Thorne glanced at his tablet, which was charging at the end of the bar. He should at least check his work e-mail. A few months ago he would have been up early, e-mailing, typing reports, checking in on different projects no matter that it was the weekend. His time with Dash had helped him break those habits, and now, he didn’t even want to see those messages, didn’t want to take any chances that some crisis might rob them of their time together. He’d begun to see the world differently, to want things he hadn’t thought he’d ever want. There was so much more to life than his job. How the fuck had he let himself forget that?

He needed to go sailing again. Hell, he needed to look into buying a boat.

A few moments later, Dash served the pancakes, and Thorne couldn’t resist taking a bite immediately. They were fluffy and perfect with just the right amount of chocolate chips to make them extra decadent but not so many that they took away from the buttery perfection of the pancake itself. “These may be the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”

Dash settled into his chair and placed a bowl of fruit salad next to Thorne’s plate. “I’m glad you like them.” Dash took a bite and smiled as he chewed. “These did turn out really well.”

“Have you ever cooked anything that didn’t?”

Dash laughed. “Trust me, I’ve had my share of disasters. There’s a learning curve for everything, but I’m proud of what I can do in the kitchen now.”

“I feel privileged to have you share it with me.”

“I love cooking for someone as appreciative as you.” Dash gave him that sparkling grin, the one that always did him in.

This is a great time to segue into your offer.

“Dash?”

Dash looked up and set his fork down. The look in his eyes concern, fear. Fuck, how could Thorne keep going now?

“I’ve been thinking about our arrangement and…”

“Yes?” Less fear showed in Dash’s eyes now. Was that a good sign?

“I hate it when you leave. I wish I could see more of you, and…”

Dash motioned for him to go on. He was leaning forward. Tense. Intent.

Thorne swallowed. Say it. “I was wondering if you’d like to work for me full time.”

Dash jumped as if startled. His hand knocked into his juice glass, and it turned over. Orange juice ran all over the table and poured off the side. Neither of them moved.

Thorne knew he had said the wrong thing. He frantically thought how to take the look of horror off Dash’s face. “Let me explain. I want you to cook for me, not just—”