Chapter Two
Jamie shifted from one foot to the other outside Sin & Steel, fingers drumming a rapid, uneven rhythm against his thighs, wondering if he’d made a mistake coming here as he glanced around. The place looked way more intimidating up close than it did when he walked past on his way to work. Was this actually happening? After pining over his jellybean for months, Jamie was finally going to talk to him.
Not at the checkout counter, not a simple “thanks,”
but he would spend some actual time with Cesar. He wiped his palms on his jeans for the third time in two minutes. A couple of tattooed guys walked out, music thumping louder before the wooden door squeaked shut behind them.
A motorcycle revved to his left, one of the shiny bikes in the row that probably had enough horsepower to launch him into orbit. The smell of hot motor oil and cigarette smoke hit his nose, mixing with something amazing that had drifted outside when the door opened. He closed his eyes and inhaled, only to get a huge whiff of exhaust fumes instead.
Three guys in leather jackets walked past him toward the entrance, all broad shoulders and swagger. One glanced over with a look that said, “You sure you’re in the right place, kid?”
Jamie tried for a casual nod that felt more like a bobblehead having a seizure. The guy grinned, shook his head, then followed his buddies inside.
Just go in. What’s the worst that can happen?
Actually, scratch that thought. His brain was way too creative when it came to worst-case scenarios. Like what if his jellybean had only been being nice? What if this was some elaborate prank? What if he walked in there and made a complete fool of himself in front of a bunch of bikers who looked like they could bench-press his entire existence?
A gleaming motorcycle rolled past him, the rider moving slowly out of the parking lot before making a right and roaring away. Jamie watched the taillights grow bright, then the guy made a left, heading in the same direction as his apartment building.
Grant was probably sitting on the couch, right now, waiting for Jamie to come home so he could pounce. The thought made him shudder as he glanced back at the door.
To heck with it. Jamie had always been adventurous, and Cesar had asked him to come. No more stalling. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped inside.
The music hit him, loud enough to feel in his chest. Wow. The place was packed with men just as muscular as Cesar, all broad shoulders and confidence, tattoos on display, voices carrying over the bass. Jamie barely noticed them. His brain was too busy ping-ponging between Where’s my sugar? and Holy crap, that food smells mouthwatering and Where in the heck is the bar?
The lighting was dim except for the colorful glow of neon beer signs lining one wall. Jamie weaved through the crowd with quick, darting steps, pausing to let someone pass then hurrying forward in jerky movements before practically sliding up to the bar and gripping the edge.
A guy with dark hair and scars on one side of his face was working behind the polished counter, serving drinks.
“Hi! Excuse me!”
Jamie waved at him.
“I’m looking for Cesar. I just got off work, and it took me a minute to walk here, but I’m—”
He paused to breathe, realizing he was word-vomiting.
“Sorry. Do you know where I can find him?”
The bartender glanced at him, and so had a few other men, but his thoughts were as frantic as the music. Is my dreamboat in the kitchen? Should I wait here? What if he’s busy? What if he forgot I was coming? Stop acting like a hyper chipmunk.
Taking a deep breath, he drummed his fingers on the bar, practically vibrating with anticipation. Then he began to slap his hands on it when “Bulletproof”
by Godsmack blasted from wherever the speakers were hidden. Jamie sang along, happy his off-key tone was drowned out by the artist singing it.
Closing his eyes, he swayed his hips when the tempo shifted, the driving beat melting into a hypnotic groove.
* * * *
“Hey, got someone out there asking for you.”
Miguel grabbed an onion ring off the large plate sitting on the chrome workstation and took a bite.
“Why does everything you cook taste so good, but I can screw up a simple pot of spaghetti? Jared’s mom made this meatloaf that had me weeping into my mashed potatoes.”
It couldn’t be easy being mated to a cheetah shifter, but Miguel was making it work. So were his mate’s parents. But if he kept eating the customers’ food, Cesar was going to piss off Jared by neutering Miguel.
“What have I told you guys about—”
He thought about what Miguel said.
“Who’s asking for me?”
Curious, he turned and started for the bar but backtracked and grabbed the dish, smacking Miguel’s hand away when he reached for another one.
“Don’t get your ass kicked, bro.”
“Since I’m no longer allowed to cook in here, make me a batch.”
Miguel tried again, only for Cesar to smack his hand harder this time.
“And why is that?”
he asked as they headed toward the main room.
“Oh yeah. Because you and your mate decided to make an omelet and destroyed the kitchen instead. A goddamn omelet!”
He still remembered standing in the kitchen after Miguel and Jared’s fiasco, puzzled at how egg was stuck to the ceiling. It had taken a full day to air out the room and get rid of that burned smell.
Entering the bar area, he noticed how packed it was for a Sunday evening. Laughter punctuated the music as Cesar headed toward the table that’d ordered the dish, plate balanced on his palm. He didn’t stick around once he served them.
If the customers wanted something else, Lucio and Chopper were waiting tables tonight.
Cesar was heading past the bar when he did a doubletake. At the other end stood Jamie, his body swaying to the music, eyes closed, completely lost in the rhythm.
Holy fuck.
Jamie’s movements were natural, uninhibited—hips rocking side to side, head tilting back to expose the column of his throat. The dim lighting caught on his features, softening them, making him look almost ethereal among the rough crowd.
Cesar couldn’t look away.
It was like the music lived inside Jamie, each beat translating directly to his body without thought or hesitation. His lips were slightly parted, mouthing lyrics that couldn’t be heard over the noise.
Others had noticed too. Several wolves had paused mid-conversation, drinks halfway to their lips, watching the slender male move with a grace that seemed at odds with his earlier nervous energy.
Cesar leaned against the wall, mesmerized by the way Jamie’s body rolled with the music, the way his fingers tapped against the bar in perfect rhythm.
This wasn’t the flustered, rambling human from the grocery store.
This was someone lost in the moment, beautiful in his abandon.
When the song ended, Jamie’s eyes fluttered open. He grinned, clearly enjoying himself, which made Cesar chuckle softly.
The smile faded as Jamie glanced nervously around, becoming aware of the attention focused on him.
Brows furrowed, Cesar watched from across the room as Jamie’s lips moved. He was counting backward in Spanish, gripping the edge of the counter like his life depended on it.
“Doce... once... diez...”
Shit. He was spiraling. Cesar’s wolf bristled protectively. Jamie was in distress, and these idiots were making it worse by gawking.
“?Dejen de mirar, pendejos! Lo están asustando,”
Cesar barked at the room, his voice cutting through the music.
“?Lo invité aquí!”
Heads snapped away, men quickly returning to their conversations. Moving swiftly, Cesar made his way to Jamie, whose counting had accelerated.
“Cinco, cuatro, tres...”
He was staring at the floor, chest rising and falling too rapidly.
“Jamie,”
Cesar said softly, taking the human’s trembling hands in his. His skin was clammy, his pulse racing beneath Cesar’s thumbs.
“Hey, colibrí, look at me.”
“I’m…I’m sorry, I just…everyone was watching and I—”
His gaze snapped up, eyes wide, pupils dilated.
“Breathe with me,”
Cesar instructed, squeezing his hands gently.
“In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Jamie followed his lead, chest rising and falling in sync with Cesar’s.
“I wasn’t even thinking. I just really like that song and—”
“Everyone’s just jealous because you can actually dance,”
Cesar said, keeping his voice light.
“These pendejos have two left feet and the rhythm of a broken washing machine.”
A small smile flickered across Jamie’s face.
“There you are,”
Cesar murmured.
“You with me now?”
“Sorry,”
he whispered.
“Sometimes I just... when people stare...”
He trailed off with an embarrassed shrug.
“Nothing to apologize for,”
Cesar assured him.
“Come on, let’s get you somewhere quieter.”
Keeping one of Jamie’s hands firmly in his, Cesar led him past curious onlookers toward the kitchen. The noise level dropped immediately, the heavy bass now a distant thrum rather than an all-encompassing pulse.
“You’ll be okay in here.”
Cesar gestured around the gleaming stainless steel workspace.
“No one bothers me in here. Well, except Miguel, but he’s a special kind of pain in the ass.”
Jamie’s laugh was soft but genuine.
“It’s so clean. Like scary clean.”
He ran a finger along the edge of the prep table.
“Our break room at the store has mysterious stains that have probably been there since the eighties.”
“I run a tight ship,”
Cesar agreed.
“Food safety is no joke.”
He guided Jamie to a stool at the prep counter, enjoying how the human’s gaze darted curiously around the kitchen. There was something endearing about his unfiltered reactions.
He tied the apron strings behind his back.
“You hungry? I can make you something special.”
“Oh!”
Jamie perked up, then his expression fell slightly.
“Oh, um, I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but I don’t do so well with dairy or gluten. My stomach gets all weird, and then I spend way too much time in the bathroom, which is not exactly a great first impression and—”
He cut himself off, cheeks pink.
“Sorry, I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“Nervous?”
Cesar raised an eyebrow, setting the pan on the burner.
“Around me?”
“Yes.”
His blush deepened.
“You’re a dreamboat, jellybean.”
He pointed at himself with both thumbs.
“Plus, you know, the whole brother-incident thing, and I’ve been crushing on you for months, and oh god I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”
Cesar’s wolf perked up at the admission, preening with satisfaction.
“Months, huh?”
he asked, not bothering to hide his pleased smile.
“So it wasn’t just me noticing you every Sunday?”
“You noticed me?”
Jamie’s voice climbed half an octave.
“Hard not to,”
Cesar admitted, turning to the spice rack. He selected a few bottles, focusing on the task to keep his wolf from getting too excited.
“You’re the only cashier who actually smiles like he means it.”
Jamie made a small, pleased sound that sent heat curling through Cesar’s gut. His wolf pushed forward, eyes threatening to shift as desire sparked through him. He blinked it back, keeping his gaze on the ingredients.
“So no dairy, no gluten,”
Cesar said, redirecting the conversation.
“You don’t think it’s annoying?”
Jamie ducked his head but not before Cesar caught his lip bite.
“Most people act like I’m being difficult when I mention it.”
“Most people are idiots.”
He pulled out ingredients with practiced efficiency.
“How about some garlic shrimp with roasted vegetables? No dairy, no gluten, all flavor.”
“That sounds amazing,”
Jamie said, bouncing slightly on his stool.
“I’ve never had a chef cook just for me before.”
“First time for everything, colibrí.”
Cesar winked, enjoying the blush that spread across Jamie’s cheeks.
“Now, tell me how spicy you like your food while I prep this.”
“Medium? Maybe medium-hot?”
Jamie answered, watching intently as Cesar’s knife made quick work of a red onion.
“Wow, you’re really good with that knife.”
“Years of practice.”
Cesar moved with practiced efficiency, his hands steady and sure.
“So, other than working at the grocery store and having an asshole for a brother, what else should I know about you?”
Jamie’s face animated as he launched into a rapid-fire response, words tumbling over each other in his excitement.
“I love horror movies, but I always watch them through my fingers because I get scared, but I still want to know what happens, and I collect weird socks—I’m wearing dinosaur ones right now, see?—and I can recite all fifty states in alphabetical order in under thirty seconds, which isn’t actually useful for anything but it’s fun at parties, not that I go to many parties...”
Cesar smiled as he worked. The nervous energy was endearing, and he found himself wanting to know more about this strange, vibrant human who’d caught his attention with nothing more than a smile across a checkout counter.
“Can I help?”
Jamie asked, leaning against the counter, fingers fidgeting with a dishtowel he’d picked up.
“You can chop the bell peppers.”
Jamie’s gaze darted from the massive stovetop to the prep stations.
“I’m really good at chopping. Well, decent. I mean I’ve never lost a finger or anything, which is probably the bar for ‘good,’ right?”
Cesar nodded toward the sink.
“Wash your hands first. Then you can have a knife. Just be careful with those fingers,”
he warned, unable to keep the affection from his voice.
“I’m rather fond of them.”
“That’s because I use them to scan your groceries.”
Jamie’s blush deepened as he focused intently on his hands.
As he scrubbed, Cesar took a moment to study him. The human moved with a nervous energy, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet even while standing still. There was something endearing about his enthusiasm, about the way he seemed to throw himself fully into each moment despite his obvious anxiety.
He’d been drawn to Jamie like a compass finding north, returning each Sunday just to see that bright smile, to catch that sweet scent. Half the time Cesar would make up a shopping list just to see him.
Now the male was here, in his kitchen, and Cesar intended to savor every moment.
“All clean!”
Jamie announced, holding up his dripping hands like a doctor after a scrub-in.
“Where’s the—”
Cesar handed him a clean towel.
“Peppers are in the fridge. Grab the cilantro and parsley. They’re labeled.”
Jamie darted to the refrigerator, pulling open the door with eagerness.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding about running a tight ship. Everything’s in containers with dates and names.”
He retrieved the produce bag, cradling it against his chest.
“My fridge is like a science experiment gone wrong. I’m pretty sure something in the vegetable drawer has gained sentience.”
Cesar laughed, the sound echoing in the kitchen. He set a cutting board and knife on the counter next to his own.
“Just be careful with those scanning fingers.”
“So,”
Jamie said as he cut the peppers, fully focused, “do you cook for all your dates, or am I special?”
His head snapped up, cheeks flushed.
“Not that I’m saying this is a date. I’m totally not.”
Cesar met those curious eyes.
“You’re the first person I’ve invited into my kitchen,”
he admitted.
“Other than the guys out there, I mean.”
Jamie’s eyes widened.
“Really? But you’re so good at it! You should be showing off these skills to everyone.”
“Not everyone appreciates good food.”
Cesar added the shrimp to the hot pan. It sizzled satisfyingly, the aroma of spices filling the air.
“Besides, cooking is personal. Intimate.”
Cesar furrowed his brows when he saw how the male was hacking the pepper instead of slicing it in even pieces. But he didn’t say anything. Jamie seemed skittish enough already.
“Oh.”
Jamie’s voice was small, understanding dawning in his expression.
“So this is like... a big deal, then?”
“Yeah, colibrí. It’s a big deal.”
Cesar heated the pan and seasoned the shrimp.
Jamie’s smile was radiant, lighting up his entire face. He rocked slightly in his seat, hands fluttering from the counter to his lap and back again.
“Cool. I mean, that’s…that’s really cool.”
Cesar couldn’t help but smile back, his wolf practically purring with contentment. This human, with his fervent rambling and expressive face, had somehow wormed his way past all of Cesar’s carefully constructed defenses without even trying.
They worked side by side, the silence comfortable despite Jamie’s occasional nervous chatter. Every few minutes, their arms brushed, and Cesar would catch Jamie’s quick intake of breath, the slight acceleration of his pulse. Jamie started to say something else but curled his lips in, almost like he feared he was rambling too much.
“Keep talking,”
Cesar encouraged, flashing him a grin.
“I like the sound of your voice.”
Jamie paused mid-chop, looking surprised and pleased. “Really?”
“Sí.”
He enjoyed the way the male’s whole face lit up at the simple confirmation.
“Now tell me about these dinosaur socks while we make the best meal you’ve ever had.”