Chapter 3
The following morning, Steve couldn’t put off making the pudding any longer, not if they were going to have something to eat on Christmas Day. After breakfast and a shower, he returned to the kitchen and started rummaging amongst the pots and pans.
“You ready, Chef?” Corey asked.
Steve glanced up as Corey wandered in. Corey hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the bench and started reading through Steve’s mum’s recipe. Steve’s heart lurched at the sight of Corey and the pleasure of knowing they were going to spend another day together. Pudding making suddenly didn’t seem so bad.
God, Corey was gorgeous with his tight striped T-shirt stretched across his narrow torso and his slim legs peeking out from his shorts. Even his feet looked good as he swung his legs, heels kicking against the cupboard doors. Steve was dressed in clean cargo shorts and a T-shirt. He knew his appearance was okay, but he suddenly wished he weren’t so… average. And that he wasn’t wearing a horrendous floral apron. Not exactly sexy.
“You think they’d have a plain apron and not just this… this…. Shit.” He stared down ruefully at the collision of pink, red, orange and green that covered him from neck to knee. “It looks like a flower garden threw up all over this freaking thing.”
“I think you look very becoming.” Corey tried unsuccessfully to hold back laughter and snorted.
“Shut up, you. This is bad enough without you rubbing it in.”
“Why are you wearing it then? If it’s that bad. Are you sure you don’t like it just a tiny bit?” Corey asked with a grin.
Steve narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Because I ruined my clothes cooking, and I didn’t pack enough changes of clothes to wear three different sets each day. I’m definitely not wearing this by choice. Hey, do me a favour and try to keep the others out of the kitchen, will you? Especially if Douglas has that stupid camera of his. I don’t fancy being plastered all over social media dressed in this… this…wallpaper.”
Now it was Corey’s turn to act affronted. “I thought I was going to help make the pudding. You know, sous chef? Instead you want me to be your bodyguard?”
Steve chuckled as Corey started to hum “I Will Always Love You.”
Corey slid off the bench, and together they assembled the necessary ingredients as per Steve’s mum’s recipe—flour, breadcrumbs, brown sugar, butter, eggs, spices, and the marinated dried fruit he’d put all that elbow grease into. They measured, sifted, mixed, and whisked until the pudding batter was ready. They then spent a good half an hour trying to follow the instructions for wrapping it in muslin. It was a pain in the arse but worth it when they stood back to admire the not-so-round pudding.
Steve tilted his head and studied their cloth-bound creation. “Isn’t it supposed to be round, like a basketball?”
“Don’t ask me,” Corey said. “I don’t play much sport, and I’ve never made a pudding in my life. At least not one like this. I’m sure it’ll all look the same once it’s sliced up anyway.”
“Humph,” Steve said. “Fat lot of good you are. I thought you said you were skilled in the kitchen?”
Corey just chuckled in response. He stood with his hands on his hips, uncooked pudding plastered to his fingers, leaving handprints on his navy shorts, and watched while Steve carefully lowered the pudding into the large saucepan of boiling water. Corey looked good enough to eat with a smear on his cheek and a dusting of flour through his dark hair, like icing sugar on a cake. When Corey turned and grinned at him, Steve felt his heart in his throat and his pulse sped up. Corey raised a hand and gave him a high five. “Ew,” they said in unison as their sticky palms met.
More laughter followed as they cleaned up, standing side by side at the double sink. Steve was happy to dry each item as Corey passed it across, the activity comfortable and giving them more time to spend alone together. Steve suddenly found himself wanting to know more about Corey and gave himself a pep talk.
Go on. Ask him what you want to know. Is he seeing someone?
He took a deep breath. “So, what about you, Corey? Do you have someone special in your life?”
“Unless you’re talking about my mum or dad, or one of my siblings, which I assume you’re not, then no. No one special.” Corey raised an eyebrow. “But you know that. Otherwise you would have been introduced by now.”
Steve shrugged. He tried to be nonchalant but was filled with warmth at the knowledge that Corey was unattached.
“I guess so. I’ve been a bit distracted over recent months. I may not have noticed if you’d started seeing someone.”
“I guess that’s to be expected. You’ve had a lot to deal with—moving, re-establishing yourself. But no, I haven’t had any luck in the man department. Are you worried about getting back out there?” Corey handed him a glass bowl.
Steve wiped the tea towel over its damp surface. “I’ve never been good at dating. I hate the whole pickup thing. First dates make me nervous as hell. And well… most guys seem to want a hook-up, not a date.”
“Yeah. It can be tough. And putting yourself back out there after what you’ve been through can’t be easy.”
“It’s simpler to hang out with the guys. A game of pool and a few beers at the pub, or pizza and computer games, that type of thing.”
“They’re good mates, aren’t they?” Corey passed over a spoon. “Mal especially. He seems to take everyone under his wing.” Corey’s eyes sparkled as he spoke of Mal and the warmth Steve had been feeling earlier started to dissipate.What if Corey likes Mal?“I remember the first time he dragged me out after work. He had this insane idea I’d put in too many hours at the office and didn’t get out enough.”
“Was he right?”
“Um… yeah… but it wasn’t like I didn’t have a social life at all. It’s just that I spend quite a few evenings helping Mum and Dad out at the restaurant, and I’m not into clubbing so I didn’t have very many exciting weekend stories to share in the lunch room.”
