CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Miles had never understood why people committed themselves and their hearts by falling in love. It had always seemed like a very risky proposition with a lot to lose and very little to gain.

But somehow, the morning was better when he and Evan woke up together, both smiling bashfully, and the sun brighter as they sat on the hill by the Castello di Amorosa and nibbled at meat and cheese that Miles had spent too much money for at Dean & Deluca.

Even the champagne was more effervescent on his tongue as they did a tasting at Domaine Carneros.

He’d gone to bed almost certain that Evan would wake up and the emotional wall blocking Miles out would be back in place, but to his own surprise, he’d watched the whole day as Evan worked to keep it down.

Miles could tell that it didn’t come naturally, but his heart was nearly bursting at how hard Evan was trying to make things work between them. They would probably never be able to avoid a power struggle—even for a laid-back guy, Miles had difficulty relinquishing control, which he knew was a bad habit he’d picked up in the restaurant kitchens he’d worked in—but there could be spice in a little day-to-day friction.

The most important thing was that Evan understood that Miles was in this for the duration. He was done cutting and running; he was done pretending anything other than this partnership had been life-altering.

But even through the great afternoon, Miles had wondered in the back of his mind about what Evan had insisted last night.

There was no way that Xander felt that way about him and he’d somehow missed it. Miles knew he wasn’t the most observant person in the world, especially about relationships, but surely Xander couldn’t have liked him that way without Miles realizing. They’d lived and worked together for years.

It was impossible.

And yet Miles couldn’t dismiss it completely. Not because he was at all tempted to ditch Evan for Xander—but because it didn’t feel right to come up here and flaunt his new relationship, all while his friend was hurting.

He needed to know. So he kissed Evan goodbye at the hotel, told him to take a long soak in the tub, said he’d be back before they needed to leave for dinner, and headed to Terroir to confront Xander before the dinner service started.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be blinding the whole Valley with your annoying PDA?” Xander sneered as he added finishing touches to the sauces at his station.

He had a magic touch with sauces that even Bastian Aquino didn’t have—not that the head chef ever would have admitted that. But Xander had been doing the sauces very early on in his tenure at Terroir and that only could mean one thing.

“Come in the dining room in a few hours, and I’m sure we could oblige you,” Miles said. He wasn’t technically supposed to be in the kitchens since he didn’t work here anymore, but he’d left on good terms, and he didn’t think anyone would kick him out. Maybe.

He shoved his hands in his black pants. “Why are you so angry?” he asked Xander point blank, because he needed to make this quick before anyone saw him, and also because he was sick of fucking around. Love had definitely shown him how vital it was to value what was really important.

“Nature? Habit? Preference?” Xander paused. “Take your pick, and then get out of this kitchen. You don’t work here anymore.”

“Here’s the thing, Xander, you’re not mad at everyone like you’re mad at me. And it’s new, since I left. So what’s the deal? You’re angry I moved on and left Napa? Left Terroir?”

Xander’s aborted, angry hand movements told Miles only part of the story. He needed to know why Xander was so pissed.

“You’ve always been free to do whatever the fuck you wanted,” Xander said.

“It was all me, you know that right? I was bored as fuck here, you know that, I know you do.” Miles didn’t like how defensive he sounded but maybe he was feeling guiltier than he liked over Xander’s anger.

Xander’s feelings weren’t entirely his problem, but maybe they were a little his fault.

“Not everything is about you.” Xander’s knife flew over a bundle of chives. Then basil. Then Italian parsley. He was just about finished with the sauces, and then the dinner service would begin. Xander was an asshole, but he was a punctual asshole.

In five minutes, the line would be crowded with chefs. Miles tried not to panic and threw his Hail Mary pass. “Evan said that you were in love with me, and that’s why you were angry I left.”

Xander’s eyes flew to his, shocked and belligerent. But he didn’t deny it. “Evan is a nosy bastard. That might seem cute now, but you’ll get sick of it. You can’t take high maintenance and he’s the King of High Maintenance Land.”

“Are you?”

Xander slapped his knife down on his cutting board, sifting tiny circles of chives onto the floor. “Why does it matter?”

Miles was torn between strangling him and hugging him. “It matters.”

“I wasn’t in love with you, you egotistical bastard. Did I think . . . maybe? Maybe once or twice? Sure.” Xander furiously stirred the mustard sauce he’d made his own since starting at Terroir. Miles had seen him make it a thousand times since they’d met, and it occurred to him suddenly that he wouldn’t ever see him make it again.

And even though leaving this place had felt easy and like the right thing to do, emotion suddenly strangled him.

“Life is about change, Xander,” Miles said softly, when he thought he could speak without embarrassing himself. “And we would have been a flaming disaster. You know that too.”

“And?” Xander snapped. “It’s not like you and Prince Charming have had an easy go of it so far.”

“No, but we’re getting there.” He paused. “Xander, please. Don’t hate me. In six months or six years, you’re going to realize that you’re done here too, and you’ll leave.”

“Maybe.” Xander’s testy tone had faded a little. Not much, but enough to give Miles hope.

“I know you’re not going to be happy making Bastian Aquino’s sauces for him your entire career. You’re too talented for that, and you know it.”

“I do.” Xander stirred basil into another saucepan, and Miles realized with a pang that he didn’t even know this sauce. It had been invented since he’d been gone. And that hurt more than he could have dreamt.

“Moving on is hard, but it’s worth it. There’s a whole life you can experience when you open your eyes.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to be up here, pining after your sorry ass.” But Xander flashed a bright, quicksilver smile and it was enough that Miles knew he’d done the right thing coming here and talking to him.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Miles retorted fondly. “It’s not that good of an ass.”

Xander chuckled. “Get out of here before Aquino sees you and does something terrible.”

“Throws me out?” Miles asked.

“No, forces you back into an apron.”

“Did you go talk to Xander?” Evan asked, forcing his voice to remain light and casual. He shouldn’t care if Miles had gone to talk to his friend; it had been the right thing to do to clear the air. It had just been impossible for Evan to think of the conversation without the very slightest waver of concern.

Miles and Xander had known each other for years. Xander was a great chef, talented and intense, probably the sort of person that Miles had always imagined he’d end up with.

He definitely couldn’t have foretold that he’d end up falling for someone like Evan.

Even Evan, who’d secretly been harboring a little crush after spending so many hours watching Pastry by Miles, couldn’t have predicted it. It still felt very new and like a significant bump could derail it.

Of course, if the last three weeks hadn’t stopped it from happening, then he should consider their relationship inevitable.

“I talked to him, yeah. Everything’s good,” Miles said, sitting on the bed next to Evan, resting a hand on his knee casually like it didn’t still cause fireworks to explode under Evan’s skin. He was never going to get used to touching so casually; each touch still felt momentous and important.

Evan told himself that it was in Miles’ nature to share less and his own to be inquisitive. He still couldn’t help himself from asking, “Did he admit to it?”

“Not exactly. But I think he’ll be okay.”

Evan felt like a terrible person for not caring if Xander would be okay. Of course Miles did; Evan still felt too threatened to be so selfless.

“What are we doing for dinner?” Evan asked brightly, changing the subject. The last thing Miles needed was to find out that he felt unsure still, especially unsure about Xander. Especially because Miles himself had given Evan zero reasons to be concerned.

It wasn’t Miles’ fault that Evan was, and would probably be for some time to come, a neurotic, insecure mess.

“I want to take you somewhere special,” Miles said, his soulful gaze making Evan’s heartbeat skip.

“You know,” he giggled a little self-consciously, “I never imagined you were such a romantic.”

Miles smiled. “Oh, yeah, you did. You dreamed about it.”

This was so completely accurate Evan blushed.

“Does that mean you’re going to let me spoil you?” Miles asked.

“Spoiled how?” Evan told himself firmly not to be apprehensive because wasn’t that what every lonely, miserable boy of twelve that nobody gave two shits about dreamed about? Someone making an effort? Someone trying to impress them even if it wasn’t particularly hard?

Why then was it so hard for Evan to accept?

If Evan had ever been able to open up to a therapist—and he had tried but therapists wanted you to talk about yourself and he never could—he was sure they would have been able to tell him why. As it was, Evan had his suspicions.

“I’m going to take you to the best restaurant in Napa,” Miles said.

Evan had a sudden, horrified thought that he knew exactly what Miles meant. “You’re taking me to Terroir.”

Miles blushed. “I did say the best restaurant in Napa.”

“I’m not sure your ego is going to fit through the doorway,” Evan teased. It was easier to poke fun than to face what Miles was trying to do.

He couldn’t think about it without his hand trembling, so he reached over and gripped Miles’ hand hard.

“You’re gonna love it,” Miles promised, eyes soft, like he knew exactly what had Evan reaching for him like a lifeline.

It would have been so natural for Evan to just say back, “I love you,” because he was pretty damn sure he did. Miles had hardly made a secret of his own feelings, but they still felt so inexplicable to Evan.

Evan kissed him instead, hard and hot, both a promise for later and as a replacement for everything he couldn’t say. Yet, he swore to himself, but even Evan didn’t have a clue when he’d be able to.

If Evan had imagined that they might be treated any differently because Miles had worked at Terroir, he was incredibly wrong.

From what he could see, the same excruciatingly perfect service was given to every guest as they checked in at the gracious patio that served as the open-air waiting room. Vines dripping with grapes wrapped around the wood beams, arcing over their heads as they waited for their table to be ready.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Miles asked.

If going to wine tastings had been intimidating, it was nothing compared to standing at the entrance to the throne room of American dining. Did he want a glass of wine? Evan thought he needed one if he was going to make it through without breaking into a sweat or declaring loudly that he wasn’t worthy.

“Sure,” Evan said.

Miles was only at the bar for a second, and of course, he got the best service, because the bartender’s eyes lit up when they spotted him. He returned with two flutes of sparkling wine.

“Cheers,” he said, tapping Evan’s glass with his own. “To the best weekend I’ve ever spent.”

“You mean, the part where we weren’t being insulted by your old roommates?” Evan teased, enjoying the light that heated in Miles’ eyes. He knew exactly which parts those were. Making love in the hotel room. Feeding each other bits of fresh bread in the meadow this morning, making out in the grass and not feeling the tiniest bit ashamed if anyone saw.

“I mean the part where I got to meet the relaxed you,” Miles said.

Evan froze. How could he have forgotten Reed’s admonishment as they left?

“Though,” Miles continued thoughtfully, “I really like all the parts of you. Even the part that shoots daggers out of his eyes at me.”

“You like that part?” Evan asked incredulously.

Miles’ gaze took on a conspiratorial glint. “I love that part. It’s sexy as hell knowing you want to kick my ass and that you will if I take a step out of line.”

Something unwound in Evan at Miles’ words. There had been a tiny kernel of doubt that had wondered if he would have to be on his best behavior from now on. If he would have to be the sweet, relaxed Evan all the time. Because there was no chance in hell of that happening.

“Don’t worry,” Miles said casually, “you know I love you.”

Evan was torn between the eye-dagger-shooting thing or just dumping his champagne all over Miles’ sharp black button-down, but then the designer-clad hostess approached, telling them their table was ready.

Their table wasn’t on the patio, which from the reading Evan had done was considered a prime spot, but it was still near a huge bank of windows that overlooked the valley.

“I couldn’t get the patio,” Miles apologized after they sat down. “It was too late of notice. And even I don’t have that sort of power.”

“I’m impressed you got a table at all,” Evan said. He wasn’t disappointed they weren’t on the patio. How could he be when he was here at all? The most any of his pseudo-dates had ever done was bring over Chinese or pizza before a hookup.

Miles had brought him to Terroir. The place he’d once described as the finest restaurant in America. The only Michelin-starred restaurant in California.

“Can you blame me for trying to impress you?” Miles said, reaching over and brushing his hand over Evan’s knuckles.

Evan hid behind the menu, most of which was incomprehensible to him. He didn’t know what half the words meant, and he didn’t think he could really get away with googling them on his phone.

“Uh, yes,” Evan said. “I was impressed by you before we even met.”

“But then I made a shitty impression,” Miles grinned charmingly, “so I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Well, if that’s the way you’re going to play it, then figure out what I should be trying,” Evan said, smiling back and feeling lighter than he had in forever. Maybe ever.

This must be what relaxing felt like. Or maybe it was love. It was fabulous either way, and he felt as light as the bubbles in his champagne flute. If anyone, especially Xander, tried to take this away from him, they were going to find out just how hardcore Evan Patterson could be.

“Yes, sir,” Miles said smartly, and Evan couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter.

Suddenly he was very sure it was going to be one of the greatest meals of his life, and that had nothing to do with the food.

Evan was really damn sure it wasn’t just the food when Bastian Aquino showed up at the table between the main course and dessert.

“Miles Costa,” Chef Aquino said, a self-satisfied edge to his voice, like he’d believed that Miles really couldn’t stay away and that belief was now justified.

He was a powerful man, with short dark hair just beginning to silver at the edges, intensely dark eyes, and a pair of serious biceps bulging under his immaculate black chef’s jacket.

Evan was struck a little dumb. It wasn’t his finest moment, but pictures didn’t do Bastian Aquino justice. He looked like he could snap his neck just as easily as he could a chicken’s. Evan swallowed hard when Aquino turned his attention to Miles’ dining companion.

Him.

“You’re the individual who lured Miles away from my kitchen with promises he’d be famous,” Aquino said, a crease forming between his brows.

Evan decided he might as well own it; if Aquino killed him in the middle of his restaurant, then at least he’d die a happy man. “Yes, I did.”

Miles blustered across from him, a frown on his face. “That’s not exactly true,” he said.

Evan smiled. “Maybe next season when Miles is on the Cooking Channel, we can invite you to guest star with him.”

Aquino clearly didn’t like that at all. “Food doesn’t need fame,” he said. “Was the food up to the standard?” he questioned, directing it to Miles.

Evan supposed he should be a little offended, but then Miles was the professional between them. What would Evan know, besides that everything had been delectable and incredible?

“Your lamb was a little overcooked,” Miles said, laughing. Evan thought that if Aquino killed both of them, Miles would go out happy too. A month ago, that might not have meant much to Evan, but it meant everything tonight.

Bastian Aquino practically growled. “I forgot, you’re just a pastry chef.” Then he smiled, and it was like the sunrise over the desert. Evan was surprised at how handsome he was when he wasn’t wordlessly threatening people’s lives.

“Dessert is still to come,” Miles said with a lot of satisfaction. “Tell René that he’d better send his best.”

Aquino gave a sharp nod. He turned to Evan. “He is happy. Thank you for giving him what he needed.”

When Bastian Aquino left, just as abruptly as he’d arrived, Miles giggled. It might have more to do with the thrill of love than the wine they’d drunk tonight or even the fantastic food—no matter what Miles said about the lamb.

“What exactly is it you’re giving me that I need?” Miles asked with a quiet snort, probably thinking Evan was going to say something dirty and inappropriate. And ninety-nine percent of the time, Evan probably would have. It wasn’t like his wall was coming down; instead, it felt like he was welcoming Miles inside.

Evan hoped the truth of it was in his eyes when he replied, “Everything I can.”

Later that night, lying in bed with Evan drowsing against his chest, the TV turned on low, a text came through on his phone.

Leaning over, he must have shifted Evan too much when he reached over to grab it, because he made a sleepy, annoyed noise.

“Sorry,” Miles said. “It’s Gina.”

“Gina?” Evan asked, and Miles felt like a shitty brother, or maybe just a shitty person. How had he not texted her lately? How had he not told Evan about Gina?

“Gina is my younger sister,” he said. “We’re close. Well, we used to be, I mean we still are, she’s just in her freshman year of college in Berkeley and we’ve both been a little busy.”

Evan propped himself up on an elbow, hair mussed, eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. He stopped Miles’ heart, because only in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d get to see the other man like this.

“Is she okay?” he asked.

Miles didn’t know what had given it away. The late hour, maybe? Or his own worried expression?

The text had said: You’re in Napa and no text?

Miles had felt guilty enough that he hadn’t told Evan about Gina; now he was feeling doubly guilty.

A second text came in before Miles could even reply to the first. If I keep guilt-tripping you, will you let me meet him? Brunch. Noon.

“Xander,” Miles growled. He was really regretting introducing Gina to Xander. There was always another shoe to drop with him. He’d assumed things were good between them after their conversation today, but then he’d gone and texted Gina and told her all about Evan.

“What did he do now?” Evan didn’t seem particularly concerned, which was good, because he had nothing to be jealous of.

“Interfered,” Miles said reluctantly. Was he ready for Gina to meet Evan? Was Evan ready to meet Gina?

“Isn’t that what he’s best at?” Evan wondered.

“My sister wants us to stop by Berkeley so she can meet you tomorrow,” Miles said. “I’m guessing she got a whole series of texts from Xander after he got off work.”

Evan’s arm was still across Miles’ bare chest, so he couldn’t help but feel him tense.

“Is that okay?” Miles asked gently. It seemed so unfair that he could have this whole incredible, infuriating, real relationship with his sister, and Evan had nobody.

“Are you asking if I’m ready to meet your sister or if I’m okay that I don’t have a sister?” Evan questioned.

Miles flushed. It was a good thing that they’d both been lowering their shields, but he hadn’t realized he was so easy for Evan to read.

“It’s okay,” Evan continued with a little smile. “Lots of people don’t have sisters, I just happened to be one of them. I’d love to meet her, if you’re good with it.”

They’d acknowledged to each other and to several others that they were dating now, but it was definitely something more for Evan to meet his family. Miles’ heart had made the commitment already, there was no going back from that, but now he had to make sure his head was on the same page.

“I’m good with it,” he decided. As if there had been any other decision he could make. Evan would torture him slowly and Gina would help Evan finish him off.

He was in this now, and the truth was, he wanted to be.

“Then I guess we’re going to lunch with your sister,” Evan said. He seemed calm enough. “I’m glad I brought another bow tie.”

“Someday,” Miles said, cradling him in his arms, and then suddenly rolling him underneath his body, hovering above him. He let his hips drop, flush and hard, against Evan’s. “I’m going to tie you up with those fucking bow ties.”

Evan’s gaze was bright and challenging. Miles couldn’t get enough of it. “I’d love to see you try,” he said.

And how was Miles supposed to ignore a dare like that?

Evan didn’t think he was nervous—at least not precisely nervous. Apprehensive was probably the better term. It wasn’t like he could do research to help him feel more comfortable; Gina was a person, not a location or a task or an activity. Any research he did should be restricted to brunch, conducted by actually talking to her.

He’d never had to go to brunch with a sibling of a boyfriend before. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really had a boyfriend before, definitely not in the sense that he and the other guy had actually agreed that’s what they were. He’d had half-assed relationships, he guessed, if that was what it meant when you drifted together, spent time together, slept together sometimes, and eventually drifted apart.

But nobody had ever wanted him to meet their family before. And it wasn’t like Evan had any family for them to meet. None of the handful of guys in college had even known he was a foster kid; it definitely wasn’t something he’d ever talked about.

But Miles knew, and he didn’t care. It certainly seemed like he more worried about Evan’s feelings than if Gina approved.

“She’s going to love you,” Miles said as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. His smile was sweet and reassuring.

“I’m not worried about that. People usually like me.” Evan shot Miles a coolly sardonic look. “You’re the only one who didn’t, and that turned out okay.”

Miles laughed. “I did too like you.”

“You had a very strange way of showing it,” Evan retorted as they got out of the car.

Miles caught Evan’s arm as they walked towards the entrance. “You should . . . um . . . definitely stay quiet about that part of it,” he murmured. “Especially to Gina.”

Evan might not have had any blood-related siblings, but he knew exactly how this worked. “So she can’t give you any shit about it, right?” He grinned. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re so cruel,” Miles groaned in exaggeration. “I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

But then a high-pitched voice yelped Miles’ name, and Evan had the luck to see Miles’ face the moment a tall, slender girl with long, curly dark hair piled on top of her head, came into view.

Evan had already figured out that Gina meant a lot to Miles, but seeing the joy on his face, then watching them wrap each other up in a tight, prolonged hug, made it crystal clear.

The first thing Gina did when Miles released her was turn towards Evan.

“Hello,” she said in a friendly, conspiring voice. “You must be Evan.” She extended a hand and Evan shook it immediately. She turned to her brother. “You didn’t tell me how cute he is!”

Miles flushed, and Evan was greatly amused at his discomfort. “But,” Gina continued with a quick, clever grin, “I shouldn’t be surprised at all. I know what this one is like. But you, you I’m definitely looking forward to getting to know better.”

Gina tucked her arm in his without prompting, and the stacked turquoise bracelets on her arm rattled.

“I’m hoping so,” Evan said, and to his own complete surprise, he really meant it.

Miles threw his hands up in the air and made noises about going to get them a table.

“First, you need to tell me if he ever apologized to you,” Gina said.

Evan was more than a little shocked that she knew so much. “No. Yes. Not exactly precisely when he should have.”

Gina’s expression was grave, belying the flushed excitement on her cheeks. “He’s sort of an oblivious asshole, sometimes. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that.”

Evan laughed. “No, no, you don’t. I know what I’m getting with him.”

“Good.” She leaned closer, bracelets clanking again. “Xander told me he took you to Terroir last night. Was it amazing?”

“It was terrifying, intimidating and incredible,” Evan said.

“Miles tried to take me there once and I told him, over his dead body,” Gina said. “I’m much more comfortable grabbing a burger.”

“Don’t worry,” Miles said dryly, “I’m sure you can get a burger here.”

“It’s breakfast, Miles,” Gina replied, all deadpan voice and sparkling eyes, “that means bacon and eggs and something sinful, like a cinnamon roll or a Danish as big as my head.”

Miles ruffled her hair affectionately. “I’ll have to send you a box of goodies. We’ve got tons of extras in my freezer. Some of them actually edible.”

“Don’t believe him,” Evan inserted. “All of the ones he saved are definitely edible. More than.”

“Oh, I like you,” Gina said. “A lot, I think. You’re going to be great for him.”

Evan looked steadily over at Miles, who was still beaming at his sister. “I’m sure as hell going to try.”

Reaching over, Gina squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Evan was sort of glad when this was the moment the hostess called Miles’ name to let them know their table was ready. He was a little mistier in the eyes than he felt comfortable being, especially with someone he didn’t know, even if that someone was Miles’ sister.

“And I’ll have the pineapple upside down pancakes,” Evan said to the waitress who was taking their order. “And a side of bacon. Extra crispy, please.”

“I’ll have all this right out,” the waitress said, stuffing her pad back in her apron, and moving on to the next table.

Evan only knew something was wrong by the strangled, stifled noise Miles made.

It hit him all at once. So long, being so careful, so cautious, never visibly enjoying any of the cookies he’d been making, or the macarons, or even the incredible dessert last night at Terroir.

No, all it took to screw him up was Gina beaming at him like an idiot, casually accepting, like he was going to be around for a long time. Like he was going to be a member of their family.

Miles made the sound again.

“What’s wrong with him?” Gina asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“I think he just discovered that I like sweets,” Evan said evenly.

Gina looked confused. Miles looked murderous.

“Explain,” Gina said, looking rapidly more interested by the second.

But before Evan could open his mouth, Miles had cut in. And he sounded pretty pissed, but not cruel, or cold, or truly angry, which was better than Evan could have hoped for. After all, there had only been a limited amount of time he could keep this secret while dating an extremely talented pastry chef.

“The second day Evan and I worked together, he told me that he did not like sweet things. No desserts. No cookies. No pastries. Nothing. And he,” Miles said, mouth twitching, like it was difficult for him to keep a straight, annoyed face, “kept up this charade until this moment.”

“I was a little distracted today,” Evan added, by way of explanation.

“You didn’t even break over the dessert course last night at Terroir,” Miles said incredulously. And that had been difficult, but truthfully, the toughest times had always been whenever he was eating something that Miles had made. There was something about taking what Miles had made with his own two hands and then putting it into his mouth that always made the taste even more exquisite.

Even the batches of peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies that hadn’t quite turned out had nearly made Evan moan once or twice.

“You were right,” was all Evan said. “They should have used thyme, not rosemary, in the white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids. But you were right about the gold; they certainly looked impressive enough.”

Gina was giggling so hard she nearly choked.

“You guys . . . you are . . . perfect . . . for each other,” she managed to get out in between hysterical chuckles.

“You’re not mad?” Evan asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Miles just shrugged. “If I remember correctly, that was the morning after I filmed myself baking Ding Dongs. Anything you said that day is just payback for the video. Besides,” he lowered his voice, “I definitely plan to get you back, at the soonest possible opportunity.”

“Gross,” Gina exclaimed, but she was smiling so big, her smile took over her face. And Evan couldn’t help but smile right along with her.