Red-faced, Geoff withdrew his hand. “Fine . . .”
“Anyway, I finally managed to secure a supplier for the right kind of Italian olives. Quickly fried, Italians love them as finger food. There’s a couple slices of proper salami from the same provider, and I’m switching out the supplier for the mozzarella, because this one has a much nicer texture and the acidity is better rounded. Served with salt, pepper, and a splash of olive oil I had to practically bribe the Italians to let it leave the country. They only export the cheap stuff.” She pointed at the bread basket. “Served with ciabatta with sundried tomatoes.”
“Oh, now you’ve got my interest.” Mike leaned forwards. “Nobody in London does a good ciabatta.”
Emily’s eyes flashed. “Try me.”
Frank chuckled. “You knew that was coming, Mike.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t want her to become complacent.” Mike winked. “Like the rest of London’s cooks.”
“The recession’s already killing the bad ones. I’ll kill the others.” Emily wielded her serrated bread knife to cut up the ciabatta. “Next course is butterflied chicken stuffed with mozzarella, sundried tomatoes, spiced sausage, and fresh herbs, cut and presented on a bed of polenta with mixed vegetables. Simple, but a crowd pleaser. Dessert is based on ricotta with honey and candied limes. The trick is to perfectly balance the sour with the sweet. It’s also doused in limoncello, so that one’s boozy.” Her toothy grin said it was likely enough to make them all drunk. “Tuck in, gentlemen. You, too, Mike.”
Geoff reached for his fork, then drew his hand back. “Are you sure I’m allowed now?”
“Yes, Geoff.” Emily turned her knife over and over in her hand. “Go ahead.”
Geoff whimpered. “Frank, she’s scaring me.”
“Emily.” Frank gave her the most disapproving look he could muster. “Put the knife down so the lad can eat.”
She flashed Geoff a grin and laid the knife down on the table. He eyed her hand warily as he picked up his fork. When she didn’t attack him, he started eating.
Frank met Emily’s eyes, and they both laughed.
The food was, as always when Emily prepared it, divine. By the time they’d finished all the courses, it was a wonder any of them could move.
“That was amazing.” Brandon stretched on his chair.
“Well, thank you, Brandon.” Emily smiled. “It didn’t offend your Yankee palate?”
“No, definitely not.” He patted his stomach. “In fact, I think we should pass around some feathers so we can all start over.”
Frank snorted.
Mike cocked his head. “Do what now?”
“You know.” Brandon made a gesture like he was tickling the back of his throat. “Feathers.”
Geoff grimaced. Rolling his eyes, he sipped his wine. “Mike, if you don’t get it, don’t ask.”
Emily threw Brandon an indignant look. “Just for that, I think you should have to wash the dishes.”
“Me? What? It was a compliment.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Brandon looked at Frank. “Do I have to wash the dishes now?” He put on an innocent face, but there was a wicked sparkle in his eyes. Go ahead. Tell me to do it. I dare you.
Frank swallowed. He gestured with his wineglass at Emily. “Don’t look at me. She makes the rules when she cooks.”
“That’s right.” Emily had a triumphant grin. “Into the kitchen with you.”
“Damn it.” Brandon stood, but paused. “Mike, you’re helping me.”
Mike blinked. “Huh?”
“Helping. With the dishes.” Brandon snapped his fingers and pointed at the kitchen.
Mike was on his feet so fast he almost knocked Geoff’s wine out of his hand. As the two of them went into the kitchen, Geoff’s jaw dropped.
“The fuck?” He turned to Frank. “Did that just happen?”
“Mm-hmm.” Frank shivered. “It did.”
“Is that a Gay Conspiracy thing I’m not getting?” Emily poured herself more red.
“Have you ever seen Mike obey an order?”
“Usually involves showing him a boning knife, but he follows mine fine.” She rolled her eyes. “God forbid, I used ‘boning.’ Remind me to never have children or at least strangle the male ones.”
Geoff chortled into his wine.
Frank laughed. “God, I love you guys.”
Emily lifted her wineglass. “And cheers to that.”
Frank took his. “To friendship.” And absent friends, too.
Something clattered in the kitchen. Emily put her glass down. “If they break my stuff I’m going to cut a bitch.” She headed into the kitchen.
Frank chuckled and saw Geoff look at him fondly. “What?”
“Don’t mind me saying this, Frank, but you look happy. That’s a good look on you. I like it.” Geoff nearly saluted him with his wineglass. “Getting serious with him, are you?”