by Beth Bolden
Miles hadn’t gotten into the culinary business to make money—most chefs weren’t rich, or even close to rich, but he couldn’t deny the money held an attractive appeal.
Later, as he was making yet another tray of white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids, sure he would be dreaming about gold dust, Miles thought that the money paled in comparison to the opportunity to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. True creative vision. And extra bonus: no more white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids and no more gold dust.
* * *
Miles biked home because it was a gorgeous night—clear and with just the right amount of briskness in the air. He couldn’t deny he was avoiding his friends because they’d try to talk him out of leaving. Especially Xander, because he was the most vocal of the three—though Miles knew he’d get arguments from all of them. They knew just how special finding a place at Terroir was, and then how much work and determination and thick skin went into staying there.
It wouldn’t be something they’d want him to give up lightly, but Miles realized as he pulled into the drive that he’d been ready to move on for awhile now. Why else feel compelled to start Pastry by Miles at all? He shouldn’t need to come home from a long, exhausting shift, and bake. As far as Miles was concerned, he should feel creatively fulfilled at the position he’d worked his ass off for.
And if that wasn’t the case anymore, then he should move on. It was the right thing to do, Miles knew as he walked into the house, but it didn’t make telling his friends any easier.
It was after midnight, and they’d all worked at least ten hours today, but when he walked into the living room, Xander and Wyatt were on the couch, and Kian was sprawled next to them on the floor. The TV was tuned to ESPN, which meant Wyatt had picked the channel, but when Miles walked in, he muted it.
Three sets of eyes swiveled his direction.
“So Reed Ryan came to see you today?” Xander’s statement was phrased like a question, but it wasn’t like Miles could deny it. He slumped into an old chair and let his bag fall to the floor.
“Yeah, he came to see me.”
Xander scooted to the edge of the couch. “And you didn’t come get me?”
“It wasn’t that kind of visit.” Miles hesitated and then continued before Xander could reload again. “Listen, I know you’re all going to try to talk me out of it, and that’s fine, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m giving my two weeks tomorrow.”
Xander and Wyatt didn’t look all that surprised, but Kian turned to him, accusation and dismay all over his delicate features. “You’re really going to quit? I heard people talking, saying you might, and that’s why Reed Ryan came by, but I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t believe them. Miles, you’ve more than earned your place at Terroir.”
“I’ve earned it yeah, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
Sacrilege, to admit he didn’t love every chef’s dream job, but it felt so good to finally say it out loud.
“You really mean that,” Wyatt said with disbelief. “It’s not the money? I was sure Ryan threw a bunch of money at you.”
He had, and maybe Miles should have used that reason, instead of the truth. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how all of them had been restricted and restrained by Chef Aquino’s iron-clad rule. Every single one of them had their own point of view as a chef, and none of them were expressing it.
And Miles couldn’t help but think that was just sad.
“Someday, you’re going to understand, I promise,” he said.
Kian made a scoffing noise, and Wyatt rolled his eyes.
Xander didn’t say a word. Miles supposed he should be relieved that Xander was so unusually quiet, but Xander was also one of his best friends. And for someone who loved to argue and express all his opinions, all the time, the silence was sort of galling. Like Xander had already given up on him.
“I’m sorry I’m going to leave you without a fourth roommate,” Miles added, though he knew with the addition of Kian eight months ago, it wouldn’t be as tough of a financial hardship.
“We’ll manage,” Wyatt said.
Xander scowled, and Miles just couldn’t help himself. “Aren’t you even going to attempt to change my mind?” he asked, but Xander just shrugged.
“You’ve already made up your mind. It would be a waste of breath.”
Miles got to his feet. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I’m wiped.” And he realized as he headed towards his room, that he’d only have two more weeks of waking up and heading into the restaurant with his friends.
On the flip side, he only had two more weeks of Chef René’s insultingly obvious questions and only two more weeks of white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids.
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.
“I have a degree in business, with an emphasis on marketing,” Evan said, trying to tamp down the testy edge to his voice. “I’ve also been Reed’s assistant for almost two years. I know how to produce a successful program.”
Miles shot him an almost pitying look. As if the degree Evan had worked his ass off for meant nothing. “But do you know anything about pastry?”
“You do,” Evan said, and the confidence he felt was genuine. The way Miles had always been able to pare down difficult concepts and explain them was brilliant. He’d be great at showing a brand-new audience how to bake in a way they hadn’t experienced before. And Evan’s job was to provide that audience.
On paper, they were a great team, something that Reed had unhesitatingly stated more than once. But now that he and Miles were standing in front of each other, Evan wondered if he and Reed had made a miscalculation.
They hadn’t taken into consideration that Miles Costa was quite possibly a culinary snob who didn’t like to bother with anyone lacking his training.
“Right,” Miles said, and he did not look convinced.
Evan decided this wasn’t the right moment to argue the point and definitely not the right place—right in the middle of a kitchen that he’d never used, so he changed the subject. “Let’s swing by IT and get your laptop.”
Miles followed and didn’t argue so Evan took that as a success, then dropped him at his cubicle, with a promise to get him for their first brainstorming session in a
few hours. Reed had already promised to take Miles by the cafeteria for lunch. Maybe after spending time with a chef of Reed’s culinary pedigree, and realizing how committed Five Points was to authenticity, Miles would soften his stance.
* * *
After a quick lunch at his desk, Evan went to the bathroom to wash his hands and to give himself a pep talk in the mirror.
Opportunities like this didn’t come around very often and he wasn’t going to blow the first big one he’d ever been handed. Once they started working on Miles’ show, he would see that Evan was just as committed as he was to making it a success.
When he returned to his cubicle to grab his laptop and to fetch Miles next door, for a split second, Evan considered leaving behind all the prep work he’d been doing on his vision of Pastry by Miles.
But all of it was important market research and branding. Stuff that Miles needed, whether he admitted it or not. Stuff he needed to develop if he wanted to expand beyond retweets by Snoop Dogg.
It had been very clear to Evan from the beginning of Pastry by Miles that Miles had no real marketing plan, and that’s all this was, Evan justified to himself. He took the folder and hated that Miles had made him question his motives.
“What did you think of the cafeteria?” Evan asked as they set up in one of the smaller meeting rooms.
Miles wrinkled his nose. “It was okay, I guess.”
Reed had been appalled when he’d first started at Five Points at the quality of the building’s cafeteria, and had worked hard to improve the quality of the food they served. They still didn’t do everything well, but they’d made huge strides. It was definitely better than anything that Evan could cook himself. Which, he realized, was the root of Miles’ problem.
