Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elton opened his condo door to an assault on the senses—the good kind.
Aromas of stewed beef, rosemary, shallots, and Parmesan.
The funk rock baseline of his favorite Chili Peppers album.
His boyfriend behind the kitchen island, hips swaying to the music while working several pots and pans on the stove.
Elton dropped his bag in the foyer, beneath the framed photo of Archer’s vines, then headed toward the kitchen, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “You think you’re cute with this LA shit, don’t you?”
Archer shot a devastating grin over his shoulder and desire seared Elton’s soul, love tumbling through his veins.
“You’re the one who had an original pressing of the vinyl on your wall of music.
” He flicked his gaze past Elton, to the étagère full of records on the far living room wall. “How many are on there?”
“Stopped counting,” Elton said as he rounded the island. “And Stadium Arcadium is on that wall because the Chili Peppers are from California and it’s their best album.”
“Says you.”
“Says me.” He pressed his front to Archer’s back and wound his arms around his waist, careful of the hot stove.
He didn’t expect Archer to be here, to be in his arms again before tomorrow.
The early arrival was a pleasant surprise, another something great on a great day already.
He nuzzled behind his ear, smelling vines and sunshine. “How’d you get in here?”
Archer cuddled back into his body while continuing to work a pan of shallots and a heavy-bottomed pot of what looked like polenta. “I think between the two of us, we know half a dozen lockpicks.”
“Or Mel just gave you a key.”
“Or Mel just gave me a key.” He turned his face toward Elton, lips puckered for a kiss.
Elton happily gave it to him before surveying the stove again, touched that Archer had gone to this much trouble for him. “What are we having?”
“Porcini-braised short ribs, brown butter shallot reduction, polenta cacio e pepe, and charred broccolini.”
“You make all this?”
“Noah planned it, I executed.”
Further proving one of Elton’s Archer-labeled theories. “You chef’ed at some point, didn’t you?”
“Little secret,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Lotta cellar rats also work in restaurants, either front or back of house.”
“You mean with your sunny disposition, you weren’t a server?”
He left a spoon in the pot to free up a hand and slap his hip. “We can’t all be Mr. Charming.”
Except that’s exactly what Archer was. A prickly, charming farmer with a marshmallow center that Elton had fallen head over heels in love with over the past year. “I know your secret,” Elton said, kissing a path up his neck.
Archer stretched, giving him access to more skin, to more temptation. “You promised not to tell anyone.”
He nipped beneath the hinge of his jaw, then stepped back before they ruined all of Archer’s hard work. “How much longer until dinner?”
“Ten minutes or so,” Archer answered with a small, sweet smile.
“I’m going to put my stuff up and wash the plane stank off.” And dig the small velvet box out of his bag, another potentially great moment arriving unexpectedly early.
“I’ll have it on the table when you get back.”
“How about the one in front of the couch?” Elton jutted his chin in the same direction Archer had glanced earlier. “No fog today. Sunset will be gorgeous.”
“Go, then,” Archer said, shoving him gently. “So we don’t miss it.”
Elton made the round trip in seven, returning to the living room in sweats and a tee, with a small, round weight in his pocket, just as Archer was setting plates on the coffee table in front of the couch.
The sun would technically be setting behind them to the west, but the light it reflected off the Bay Bridge and Mount Diablo in the East Bay on a clear day was beautiful.
“Don’t ever let Noah know you have a Miele rangetop and fridge.”
“They came with the place.”
“That you bought on a public servant’s salary?”
“What are you implying?” Elton chuckled, not offended by the question. It hadn’t been the first time someone had wondered how he afforded this place, though usually it was the location, or the view, or the high floor that made people curious, not the appliances.
“Nothing.” Archer filled their glasses with a super tuscan from the winery’s library collection. “Just trying to make the pieces fit and get to know you.”
Elton believed him. There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine curiosity, and seeing as he was friends with the likes of Ezra Rosin, and that he was born and bred in California, Archer probably knew better than most that not everything or everyone was what they seemed here, bank account–wise.
And Elton’s explanation was more amusing than most, though not uncommon in the Bay Area.
“I went to undergrad with someone who had an original Gmail invite-only account. When he told me to invest the little bit of inheritance that I got from my grandfather in the company that created it, I listened. Right time, right place.”
“So you’ve always been smart.”
Elton returned the earlier swat to Archer’s hip as he lowered onto the couch beside him.
“I also got a screaming deal on this condo.” He opened the side table drawer and withdrew a small decorative tin.
Opening it, he dug one of his mom’s sour cherry candies out of their plastic bag and placed it on the hardwood floor.
Then watched it roll all the way across the room.
“They don’t call this building the Leaning Tower of Frisco for nothing. ”
He returned the tin to the drawer—and his phone with it, shutting them both inside.
Fighting a grin, Archer pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, miming taking his temperature. “Are you okay?”
Elton took his hand in both of his and kissed his knuckles. “I will be,” he said, before lifting his gaze to Archer’s, ready to take that leap into the bright future, together. “As long as I can have a lifetime of more dinners like this with you.”
Archer’s breath caught. “What are you saying?”
He lifted his other hand and palmed Archer’s rough cheek, everything about it, about the man from fifteen years ago, back in his life at exactly the right time, soothing. “That you are my relief, Archer Scott, and I don’t want to go another day without you.”