Free King of the Kitchen by Bru Baker

and you’re going to show up in forty-five minutes. Otherwise the frittata is going to be overcooked, and I’m going to be even crankier than I already am.”

Chapter FIVE
     
     
    “HE’S ON his way.”
    “I told you he’d come,” Campbell said, snorting with laughter when Duncan’s only reply was to stick his tongue out at him.
    Duncan hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Beck Campbell came for breakfast almost every Saturday. They’d met through Corbin three years ago, bonding over a deep and abiding love of breakfast foods. Campbell was one of the only people he’d met who, upon hearing he enjoyed working as a line cook in a diner, had truly understood why. Campbell wasn’t a chef by any means, but he did love to cook. He’d nodded, sagely said “eggs are awesome,” and promptly been named Duncan’s friend for life.
    They usually ate at Duncan’s, but only because he bemoaned how poorly stocked Campbell’s kitchen was. It wasn’t Duncan’s fault if he was accustomed to certain luxuries, like the restaurant-grade espresso machine he was currently petting fondly as it brewed, while Campbell looked at him like he was insane. Not that petting appliances was anywhere outside the norm for Duncan; Campbell really shouldn’t have been surprised.
    Even though the majority of Duncan’s friends were chefs, Campbell was the only one he allowed to cook in his kitchen. No one else understood that Duncan stepping back and letting someone else manhandle his beloved pots and pans was a privilege, but Campbell always treated them with the respect they deserved. He was also the only person other than himself who Duncan trusted to make him a fried egg, which in Duncan’s estimation was just about the most perfect food on the planet—if it was done right. Sadly, even most of the Michelin-rated chefs he knew couldn’t consistently get the yolk to achieve that moment of not-quite-a-liquid, not-quite-a-solid Zen, but Campbell could.
    “Is there anything I need to know about Beck before he gets here? The way he takes his coffee? His stance on bacon, crispy or chewy? And most importantly, Spice Girl crush?”
    Campbell laughed. “He’s not as cold as you seem to think, Duncan. He’s actually a really good guy. I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was an asshole.”
    It was a rejoinder Duncan was getting tired of hearing, and he gave Campbell a flat look, prompting more laughter.
    “Okay, you’re right. I would be friends with him even if he was an asshole, because apparently I have a type and assholes are it,” Campbell said with a sunny smile.
    Duncan swatted at him with his spatula, then made a face when he realized he was going to have to wash it now. “Go on,” he prompted.
    Campbell gave him a put-upon look but complied. “He likes his first cup of the morning ridiculously sweet and milky, but after that any coffee throughout the day is taken black. His view on bacon changes based on how it’s being served—”
    “As it should,” Duncan said, nodding.
    “—and he had a style crush on Ginger Spice when we were younger, even though his real crush was reserved for one of the guys in 98 Degrees. Don’t ask me which one because they all looked alike to me.”
    Duncan pondered his answer for a moment and then nodded in approval. “Probably one of the Lachey brothers. Solid choice. It was the biceps,” he said, a faint smile curving his lips as he remembered his favorite boy bands of the nineties.
    Campbell shook his head in what Duncan liked to think of as fond annoyance. He had no idea why Campbell put up with him, since he seemed to vacillate between that and outright annoyance whenever they were together, but somehow the dynamic worked for them. Duncan figured someone who worked so closely with a fuddy-duddy rule follower like Beck needed comic relief from time to time, which was probably what he was to Campbell. They were either joking around or working in silence together, and that was exactly