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Ty scoffed. “Not me. I’m happy on my own. Anyway, sex is overrated.” He tapped the box with one finger. “Look at the trouble my patients get in because of it. But you?” He knelt down and lowered the box so Randolph Scott could inspect the kittens. “You aren’t meant to fly solo.”
Dev snorted at Ty’s comment as well as at Randolph Scott’s expression of outraged betrayal. “I tried the duo flight once. Didn’t work out.”
“It didn’t work out because Nash Tambling is a fucking narcissistic diva with a much higher opinion of his own talent than it deserves. Casey seems like someone who isn’t blinded by the glow of his own self-importance. He’s nice.” Ty waggled his eyebrows. “And has an ass even finer than Kenny’s.”
Dev peered down at him, eyebrows climbing. “You’re checking out Kenny’s ass?”
Ty stood up again and tucked the box of kittens under his arm. “I told you. I can enjoy the scenery even when I have no desire to do anything about it. Besides, Kenny is off-limits.”
“Why? Because he’s practically our brother?”
“Because, oh oblivious one, he’s already taken.” Ty walked up the steps to the clinic, leaving Dev standing with his jaw sagging.
“Kenny’s seeing somebody? Who? How did I not know this?” Ty didn’t turn around, so Dev raised his voice. “Is the guy good enough for him? He’s not good enough. He can’t be good enough. That’s why you didn’t say anything.”
Ty stood in the open door. “If Kenny wants you to know, he’ll tell you. Now go home. You’ve got a boarder to ogle.” He stepped inside and shut the door.
“I don’t ogle,” Dev muttered. He took Randolph Scott’s mew as agreement and stalked off down East Road, cutting through the Historical Society side yard to Main Street with Randolph Scott trotting along at his heels. “Although if I did,” he said to the cat, “Casey would be a prime candidate.”
He came out onto the sidewalk next to the Market just as Casey was trotting down its steps, a to-go cup in his hands. His steps slowed when he spotted Dev and his eyes widened, a blush painting his cheeks.
Shit. Heat rushed up Dev’s throat too. Had Casey heard Dev talking to the cat about him? How about did he hear me talking to the cat, full stop?
“G-good morning.” Casey lifted his cup. “I was just fortifying myself with a latte for my first day in Summer Kitchen.”
Dev winced. “Shit. I didn’t give you the house orientation last night, did I?” He’d been so fixated on, well, not fixating, that he’d completely neglected his duties to Casey as a Harrison House guest. “You’ve got free use of the House kitchen. Since you’re the only one staying there now, the fridge is all yours, and the pantry—”
“Don’t worry.” Casey took a sip of his latte. “I found the House manual when I was snooping. That’s a great idea, by the way, having all the information collected and accessible like that.”
“Thanks. That was my mom’s idea, actually.” Dev chuckled despite the usual pang under his heart over his mother’s absence. “She got tired of everybody asking her where the sugar was.”
“Well, she deserves a medal.”
“She did.”
Casey blinked up at Dev. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was—”
“She’s not.” When Casey flinched at the sharpness of Dev’s tone, Dev cringed himself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. Mom’s not gone. I mean, she’s gone from Home, but still living.” Maybe someday Dev could convince her to come back, if only during the summer. After Garlan and Grandfather’s accident, coming so soon after the one that led to the Inn’s closing, she’d declared she never wanted to see ice and snow again. Dev cleared his throat. “You heading back to the house?”
“To the summer kitchen, yes.” He began edging down the sidewalk. “I should probably get moving. Wouldn’t want to be late.”
Dev fell into step beside Casey, who blushed even rosier before shifting his gaze to his feet. “Nervous about your first day?”
“You have no idea.” Casey clutched his cup in both hands, cradling it against his chest. “This whole thing has disaster written all over it.”
“What whole thing?” Dev bristled a bit. If Casey was talking about Home…
“The whole thing where I’m supposed to become a Michelin-worthy chef in three months.” He gazed around at Main Street, with its retro streetlamps and wide greensward dotted with maples and wooden benches. “If I never had to actually cook anything, this would be like heaven.”
Dev frowned. “Wait a minute. You have to do what?”
“You heard me.” Casey heaved a sigh. “You ever heard of Donald Friel?”
“The chef?” When Casey nodded, Dev smacked his forehead. “Friel. Casey Friel. You’re related?”
Casey nodded. “His son. His flagship restaurant closed after his heart attack. Having the chef drop dead in the middle of dinner service has a deleterious effect on reservations. Go figure. But my uncle, who’s Dad’s twin, is determined to reopen it with the same menu and another Friel at the helm. In other words—” He pointed to himself, wrinkling his nose, which was… ridiculously adorable. “—me. Apparently, it’s a publicity goldmine. Or it will be until the diners get a taste of my cooking.”
They’d reached Harrison House, and Casey hesitated by the front steps.
