“I need Grandma’s recipe for tiramisu, the one she made every Christmas.”
“Is Riley going to make it for you?” Kathryn asked.
“No, I’m going to make it for him.”
It had taken Kathryn quite a while to recover from her laughing fit.
“What’s that Italian place you love? Why don’t you get some there?”
He wasn’t going to be talked out of this. “No. This is his present.”
“Thorne—”
“Just send me the damn recipe.”
“Okay. Let me know how it turns out.” She could barely get the words out through her giggles.
Despite his sister’s reaction and what he’d told Riley about his cooking skills, Thorne had been confident that if he studied hard enough, he could make anything. He’d watched tutorials, read the recipe over and over again, and googled something about almost every step.
It was a disaster. What the hell was the deal with custard anyway? How did anyone make it without getting little bits of cooked egg in it or having it scorch on the bottom of the pan or…any of the other nasty things that he’d done to it? His apartment smelled like burned sugar, and he’d been forced to open some windows despite the fact that it was freezing out.
Finally, he’d given up and made a cheaters’ version, using instant pudding. At the last second, on Christmas Eve afternoon, he’d begged Salvadora at Molto Bella to sell him a pan of her tiramisu. After he showed Riley his pitiful effort, they could eat the good stuff.
Now Riley would be there any minute. Thorne paced his apartment. He fucking hated being so nervous. Had he done the right thing by not buying him an expensive gift? If he’d thought Riley would have accepted them, he would have showered him with an endless line of presents. Relationships were fucking hard.
The intercom buzzed, making him jump. “Mr. Dashwood is here.”
“Thank you. Send him up.”
Thorne took a long, slow breath and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Don’t screw this up. He had the sense this was a make-or-break moment. Either he and Riley moved forward or they didn’t.
Knock! Knock! Riley’s two sharp raps. Thorne walked to the door. Stay calm.
He opened the door and stared. Riley was holding a large paper bag, and he had a tote slung over his shoulder, but Thorne barely spared a second to wonder what he’d brought with him, because Riley was wearing a battered leather jacket and a shirt under it that clung to his body. His jeans were Thorne’s favorite ones, worn and so tight they hugged right up against Riley’s balls.
He swept his gaze back up Riley’s body and swallowed. “You look amazing.”
Riley grinned. “Thanks, I was hoping this wasn’t a dress-up affair.”
“No dressing up necessary.” No clothes necessary at all. Thorne almost said those words out loud but stopped himself. “Come in,” he said, stepping back.
Riley walked past him and set the paper bag on the kitchen counter. “I brought some leftovers from Susan’s since you never have food.”
“I’ve gotten better.” Not much, but a little.
He set the other bag down on the floor by the bar. “What’s in that one?” Thorne asked.
“Something for later.” Riley’s wicked smile made Thorne wonder if he’d brought some toys like he used to.
“Would you like coffee?”
“Sure. I’ll make some.”
Thorne held up his hand. “No. I’ll make it. You have a seat.”
“You make coffee now? You have changed.”
Thorne smiled. “Yes, I have.”
After Thorne got the coffee started, he joined Riley on the couch. A wrapped box sat on the table in front of him. Riley must have gotten it from his bag while Thorne was busy.
“This is for you,” Riley said, his voice slightly shaky.
Thorne hadn’t expected Riley to bring him anything. “You didn’t—”
“I wanted to.”
“Should I open it now?”
“Yes. If you want to.”
Thorne took the box. He caressed the shiny silver paper. He knew that no other present he received that year—or possibly any other—would mean as much as whatever was in this box.
He pulled the paper away carefully.
“I should have known you wouldn’t rip the paper.”
Thorne smiled. “No, not even as a child. You tear right into gifts, though, don’t you?”
Riley laughed. “I do. I like to get into things as fast as I can.”
Thorne’s cock responded to those words as if they were talking about far more than gifts. Thorne opened the box. A T-shirt lay on top. There was a picture of a sailboat on the front and the words Work like a captain, Play like a pirate. He lifted it and held it up to himself. “Oh my God, I love it.”
“You said you thought you’d buy a boat next spring so…”
“Riley, this is awesome. Where did you find it?”
“One of Susan’s friend’s sails, and she directed me to a shop that has sailing equipment and gifts.” He gestured toward the box. “There’s something else in there.”