A delivery driver pounding on the back door broke the spell. Angelo drew back as Dylan stared holes in him, unable to look away until he wrenched the dooropen.
A stack of fresh fruit and vegetables awaited him. He signed the invoice, mentally calculating how much he’d need to take today to honour it, and shut thedoor.
Dylan appeared at his side. “What do you do with allthis?”
“Wash it. Cut it. Put it on the plates and in thebags.”
“With thepaninis?”
Angelo cut a glance at Dylan. “Yes.Why?”
“Because you open in half an hour, and I’m guessing that you don’t have time to prepare all this and do everything else by yourself unless you have someone coming in to helpyou?”
Angelo rolled his eyes. “Like who? I’ve pretty much banished my mum, and you know we can’t afford to pay any extrastaff.”
“That’s what I thought.” Dylan took his wallet, keys, and phone from his pocket and set them on a nearby shelf. “Pass me an apron. I’ll give you ahand.”
Angelo would’ve been less surprised if Dylan had suggested they fuck in the freezer, but shock could be a wonderful thing, and he passed Dylan an apron before he’d truly comprehended what washappening.
For the next half hour, they worked in companionable silence. Well, Dylan worked. Angelo meandered around the deli, completing jobs he rarely had time for, all the while watching Dylan move around the kitchen like he was some kind of angelicapparition.
“You’ve worked in a kitchenbefore.”
It wasn’t a question, but Dylan nodded anyway. “I’ve helped my mate at his café in Vauxhall before. Spent all summer there when I was astudent.”
“Is this the mate whose calls you won’tanswer?”
A guilty flush crept up Dylan’s neck. “For your information, I called him back, but it seems he doesn’t want to talk tomenow.”
Angelo couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to talk to Dylan, but he kept quiet as he claimed the cured meats Dylan had prepared and took them out to the service counter. After all, he barely knew the man. Perhaps he was as much of an arsehole asAngelo.
Right. Like that’s evenpossible.
Angelo started the coffee machine, checked the milk supplies, and unlocked the front door. He went back to the kitchen, expecting to find Dylan getting ready to leave, but found him scrutinising the ancient recipe cards tacked to the walls. “Are these stillcurrent?”
“Um, I suppose? Can’t say I’ve looked at them since I was aboutsix.”
“But your menu is the same, right? That’s your hook... that it’s been the same for fiftyyears?”
“Something like that, though we upgraded the panini press about a decadeago.”
If Dylan heard the bitterness lacing Angelo’s words, it didn’t show. He took a last look at the recipes and then retied his apron. “Good, then I should be able to help you serve. You’ll have to teach me the coffee machine later, but I can handle a paninipress.”
“Are youserious?”
Dylan shrugged. “As serious as I am about anything when I’m not at work or getting my dick sucked at Lovato’s. You need help, and I’m free. If we’re going to be friends, it stands to reason that I should do you asolid.”
“Who said we were going to befriends?”
Dylan picked up the last tray of tomatoes and swept past Angelo into the deli. “I did, sunshine. Now come and show me how to turn this thingon.”
* * *
It was probablythe most bizarre Monday Angelo had ever lived through. Dylan moved like a whirlwind, working the panini press, clearing tables, and washing up things that hadn’t been washed in months, while Angelo looked on. Working with Theresa drove him up the wall, but with Dylan’s help, the day was like aholiday.
It was gone three by the time Angelo forced himself to make Dylan go home. “You’ve rocked my world, but I can’t let you work for free. That shit ain’tright.”
Dylan smiled. “I enjoyed it. Being stuck in an office all day is making meold.”
