33. Ember
EMBER
After I wash up and change into more comfortable clothes, I join Zeb in the kitchen. He’s apparently taken a quick shower, and just the sight of the ends of his hair, damp against the skin at the back of his neck, makes me want to drag him back into his bedroom, or have my way with him on the dining room table.
Despite those urges, the fog in my brain has cleared just enough to make me wonder if Griffin and Frank will have an issue with what Zeb and I just did.
Of course, I was with Griffin one-on-one, but that was before I was intimate with all the guys. Since last night was only supposed to be a one-time thing, and because I’ve never done anything like that before, I’m not sure what the implied rules are.
“I’m going to tell Griffin and Frank what we did,” I announce to Zeb. It’s bad enough that I can’t tell my friends, and my bosses can never find out, but I don’t want any more secrets between the four of us.
Zeb’s “okay” sounds unbothered, but his focus is on a water-filled device on the counter.
“What are we making?” I ask.
“Steak.”
“With that?” I gesture to the appliance.
“Yeah. We’re going to cook it sous vide.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that. In a water bath, right?”
He nods as he lays four raw steaks out on a pan and sprinkles them with coarse salt.
“How long does it take?”
“About two hours. I figured it’d be a good night for this, since Frank and Griffin are coming home late.”
After the steaks are seasoned, he puts them in plastic bags along with garlic cloves and fresh herbs, then vacuum seals the bags with another device I hadn’t noticed.
“How did you learn to do this? Does your family cook fancy things like this?”
Zeb’s snort provides a definitive no. “My so-called family probably wouldn’t even eat this.”
I wince at his wording, and my first instinct is to let the comment pass, because Zeb isn’t the type to talk about himself, but after the physical intimacy we’ve shared, maybe he’ll be more open with me. “You don’t get along with your family?”
He’s quiet as he places the bags into the water and checks the settings, and I almost think he’s going to ignore my question when he says, “There isn’t much family left. My mom died when I was ten.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I have an older brother, but I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t even know where he lives.”
“Oh. That’s a shame.”
“It’s no great loss.”
My voice is soft when I ask, “What about your dad?”
“We don’t see each other. He didn’t seem to care all that much about our mom passing. All he cared about was being hard on me and my brother.”
“I’m really sorry, Zeb.”
“We probably deserved it.” He says this like a joke as he shrugs off my sympathy, and I think about how he uses humor to keep distance between himself and others. Griffin jokes a lot, too, but in a way that draws people in.
“I’m going to make a chimichurri sauce for the steak.” The shift in his tone tells me he’s done with the previous conversation. “I like a version with tomatoes, but I can leave them out if you don’t like them.”
“I’m fine with tomatoes.”
He gets out a blender and a lot of fresh ingredients and whips up a beautiful sauce while I watch. So far, I haven’t helped at all, but despite our discussion about his family, he seems to enjoy my company, and I definitely enjoy watching him cook.
His arms flex as he washes, chops, and blends, making the ink on his muscles dance, making my fingers itch to touch him again.
Instead of getting out of my system, these men have wormed their way in deeper, because I swear I can feel desire running through my veins.
By the time Griffin and Frank get home, Zeb has roasted asparagus, seared the cooked steak in a cast iron skillet, and made mashed potatoes in a way that was more complicated than I’d ever seen, but that ends up being well worth the extra fuss. They are, in fact, the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted in my life. Griffin and Frank seem to agree.
“Can we just designate you all-time cook, Zeb?” Griffin asks as the four of us feast at the dining room table.
“Much as I’d enjoy not eating your food, I don’t want to do this every night.”
“He put a lot of work into all this.” I’m looking at Zeb when I say this, but when I turn back to the other two men, Griffin is eyeing us both suspiciously. To my relief, he doesn’t say anything. I still plan on telling him—and Frank—what happened this evening, but this doesn’t seem like the right place or time.
It may not make sense in the real world, but in the part of my brain that enjoys bookkeeping, I decide that since I had sex with Zeb again, it’s only fair that I have sex with Griffin and Frank again, too. Just to even things out. Or, at least Frank, since Griffin was one-up on the other men from the beginning.
Yes, I know the whole arrangement doesn’t belong on a scorecard, but the idea gives me an excuse to continue with them just a little longer, because the thought of going to bed by myself tonight makes me sad.