Soufflés at Sunrise by M.J. O'Shea and Anna Martin

obviously easy with this story. It sounded like it had been told many times before. “So I started there. I used to make a batch a few times a year, for birthdays and stuff, big family get-togethers. It was my thing, you know? Aunt Jodie used to make her pasta salad, and I’d make ice cream.”
    “Sounds like my kind of family get-together,” Kai said with a grin.
    “Right?” Chase laughed. “I did sort of okay in school, then went on to culinary school after college because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I picked up a business course when I was an undergraduate; then I inherited some money from the same grandmother who bought me the ice cream maker when she passed away. My mom was the one who suggested I put it toward my own shop.”
    “And you did?”
    “Yeah. It was a lot of work at first, trying to build up something that people wanted to go to. That was something my mom was really insistent on when we were building the business plan—it needed to be a place that actually serves the local community. During the week we’re open from eleven until six. Then on the weekends and in the summer we’re open until eleven at night to catch all of the late night people. I’ve only done one summer so far. That was pretty intense.” Chase chuckled.
    “It sounds like you know what you’re doing,” Kai said. “Tell me about the ice cream, though.”
    The first course arrived just as Kai finished his beer, and he gratefully swapped his empty bottle for a plate of shellfish in a delicate sauce: mussels, langoustines, scallops, and calamari.
    “Same again?” their server asked, gesturing to the beers.
    Kai nodded. “Please.”
    As they started on the food, Chase painted a picture of the world he’d built for himself, the long hours and desperate moments, trying to make the books balance for the first few months until the business became profitable. With a little encouragement, he told Kai about his kitchen catastrophes, including his attempt at green tea sorbet, which had been an unequivocal disaster. Kai thought it sounded good and was determined to put a recipe together for Chase to use.
    Conversation through the first three courses flew, a natural back-and-forth where Kai managed to chip away at the shy shell of his Mr. Wisconsin. By the time they were served with chocolate torte—one plate, two spoons—Kai had slowed down on the beer and was enjoying a completely different kind of buzz.
    Chase was sweet and charming, his manners were adorable, and the little edge—a little spike of something bitchy and caustic that came to the surface when Kai prodded hard enough—was fucking hot. Despite what people would think, based on his exterior, Chase wasn’t one to roll over and play doormat. He was sharp and intelligent, and Kai wanted him in bed. Immediately.
    That wasn’t likely to happen, though, not when they were sharing a room with two other guys. That sort of affected things, Kai mused as they each dug into one side of the torte and made identical, eyes-rolling-in-pleasure expressions at the rich sweetness.
    “Damn, that’s good,” Chase said.
    “I make it better,” Kai replied, licking the back of the spoon. “They didn’t put enough coffee in it. The new guy needs a few lessons.”
    Chase laughed, loud and bright, and glanced into the kitchen where Kai’s former colleagues frantically worked.
    As Chase made satisfied humming noises, Kai imagined him stretched out in bed, naked, legs spread. He wondered if Chase would make the same noises when his cock was down Kai’s throat. Interesting.
    Just before the glasses of champagne were served, the grand finale to the menu, Chase excused himself to the bathroom and Kai quickly took care of the bill. He didn’t want to split it on principle. All it took was Chase’s slightly wobbly return and his admission, “I think I’m a bit drunk, you know,” and Kai dragged him out of the restaurant.
    “What about the check?”
    “It’s taken