Kitchen Gods Box Set

by Beth Bolden

  Would he be interested? Wyatt didn’t even know. All he knew was that he was suddenly and inexplicably sick of his own life. He was tired of trying to make ends meet, of struggling to keep his nana in the home, and having nothing left over for anything else. Sick of being told what to do.

  “I’d be willing to listen,” Wyatt said.

  “Then we’ll be in touch,” Reed said, squeezing his shoulder again, then disappearing, merging into a group of people who all seemed to want to ask him a dozen questions.

  Back on set, Miles was carefully pouring his cake batter into molds.

  “Now,” he said, “we can finally get onto the cream-filling part of the dessert.”

  “Your favorite part,” Evan inserted.

  Miles’ expression turned hot and sweet. “Yeah, you don’t enjoy it at all,” he retorted, but his voice was so intimate it was impossible not to picture them pressed up together, instead of being separated by six feet of countertop.

  “Cut,” Alex, the director, called.

  “What?” Miles asked, and Evan shot him a darker look.

  “Dressing room,” Evan said briskly, and Miles let himself be led off to their green room.

  * * *

  “What did we talk about before I agreed to do this?” Evan asked as soon as the door was firmly closed behind them. It was bad enough they were airing out their personal shit for the world to see; he was not willing to do it with three-quarters of their co-workers listening in.

  “That there was a line,” Miles said, expression growing concerned. “Did I cross the line?”

  Evan honestly wasn’t sure if Miles had crossed the line or if he’d crossed it on his own, but suddenly, he’d felt hot and cold all over, freaked out by how public this all was. Their relationship, and how they’d learned to make it work, completely exposed to everyone.

  It was weird that throwing the doors open would make him feel closed-in, but it was happening anyway and he couldn’t help it.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I did, without thinking. However it happened, it happened. I freaked out. And Alex must have noticed.”

  “You did have a weird expression on your face,” Miles said. He reached out and pulled Evan close to him. Evan rested his head on Miles’ shoulder. He shouldn’t feel less exposed now, with Miles wrapped around him, but he inexplicably always did. “I’m sorry,” he continued, his voice a warm murmur.

  “This isn’t easy for me,” Evan murmured back. “I’m the one who’s sorry for freaking out all the time.”

  “You didn’t get into this expecting to be in front of the camera,” Miles soothed, “I don’t blame you for freaking out about it.”

  “But I agreed to it,” Evan argued. “I agreed, and I knew exactly what I was agreeing to.”

  “You agreed because you were thinking with your producer hat,” Miles said, a tiny bit amused.

  “I knew it would be great TV,” Evan admitted.

  “You’re amazing, you know,” Miles whispered into his temple. “I love you so much. Even when you freak out. Especially when you freak out.”

  “At least you didn’t come over and start kissing me,” Evan said prosaically.

  “I wanted to,” Miles said.

  Evan closed his eyes. “I wanted you to.” He hesitated. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “We can always stop,” Miles insisted. “I told Reed this might not work out, and he’s okay with whatever. You know that. You probably know that better than me.”

  “I don’t mean . . . being in front of the camera is too hard. I mean not crossing the line is harder than I thought it would be. I look over at you, and I want to say what I would usually say, I want to do what I would usually do. And it sucks to hold back.”

  Miles’ fingers flinched; Evan felt it through the cotton of his button-up, all the way to his skin. He shivered in response.

  “How about you do whatever you feel comfortable with, and we’ll just figure out the rest,” Miles suggested.

  Their relationship was so new, Evan was still figuring out how Miles knew the perfect thing to say to make him feel better.

  “How do you do that?” Evan asked.

  “Do what?” Miles ran a reassuring hand down Evan’s back.

  “Always say what I need to hear.”

  “I know you,” Miles said seriously. “I love you. I expect the two are somewhat related.”

  Evan rolled his eyes, even though Miles couldn’t see them. “I can’t believe I didn’t know right away what a sap you are. I love it. I love you.”

  “It’s only you that brings it out,” Miles admitted. “You know that.”

  “Thank you for being patient and you know . . . generally amazing,” Evan said, waving a hand, shockingly unable to verbalize everything Miles was for him. Which did make sense because he’d discovered that love could be very difficult to pin down specifically.

  “I told you once, we’re going to be what each other needs. A strong relationship doesn’t always have two strong people in it. I’m good taking my turn now, and you can take yours later.” He paused. “Like during all the marketing and publicity.”

  Evan laughed damply. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that,” Miles said, sounding very content, like he never wanted to move.

  Someone rapped on the door. Evan was pretty sure it was Reed. “Time’s up,” the voice said. Yes, it was definitely Reed.

  “You ready to go back?” Miles asked.

  Evan knew they didn’t have much of a choice, because he was both the producer and the star. He knew they had a strict schedule to keep. “As long as you’re next to me. As long as we do this together.”

  “Always,” Miles said.

  The Argument

  A Bite Me Short Story

  “Hey boss, you wanted to see me?” Evan said, sticking his head into Reed’s office doorway.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that,” Reed said, smiling as he gave an absent gesture, almost all of his attention focused on the laptop screen in front of him.

  “Another few hundred probably,” Evan said, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Reed’s desk. They weren’t really boss and employee anymore—not since Cooking Channel had agreed to partner with Evan and Miles for the second season of their show. Technically, they both still worked for Five Points, had offices here, and even used their kitchen, but it was only a matter of time before all of that changed.

  Once the second season aired on Cooking Channel, Evan knew that their lives wouldn’t be the same again. Before Miles had shown up in the Five Points offices, finally having that badge of unqualified success would’ve been everything Evan ever wanted. He’d worked insanely hard for it, and knew that nobody deserved it more, but Miles had changed things. Some things, but not everything. While falling in love had slightly changed his priorities, it hadn’t changed who he was, deep down. And that person was both freaking ecstatic and a little tiny bit nostalgic that in a few months, he couldn’t call Reed ‘boss’ anymore.

  “What’s going on?” Evan asked, gently prompting him because Reed’s attention had gotten re-sucked into whatever he’d been doing.

  “Oh, oh, yeah, sorry,” Reed apologized. He shut his laptop and scrubbed a hand across his face. He had several days' worth of beard growth and looked . . . stressed.

  Evan worried about him, because Evan cared about him—but also because Evan was great at worrying. It was one of his most underrated skills.

  “It’s all good,” Evan said, and this time discovered that he really was worried, because Reed looked stressed, and as far as Evan knew, there wasn’t any actual reason why he should be.

  “I just . . .I’m worried about you.” Reed eyed him like he was afraid he’d jump up and start running around, raving like a lunatic.

  “You’re worried about me?” Evan questioned. “Did something happen with Cooking Channel?” If it did, we’ll just go bigger and badder and go after Food Network.<
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  “No, no, of course not,” Reed said, and Evan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I’d have told you first thing. Actually, you’d have probably told me.”

  “That’s true,” Evan said and felt additionally reassured that both he and Reed knew that Evan would be their first phone call if something had gone awry. “Then what is it?” he asked, genuinely mystified. “We’re fine. We’re better than fine, actually.”

  Reed sighed. “That’s the thing. You’re . . .you and Miles . . .you’re just . . .you’re getting along.”

  “We’re getting along?” Evan repeated.

  “Yes,” Reed said with an emphatic nod. Like this explained everything.

  “That’s . . .” Evan cleared his throat. “That’s what happens when you . . .you know . . .fall in love.”

  “Yes, and no,” Reed said. “Some people, yes. You and Miles, no. You’ve always bickered. Obviously, some points were worse than others. Like when Miles wrote you that email . . .”

  “I know about the email,” Evan interrupted because he really did not want to talk about it ever again, especially with his boss. Even if his boss was no longer quite his boss anymore.

  “What I mean,” Reed said with a heavy sigh, “is that you don’t change because you fall in love. You both had very distinct opinions when you started working together. And you had those, all the way from the moment Miles walked in the door, through the prep for the first season, through the filming of the first season. And then you got the Cooking Channel deal and you just . . .stopped.”

  Evan digested this. Reed was right about one thing—both he and Miles had very distinctive opinions. They’d never shied away from sharing them, even if that led to some bickering and yes, occasionally even a fight or two. They both liked being right—Evan because he was almost always right, and Miles because he was a chef and chefs were notorious for their egos. No matter what Miles claimed about being laid back or low-key or whatever, he was totally a chef, and totally sure that his way was not only the right way, it was the only way.

  “I don’t think we stopped,” Evan said, even as he tried to cast his mind back over the last two or so months, since they’d gotten the Cooking Channel deal, and he couldn’t remember one single fight or even a single time when they’d butted heads over . . .anything.

  Could Reed actually be right about them? Had they started agreeing on everything?

  Evan couldn’t believe it, but his memory couldn’t lie, could it?

  Had he started agreeing with Miles because he was so crazy-in-love with him he didn’t want to disagree anymore? Had Miles? Evan didn’t know which of them had started this disastrous turn of events—or if it had been both of them.

  “It’s okay,” Reed said awkwardly. “You’re going to figure it out.”

  “Yeah,” Evan said, a little dazed. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

  “Nothing a good talk won’t fix,” Reed said with certainty. “Nobody’s ever doubted how you feel about each other, even when you argue. Actually,” he added, tilting his head as he considered this, “I think the fact that you bicker with each other, that you both have stayed true to who you are, is the most convincing part of your relationship.”

  Great, and now that was gone. Evan felt panic streak through him.

  “If anyone can fix this, it’s you two,” Reed finished with a bright smile. Clearly having no comprehension of the uncertainty he’d just sowed.

  “Right,” Evan said. “Totally.”

  * * *

  Evan found Miles in the prep kitchen, painstakingly whipping some kind of creamy substance by hand. His biceps bulged under his slightly too-tight t-shirt, and Evan took a second to appreciate the view. Then he shook himself out of it because maybe this was the problem—maybe he was just too much in love with Miles and his annoyingly buff arms and his sweet smile whenever he saw Evan, and his devastating confidence in the kitchen. Maybe all of those things, plus everything else Miles loved about him, had sucked away every bit of Evan’s certainty that he knew what was best.

  “Hey,” Miles said, most of his attention still absorbed by the cream, but he shot Miles one of those smiles that always made Miles’ knees weak. It had been a problem from the very first moment they’d met, and then it had gotten worse.

  Love was funny like that. You didn’t just fall in love and call it good. You fell in love over and over again, every single day.

  “Hey,” Evan replied.

  “I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Miles said. That had been the plan this morning anyway, when Miles had crawled out of bed, despite Evan promising all kinds of fun if he’d stayed.

  Evan knew how much Miles cared about things like pretty much every kind of dessert—it was one of the many arguments they’d had, how much Miles wanted to be “true to his pastry roots”—and so he knew what it meant when Miles glanced over again, attention clearly divided by whatever he was making and Evan.

  It would be flattering but it hit Evan that not only was Reed probably right, this might be unfixable. Miles, despite his insistence on pastry chef-level devotion, wanted to give Evan what he wanted. Evan, despite all his closely held individuality and principles, wanted to give Miles what he wanted.

  “I was . . .” Evan hesitated. “But then Reed texted me and said he wanted to see me, and I thought . . .” He’d thought it would be fun and actually downright wonderful to surprise Miles at the office kitchen, as he tried to plan season 2’s shows.

  “You thought what?” Miles put down the whisk and maybe he didn’t actually come over and touch Evan, but it was clear he wanted to. Despite Evan’s clear and ironclad rules about PDA at the office.

  Evan freaked out.

  “I thought . . .” His mind whirled.

  “Is everything okay? You look . . .worried.” Miles broke the rules just about as easily as he ever had, reaching out and intertwining Evan’s much smaller hand with his bigger, knife and burn scarred one.

  And even though it was more evidence that they had changed—that he had changed—Evan discovered he felt calmer just having Miles right there. That had definitely not always been the case.

  “I’m fine. Reed just wanted to talk about Cooking Channel,” Evan said.

  “Oh.” With one final heart-stuttering caress, Miles let go of Evan’s hand and picked up his whisk again, returning to the contents of his enormous metal bowl. “I thought something was actually wrong.” Despite being fanatical about the pastry side of the show, Miles couldn’t really give a shit about the production side of Pastry by Miles. He’d smartly left almost all the negotiations with Cooking Channel to Evan, and had only made a handful of stipulations, all of them revolving around creative control.

  Evan knew that, which was why he’d picked it as a subject to divert Miles’ attention from his momentary freak out.

  “I trust you,” Miles said, starting to whisk his cream again. “You’ll make sure we don’t lose our integrity.”

  What about what makes us us? Miles wondered. How do I make sure we don’t lose that?

  “We’ve already signed the contract, there’s no chance of that,” Evan said. Their celebration had lasted an entire weekend, and even though he strained his mind to remember, he couldn’t identify a single time they’d argued during the entire seventy-two hours. It had just been all blissful, filled with love and pleasure and a realization that they’d formed an unshakeable trust in their partnership.

  It should’ve been a good memory—a fucking fantastic memory—but now all it did was fill Evan with fear. Had learning to truly trust each other meant that they’d learned not to care about things they’d always cared about before? Would it mean that when they started filming season two, that snarky repartee that the audiences loved about them would be gone?

  Would they no longer be #couplegoals on Instagram?

  Maybe if Evan had worked a little less hard for his success, he wouldn’t care.

  “I’m going to finish this up
,” Miles said, “and then I’m headed home.” To the apartment they shared. That had become official not even two months back. Another celebration had followed Miles turning in the set of keys to his own separate apartment. When Miles had put his spatulas in the drawers and his whisks in the crock on the countertop, he’d told Evan that he’d felt like he was home. Not because of this semi-shitty LA apartment, but because Evan was there.

  “Okay,” Evan said.

  He didn’t want to lose all those picture-perfect moments. The ones that warmed him backwards and helped him to forget so many years of loneliness. But he needed to figure out how to co-exist with all the memories and remind both of them they used to be sweet mixed with just the right amount of salty.

  The good thing was that Evan wasn’t a quitter, and he would make it happen. Somehow, some way.

  “You’ll be there?” Miles questioned, looking at him again, instead of what was in his bowl. Maybe Evan hadn’t quite put his concerns to rest like he’d thought.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll . . .” Evan paused, still trying to formulate a plan that might have a chance in hell of working, “I’ll make dinner.”

  Miles looked suspicious. Evan almost never cooked, for good reason. When your boyfriend had worked at a Michelin-starred restaurant, even as a pastry chef, there was no reason to try, as he could still cook circles around Evan—whose best talent was still ordering takeout.

  “You won’t order from that Indian place again, right? I think it gave me really bad gas last time,” Miles said. Obviously he had concluded that the most effort Evan would be going to would be dialing the phone.

  “I remember,” Evan said with a glower. “If you think you suffered the most there, you’re wrong. It was me, definitely me. Besides, I think I’ll cook.”

  Miles still looked dubious, but he nodded. “Okay. I went to the market yesterday, so there’s lots of stuff to choose from.”