Page 37 of Dust and Desire
Dustin’s eyes widened and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Surprised?” I asked.
“I mean… a little I guess.”
“Does it bother you if I talk about my past?”
“N-no,” he said after a moment. “I’m kinda curious.”
I smiled. Most guys had a tendency to get jealous about that kind of stuff, but Dustin was just as sweet as could be.
“Well, I was twenty, and he had just turned fifty-one that summer when I signed on to help. At first, we were just friends, enjoying each other’s company. But something about the heat that summer drove us closer together. I remember the first time I stripped off my shirt while we were picking basil and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Then, when we were at the market, he’d brush against me or let me take sips from his beer instead of getting me my own. It was sweet and erotic in a way.” I glanced over at Dustin. “Up until that point all my relations had been quick hookups over apps or at bars. Nobody had eversavoredme before. It was such a turn on.”
The water had started to boil, and I dropped the fettuccine in, twisting my wrist at the last moment so that the pasta splayed out in a starburst.
“Nico, that was his name, invited me up to the house one night for dinner. The man loved to cook. He made all his own pasta, sauces, and pesto from scratch. He even had homemade cheese aging in the root cellar. The man was a genius in the kitchen. He taught me how to make some of the best food I’ve ever eaten that summer. And that first night he cooked for me…” I closed my eyes, remembering the pure pleasure I felt tasting his cooking. “Well, I couldn’t say thank you well enough. So, I kissed him.”
Dustin smiled, his chin resting in his palm as he leaned over the table. “That’s so romantic…”
“It was,” I nodded, dropping a handful of minced garlic into the pan of melted, hot butter. “For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. But when he leaned back and took my face in his hands, he just saidche bellissimo.”
“How beautiful…” Dustin translated with a sigh.
So, he knew a bit of Italian. That was definitely a turn on. I smiled, dipping the cut edge of the crusty bread I’d brought into the pan. I held it there, sopping up all the butter and garlic before transferring it to a sheet pan and slipping it into the oven. A quick check on the past said I had three minutes left until it was done. Time to make the sauce.
“Well,” I said, beginning to grate my Parmigiano Reggiano into fine shreds. “As you can imagine, it was areallygood summer after that. Nico was an incredible lover. Slow, sensitive, hung, and with a lifetime of experience. He played my body like a fine instrument and practically worshipped me in the bedroom. He continued to teach me to cook and by the time the end of the season came, I was starting to think he’d ask me to stay.” My smile faded as I added olive oil to the pan and a little more garlic. “But when my time came to leave, Nico didn’t try to stop me. Instead, he gave me a kiss, gifted me a small handwritten book filled with his recipes, and told me that he would always love me, but that I needed to go find my own happiness.”
I heard Dustin’s breath hitch. “What? He just let you go?” He paused, his eyes darting back and forth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here with me but… it sounds like you really loved him.”
“I did,” I nodded, smiling in an attempt to stop myself from crying. I began to transfer the pasta out of the pot straight into the pan of hot butter and garlic. “I was pretty heartbroken. And it wasn’t until a couple months later when I could finally open that recipe book that I realized why he’d let me go.” I scooped a ladle full of pasta water into the pan before I added my Parmigiano Reggiano and cracked black pepper. “He was dying, and he knew it.”
“No…” Dustin whispered, his hand going to his lips.
I nodded. “Cancer. And one that couldn’t be stopped. He knew his time was limited, and he didn’t want me there to see him fall.” I tossed the pan a few times, mixing everything together as a single tear rolled down my cheek. “He died that winter and I made the trip back to Georgia to attend the funeral.”
“That’s so sad…”
“It is,” I agreed, pulling the now toasty garlic bread from the oven. “But Nico told me in his letter that I was to go out and find someone to love, to live my life to the fullest in his memory.” I started slicing bread and filling plates, checking the simple flavors one last time. “And I’ve tried my best to do that every single day.”
I sprinkled some fresh parsley over the pasta before placing both plates on the table. Dustin got up to grab a pair of wine glasses and produced a bottle of Chardonnay that would pair perfectly with the pasta.
“Thank you for sharing that story,” he said, pouring a glass for each of us. “It’s… so beautiful. And intimate.”
“Thanks for letting me share it,” I smiled back, taking my seat still in nothing but a towel. “Most guys…” I immediately thought of Keith, my ex. “They don’t want to hear about that kind of stuff.”
“Well, good thing I’m not most guys then,” Dustin grinned, holding up his glass. “To Nico.”
I clinked my glass with his. “To Nico.”
We both took a drink before picking up our forks. I paused for a moment to watch Dustin take his first bite. He wound the creamy pasta around his fork and lifted it to his mouth. The moment he took the bite, he let out a small groan of pleasure.
“Oh my fucking god…” he sighed, seemingly on the verge of tears. “This… This is so good…”
“Be careful,” I grinned, pointing my piece of garlic bread in his direction. “Everyone thinks the way to a man’s heart is through his cock. I assure you it’s through his stomach.”
Dustin’s cheeks flushed as he stared at me, those blue eyes twinkling. “You might be right.”
My heart jumped at his words, and I couldn’t help smiling even wider. This shy, quiet man was going to wriggle his way into my heart if I wasn’t careful. And honestly… I was starting to think I wouldn’t mind one bit.
