On a Roll by Beth Bolden (free ebook novel .txt) 📗

containers. “But they’re not . . . ginger sesame or whatever.”

“What’s in them?” Sean asked. Thinking that maybe they might not need to even make a new kind of meatball for this. If the flavor was generic enough, the glaze would do all the heavy lifting, imparting all that Asian flavor without actually changing what was essentially an Italian recipe.

Gabriel shot him an alarmed look.

“I really, really don’t want to steal your recipe,” Sean said hurriedly, remembering what Gabe had told him about his nonna and her recipes. “I was just thinking . . . maybe we don’t need to change the meatballs at all. Just add the glaze.”

“Alright,” Gabriel said cautiously. “They are pretty simple. Beef, pork, lamb, egg, and breadcrumb mixed together—since we started promoting the gluten-free meatball cups, I’ve actually swapped the breadcrumbs out for this cracker meal that’s gluten-free. Then there’s your basic seasonings. Garlic, salt, and pepper. I try to keep them simple, let the sauce shine through.”

“And it does,” Sean said, doing an internal fist pump. They wouldn’t have to change them at all. They could use them, and then glaze them, and then slide them right into the bed of crunchy veggies that Sean had envisioned and they’d be perfect.

“You really think this is going to work?” Gabriel asked.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Sean said. “But we can’t do it here. We need to move to my truck. That’s where I’ve got what we need.”

“What should I bring?” Gabriel sounded suddenly self-conscious. “Just the meatballs?”

“Yeah,” Sean said, shooting him a quick grin. And before he could help himself, he added, “Just your meat, baby.”

———

Sean knew just how tiny his little food truck was. When he’d first bought it, he’d envisioned that he’d never really need more space than he had. That room for one person to work was plenty.

When he’d been planning his truck, he’d never imagined that one day he might need to share it with one big, tall, excited Italian.

There was barely room for the both of them in the truck, and that was with their hips pressed together, and their hands essentially sharing the same space.

Before, it would have been impossible, because Sean hadn’t been so comfortable with Gabe back then. But now? Being so close made him think of one thing and one thing only.

So much for being able to separate their professional and their personal lives.

Of course, if Sean had been counting on that, suggesting they share basically one person’s worth of space was a terrible idea.

“Well, I think I’m going to put a vote in for a bigger truck,” Gabe said with a low, intimate chuckle that made the hairs on Sean’s neck stand up.

“I’m shocked,” Sean retorted but it had no heat behind it. Nope—all that heat was pooling in his belly.

He wanted so badly to turn and let his body fit into Gabriel’s, the way he knew it did so perfectly. They’d only had sex a handful of times but it didn’t feel like even nearly enough.

Not that they could do it now. The rest of the food truck lot was beginning to come to life as owners and employees showed up to prep for the lunch hour. They’d seen Tate walk in, and then Ren, from across the way, as he slunk in and opened up Gabriel’s truck.

Sean dragged his attention back to the pan on the little burner in front of him. He was reducing some soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil, with a little extra brown sugar that Gabe had begged from the bakery truck down the street, in an attempt to make their first version of glaze.

“Smells good,” Gabe said, leaning down and taking a big sniff. “I’m just not sure it’s gonna get sticky enough.”

Sean was worried about that too. He’d consulted a few recipes online, trying to find the right proportions, but so far it didn’t seem to be coming together to be quite as thick as he’d hoped.

And frankly, the longer they stayed cooped up here together, the more likely it was that he was going to lean in and kiss Gabe.

It would hardly be the end of the world; but he’d been trying so hard to keep their hookups away from regular business hours, in what was probably a very stupid attempt to make the whole name thing easier.

But it was never going to be easy. Sean had come to realize at least that much. They were too intertwined, and now because of Tony’s stupid plan, there were even more threads that were holding them together.

“I have an idea,” Gabe said. “What about some balsamic vinegar?”

“What?” Sean refrained from explaining, in very small words, that this was supposed to be an Asian dish. He might have, a few weeks ago. But now he waited for Gabriel to clarify what he meant.

“We need it to be thicker, right?” Gabriel said. “And we talked about needing some kind of acid to offset the sweetness. I know this is supposed to be Thai . . .”

“I’d say it’s a very loose interpretation,” Sean admitted. He was hardly an expert. And unfortunately, he couldn’t really call up Jet Tila and ask him.

“So you want me to grab some?” Gabriel asked. He was clearly trying to be casual about it, but Sean could hear the excitement in his tone. “We do that caprese salad special sometimes, so I’ve got some in the truck.”

“Sure, why not,” Sean said. Theoretically it sounded like a decent idea, and it would give Gabriel more representation in the final dish.

“I’ll be right back,” Gabriel said, and when he turned and climbed down the little stairs to the ground, Sean was embarrassed to realize that he actually missed the heat of him after he left.

A minute later though, Gabriel was back, like he’d actually raced across the lot so he could grab the vinegar. “Here you go,” he said, breathlessly, setting it on the countertop next to Sean’s burner. “I think maybe a tablespoon or two?”

“That sounds