“UHH…SOMEHOW, I don’t think I would’ve gotten past round one of Chef Master with this effort,” Robbie said, and pouted as he looked at the deflated soufflé sitting in front of him.

For the past forty minutes, Julien had been watching over his young protégé and walking him through one of the most difficult recipes a chef could attempt. Back in his kitchen at JULIEN, he’d demonstrated the process to Robbie and had him help out along the way. But tonight, Julien had stepped back and let Robbie take the lead.

Julien bit down on the inside of his cheek as he examined the other two ramekins on the counter and said, “These two came out…better.” And it wasn’t a lie. They had risen slightly higher than the sad-looking one Robbie was staring at. But when Robbie glanced over at the two in front of Julien, they collapsed in on themselves on cue, as if they’d been waiting for his attention.

“Oh my God,” Robbie said, and then he quickly looked over at Priest, who had just taken a seat at the table. “I can’t serve him that.”

The horrified look on Robbie’s face had a sudden image of Jacquelyn’s the first time they’d made this dish with their mom flashing through Julien’s mind—Julien’s soufflé had risen and hers had spectacularly fallen.

“Yes, you can, princesse. He’s not going to care how it looks. It still tastes good.”

Robbie put a hand on his hip and angled his head at Julien as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Excuse me? You, the Prick, did not just say that to me. You’re one of the pickiest bastards around when it comes to food. It has to look and taste good. That’s your motto in the kitchen and mine for life—in general. There’s no way I’m going to let him put this in his mouth.”

Julien gestured to the ceramic ramekin in front of Robbie. “Let’s get this on a plate with some pretty side dressings, oui? And then it will look good. Don’t be so hard on yourself, mon cher petit. A soufflé, while basic in its ingredients, is incredibly hard to master. There are chefs all around the world who are top in their field who can’t make one. In fact, one of my idols, Jacques Pepin, once said, ‘Simplicity is the hardest thing to achieve.’ That’s never more apparent than it is with the soufflé.”

Robbie sighed, and then looked back at the three dishes on the counter. “Did you get it the first time you made one?”

“Oui, I did.”

“Of course you did.”

“Of course,” Julien said. “But my sister? Hers was a disaster. Much worse than yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” Robbie frowned, making Julien chuckle, and suddenly he found himself wanting to share this with Robbie.

“One of hers exploded all over our mom’s oven.”

“Seriously?” Robbie said, as he put a couple of washed lettuce leaves on the plate.

“Oh yes. It was a mess.” Julien laughed, and allowed himself to enjoy the memory when Robbie’s lips tilted up into a smile.

“Let me guess: you never let her hear the end of it.”

Julien grinned as he added some cut tomato on top of the lettuce. “I may have been vocal in my superiority, oui.”

Robbie rolled his eyes and followed Julien’s plating to a tee. “Why am I not surprised?”

Julien wiped his hands on the dishtowel he’d stuffed in the side of his pants. “Because you’re my number one stalker?”

Robbie’s face flushed, but then he gave a flirty lift of his shoulder, unashamed. “It’s not my fault you’re super sexy. Be a little less…well, everything, and people might stop becoming obsessed with you.”

Oh, princesse, I’d never want that, Julien thought, as the sadness he’d been feeling earlier lifted, and he pressed a kiss to Robbie’s cheek. “I don’t want you to ever stop obsessing over me.”

Robbie turned his head and winked. “No sign of that happening.”

“Bien. You’re one of a kind, and now that we’ve found you, we’re not letting you go.” Robbie’s eyes sparkled and Julien tapped a finger to his nose. “Something you should also know? Jacquelyn’s soufflé may have exploded the first time around. But she practiced it for weeks after that, and on our fourteenth birthday, she perfected it and…”

Julien drifted off, and when he didn’t continue right away, Robbie said softly, “And what?”

Julien smiled. “It was, and still is to this day, the best cheese soufflé I’ve ever tasted.”

“Even better than yours?”

“Even better than mine. Now, take that over to Priest.” When Robbie went to protest, Julien said, “You have nothing to worry about. He will enjoy anything you’ve spent the time to make for him, whether it be the best soufflé ever made or—”

“The worst?”

Julien picked up one of the plates and handed it to Robbie. “I was going to say yours.”

Robbie scoffed. “I think they might be one and the same.”

“And I think it just means we get to practice making them together over and over until you get it right.”

Robbie blew out a breath but took the plate. “Okay, that makes it a little bit better.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Julien said, and found that he really was. “Now go. I’ll bring the wine.”

JULIEN WAS RIGHT. Priest didn’t complain about his meal once. In fact, with each bite he took, he complimented something new about the dish. The flavor, the texture, the choice of cheese, for crying out loud, and finally Robbie said, “It’s okay, you can stop,” as he placed his napkin on the table. “I know it was terrible.”

Priest took a final sip of his wine and shook his head. “No. It wasn’t.”

Robbie gave him a yeah, right look. “How can you say that? Jules is one of the best cooks in the world.”

“He is,” Priest said, and aimed a proud smile in Julien’s direction before he turned his attention back to Robbie. “Which is why this tastes as good as it does the first time around.”

Julien finished his meal and sat back in the chair as Priest pushed away from the table and got to his feet.

“Was it a little flat? Yes,” Priest said, as he came around to Robbie’s side and collected his empty plate. “But you tried, and I appreciate that.” He pressed a kiss to Robbie’s cheek. “Thank you for dinner, sweetheart. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Robbie squirmed under the praise he knew he didn’t deserve and felt his heart thud a little bit faster.

“I believe it’s my job to clean up the kitchen,” Priest said, as he took the plate Julien was holding out to him.

As Priest walked them over to the sink, Robbie got to his feet and collected the wine glasses to follow, as Julien headed to the couch.

Once he was in the kitchen, Robbie came around to where Priest was rinsing off the dishes, and placed the glasses on the counter beside him. “So, do you two always eat at the dinner table?”

Priest placed one of the dishes in the opposite sink, getting them ready for the dishwasher, and then glanced at Robbie. “Most of the time, yes. Why do you ask?”

Robbie leaned a hip up against the counter and looked over at Julien, who was sitting facing them, listening to the conversation. “Just trying to learn your habits, I suppose. My ma always insisted on dinner being eaten at the table, and so did my nonna. It was family time, a.k.a. gossip time, in the Bianchi household. I like that you two also make time to eat together.”

When Priest was done rinsing the final plate, he turned the faucet off and opened the dishwasher to begin stacking it. “I never had a dinner table or the kind of family who would sit around one when I was a boy. But when I met Julien, and we began to date, he would always set the table and eat there, and I found myself wanting his company, so I joined him.”

Robbie wanted to melt into a puddle at the obvious love in Priest’s voice, and when he looked over at Julien to see him watching his husband, Priest added, “And now we want yours.”

When Robbie looked back at him, Priest straightened and reached for the utensils in the sink.

“I like the table,” Priest said. “The idea of it. That at the end of the day you come together with those you care about to share a meal and share your successes or failures. It’s the time you connect and either enjoy one another’s good fortune or help one another through the bad. It’s a safe place. And if we’re in the same house at the same time for a meal, we will always make an effort to sit down together without interruption.”

A grin hit Robbie’s lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that your subtle way of saying cell phones are prohibited?”

Priest finally shut the door to the dishwasher and hit start, then he washed his hands and dried them off. “No. There’s nothing subtle about it. In this house, there are two rules regarding cell phones.”

“Rules?” Robbie said, and laughed.

That came to an abrupt halt when Priest took his chin in his hand and said, “Yes. Rules. The first is that they are off during dinner. If you are eating a meal in this house with Julien and me, please make sure that you show us the courtesy of wanting to be here. It’s really very simple.”

When Priest let him go and walked by him, the scent of his cologne wafted up into Robbie’s nose and he shut his eyes for a second to enjoy it. Damn, the man smelled unbelievable.

“And the second?” Robbie asked, as he made his way over to the living room.

“Sex,” Julien said, and when Robbie’s feet came to a halt, Julien laughed. “The second rule, princesse, is that your phone better be off during sex.”

Robbie turned his eyes to Priest, who was now standing beside the couch.

“I shouldn’t have to explain that,” Priest said. “But if I have you undressed, or I’m about to put my cock inside you and your phone rings? I am not going to be very pleased.”

“Uh, newsflash,” Robbie said, “neither would I.”

“Good,” Priest said. “Then we all understand one another.”

Robbie walked around to the empty couch as Priest took a seat beside Julien, and when he went to sit opposite them, Priest crooked a finger.

Robbie glanced at Julien, who gave him a crooked smile, and then he walked around the coffee table to the two of them.

Priest crossed one of his legs over the other, and when Julien did the same, Priest said, “How would you feel about sitting down here tonight? Between us on the rug?”

Robbie looked at the soft mohair beneath his feet and wriggled his toes in it, and then he raised his eyes to Priest’s.

“I’d feel like I was home,” Robbie whispered.

“Then you should sit, princesse,” Julien said, capturing Robbie’s attention, and when he looked over at Julien, Robbie saw a possessive light in his eyes that he’d never seen before. “Because that’s exactly where you are.”

AS ROBBIE SLOWLY lowered to his knees, Priest reached for Julien’s hand before fully giving his attention to the man now watching them with a tranquil expression on his face.

“Robert, we would like to talk to you about next weekend.”

A frown appeared between Robbie’s brows, and Priest automatically reached out and smoothed his fingertips over the crease.

“No need to look so worried. It’s nothing bad. But Julien and I have to leave for a couple of days.”

“Both of you?” Robbie said, and Priest couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips at the sound of disappointment in Robbie’s voice. It was extremely satisfying to know that Robbie wanted the both of them around.

“Oui, the both of us,” Julien said, and then traced his fingers along Robbie’s jaw line to soften the blow.

“Where are you going?” Robbie asked. “When? Is it for one night or two?”

Priest couldn’t help the smile that hit his lips. “We’re flying back to L.A. on Friday and will stay until Sunday.”

“So, two nights?”

“Yes. We’d be gone two nights.”

Robbie’s lips pulled tight in an unhappy line, but then he shrugged as though he was trying to convince himself that he was fine with it all. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Priest said, and shook his head.

“What? It’s fine. I’ll be okay for a weekend. I am a grownup, you know.”

Priest let go of Julien’s hand and uncrossed his legs so he could sit forward, his arms now resting on his thighs. “I know you’re a grownup, trust me. But I also know that you’re lying through your teeth right now. And what did I say about that?”

Robbie rolled his eyes but squirmed around on his knees a little. “You said not to.”

“Correct. So why are you lying?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes. You are. And do you know how I know that?”

“How?”

Priest reached out and ran a finger over Robbie’s pouty lip. “Because the idea of leaving you behind makes us feel anything but okay.”

Robbie’s breath caught, and his eyes flicked to Julien. “Vraiment?”

A pleased light flashed into Julien’s eyes at Robbie’s use of French—but then it faded. “Vraiment. I have to go back to L.A. for my sister’s anniversary. It’s a horrible time. I won’t lie about that. But having Priest there always helps, and I—” Julien stopped talking, and as he swallowed a gulp of air, Priest let go of Robbie and smoothed a hand over his husband’s thigh, offering his silent support. “I’d really like you to be there with us. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“I’ll be there,” Robbie said, as he reached for Julien’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I want to come with you. Just tell me what time you fly out and I’ll buy myself a ticket.”

“Robert,” Priest said, and Robbie turned in his direction. “We already have a ticket for you.”

“You do?”

“We do,” Julien said. “But honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d want to come with us. Like I said, it’s a lot to ask of someone at the beginning of a new relationship, and the circumstances surrounding what happened? They’re not very…favorable toward me.”

“Julien,” Priest said, hating when Julien placed such a heavy burden of blame on himself.

Julien turned to him, and his eyes held that haunted air they always got when talking about his sister. “You know it’s true, mon amour. He needs to know too.”

“I need to know what?” Robbie said.

“Everything.” Julien faced Robbie again. “The good and the bad, princesse. You deserve to know it all if you’re going to open up your life to us. Even if it means that by the end of it you stop looking at me the way you are right now.”

Robbie shook his head as he moved up on his knees. “That won’t change. But I want to understand. I want to know what happened with your sister. Whenever you’re ready to tell me.”

Priest’s chest tightened at the honesty behind both men’s words, and when Julien took Robbie’s mouth in a tender kiss, sliding his fingers through that hair that was soft as silk, Priest watched the two men he now considered his become one.

Robbie moved closer to Julien, angling his head up to allow a deeper slide of that French tongue inside his mouth, and the rumble that bubbled out of Julien had Priest’s cock stiffening in his pants.

His men? They were beautiful together.

“Robbie…” Julien sighed, and then went to move away.

“No. Don’t get scared,” Robbie said. “Don’t back away from me like you did this morning. Let me know you. Let me know the real you. Trust me with that.”

“I do,” Julien said, and then he looked at Priest. “We both do.”

When Robbie also looked his way, Priest inclined his head, and the smile that shaped Robbie’s lips was sweet, the blush that hit his cheeks so endearing, that Priest caught his breath.

Robert Bianchi was getting under his skin in ways he hadn’t quite expected, and that was never more apparent than it was right then. He loved the way Robbie treated Julien with kindness and patience. How he touched Julien, how he cared for him, the same way that he himself did. And perhaps, more than anything else, Priest loved the unassuming way with which Robbie had maneuvered himself into their well-guarded fortress tonight. It’d been subtle, and sweet, and he’d not only broken down Julien’s walls, he’d effectively started to chip away at Priest’s.

“Viens ici,” Julien said, and Robbie turned around and rested his back to the couch so he could lay his head against Priest’s thigh and tilt his face up toward Julien. “Let's start with the good tonight, oui? Let me tell you a little bit more about my Jacquelyn, because she would’ve loved you, princesse, very much…”