitively helping and making the entire process easier.
“Hundreds,” Jax laughed, carefully adding ravioli to the boiling water.
“It was going to be one of the entrées for my culmination dinner, that’s like a culinary school final, but…
” Jax gestured at his back. “I was recovering from surgery while everyone was presenting. By the time I could fully walk again, it was too late to make everything up.” Jax hadn’t meant for the topic to get so heavy, but it was nice to casually talk about these things.
It didn’t leave him vulnerable; it left him lighter, as if he had to let them go to make room in his heart and mind for Tristan.
“That doesn’t sound fair.” Tristan’s frown of concern was strangely cute.
“It wasn’t. But I was too tired and poor to fight it. And it hasn’t held me back from working.”
“Want to know a secret?” Moving closer, Tristan took a look around, as if there were eavesdroppers. “I didn’t get my degree either.”
“Really?” Jax blurted, heading toward the oven to keep the focaccia bread from burning. “What did you go to school for?”
“I started with marketing, but then I ended up in hospitality management. My university kept messing around with the graduation requirements, and I eventually gave up.” Tristan shrugged. “It hasn’t hurt my career, but I’ve been lucky.”
Taking the bread out and placing it aside to cool, Jax turned back to Tristan, giving him a kiss on the lips. “I know it sounds silly, but that kind of made me feel better about it. What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing yet,” Tristan’s tone had Jax’s dick twitching.
Placing the ball of his tongue piercing between his teeth, Jax smiled dangerously. “Then you’ll need your strength.” With a wink, he returned to the stove, finishing up, and once he had everything plated, they settled at the bar, where Tristan stared at his dish.
“Can I take a picture of this?” he asked breathlessly.
“Go for it,” Jax laughed, happy that Tristan was already pleased with his food.
Whipping out his phone, Tristan grabbed a bunch of photos before putting the first forkful in his mouth.
Aside from the ravioli, there was also focaccia bread, roasted vegetables, and a side salad with Jax’s special green dressing, made from avocados, pistachios, parsley, lime, salt, oil, and a little jalapeno for kick.
Happy to be sitting, Jax looked down at his own plate, and he had to admit that he’d outdone himself down to the presentation, his pride reaching new heights as Tristan moaned decadently.
“It’s gross, right?” Jax chuckled, making sure he had enough sauce on his bite before he took it.
Everything melded together wonderfully, the flavors playing off each other, and he couldn’t help his smug grin.
The cooking gods had definitely been helping him tonight, because this was the best rendition yet.
Good, because this guest was above VIP. He was TIP, The Important Person.
“You understand that all food after this will be a disappointment,” Tristan managed to get out between bites.
“Not if I make it.” Jax sampled the bread as well, his eyebrows flying up as the texture hit perfectly.
“Is that an offer? Will you be my private chef?” He put his hands together, as if he were praying.
“Can you afford me?” It was meant to be a joke, but something flitted over Tristan’s face, and the words hung for a heartbeat too long. However, Tristan recovered quickly.
“I might have to get a second job. I hear The Pointe needs servers.” Trying the salad, he stopped and stared again. “This tastes like green heaven!”
“Thank you.” Jax had been complimented on his food too many times to count, but Tristan’s sincerity had him blushing, and they easily fell into conversation once more, the topics rotating until they eventually hit The Pointe.
“How do you feel about taking over the kitchen in a few weeks?” Tristan’s plate was clean. Without asking, Jax stood and got him seconds.
“I admit, I’m worried.” Once he’d correctly plated everything, he handed the dish to Tristan, and the way his eyes glimmered made Jax want to sit in his lap.
“Thank you.” He dug right in. “And there’s no need to worry. You have backup in me and everyone else.”
“I hope so,” Jax breathed, settling back down and mopping up his leftover sauce with a slice of bread.
“You hope so?” Leaning in, Tristan’s face was all concern. “What’s going on?”
Jax finished the bread, gathering his thoughts.
“Someone in the kitchen is messing with me. Things are going missing and then turning up in a completely different place.” Saying it aloud had his fury slowly simmering, heating his face.
Shock flickered through Tristan’s gaze.
“It wasn’t just the celery?” he frowned.
“It wasn’t,” Jax replied. “And it’s happened too many times.”
“How many?” Tristan’s voice was indignant on his behalf.
“Five. And for the last one, they grabbed one of my knives. I found it on a high shelf in the back of the kitchen. I want to call it out, but I have zero evidence, and I don’t trust myself to handle it professionally.
I need to keep this job.” Jax chuckled to hide how awkward he was feeling. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”
All of a sudden, the pressure in the room dropped, and it took a moment for Jax to realize that Tristan was angry .
Those sandy-brown eyes flashed, and Tristan’s brow pinched in a way that left his expression scary.
In a way, having someone pissed on his behalf lightened the load, and Jax calmed a little.
“I’m going to talk to Owen about this.” Tristan’s voice came out in a growl, and Jax found it intoxicating. “Have you asked to see the security cameras?”
“There are cameras in the kitchen?” Jax looked up at the ceiling. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Probably because he was using one hundred and twenty percent of his brain to work a stressful job with chronic pain.
“I can get the recordings for you.” Tristan wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “And I think I know who it is. Derrick.”
“Derrick?” Jax’s gut told him that Tristan was onto something. The line cook had never given Jax a problem, but he always had a weird look in his eye, like he had one up on Jax. There was usually drama in kitchens, and it was impossible to get along with everyone, so Jax had let it go until now.
“That night your back went out? He was watching, and there was something off about him.” Tristan’s lips were a thin line. “He seemed to think it was amusing.”
“What?” Jax’s fury began to boil. “Maybe it is him. But don’t talk to Owen yet. I want to get some proof. If word gets out, it’ll scare him off.”
“I don’t even want him around you.” Tristan’s tone was still rough and lined with possessiveness, drawing Jax like a moth to flame.
Rising, Jax was around the bar in record time, sitting gently in Tristan’s lap.
The thighs underneath him were solid muscle, so it was the best and firmest seat in the house.
“My big protector,” Jax crooned, kissing Tristan deeply and reeling in his anger. “Remember when I asked what you were doing to me? And you said nothing yet ? I’d like to see what you had in mind.”
Tristan’s eyes flashed again, this time so full of sensuality that Jax almost fell from his lap. Slowly, Tristan slid an arm under Jax’s legs and another around his shoulders, cradling him.
“Hold onto me.” It sounded like a normal sentence, but promise laced every word, and Tristan’s tone made Jax shiver.
Nodding, Jax did as he was told, his cock already half hard. Locking his hands behind Tristan’s neck, he took in a sharp breath, impressed at how fluidly Tristan stood, not jostling him at all.
“Let me show you the bedroom.” That lethal tone was here to stay, and Jax bit his lip.
If he told his old self that he’d be swooning over roses and being carried to bed, he would’ve scoffed.
But Jax couldn’t deny that this kind of treatment was turning him on, although he’d probably hate it from anyone but Tristan.
The navy-blue walls of the master bedroom were a nice contrast to the forest decor outside. Now it felt like they were in the ocean, with soft grays and white accents all around. But there was a whale in the room.
“That is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen,” Jax declared, eyes wide. The monolith took up most of one wall and could easily fit six people.