“Guilty as charged. In my defense, youarelovely to look at.”
Jax blushed and ended up kissing Tristan thoroughly to cover it up.
“What are you making this evening?” Tristan asked once they broke apart and found air.
“The very first thing I ever made with my Ma. Ravioli.” Jax rubbed hishands together in excitement. “Specifically, bacon and ricotta ravioli in a white-wine sauce. It sounds simple, but you have to nail simpleperfectly.”
“Which I’m sure you always do.” Tristan’s total belief in Jax boosted his confidence, and he would’ve bounced with excitement if he could. Sure, he worked with food all day, but the difference between watching over the courses at an event and making a gorgeous man a special meal couldn’t be measured. Here, he had the chance to show Tristan what he could do, and it gave him just as much satisfaction as being on the dance floor.
Pulling out the pasta maker, Jax quickly put on a black apron and started sifting two different kinds of flour.
“Can I help?” Watching in fascination, Tristan held up his hands as if he didn’t want to be in the way in his own kitchen.
“What kind of tea do you have?” Jax asked. He had some on him just in case, but Tristan opened a cupboard, and Jax found himself impressed by the selection. There had to be over seventy teas in there. “Sick.”
“How about my favorite?” Tristan took out a canister. “Yorkshire Gold.”
Jaxlovedthat tea. “If you keep flirting with me like this, then we’re skipping dinner and going straight to dessert.”
Tristan burst out laughing. “You’re adorable.”
“Me? Adorable?” Jax had never been called that, but he didn’t have time to process it because Tristan went to the sink and filled a mug with boiling-hot water from a smaller spout next to the faucet. “Wait, wait, wait. I’ve seen those! You have a reserve of boiling water? That’s perfect. It’s insta-tea!”
Tristan filled the second mug, his smile bemused by Jax’s fascination. “I had to put one in even though I rent. I don’t want to wait for the teapot, and there’s somethingwrongwith using the microwave.”
“There is! It’s like the water loses its soul.” Jax had to stop himself from gesturing or he would’ve spilled flour everywhere. Once he finished the dough, he wrapped the smooth ball in plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator, taking out a large tray.
“The dough needs to be chilled, then kneaded again, and then put back in the fridge for half an hour. But don’t worry, I have antipasto to tide us over!” He uncovered the tray, which was laden with spiced prosciutto, top-notch pepperoni and salami, stuffed olives, mushrooms, cherrypeppers, seasoned artichoke hearts, and giant pieces of mozzarella.
Tristan stared at everything for a good ten seconds, his eyes going so wide that Jax thought they were going to fall out of his head.
“You made this?” He flicked his stunned gaze up to Jax, who nodded.
“Yeah, earlier today. It didn’t take that long.” He held the tray out further, and Tristan took a cherry pepper filled with goat cheese, humming at the first bite.
“This…” He took a second bite, then a third, and Jax flushed with pride. Having someone unable to speak because they wanted to devour his food was the highest compliment.
“Have another.” Like his mother, he genuinely enjoyed feeding people and seeing their delight.
“Twist my arm.” Tristan grabbed two plates from the cabinet, taking samples of everything and making Jax put the tray down on the counter so they could eat and talk.
Time passed far too quickly as they chatted about tea, work, and other topics. Strange, Jax usually got annoyed with people after a while, needing his space, but the more he knew about Tristan, the more time he wanted to spend with him, and it made his pulse and his stomach flutter whenever he thought about it.
He’d learned Tristan’s name only a few months ago, yet here he was, pondering four-letter words that began withL. But he felt uniquely comfortable with Tristan, comfortable in his kitchenandhis life.
And Tristan certainly liked watching him cook, so once the dough was ready, Jax turned it into a lesson, showing Tristan how to run it through the machine and create thin sheets, which he laid on the counter.
“It’s important not to overfill. I’d rather have more ravioli with less stuffing than busted ravioli.” Using a piping bag, he placed careful dollops of bacon-ricotta in even rows on one of the long stretches of dough. Taking the second piece, he slowly placed it over the top, moving at a turtle’s pace.
“You have to put this on carefully, get all the air pockets out. That’s the big secret, no air pockets.” Once the sheet was lowered, he patted his fingers around the lumps of filling, and then whipped out his fluted pastry wheel, cutting squares with decorative edges.
“How many times have you made this?” Tristan cleaned up behind him,intuitively helping and making the entire process easier.
“Hundreds,” Jax laughed, carefully adding ravioli to the boiling water. “It was going to be one of the entrées for my culmination dinner, that’s like a culinary school final, but…” Jax gestured at his back. “I was recovering from surgery while everyone was presenting. By the time I could fully walk again, it was too late to make everything up.” Jax hadn’t meant for the topic to get so heavy, but it was nice to casually talk about these things. It didn’t leave him vulnerable; it left him lighter, as if he had to let them go to make room in his heart and mind for Tristan.
“That doesn’t sound fair.” Tristan’s frown of concern was strangely cute.
“It wasn’t. But I was too tired and poor to fight it. And it hasn’t held me back from working.”
