Not that Zayne would ever tell Ethan that.
“So, where’d you learn to cook like this, Red?” he asked. “It’s rare to be an executive chef at your age, is it not?”
“It is…but not unheard of.” Chloé started to look through the cupboards then, and Zayne got the distinct impression she was stalling. “Oh good.” She pulled out a cast-iron skillet and placed it on the stove. “I was hoping you guys had one of these.”
“Chloé?” Ethan said.
“Yes.”
“Where did you learn to cook the way you do?”
Her eyes shifted between Ethan and Zayne, and then she said something that neither one of them expected: “My fathers taught me.”
IT WASN’T OFTEN that Ethan was caught off guard. In fact, it was a very rare occasion. But…
Her fathers had taught her to cook?
“Your parents are gay?” Zayne voiced Ethan’s question before he had a chance to, and judging by his tone, he was just as blown away as Ethan was.
“They are, yes.” She chuckled. “All three of them.”
“Three of them?”
Ethan was doing his level best to process the information.
“I know.” She aimed a cheeky smile their way. “It’s a little unusual.”
“I’ll say.” Zayne scoffed and looked at Ethan. “Usually, we’re the ones explaining things when talking about ourselves, right, Ethan?”
Ethan eyed Chloé. The twin spots of excited color on her cheeks relayed the fact that she knew this little nugget of information would knock them on their ass—and she was pretty pleased with herself.
“Right,” he said. “But things are definitely making more sense now.”
Her eyes shifted to him, mischief gleaming in them. “Oh yeah, like what?”
“Like your not batting an eye at wanting to be a third. Like the adamant refusal to call as any kind of fatherly name.” He shook his head. “Like the way you seemed to ease into an already formed bond. There’s no jealousy in you, just acceptance. And now it all makes sense.”
“I thought the same damn thing.” Zayne laughed. “But three fathers? Fuckin’ hell, Red. Should we be worried?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly for Ethan’s liking.
“No? So they wouldn’t mind that you’re here with us? That you signed a contract to be our—”
“What I mean is,” she interrupted, “we’re just having fun, right? Would you expect any of your other subs to tell their parents what they’re doing?”
“I expect my subs to let me finishing talking without cutting me off.” Ethan eyed her, and Chloé clicked her teeth shut. “We don’t expect, or need, you to tell your parents about us, no. But we also want to be sure we aren’t going to wake up in our bed with a shotgun in our faces.”
Chloé’s eyes widened.
“Is that a possibility?”
“No.” She shook her head. “My fathers wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, two of them.”
“Two of them?” Zayne snorted. “What about the third?”
Chloé ummed and aahed a little, and then shrugged. “He wouldn’t either, not really. And the other two would talk him out of it anyway.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “How reassuring.”
“Don’t worry.” She grinned at him. “I’ll protect you.”
Sassy little spitfire.
“So,” he said, moving on before he decided to forgo dinner and eat her instead. “They taught you to cook?”
“Yes, um, one of my fathers in particular loves to cook, and I’ve been in the kitchen with him since I could walk.”
“Wow.” Zayne sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. “He must be super proud.”
“He is. They all are.”
She didn’t elaborate further than that, and considering this was their first real night and meal together, Ethan figured it was time to ease up on the questioning a little. But before he did that, he had one more.
“This meal, is it something he taught you?”
“Oui, it is, actually.” Her eyes took on an almost wistful look, as did her smile, and for a second Ethan found himself envious of what was obviously a special memory with her father. He didn’t have many of those—and those he did faded more and more with every day that passed.
“Then we’re excited to try it. Do you have everything you need?”
“Hmm.” She looked over the ingredients and then screwed up her cute little nose. “Wine. Please tell me you have a bottle of white just lying around somewhere.”
“We have a whole cellar.” Ethan slipped off the stool. “What kind would you prefer?”
“Sauvignon Blanc, if you’ve got it?”
“That’s to cook with, not drink, right?” Zayne winked at her. “Can’t go getting a minor intoxicated now, can we?”
“It’s to cook with.” She poked her tongue out, and Ethan’s dick jerked at the cheeky move.
But before he did something stupid, like start round two, he kissed Zayne on the cheek then caught Chloé’s eye as he headed out of the kitchen. “One bottle of Sauvignon Blanc coming right up, chef.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I really need to stop dealing in half-truths.
Or I’m going to end up in a whole world of trouble.
~ Chloé
“ARE YOU SURE you don’t want me to walk you in?”
It was Saturday afternoon, and Chloé glanced between the two gorgeous men in the front seats of the black Escalade. Zayne was looking back at her expectantly.
“Nope, I’m fine. I can walk today…surprisingly.”
He chuckled and looked to Ethan, who was behind the steering wheel. “Why does that feel like we failed?”
“We didn’t fail.” Ethan caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “We’re just easing her in slowly. Plus, we can’t hinder her day job.”
Ahh yes, her day job….
Chloé looked out the window to the curb in front of JULIEN where they’d pulled up, and thanked God for whoever invented tinted windows. It meant she could hide inside the SUV a little longer undetected.
She was on the lunch/dinner shift today with her père, and while she knew he would likely be in the kitchens, that didn’t account for her dad or even Justin, who more than likely would be somewhere in the main dining rooms.
She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to remind herself that they didn’t stand at the window and wait for her arrival. They probably wouldn’t even notice her getting out of a strange car that had two of the hottest men on the planet sitting inside of it.
It was fine. Everything was going to be fine.
“Okay, well, I better get going.” She reached for the handle, but before she could pull it, the locks engaged. Her eyes flew to the front seats, and before she could ask what was going on, Ethan pushed open the door and—Got. Out. Of. The. Car.
“What is he doing?” she said, her eyes darting from Zayne to Ethan, who was now—oh my God—opening her car door.