Page 18 of Daddy's Christmas Elf
Eli removed the lid from the tub of fresh tomato sauce he’d use for the base, and sighed as he took a long, appreciative sniff. He’d have loved to have made his own, but a good base sauce took time, which they didn’t have. Next came the pears, ripe and juicy even in the midst of winter, which he cored and thinly sliced. Eli lost himself in the prep, contentment and ease rippling through his muscles which more often than not, recently, had been held tight and tense. The mounting problems of sharing with Benny and Lenny; the day job he was holding onto by a shoe string; the event work which was either cringe-inducing or downright humiliating, but which paid well — or had done until #ElfGate — all of it faded to nothing as he spread and sliced and chopped.
A bottle clunked down next to him, and he jumped.
“You’re miles away.” Grey wrapped his lips around the top of his own bottled beer, his eyes narrowing and trained on Eli as he tipped his head back and gulped.
Eli’s chest tightened, his throat constricted, and his mouth dried to dust. He grabbed up the bottle, his eyes watering as he forced a mouthful of the light, citrusy lager past the lump in his throat.
“Yeah,” he croaked, dragging his gaze away from Grey and back to the ingredients littering the work surface. “Cooking tends to make me go that way.” He blinked at the lined-up elements of the pizza he wanted to wow Grey with, but just now the wowing was definitely on the other foot.
Grey pulled a stool up and sat down at the end of the huge island. Eli glanced across as Grey’s legs fell apart slightly as he hooked his feet around the metal legs of the stool. The kitchen was warm, and Grey had peeled his jumper off, leaving just his T-shirt to hug his broad, built torso.
Stop it, just stop it…
Grey was helping him out of a very awkward patch, and things would get a lot more awkward for him if Grey caught him looking at, staring, ogling, salivating over his body that was way more mouthwatering than the pizza he needed to concentrate on.
“Pear? On a pizza? I thought the pear was maybe for afters.”
Eli swallowed. A pear wasn’t his idea ofafters. He shoved the dangerous thought aside.
“It works,” Eli said, his voice way groggier than it should have been. “Just have faith in me. Pear on pizza…”
The rest of Eli’s words died, and it took every ounce of effort to push down on the whimper that fought to escape his throat as Grey leaned across and snagged a piece of the thinly sliced fruit, its juice running down his fingers which he sucked clean, letting go of each digit with a wet smack.
Oh, fuck…Eli rearranged the long white chef’s apron, an apron belonging to a man who by his own admission hardly cooked, thankful it was loose and long enough to hide the sweetly painful bulge pushing out the front of his jeans. He shuffled in closer to the worktop, its edge pushed in against his stomach. Just to be safe, just to be sure.
“I do, as far as the pizza’s concerned. I think. I always have the same thing. Cheese and tomato. A little unimaginative, I suppose.”
Eli barked out a laugh, releasing the heat that had built up inside of him. “If it’s what you like, and a good cheese and tomato is a wonderful thing, but I think you could use a bit more flavour in your life, don’t you?”
“Yes, I think you’re right.” Grey’s lips twisted into a smile, but there was no trace of humour, only sadness tinged with resignation. The laughter on Eli’s lips faded. Grey looked away as he took a long draught of his lager. Whatever question Grey had been answering, it had nothing to do with pizza.
Eli busied himself with checking the oven temperature and quickly assembled the pizza, spreading the rich and tangy tomato sauce over the base, before scattering the sliced pears across the top and then finishing off with chunks — and plenty of them — of salty Gorgonzola cheese.
“This one’s a bit more traditional,” Eli said with a grin, as he repeated the process with the second base, adding oily sun blushed tomatoes from a small tub and finishing it with torn pieces of mozzarella before adding a generous drizzle of olive oil and salt and pepper.
“For my bland palette, you mean?” Grey raised his brows, as though challenging Eli to contradict him.
Eli titled his head. “There’s nothing bland about you.”
Grey’s brows lifted higher, and Eli beat back the squirm that slithered to escape him. “What I mean is—”
“That my tastes run to the more traditional, hmm? Is that what you think?” Grey’s lips lifted in a secret smile as his eyes narrowed.
“Erm…” Heat washed through Eli’s face, and pulsed in his groin. He felt disorientated and wrong footed, as though there was something his head wasn’t getting but his body was. Whatever they were talking about, he didn’t think it had much to do with pizza toppings.
“But maybe I’m ready for something different.” Grey got up and began to gather the tubs and bottles and packets littering the worktop. “I’ll clear up and you get the pizzas in the oven.”
Eli nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Grey set plates and cutlery at the table, and a couple more bottled lagers appeared. Within minutes, the pizzas were ready and Eli got them out of the oven. Cutting them into generous sized slices, Eli placed them onto a large serving platter Grey had ready for him. Eli’s stomach rumbled as he breathed in the rich savoury tang of the food. The cheese and tomato was ready to eat, but the other had two more ingredients to be added. Before heading to the table, Eli pulled out the additions from the shopping bag.
“Walnuts and honey? On a pizza?” Grey peered at the packet of plain nuts and the bottled honey as though they were alien beings which needed to be backed away from, and fast.
“They’re what make this pizza special. Believe me.”
Eli didn’t give Grey a chance to say no, as he scattered pieces of walnut over the melted Gorgonzola-topped pizza and then drizzled the honey over it all.
“Salt and sweet, creamy and sharp. The perfect flavour combo.”
