Chapter Two
Evan Patterson was used to people not understanding his choices.
When his boss had asked if he wanted to come with him to a world-famous restaurant, renowned throughout the globe for its food and its ambiance, to meet with the man whose show he would very likely be producing, it had been easy to turn Reed down.
It wasn’t Evan’s pitch that was going to win Miles Costa over to the idea of leaving Terroir and everything he knew behind; it was Reed Ryan, culinary star a little dented and tarnished but still present and still glowing.
“But you’ll be working with him. Closely.
Don’t you want to meet him?” Reed had protested.
A token protest. He was great in the kitchen, and also great at inspiring his underlings to follow in his culinary footsteps, but he was not good at business.
Evan was and they both knew it, so it usually wasn’t very tough to convince Reed that Evan was right.
“I’ve already met him,” Evan had said, pointing to his laptop screen, where he’d been compiling a dossier on Miles Costa. A dossier he’d started long before the latest Pastry by Miles’ video had gone viral.
So Reed had gone to Terroir alone, and come back to a signed contract, and an assistant who was now officially a producer.
Evan’s decisions might be considered strange, but nobody could ever argue with the results.
Reed recognized this and also Evan’s value, which was why Evan had already decided not to usurp his job eventually.
Evan needed Reed to be the esteemed figurehead, and while everyone was oohing and aahing over Reed’s big muscles and all his culinary credibility, Evan would be behind the scenes, getting shit done.
The promotion was nice though, and Evan had every intention of paying back his boss and mentor’s faith in him in spades.
Evan straightened his shirt and glanced over at his boss, who was scribbling on a piece of paper as he leaned over the receptionist’s desk.
Either a new idea for Dream Team, the one show Reed still produced, or a new recipe he’d just thought of.
Evan returned his attention to the elevator and its closed doors.
He’d planned very carefully for this day.
Not just after he’d been hired for the Five Points internship.
Not just after he’d gotten into college.
Not just after he’d won valedictorian at high school graduation.
He’d known much earlier than that, that one day he’d be someone people looked to, that people followed, at a place where he would be taken seriously.
All those other days had been stepping stones to this day.
The elevator doors dinged open, depositing Miles Costa on the carpet in front of him.
Evan had been studying Miles for months. He didn’t vet dates with as much scrutiny as he had Miles Costa—which probably explained his extensive date-less drought—and he’d expected very little surprise facing him for the first time.
But Miles did surprise him. Shocked him, in fact. He walked up, his cloudy gray eyes lazy but direct, dark wavy hair a tousled mass on his head, and Evan felt a thrill in a place he’d never felt a thrill before.
He’d known Miles was handsome and very possibly charismatic. That was one of the reasons he’d been an easy selection as a candidate. He had a way of making you like him that was subtle and easy—you just slid right in.
Evan didn’t just slide, he catapulted.
“Miles Costa,” the man in front of him said, extending a hand. Evan was dimly aware of Reed straightening next to him, and shoving the paper in his pocket.
Evan reached out and shook Miles’ hand, and even though his brain felt sluggish and distracted by the way Miles’ lips tilted up in a half smirk, managed to introduce himself. “Evan Patterson.”
Miles turned to Reed, and they shook hands “How badly did Aquino take it?” Reed asked. “I didn’t hear from him so he must not have been too pissed off.”
The gray eyes turned thoughtful, and Evan swore he saw a little worry there, but before he could look closer, it was gone. He told himself he was watching so carefully not because Miles was so carelessly handsome, but because he needed to figure out how Miles Costa ticked so he could control him.
“Actually,” Miles said, “he wasn’t all that pissed.”
“Well, we’re really happy you’re at Five Points,” Reed said warmly.
He could be socially awkward; in fact, Evan was almost certain he had social anxiety, but he had gotten better at hiding it.
Evan also recognized when Reed was passing the torch onto him, and he stepped in, smoothly, like they’d discussed it ahead of time even though they hadn’t.
“I’ve been watching Pastry by Miles almost since the very beginning,” Evan said. “What Reed told you is true. You’ve been on our radar for a long time.”
“I’m honestly excited to be here. I’m looking forward to something different, if I’m being honest.”
Reed chuckled. “Well, you and Evan will get along like a house on fire then. He’s sort of unapologetically blunt.”
It was true, but Reed didn’t need to go around sharing all of Evan’s secrets during the first five minutes. “Don’t you have that meeting?” he asked his boss pointedly. He didn’t have a meeting, but Evan knew how happy Reed would be to escape. This was the part of his job that he didn’t love.
“Right, well, I just wanted to stop by and say welcome, and we’re so happy you’re here,” Reed said. “Evan will take good care of you. He’ll give you a tour and show you your office and the kitchen. And then you two can get started.”
Evan was watching closely, or he might not have noticed Miles’ eyes grow cloudier. “Thanks again,” Miles said, voice normal. Except that Evan didn’t think he’d imagined any of the undercurrents running through his new partner.
Miles might have a laid-back, casual attitude, but Evan had a feeling that there was a lot more to him than met the eye.
“Let’s start with a tour,” Evan said, trying to tone down his own tendency to take control over everything. “I’m sure you’re dying to see the kitchen.”
“Sounds good to me,” Miles said casually.
They went on a quick tour of the office, with Evan pointing out the bathrooms, the conference rooms, Evan’s cubicle, and Miles’, which was right next door.
Miles looked around the tiny box, setting his messenger bag on the small desk, and Evan wished he could read minds as his new partner took in his surroundings.
He was exceptionally difficult to read, and Evan didn’t like that at all. He wanted to know where he stood. The unknown was a scary place, full of pitfalls and potential failure lingering at the end like a bad smell.
“We film at a local studio,” Evan said as they entered the kitchens.
“We don’t have the room or the resources here, but eventually we’re going to move to a bigger space and we’ll build our own soundstage.
So we do all our prep here, practicing and perfecting the rundown of the show, and then we film the final product at the other studio. ”
The other man glanced around the kitchen, his eyes not missing a thing, from the commercial appliances to the long stainless steel counters.
“I filmed with way less than this at my house,” Miles pointed out. “Maybe we could figure out how to do small stuff here.”
Evan didn’t want to tell him that it had looked like Miles filmed in an unprofessional environment and that part of the bonus of signing with Five Points was his production value was going to undergo a significant upgrade.
“We’ll see,” was all Evan said. He wasn’t willing to promise anything more. They had certain standards at Five Points, and Evan not only intended to honor them, but to exceed them. And there was no way they could do that with some sort of cobbled-together video they did in the test kitchens.
“Reed runs the kitchens, then?” Miles asked. Evan wasn’t sure he liked the hopeful note in Miles’ voice, because he needed Miles to like him—for purely professional reasons, of course. But even as he insisted on this to himself, Evan knew he was lying.
Evan could admit that complicated an already potentially complex business partnership, but Evan was also willing to be flexible if it meant great results.
Dream Team, the first show Five Points had done, had paired together two people already in a relationship, and even though the culinary side was well-developed, the reason it had such a high viewership was how charming Landon Patton and Quentin Maxwell were together.
Dream Team had changed Evan’s perspective about what could and what could not work in a TV environment.
“Reed is the executive producer and the director of the test kitchens, yes,” Evan said. “But the day-to-day manager of the kitchens is Lucy. If you need anything specific, you ask her.”
Miles glanced over, and Evan’s skin burned as his gaze skimmed over him. “And you?”
“Me?” Evan clarified, proud that his voice hadn’t come out squeaking, like he’d regressed about a dozen years. He’d won his confidence with a shit ton of hard work, and he didn’t like how this man dismantled it so easily. It was infuriating.
“Your position here,” Miles clarified.
Evan was not thrilled. Reed was supposed to have covered all this stuff in the contract and Miles was already supposed to know they were going to be working together closely. Evan wasn’t supposed to have to break it to him.
“I’m the producer of your show. We’re going to be working together. A lot.”
One discernible emotion out of the man in the last fifteen minutes, and it had to be dismay at being paired with Evan.
“Reed didn’t tell me that you had any culinary experience. I assumed he’d be my producer, since he has the background,” Miles said, and Evan realized that this was the laid-back Miles’ way of issuing a protest at who he’d been stuck with.
Evan liked this even less. His ego was smarting more than he wanted to admit. He hadn't ever anticipated that Miles Costa, that super cute guy who he'd been admiring for months, would be such a jerk.