Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 65370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“But are you qualified?” Riley asked.
“He needs an assistant, not another magician. I can learn on the job.”
“At least it should be interesting.”
Marc grinned. “And scenic.”
They both laughed.
“Mr. Magic Hands indeed,” Riley said.
“I’d like to test out those magic hands. And he’s cheeky; that crack about Thorne was awesome.”
“He’s just the sort of bastard you’d like to bend over his counter and take down a notch.”
“Fuck yes,” Marc agreed.
Riley wondered what Thorne would think of Marc working for Darius. What if they were a disaster together? Riley had no doubt they were going to fuck whether or not Darius hired Marc. If Riley hadn’t been there, Darius might have dragged Marc into the back room right then. At least it couldn’t be much worse than any of Marc’s other relationships. Whatever it was, they’d weather it. They always had.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The night of the gala was frigidly cold, at least for Atlanta. The weather forecast had threatened snow, but thank God, it hadn’t materialized.
Riley cursed his shaky hands as he and Susan scrambled to take care of the last few things that had to be prepared before they headed to the museum. The van Susan had gotten for the business was packed with everything else. Riley stared at the timer he’d set for the last batch of cupcakes, willing it to move faster.
Susan patted his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I hope so.”
He’d tried to talk himself out of his near-panic state, but nothing worked. He felt like his whole future depended on this night. If things went well and brought in more business, then Riley was going to quit school and get serious about finding a storefront; if only the current owner of the building by the tailor shop would rent to them…, not that they had the money for the necessary repairs/remodel even if they could get the space.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen told him it was Thorne. “Yes?”
“Catch you at a bad time?”
Riley realized how snappy he’d sounded. “We’ve got the last things in the oven, and I can barely stand the wait.”
“It’s going to be perfect,” Thorne insisted.
“Yeah. I want it to be. I… I should go.”
“Okay, I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading straight from the office to the museum. I’ll see you there.”
“We’ll be leaving here soon.”
“Okay. I love you.”
Riley smiled even though Thorne couldn’t see him. Those words were better than any reassurances he could offer. “I love you too.”
Susan pulled a pan out of the oven. “Was that Thorne being encouraging?”
“Yes. He also wanted me to know he’s going straight to the museum from his office.”
Susan studied Riley for a few moments. “You don’t look any less nervous.”
“Thorne having such confidence in me makes me feel more pressure. I’m not just any caterer that might screw up. I’m Thorne’s new half-his-age partner, and he just came out as gay a few months ago. If I fuck up, it will look terrible for him.”
“If anything goes wrong, I’m as much to blame as you are.”
“I…yeah, I mean… I’m sorry. I’m being really selfish. This business is your baby.”
Susan shook her head. “This business is ours. Without you, it wouldn’t exist.”
“But you’re the one who—”
“Noticed your talent? Lucky me. Don’t think for one minute that you’re less important to this operation than I am.”
Riley sighed. Thorne kept telling him similar things about his, or rather their home and their money. But Riley didn’t want to take credit for what wasn’t his.
“Riley, think about the food we’re serving. How much of it was your idea?”
At least two thirds of the recipes were ones he’d perfected while working around his escort schedule. He’d thought of his work in the kitchen as having fun, a way to relax. And it was fun. If he could quit being so fucking nervous, he could enjoy what they were doing.
Why was he so afraid to fully commit and let something be his? He had the life he’d always wanted—a real relationship, a home, a business—but now he was reluctant to accept it. It seemed too real, too much.
The timer rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Susan opened a large Tupperware and started filling it with the cupcakes. “I’ll hold these on my lap since we can’t put the lid on while they cool. We can ice them at the museum.”
They worked together to remove cupcakes from the pans, placing them carefully in the container. Riley loved how the two of them knew each other well enough to work without talking.
Most of the other students in Riley’s class were so competitive he could never relax around them. Working with Susan was comfortable, and they agreed on their food philosophy: everything should taste good and be made with love. Sticking to the second part hadn’t been easy tonight when they were both stressed out, but even so, Riley felt exhilaration as he cooked, mixed in with all the anxiousness.