While Caleb focused on removing the ribs and seeds of the pepper, Shep chopped the broccoli like it had personally insulted him. Tiny bits of stem flew. The knife slammed against the cutting board, making cuts in the wood that would remind Caleb time and time again of tonight’s touching, heartfelt conversation.
To better gauge the damage being done, Caleb stole a look at Shep’s cutting board. Despite the stemmy mess, Shep was doing a fine job—the florets he produced were small and even, and while he did waste some time making unnecessary cuts, he wasn’t moving at turtle speed, either.
Maybe the key to successful cooking was overly enthusiastic rage. Since Shep would be staying here with Jayne, Caleb had no doubt that over the next month, he’d have a chance to test out his theory in person.
For a while longer they chopped in silence until a new voice spoke.
“I can’t believe it,” Jayne said as he came into the kitchen. “Look at you both, making dinner together. I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” Shep grumbled. “I’m only chopping broccoli to prove that I can.”
Jayne hesitated. “Okay. Well. That’s great. What are you guys making?”
With the pepper now successfully gutted, Caleb wiped his knife free of seeds and started to cut the flesh into strips. “It’s a pasta thing.”
“A pasta thing?” Jayne leaned on the counter in front of the sink and raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”
“A pasta thing.” Caleb gestured vaguely at the pepper. “It’s a hybrid between a regular pasta dinner and a pasta bake. It’s pasta, sauce, chicken, broccoli, red pepper, and cheese. You put it in the oven.”
“Where’s the hybrid part?” Jayne asked.
Caleb waved a hand at the stove, launching a pepper seed through the air. It hit the floor and slid under the oven. “The pasta gets boiled first.”
Jayne looked at the stove, then looked cautiously at Caleb. “… Okay?”
“I mean, that’s the whole thing about a pasta bake, right?” Caleb found himself increasingly uncertain. “If you’re baking pasta, you cook it in the oven, you don’t boil it on the stove.”
The look of uncomfortable terror on Jayne’s face suggested that was not the case.
“I swear I know what I’m doing,” Caleb reassured him. “I may not know the technical terms, but I know how to cook food so that it won’t kill you. I even know how to cook it so that it tastes good.”
Jayne nodded apprehensively, then stepped forward and came to stand at Caleb’s side. Unlike with Shep, whose distrust had driven Caleb up the wall, Jayne’s hesitance to believe was endearing.
At least it was until Jayne laid his hand over Caleb’s and wove their fingers together.
Sparks shot up Caleb’s arm, originating from where Jayne touched him. His heart throbbed so loudly, he was sure Jayne had to have heard. The conversation they’d had earlier that afternoon snapped back to the forefront of Caleb’s mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine this was Jayne’s way of showing his interest. Caleb had imagined that when the time was right, he’d take Jayne out on the town somewhere with Everett, that they’d wine and dine him, spoil him as much as they could, then take him home and see where the night led them, but with Jayne’s hand on his, Caleb began to feel like he didn’t need to take his men out on the town to properly romance them. If Jayne could shut down his brain by doing something as simple as touching his hand, a night out wasn’t necessary.
Caleb swallowed, finding out too late that his throat was dry. Jayne’s skin was soft, and his narrow fingers slotted into the spaces between Caleb’s effortlessly. Notes of citrus and muguet, subtle enough that Caleb hadn’t detected them from afar, adorned a secret place on Jayne’s skin. Where? Caleb’s eyes lidded slightly as his mind wandered. Would he discover it under the line of Jayne’s jaw? Along the dip of his collarbone? Down the V of his hip as it led toward his groin? Wherever he discovered it, he’d kiss until Jayne’s breath hitched and he arched his back with need.
And Everett…
Caleb sucked in a breath as he imagined Everett there with him, his head rested on Jayne’s bare chest and his eyes burning with need. It would be no hardship to move from the delicate part of Jayne’s body to his lover’s soft lips.
Hands on hands.
Skin on skin.
And then…
“Will you let me show you?” Jayne asked.
It occurred to Caleb that Jayne had not laced their fingers together in search of a one-way ticket to the bedroom of Aurora’s hottest couple—he’d done it because it was the hand with which Caleb was holding the knife.
Shep, who stood opposite Caleb and had no doubt seen the changed expression on his face, looked about ready to hurl.
“What am I doing wrong?” Caleb asked.
Jayne shrugged a single shoulder. “You’re not really doing anything wrong, it’s just… if you hold the knife a little differently, you’ll have better mastery over it, and you’ll be able to get a finer cut. The peppers will turn out okay the way they are, but you’re looking at… what? Half an hour in the oven for a pasta bake? You’re going to want smaller pieces that’ll cook a little quicker than what you’ve got now if that’s the case.”
