Colton sighed deeply and picked up his fork. “Thanks, Dean.”
Chapter 17
Dean
Colton was celebrating his twenty-sixth birthday.
Because she was in Paris for Fashion Week, Sophie couldn’t be with him.
So Dean invited Colton to the loft for a special birthday dinner.
When he arrived, Dean squeezed him in a big bro hug. “Happy Birthday, Colton!”
The birthday boy had worn blue jeans and a tight-as-fuck black t-shirt and Dean quickly ran a finger across his mouth, in case there was any drool. Colton’s blond hair was getting a little longer on the sides, but, as always, his bangs hung and flopped across his forehead, dancing as he walked. On the way to the kitchen, Dean grabbed a gift bag off the dining table and passed it to Colton.
The bag contained two birthday gifts. The first gift was a picture of Colton and Dean from the day of the video shoot, Colton’s arm around Dean, both of them wearing their jerseys,printed on glass. Dean saw a slight blush on Colton’s cheeks as he carefully ran a finger across the frame.
The second gift was a black Fendi shirt.
“I noticed you wear a lot of black,” Dean explained. “We can get another color if you want something different.”
Colton smiled. “No, this is great. Thank you, Dean. This is way too much, but thank you. I love this shirt, and Ireallylove this picture!”
Colton immediately removed the tags from his new shirt and put it on. Dean struggled to breathe normally as Colton stood shirtless before him, perfect round pecs with nipples begging to be nibbled, and ripple after ripple of abs.
There should be a federal law that certain men be forbidden from wearing shirts…ever! Colton would be at the top of that list.
“Perfect fit.” Dean smiled. “Very handsome!”
Colton took a selfie with Dean and posted it on Insta.
Birthday Dinner with @DJDVLN! Thank you for my awesome #Fendi shirt!
Dean motioned for Colton to sit on a stool at one of the kitchen islands. “I’m going to make you a special birthday dinner.”
“Dean, you really don’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“I want to. I love cooking for people, and I rarely have a chance to do it.”
Dean didn’t cook big dinners that often, but something about Colton unleashed a protective, nurturing side of Dean, and this sudden domesticity was a tad bit frightening.
“So, you go grab a beer, take a seat at the counter, and watch the magic happen!” Dean dramatically flexed his fingers in preparation.
“You’re such a fucking goober!” Colton laughed and hopped onto a stool with his beer.
Dean wiped the counter down with a cloth then pulled out all the ingredients he needed for the meal and piled them on thecounter before dumping a heaping pile of flour onto the clean countertop.
“Dude! What are you doing?” Colton asked, baffled.
“Relax, you’ll see soon enough.” Dean made a claw with his fingers and created a large hole in the middle of the pile of flour, creating something that resembled a flour volcano.
He then cracked several eggs and some coarse salt and pepper into the crater he'd just created, then grabbed a fork out of the drawer. He slowly began dragging small lines of flour into the eggs, scrambling the yolks, gradually forming a paste with the flour until eventually, all of the flour was mixed with the eggs, creating a dough.
“Are you making bread?” Colton looked completely puzzled, mesmerized by the process.
“Not quite. Patience, you’ll see.” Dean grinned with a sly twinkle in his eyes.
Dean began kneading the dough in a steady rhythm…push away with the palm, pull back, rotate…push, pull, rotate. After a few minutes, the dough was properly kneaded, slightly springy and about the texture of the pad of his thumb. Dean formed it into a tight ball and wrapped it in plastic wrap. “There, this guy needs to rest for a little bit.”
