Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
JULIUS
I was not ready for Constantine’s glued-on jeans and fitted white chef’s jacket that highlights his slim frame.
I was not ready for the quality of his cakes and pastries that have caused a continuous line around the block every day for the last month.
I was certainly not ready for the way my belly tightens when I’m around him.
Constantine is a force of nature. He’s as passionate about what he does in the kitchen as he is about looking after his brother. More than once, I’ve seen them bicker about one thing or another until Constantine parents his way to the best solution.
It shouldn’t be arousing to hear his don’t-mess-with-me or his you’ll-do-as-I-say voice, but the moment Constantine took over my kitchen three seconds after we met, I was done for.
“You’re thinking a lot over there,” my brother-in-law says, holding a couple of beers. I take one as he sits on the chair next to mine.
“No more than usual.”
“You sure about that? Kellie called you to throw a ball three times, and when you didn’t answer, she went inside to ask Hella if you’re sick.”
I take a swig of the beer and look up at the sky. It’s an uncharacteristically warm day—well, as warm as it can get in the fall in Connecticut—so my sister and brother-in-law invited a few friends over for a barbecue. I close my eyes and take in the warmth of the sun.
“And, naturally, my sister sent you to check on me.”
He smiles over the rim of his bottle. “You know what they say, happy wife, happy life.”
“I’m not sick, and I’m not overthinking anything.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t suggest you were overthinking anything, simply that you were…thinking hard about something.” He leans forward on his chair.
More that what I was thinking about was making me hard.
My sister comes over and sits on her husband’s lap with her own beer in hand.
“I think I’m done with this barbecue.” I pretend to move to stand up.
Hella laughs, but I see it in her eyes. Her determination and the unrelenting curiosity about my life. “I hear your new helper is causing quite a stir in town.”
“He’s not my helper. He’s a full-fledged pastry chef and too good for this place.” I don’t know why I voice the worry that’s been on my mind since Constantine turned up. Well, the only thing apart from how fucking alluring he is.
“You think he’ll move on at some point?” my brother-in-law asks.
“I don’t know. His brother goes to the high school, but it’s only a matter of time until he gets a better offer. I pay him more than I’ve ever paid anyone, but it’s definitely not what he’s worth.”
“Sorry, hun. That’s a tough situation,” Hella says. “He’s definitely worshipped in town. I was picking up the bread order for the restaurant from Liv at Lovely Buns and overheard the ladies from Sage’s craft group say that Constantine used to be a model. That was a creepy amount of giggling for a group of octogenarians.”
I don’t know if he’s ever modeled, but he certainly has the looks for it. Either way, he’s a talented baker, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he ever decides to move on.
The beer sours in my belly, so I put the bottle down.
“I’ll just have to make the most of having him for now. At least the work in my house is finally getting done. Not spending the weekends working on orders or shopping for the week has made a huge difference.”
Hella reaches over and squeezes my arm. She doesn’t need to speak for me to know what she’s not saying. A couple of years ago, our mom was in a bad relationship, and our two younger siblings moved in with me. Running Bittersweet and taking care of two teenagers was hard work. One more reason I really admire Constantine.
After Matty and Jules went to college, Mom moved away with another new boyfriend. Hella still feels guilty that she wasn’t able to help out more, but Kellie was still a baby, and I had the space at home.
Hopefully, the cycle of toxic relationships and defining yourself by the person you’re with stops with our mother.
“You could always convince him to stay.”
I glance at Hella. “What do you mean?”
“Give him a reason to stay.”
“I can’t pay him more. At least not right now. I’m still paying off the kitchen remodel after the last fire.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, little brother.”
“What you are implying is unethical.”
“Only if he’s not willing. And the rumors in town…” She trails off, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
“What rumors?”
She looks around to make sure no little ears can hear. “I overheard someone at the grocery store talk about you and Connie like you’re together. Like together together .”
“What? That’s insane.”
She laughs. “Which part? That you work so well together that people make assumptions or that you don’t think you’d be good together?”
I open my mouth, but giving her anything would play into her trap, and I’m too old and wise for it.
Of course I think we’d be good together. Constantine is hard-working, kind, patient, and everything about him does it for me. People talking about us like they know something is up when nothing is up makes me uncomfortable.
“Okay, sis. Good talk, but I need to head back home. I have a sexy date with a paintbrush in my living room.”
She grumbles but puts together a box with leftovers and lets me head home without further prying.
I stroll back, enjoying the nice weather. And because I don’t have to go to Bittersweet like I usually do, I go through the park.
A dark denim jacket catches my attention. The person wearing it is on a bench, hunched over and staring at the ground in front of him.
My sister’s words still play in my head, but it’s my gut feeling that makes me change direction because Constantine looks…lost.
“Hey,” I say, approaching.
“Oh, hi.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like when he’s pulling something out of the oven or impatiently waiting for me to taste something he made.
“Enjoying the weather?”
He shivers at the same time as he says yeah, and then he chuckles. “It’s freakin’ cold.”
“It wouldn’t be if you had a coat on.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll make sure to buy one soon.”
The way he says it makes the stone rolling around the pit of my stomach sink a little. Does he think he won’t need one because he’s not staying in Stillwater?
He never specifically said he was here to stay. Then again, he also didn’t say this was a temporary gig for him.
“Hey, do you want to come to my place for a coffee?” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to overthink them. It’s only coffee.
“Sure.”
I’m not looking to discover his life plans. He’ll tell me when he wants to. And I’m definitely not wondering about what could happen if I had the chance to let my touch linger a little longer because that’s not what I’m doing.
Hella’s voice is in my head calling me a big, fat, Greek liar, but I ignore it.
“Advance warning. My house is practically a building site, but since you’re responsible for the advance on the work in my living room, I figure you should see it.”
He laughs. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve the credit, but I’ll take it.”
My house has been feeling more like a home recently. Maybe because I’m there a lot more than I used to be.
The kitchen is complete. It was what sold me on the house, and apart from new paint on the walls to cover up the old green, it didn’t need any updates.
I pull out my French press and fill the kettle with water. The kettle was a gift from my sister when she traveled around Europe before opening her restaurant. To this day, I still don’t get why everyone doesn’t have one in their kitchen.
While the coffee brews, I show Constantine the house and tell him a little bit about my plans.
“I love your house. It’s going to look amazing when it’s finished,” he says.
I pour the coffee into two mugs and give one to Constantine.
He’s still wearing his jacket, so on our way to the living room, I turn up the heat.
“This is delicious coffee, Julius.”
“Thanks. It’s my own mix. A little stronger than what I have at Bittersweet, but I love it.”
We drink the coffee in silence for a bit, and I notice Constantine becoming pensive. His gaze is on a photo I have on the wall where a TV would likely be.
It’s Hella somewhere in Europe, smiling with her eyes closed as she tastes some food. The black-and-white photo was taken by her boyfriend at the time, and I love it because, to me, it represents freedom, love, abandon. After her travels, Hella came back and opened the restaurant. She found a home where home always was because she’d been set free when she needed to go.
I stare at Constantine, craving to know more about him. “You said you don’t know what you did to deserve credit. You showed up, Constantine. You are here.”
He smiles, his eyes still on the photo. “Sometimes I wonder if it was a good idea.”
“You regret it?”
“I don’t regret moving or working with you. I just…it’s complicated.”
With my willpower waning to nothing, I reach over and place my hand on the back of his neck, caressing his skin. “You can talk to me.”
He turns his head slowly until his eyes are locked on mine.
“Julius.” His voice is throaty and…needy?
He takes my empty coffee mug and places both on the coffee table. Before my brain registers what’s happening, Constantine straddles my legs and leans his forehead against mine. His breath is warm and smells of my favorite coffee when he says, “What if I don’t want to talk?”