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Casey looked a little startled at Dev shortening his name, but he didn’t pull away. “At this point, I’d settle for anything that’s marginally edible.”
Dev released Casey’s shoulders and grabbed his hand. “Then come on. We’ll clean up first, but I spotted some peaches in there that were way out of the line of fire. We’re gonna make rustic fruit tarts.”
“We?” Casey let Dev draw him back into the summer kitchen. “You mean you’ll help?”
“Why not? I’m not exactly a Michelin-starred chef, but I can put together a decent meal when I have to.”
“But if I don’t make it myself, does it count?”
“Do you enjoy cooking by yourself?”
Casey shuddered. “No.”
Placing a finger under Casey’s chin, Dev lifted his face enough to gaze into those hazel eyes that were nearly amber in this light. “Do you think you’d like doing it with me?”
Casey's pupils dilated. “D-doing it with you?”
Dev leaned closer and murmured into Casey’s ear. “Cooking, Casey. I’m talking about cooking.”
That delectable flush painted Casey’s cheeks. “Oh. Right.” He stepped back. “If I must cook, I’d rather do it with somebody else, I guess. As long as you go into this with your eyes open.” He pointed to the Armageddon on his workstation. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Dev grinned. “You don’t scare me. I run the monthly town meetings. Nothing could produce more carnage than Kat and Sylvia snarking at each other over the coffee urn. Besides, you’re not the first student whose work required fire extinguisher intervention. Follow me.”
After a half hour’s work with rubber gloves and a bucket of hot soapy water, Tomato and Avocado were back in fighting trim. Nevertheless, after he’d set the bucket outside for safe disposal of the tainted water, Dev headed for Peach, at the opposite end of the room.
“How are your food processor skills?”
“Food processor?” Casey sidled nearer. “For what?”
“For the tart crust.”
Casey’s brows drew together. “Isn’t that cheating? Aren’t you supposed to”—he made pinching motions with his fingers—“work the cold butter into the flour with your hands?”
“In my book, if you’ve got a tool that’ll do the job faster and easier, why not use it?”
Casey snorted. “Said my father precisely never.”
Dev paused with the flour canister in his hands. “Casey. Your father’s gone. Whatever he told you in the past, however he made you feel, none of that is relevant anymore. We’re making rustic fruit tarts. They’re not going to be perfect. They’re not going to be fancy. But trust me when I say that they’ll be delicious, and that’s all that really matters right now.” He plonked the flour on the counter. “Now, measure out a cup and a half of that into the food processor bowl.”
Casey frowned. “Shouldn’t we do it by weight to be more precise?”
“Rustic, remember? Just fluff the flour with a fork, scoop it into the measuring cup, level it off, and call it good.”
“Okay.” The way Casey drew out the word made his skepticism clear. “If you say so. But on your head be it.”
Casey had to admit that Dev’s method of making tart crust was a lot more enjoyable than the way his father had declared was the only way to do it. For one thing, Dev had been standing at Casey’s shoulder, murmuring, “Pulse. Pulse. Again.” until the flour and butter had reached the correct consistency.
While Casey had visions of other ways he’d like to pulse with Dev, he couldn’t help the little bloom of satisfaction when they’d wrapped the dough in plastic and set it to chill. It had looked exactly like his dad’s dough and had taken much less time and effort.
“Now,” Dev said as he closed Peach’s fridge door. “How are your knife skills?”
Casey gestured to the knife block with a flourish. “Sylvia has actually given me a passing grade—not an A, but a B+—so I feel like I can meet your expectations.”
Dev’s soft smile perked Casey’s cock up again, right after he’d gotten it under control from all the pulse-ing. “The only expectations I’ve got are for you to have a good time. Is it working?”
I’ll tell you how I could have a good time… But Casey nodded rather than blurting out inappropriate comments.
“Good. Could you fill that bowl halfway with ice and top it off with cold water?”
