Page 45 of Love It or List It
He stepped away from the stove to dish up breakfast for his three- and four-legged babies.Walker and Dallas abandoned their perches immediately and without grace as soon as Joe opened the can.
Joe had a plateful of pancakes warming in the oven by the time Austin shuffled into the kitchen, looking for all the world like Joe had made good on every fantasy he’d had this morning.
Which Joe definitely could not think about right now, as he stood in loose boxers and sweats.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Joe’s mouth said, apparently better at faking coherency than the rest of him.
“Morning,” Austin mumbled.He blinked at Joe and the skillet.“Did you make pancakes?”
“Yes, because cold nights deserve pancake mornings.”He took a plate from a cupboard and used the kitchen tongs he’d brought from his place to deposit some breakfast upon it.“And because I have big plans for the day.”
Joe remembered too late that they didn’t have any maple syrup, still dealing with a kitchen that had only recently become functional and thus an incomplete pantry, but this didn’t perturb Austin, who opened the fridge and withdrew a jar of homemade raspberry jam Linda had bequeathed him when he fixed the heater in her car the week before.
Austin rattled in the drawer behind Joe for a fork and knife.“Plans?”
Joe could feel the sleep warmth radiating off of him, caught the faint whiff of sweat, and immediately stuck his face back over the frying pan.He was flying by the seat of his pants here, but he knew the old saying about idle hands.He might not believe in the devil, but his hands or his eyes would definitely wander all over Austin if he left them idle.He just needed to keep busy until he could get some time to himself and give his hands a more appropriate and helpful job to do.
“I figured we’ve been working pretty hard on the house, and it looks great.Kitchen’s done, right?We’ve got some cleaning up to do, and we need to grab some more furniture, but we’re totally on track for hosting Christmas.”He paused as he worked himself up to the point, suddenly realizing how perfect it was.“So we should do a test run of the kitchen, make sure everything’s up to par.Call it a celebration dinner.”
Austin hopped up on the counter beside him.Joe wanted to scold him—Were you raised in a barn?—but he bit his tongue on it in time.The words sounded like his mother.Besides, that remark would’ve hit way too close to the truth.
It wasn’t like Joe even minded Austin sitting on the counter, except now he was looking at Austin’s bare feet tapping against the cupboards and feeling like a repressed Victorian.
Austin shoveled in a forkful of pancake and then spoke with his mouth full, which broke the spell before Joe could burn the latest batch.“We worked our asses off getting the house ready, so you want to work our asses off on a fancy dinner?”
“Shut up.I like cooking.”This would totally work.Joe downed half his cup of coffee.Caffeine was integral to this plan.“It’s like… relaxing.Not all the time, just sometimes.”
“Well, your pancakes pass the test, at least.I’m in.”
Joe tipped the last few onto a plate for himself, added a slathering of jam, and debated.He could go sit in the dining room like a civilized person.
He hopped up onto the counter next to Austin instead, then reached down and pulled open the cutlery drawer for his own fork.“Okay, let’s talk menu.You like Italian?”
Austin dragged a pancake through a smear of jam.“You mean like pasta?”
“I was thinking more like—veal parm?Or do you like seafood?I make a pretty good seafood linguine, but it can be tricky getting good-quality fresh ingredients.I’d definitely have to drive into Windsor for groceries.I can probably get the veal at Schinkel’s in town, though.Or I could do chicken marsala and a mushroom risotto—”
“I don’t know what half of this stuff is.”
Ah.Well, not everyone grew up in an Italian family that loved to cook.Joe awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.“Are there foods you don’t like?”
Austin hopped off the counter and put his plate in the sink, plugged the drain, ran the hot water.“I’m not big on seafood.I think I could be, just never… had much.”
Translation—shrimp and mussels were expensive, not the kind of thing you’d make for yourself as a treat unless you already knew you liked it.
That was fine with Joe; he didn’t really want to drive all the way to Erie Street anyway.“Mushrooms are okay, though?Rice, butter, cream…?”A horrible thought occurred to him.“You’re not lactose intolerant, are you?”
Austin looked up from adding soap to the sink.“You’ve seen me eat pizza.”
Joe sagged in relief.“Okay.Good.I’ll make a shopping list, then.How do you feel about tiramisu?”
Austin blinked at him.“What’s tiramisu?”
It took everything in Joe not to gasp in horror.
Austin grinned.“I had you going, didn’t I?”
“Fuck off,” Joe laughed.“Tiramisu or biscotti?Or maybe cannoli?”
