stuff.”
“Famous last words.”
And then Dean drove off, headed toward a madness he clearly had no clue about. Mason was happy he hadn’t been asked to go.
“All right, kiddo,” Mason said to Wyatt. “I guess it’s just you and me today. What should we do?”
“Um….” Wyatt considered the question seriously as he always did. “Dunno.”
“Do you want to help me with something? Like a secret project?”
Wyatt nodded with his whole body, bouncing up and down. “And we won’t tell anyone.”
Mason chuckled. “That’s right. We need to start outside, so bundle up.”
They went outside to one of the greenhouses where Mason knew he could find some herbs. He wanted to test one of the many ideas the bound and gagged chef inside of him had come up with since he learned about Dean’s business.
“Do you know what the herbs are called?” Mason asked Wyatt.
“Parmesan?”
Mason bit his tongue. “Uh, no. That’s a cheese. Maybe you mean parsley?”
“Yes.”
Kneeling down, Mason picked some parsley and held it under Wyatt’s nose. “Smells good, doesn’t it? Do you want to taste it?”
Wyatt nodded and took off his gloves. He tasted it, smiled, and demanded to learn more herb names.
They spent a couple of hours outside, picking and tasting. Wyatt giggled his way through all the different names. When they returned he declared that his favorite was still parmesan.
Mason had a basket filled with different herbs, and Wyatt helped him rinse them. Then they mixed them with salt in a food processor—Mason had decided that food processors weren’t likely to burst into flames—and laid them out to dry.
On his visits to the store, Mason had found that different herb salts—maybe smoked salt when he found the courage to light a fire to something on purpose—would be a great addition to the product range. The first step was to test which ones worked, how they worked, and why they worked—and then hope that this tiny, tiny step didn’t lead Dean to expect him to instantly become the chef he’d been looking for. Because Mason was not ready.
Chapter 9
“N EVER AGAIN . Never fucking again,” Dean fumed as he barreled through the front door. When he spotted Mason, he had to suppress a growl. “You knew. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it would be?”
“I tried to,” Mason objected, looking suspiciously like he was trying to hold back laughter.
So maybe Mason had tried to warn him, but he could have tried a little harder considering he obviously knew that Dean had been heading into a war zone. Sure, he’d heard of Black Friday shopping, but he honestly thought people were exaggerating. They hadn’t been. They’d been downplaying the whole thing. Bastards.
“Why didn’t you wait when you saw how bad it was?” Mason asked, keeping his distance as Dean took off his coat.
“Because.” Dean wondered that too. “Because Wyatt is growing out of his clothes. Do you want him to walk around naked?”
“I’m sure he’d still have been able to fit into something from his closet tomorrow.”
“But what if he hadn’t?” Dean knew he was being completely unreasonable, but he’d almost been killed several times over children’s clothes. He was entitled. “I need a beer,” he muttered.
“Daddy?” Wyatt was coloring at the kitchen table and looked a bit scared.
Dean tried to smile. “Hey, buddy. I got you some new clothes.”
“A pea coat?” Mason snickered into his ear. Dean jumped because he hadn’t heard him sneak up.
“Shit. I should have gotten him that, shouldn’t I?”
“Maybe for Christmas.” Mason looked amused, and Dean could feel the tension leaving his body just looking at Mason’s smile.
“Speaking of Christmas.” Dean cleared his throat. “I got some lights for the porch. I thought maybe we could put them up today.”
And so they did. Dean felt all the stress evaporate as he watched Mason wrap up a giggling Wyatt in a string of lights and proclaim him
“Famous last words.”
And then Dean drove off, headed toward a madness he clearly had no clue about. Mason was happy he hadn’t been asked to go.
“All right, kiddo,” Mason said to Wyatt. “I guess it’s just you and me today. What should we do?”
“Um….” Wyatt considered the question seriously as he always did. “Dunno.”
“Do you want to help me with something? Like a secret project?”
Wyatt nodded with his whole body, bouncing up and down. “And we won’t tell anyone.”
Mason chuckled. “That’s right. We need to start outside, so bundle up.”
They went outside to one of the greenhouses where Mason knew he could find some herbs. He wanted to test one of the many ideas the bound and gagged chef inside of him had come up with since he learned about Dean’s business.
“Do you know what the herbs are called?” Mason asked Wyatt.
“Parmesan?”
Mason bit his tongue. “Uh, no. That’s a cheese. Maybe you mean parsley?”
“Yes.”
Kneeling down, Mason picked some parsley and held it under Wyatt’s nose. “Smells good, doesn’t it? Do you want to taste it?”
Wyatt nodded and took off his gloves. He tasted it, smiled, and demanded to learn more herb names.
They spent a couple of hours outside, picking and tasting. Wyatt giggled his way through all the different names. When they returned he declared that his favorite was still parmesan.
Mason had a basket filled with different herbs, and Wyatt helped him rinse them. Then they mixed them with salt in a food processor—Mason had decided that food processors weren’t likely to burst into flames—and laid them out to dry.
On his visits to the store, Mason had found that different herb salts—maybe smoked salt when he found the courage to light a fire to something on purpose—would be a great addition to the product range. The first step was to test which ones worked, how they worked, and why they worked—and then hope that this tiny, tiny step didn’t lead Dean to expect him to instantly become the chef he’d been looking for. Because Mason was not ready.
Chapter 9
“N EVER AGAIN . Never fucking again,” Dean fumed as he barreled through the front door. When he spotted Mason, he had to suppress a growl. “You knew. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it would be?”
“I tried to,” Mason objected, looking suspiciously like he was trying to hold back laughter.
So maybe Mason had tried to warn him, but he could have tried a little harder considering he obviously knew that Dean had been heading into a war zone. Sure, he’d heard of Black Friday shopping, but he honestly thought people were exaggerating. They hadn’t been. They’d been downplaying the whole thing. Bastards.
“Why didn’t you wait when you saw how bad it was?” Mason asked, keeping his distance as Dean took off his coat.
“Because.” Dean wondered that too. “Because Wyatt is growing out of his clothes. Do you want him to walk around naked?”
“I’m sure he’d still have been able to fit into something from his closet tomorrow.”
“But what if he hadn’t?” Dean knew he was being completely unreasonable, but he’d almost been killed several times over children’s clothes. He was entitled. “I need a beer,” he muttered.
“Daddy?” Wyatt was coloring at the kitchen table and looked a bit scared.
Dean tried to smile. “Hey, buddy. I got you some new clothes.”
“A pea coat?” Mason snickered into his ear. Dean jumped because he hadn’t heard him sneak up.
“Shit. I should have gotten him that, shouldn’t I?”
“Maybe for Christmas.” Mason looked amused, and Dean could feel the tension leaving his body just looking at Mason’s smile.
“Speaking of Christmas.” Dean cleared his throat. “I got some lights for the porch. I thought maybe we could put them up today.”
And so they did. Dean felt all the stress evaporate as he watched Mason wrap up a giggling Wyatt in a string of lights and proclaim him
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