“Sure, I have rice.”
“Shrimp.” The man handed over the wrapped-up package. “Enjoy your dinner.”
He nodded and grinned, doing a little impromptu soft shoe. “Merci. Gonna. How about veggies? What all do you have, cher?”
Kyle took his arm as they headed to the register. “Um. Usual prep stuff? Onions, peppers, garlic, celery, spinach, mushrooms… I grow some herbs—parsley, oregano, basil, mint. What do you need?”
“’Sides that? A little bit of spices and some butter and flour to roux it up.” Oh, he was fixin’ to make Kyle’s house smell like home.
“You want me to get that?” Kyle pulled out a leather wallet. “You’re a rent-paying New York musician now.”
“We split it, hmm? Down the middle.” The room had to be cheaper than the hotel, so he had to be better off today than yesterday.
“Sure, baby. Down the middle.” Kyle handed him cash. “I think I’ll have the spices you need. If I’m missing anything, I can run up the street.”
“Works.” He found a lemon and grabbed it, then paid for the food. “Feels like forever since I got to cook, cher.”
“I’m excited. I can’t remember the last time anyone besides me cooked in my kitchen. You’ll let me help? I’m an excellent sous-chef.” Kyle led him out, a happy little skip in his step.
“’Course. It’s way more fun together.” Cooking was a joint effort.
“That’s what I think.”
It was a very quick trip back on the subway. One of these days, he’d figure out why and when you took the bus, or the subway, or an Uber, or your feet in this city. Right now it was all just getting around.
Kyle let him in, then followed him to the kitchen. “I think I need a snack and a glass of wine. You?”
“Surely do.” That sounded perfect, in fact. A bite and chopping and drinking.
“Hummus okay?” Kyle started pulling things out and spreading them on the kitchen table—a garlicky hummus and pretzel sticks, a couple of cheeses, crackers, a bunch of grapes. And then a glass of dark red wine appeared in front of his eyes.
“Oh. Oh, I have this at Angeli’s. So good.” He loved to try new things, taste them. He stole a grape and popped it into his mouth. Uhn.
“Angeli is a person or a place?” Kyle took a bite of the cheese and followed it with a big sip of wine.
“Restaurant. Made it through the storm.” So many hadn’t.
“Wow. You were there for that, huh? The pictures we saw up here….” Kyle shook his head, and warm fingers touched his arm. “So devastating.”
“Yeah.” He had been in Houma with his mamma, but his daddy hadn’t made it out the other side of it. They’d lost some—less than others, but some.
Kyle watched him, Colt felt the stare, and then leaned in and kissed him. “Whoever they were, they knew you loved them.” Kyle patted his shoulder, moved to the refrigerator, and pulled out some peppers.
He nodded. If Daddy hadn’t then, he did now. He ate some cheese, then started cleaning shrimps, keeping heads and shells for broth.
“How do you want these veggies cut? Little pieces? Bigger chunks?” Kyle pulled out a cutting board and a good chopping knife, then played with the phone on the counter and music filled the kitchen.
“Mmm. Chop ’em up nice and fine. I’ll get the stock going.”
“You got it.” Kyle set to dicing up the veggies, dancing a little and singing bits of the music. It didn’t take long to fill a bowl with onion, celery, and peppers, all diced up nice.
They cooked together, making stock and stirring the roux. They sipped the wine and sang and stole long, lazy kisses.
“It smells so good.” Kyle leaned closer to the pot and breathed in. “Mmm. And looks beautiful too.”
“It does. We’ll cook the fish and the rice, and we’ll be eating.” He was tickled as all get-out. “Thank you, huh? This is… this is a good thing, a soul-deep thing.”
“You’re welcome.” Kyle nodded, pupils big in his hazel eyes. “Thisisa soul-deep thing, it’s true. Thank you for sharing it with me.”