Tuesdays tended to be my slowest night, but by eight o’clock there was a line of customers twenty deep. With a nasty cough going around, a busboy and a line cook had both called in sick, throwing the kitchen off its usual pace. I hated it when things didn’t run like clockwork, but when you were two men down, you did the best with what you had. Unfortunately, that meant customers were waiting almost an hour for a table.

Which was why I did a double take when Maggie, tonight’s hostess, sat Liam on a stool directly in front of me. It had been two weeks since I’d dropped him off at his apartment, and despite his offer of friendship, I hadn’t heard a word from him since then.

I also hadn’t stopped thinking about him or my conversation with Angus.

I was a mess trying to figure out my feelings about Liam Donnelly, and I hated it. I didn’t like being reminded of those days when I’d been aimless, out of control, and pursued things that weren’t good for me. Things like guys who pretended to be straight until they got high and begged to be fucked in the ass, only to deny knowing you once the Ecstasy wore off.

I knew Liam wasn’t like that, but that was about all I knew.

The problem was, the more I replayed our conversations and the time we’d spent together back in my head, the more I suspected he liked cock but refused to admit it to himself … or the world.

I got it, but that didn’t mean I had to like it—or him.

Which was a shame.

Except he’s here, sitting in your restaurant, that hopeful part of my brain I’d been trying to stifle whispered.

I was a good chef—I had more awards than I could count and a stable of repeat customers that proved it—but I didn’t want my food to be the reason for Liam’s reappearance at CAMP. Even though I’d spent the last two weeks telling myself I didn’t care if I ever saw Liam again, the truth was, I really fucking wanted him to be here because of me.

“You’re back.”

The right side of his mouth twitched, and he looked up from the menu, his eyes latching on mine. “I had a craving for … your cooking.” His eyes dropped down again as he said, “It seems I can’t get enough.” A flush crept up his neck until it turned his cheeks a burnished shade of pink. If Liam was aware he was blushing, he didn’t acknowledge it in any way. Instead, his eyes continued to scan the thick white cardstock.

My hands clenched the edge of the counter so tight my knuckles turned white with tension. “What sort of craving?”

He continued staring at the words I’d painstakingly handwritten after my suppliers had dropped off my orders earlier that morning. CAMP offered a daily menu of our classics, but I liked to give customers something new each day based on whatever my fishermen, hunters, farmers, foragers, and cheesemonger provided. Today’s specials were a lemon sole cooked on the bone over hot coals and roast grouse stuffed with thyme and juniper berries.

Liam’s eyes flicked back to mine, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I seem to recall you telling me something about being in your capable hands. Why don’t you guide me?”

Do not read too much into that, I cautioned my beating heart—and my thickening cock. Just because everything Liam had uttered since sitting down sounded like a come-on, didn’t mean it was. That’s just your wishful thinking.

Except, the way he stared at me—the heat and naked desire I saw in his gaze—looked a lot like an unspoken invitation. And when you paired those looks with the words he had spoken, I had a hard time convincing myself Liam Donnelly didn’t want me as much as I wanted him.

“Did you have something in mind, or are you at my mercy?”

Two could play this game.

Just then a waitress approached for Liam’s order. “It’s okay, Jenny. I’m taking care of our guest tonight.”

Her eyes bounced between Liam and me, and then went round with surprised understanding. I’d never gone home with a customer, but plenty of my staff had—including her. It wasn’t the most professional way to run a business, but provided their liaisons didn’t turn messy, I didn’t have any specific rules against it. Which was a good thing since I would have broken every single one for just a tiny taste of the man sitting in front of me.

“Sure thing, Chef.” Jenny smiled knowingly and then turned to Liam. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

He raked a hand down a face covered by thick stubble I’d never seen on him before. I liked it. “Whisky, please. Neat.”

Jenny chuckled. “You’re in Edinburgh. You’re going to need to be more specific. We have over one hundred bottles to choose from.”

Liam’s eyes sought mine, pleading for guidance. Without breaking his gaze, I told my waitress to bring him the 13-year-old GlenDronach aged in a single Pedro Ximenez sherry puncheon. The flavors of stewed plums, candied citrus peel, and toasted spices would pair spectacularly with the succulent grouse I planned to serve him. If a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Liam never stood a chance.

You don’t want his heart, my subconscious reminded me.

Maybe.

I certainly wanted other parts of him, and if feeding Liam a spectacular meal paired with excellent whisky helped further my cause, I wasn’t above using all the tools I had at my disposal.

When Jenny left to fetch Liam’s drink, he shook his head and rested his forearms on the counter while fidgeting with his cutlery. Dragging his eyes from mine, he said, “Thanks for that. I’m afraid I don’t know much about whisky. I’m more of a beer guy.”

“No bother; that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” I responded with a smile meant to reassure him.

I didn’t know how, but I could tell he was feeling off-kilter. He’d seemed so confident when he’d initially sat down, but now, I could practically see the vulnerability radiating off him. I tried not to wonder how long our exchange would have gone on for or how charged with double meaning it would have become if Jenny hadn’t inadvertently interrupted us.

Liam looked away, almost shyly. “I suppose that’s true.”

A pan clanged behind me, pulling my attention away, and I excused myself with apologies. “We’re short-staffed tonight, so I need to get my team back in order.”

“Go,” he said, waving me away. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Seriously. Pretend I’m not even here.”

I shot him a searing look I didn’t think he could misinterpret. If he was going to get my blood racing with innuendo, then I was going to make him squirm. “Not fucking likely,” I said as I marched to the other side of the kitchen.

Approaching my sauté chef, I notched my head in Liam’s direction. “See that man sitting at the counter?” Paulo nodded and crossed his arms. “Get him started on the langoustine bisque.”

“He’s VIP?”

My eyes sought out Liam, who was looking down into his whisky as he swirled it in his glass, his face pensive. “Yes,” I confirmed. “Irish rugby star who’s come over to play for Edinburgh.”

Paulo grinned. “Say no more.” The sports-mad chef patted me on the back and sauntered toward the counter. I’d heard Paolo talk about his favorite football heroes with a kind of awed reverence so I knew he’d take good care of Liam while I saw to my flailing staff.

When I returned, Jenny was serving Liam another glass of GlenDronach. Her hand rested on his shoulder as she leaned across him to set the tumbler of amber liquid on the counter. There was no missing the way her full, round breasts brushed against his bicep as she came away licking her lips, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Not that I could blame her—Liam was a god among men—but I wasn’t about to let her zero in on my territory.

“Thank you, Jenny,” I said brusquely, resuming my position behind the counter.

Her gaze shot to mine. “Oh, Lachlan! I mean, Chef. I—”

“That’ll be all.” I crossed my arms over my chest, dismissing her with a glare.

After watching her slink away, I turned my attention to Liam, who was staring down into his empty soup bowl. “Are you ready for your next course?”

His gaze shot up, his features laced with guilt and … remorse? “Don’t be mad at Jenny,” he said softly, leaning forward so his voice wouldn’t travel. “I uh, I may have encouraged her.”

Stifling a spike of sudden fury, I clenched my teeth and swallowed down the words I really wanted to speak. Instead, I went with “Regardless of what you may or may not—”

“I had to know!” he hissed, his eyes turning wild. Then, more solemnly, he whispered, “I needed to know.”

Liam’s whispered confession and all the anguish it communicated tore something loose inside of me. I stared at him—his hands locked in a white-knuckled fist, his head dropped forward, shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths—and somehow, I knew what it had cost him to say those words.

I’d never struggled with my sexuality, nor had I ever let anyone make me feel less than or unworthy because of it. But taking in this hulking, broken man sitting in front of me, I doubted he could say the same. And then, as sure as I’d ever known anything, I understood that Liam Donnelly was a man who struggled with demons, who’d spent many years warring with himself over who—and what—he was.

In the span of two heartbeats, my anger dissipated. I scanned the restaurant; the front-of-house staff had things well in order, and except for some timing issues I’d have to think about later, the kitchen was running as well as you’d expect given our staffing shortage. CAMP wasn’t going to burn to the ground before service was over for the night.

I took a deep breath and made a decision. “Do you trust me?”

Liam’s eyes flicked between mine for a few tense moments before he groaned, “I don’t even trust myself.”

“If I promise—right here, right now—to never give away your secret, will you come with me?”

One, two, three beats passed. Liam’s fists opened and closed and his chest sawed in and out. I knew he struggled with his decision, but I needed him to know that I had his back. I wouldn’t force the issue, but I was here if he chose to trust me.

He nodded and balled his napkin. “Please don’t make me regret this,” he whispered, as his big, strong body slid from the stool.

Stepping around the counter separating us, I lifted my apron over my head and hung it on a nearby peg. Reaching his side, I whispered back, “I won’t if you won’t.”