On a Roll by Beth Bolden (best historical biographies TXT) 📕

over the years,” Gabe retorted, “and it’s not like you were complaining the other night.”

Sean didn’t say a word to that, but did, Gabriel notice, surreptitiously add another handful of mozzarella shreds.

When he glanced up and saw that Gabe was watching, he just shrugged. “You’re right, it’s like glue. And I have no idea how this is going to work with all that sauce.”

Gabriel thought, that was what you said about my cock and your body, and it worked better than either of us could’ve imagined. “It’ll be fine,” he said. Even though it was stupid to assume that Sean would believe a relationship might be possible if this mashup of their two most famous dishes worked out.

“It’s just going to be a little wet, that’s all,” Gabriel said. “Messy, maybe. But nothing a few extra napkins won’t fix.”

Sean looked skeptical at this, and the skepticism in his expression only deepened as he slid the tortilla onto a plate, and watched as Gabriel attempted to spoon the meatballs over the cheese. They wouldn’t stay contained, and rolled everywhere they weren’t supposed to.

“Funny,” Gabriel ground out, “we don’t have this problem with the roll. Because they’re nestled in all nice and easylike.”

“Well, we’re not using a roll today,” Sean shot back. “Here, let me help you.”

Gabriel had noticed that he’d kept his distance this morning, but now Sean crowded in close, and Gabe’s fingers trembled as he tried to help him roll up the tortilla. But Sean was right. It was wet from the sauce he’d drizzled over the meatballs, which had taken a detour around the wrap, and now everything was covered in it.

“This isn’t going to work,” Sean finally said.

“What if I cut the meatballs in half,” Gabe offered. “Might keep them in place better.”

“Alright, that’s a good idea,” Sean agreed, his tone begrudging. “Let me heat another tortilla.”

Gabe slid the meatballs and all the sauce he could salvage back into his sauté pan.

“You should get one of those smaller flat tops, and put it in your truck,” Gabriel said as he watched him competently flip the tortilla and then load it with cheese. “It’d be a lot easier than that heat press you’re using.”

He realized a second too late that he shouldn’t have said it. They were already prickly with each other this morning, and always before, Gabriel trying to be helpful and share his knowledge after spending his entire lifetime in professional kitchens, would have resulted in Sean getting even pricklier, and probably a big argument.

But to Gabriel’s surprise, Sean just glanced up at him. “I’ve actually been thinking of that,” Sean admitted. “Upgrading in general. I could use some help, actually, and some more space and well . . .”

“Your truck is barely big enough for you?”

“Barely,” Sean admitted with a quick grin. “And you know, I’ve got plans. I’d need something like this if I wanted to add the quesadillas to the menu.”

Gabriel did not mention that upgrading his truck and his kitchen would be a great opportunity to change the name of it. Why? because he wasn’t stupid. He could hear Ren in his head, telling him that if he actually liked Sean, then he shouldn’t do everything in his power to antagonize him.

“I know some great secondhand kitchen supply stores,” Gabriel offered casually. “We could make an afternoon of it next Sunday.”

“You really think we could find something that would make it work?” Sean sounded skeptical as he slid the warmed tortilla onto a plate and handed it to Gabriel. He’d roughly cut up the meatballs with the side of his spatula, and it definitely helped to get them in the right spot this time around.

“Yeah, you know they’ve got portable ones. We’d just have to find one of the smaller ones,” Gabe said. “But if you took out that press and rearranged a few other things, I think you could make it work. Maybe keep your truck for a few months longer. Maybe even til the off-season.”

Gabriel finished scooping the meatballs in and this time only layered in a little bit of sauce—which went against everything he was as an Italian—but he didn’t want to end up with another soggy mess.

They needed something to prove to Tony that they could work together. Because that, despite all of Tony’s posturing and ideas about bringing new customers into the food truck lot, was really what this was about.

“Here, let me,” Sean said, but instead of sounding patronizing, like he couldn’t believe that Gabriel couldn’t fold up the wrap with the same terrifyingly quick efficiency, he sounded like he genuinely wanted to help. He leaned over, and with a few motions, had the sides overlapped and then tucked in, in a very loose interpretation of a wrap.

Sean took a step back and looked at the lumpy mass critically. “It looks terrible,” he said. It kind of did.

“Maybe it’ll look better if we brush it with garlic butter.”

Sean raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, or that could make it impossible to hold,” Gabriel amended. “But maybe if we cut it in half?”

“Why not,” Sean said. “I’m not sure we can make it look worse.”

Gabriel had argued with Sean’s assessments on everything from food to lighting to kitchen supplies to whether or not paper straws were an abomination. He really wished that he could argue with him now, but he really couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t sure it could look worse.

He grabbed a knife, and carefully sliced the wrap in half.

Immediately sauce and cheese started oozing out of the middle, and half a meatball plopped onto the plate.

“Maybe it tastes good?” Gabriel said, and reached in, picking up one of the halves and juggling it awkwardly as it began to drip sauce. The tortilla, while plenty sturdy enough for Sean’s fillings, clearly couldn’t handle anything this saucy, and it began to split down the middle. Gabriel barely managed to shovel half of it into his mouth before it totally began to disintegrate, sauce landing with a plop on his chin and then