Chapter Twenty - Melting Manchego

"THE FIRST TASK is—" Roq claps his hands and rubs them in front of the jugs of fresh milk. Then he looks me over as I stand before the other men. "You should change."

"Why?" As I ask, fabric rustles in the wind. From the corner of my eye, I catch Cheddy stripping off his shirt and hurling it to the side. Cam shows more care in undoing the laces on his until it billows out like a nightdress. He adds it on top of Brie's on an old chair in the corner.

Cam and Brie both pick up a metal jug of milk while Cheddy goes for two at once. Roq nods to all three. "Unless you want that pretty dress of yours to stink of milk, you'll want to put on old clothes."

"I don't, I didn't bring any?" Is he going to call this off? Did I fail before even starting?

Sighing, Roq pulls the knot in his apron. Ducking his head through the top tears his hairnet clean off. His blue locks fall into his eyes as he hands me the apron. "This should suffice for now. Though you might still want to disrobe, just in case. Things can become rather wild down here."

Brie and Cam approach the first vat to dump their milk inside, while Cheddy handles the second. After pulling off his shirt too, Roq combs his hair back so his steel eyes pierce through the darkness. He picks up a rock from the counter by the sink and hunches over to reach the bottom of a vat.

Four shirtless men with dangerously distracting muscles are doing manual labor in front of me. Oh god, Cheddy's biceps are twitching. A drop of milk splashes from the vat onto his chest, drawing me to his Captain America pecs. Though Cam's the one with Cap's ass which he keeps sticking out while he clings to the lip of the vat and peers down. Sweet Brie keeps jotting down notes on a chalkboard hanging on the wall. The way he keeps biting his lip while concentrating makes me do the same.

Lastly, there's Roq. The one that hates me. I shouldn't look at him. He's only shirtless because of me. He didn't even want me down here. So I really, really ought to not drool over his shoulders and those bulging lats, and—damn it—he's got those ass dimples hiding above his fallen waistband.

He rakes his fingers through his blue hair, then shakes his head back. Firelight glints off of his granite jaw and sculpted full lips.

Breathing fast, I spin around and weigh the apron in my hands. It'd be easy for me to slip it on over my dress but…

I don't know why my fingers start to undo the belt, then reach for the zipper. Feeling lightheaded, I want to laugh when my dress hits the floor. Splashing sounds and the strike of a rock break from behind me. I quickly slip on the apron that acts like a dress, ignoring the fact my sides and back are only covered by underwear.

What am I doing?

This is so stupid. They're going to get angry and send me away.

"Wow!" Cheddy cries out. He's abandoned the vat to stare at me.

"You look…wow," Brie adds.

A long wolf whistle breaks from Cam and the milk jug hits the ground. "Never has an apron looked finer than around your luscious curves."

"Hmph," Roq grumps as he hunches over to inspect the second vat.

"Very well. Disrobe her, then we'll see if you can don it better," Cam says.

"I, uh, I didn't want to stain my dress," I say, hoping that echoing Roq's earlier statement is enough.

Sparks catch under the vat of milk. Roq rises as he juggles the rocks in one hand. I wait for him to give another derisive snort and look away. But, instead of his eyes pinning me to the ground, they swoop and swerve down my body barely hiding below the apron. He swallows hard and reaches up to touch his chest. The rock in his palm scrapes up his chest, leaving a red path. Roq blinks in surprise before he tosses the stones back into a box.

"Step up, Miss Reely," Roq says. "You can't see anything in the dark."

I ease closer, sliding into the rising musk of testosterone and sweat. While Cam and Cheddy openly stare, Brie takes quick glances my way.

"The first step is to heat the milk, which is what we're doing here," Roy says. He points to the underside of the vats where flames lick against the underside.

"Is this safe?" I ask. Old carbon monoxide PSAs dance in my head.

"There are air vents all around. Don't worry."

"We need them for whenever Cheddy cuts the cheese," Cam shouts and wafts a hand under his nose.

"What?" Cheddy complains. "I never get to cut the cheese. Only Roq's allowed to do that." His earnest response causes Cam to break out into laughter.

Crossing his arms, Roq glowers at them both. "Don't you two have curds to mold?"

Cam sighs deeply. "Grab the sacks, Chedward." Both of them pick up cheesecloth dangling above the trough sink. With care, they carry them toward the back while water drips off. Brie follows after, guiding the runoff toward a drain in the floor.

"What are they doing?" I ask.

"Preparing the curd for molding," Roq says.

"Should I be watching them?"

"They're handling a later step. I thought it would be…easiest for you to understand if we go from milk to cheese and not skip around."

A loud slap echoes off the brick ceiling from deep in the dark. "Owe, you brigand!" Cam cries out.

"You'll never catch me," Cheddy adds, and he takes off from the back tables toward us laughing manically. A brief flash of white cuts through the darkness, striking Cheddy in the ass. "Damn, you caught me."

Roq watches it all with pursed lips. "Or would you rather join their tomfoolery and not bother with cheesemaking?"

"No. I want to learn."

He folds his hands behind his back and nods. "Good." I swear a hint of a smile teases his lips before he turns on professor mode—if the professor's jacked, with blue hair, and half-naked. "As I said, we are heating the milk to thirty-two degrees."

"Heating?" I ask, confused. "Isn't that freezing?"

"It's in Celsius." Roq sighs. I can see a rant building in his throat as he rubs his eyes, but he shakes it off. Pulling a thermometer as long as his arm out of a cabinet, he explains, "The milk must be prepared in order to encourage the cultures to flourish. Here. I will put you in charge of watching the thermometer."

He places the long glass tube in my hands like it's a royal scepter. Before I can even take it, he clasps his palms over mine and stares into my eyes. "This stage is vital. If the temperature drops or rises too high, the cheese will be inedible. Do you understand the trust I'm placing on your shoulders?"

Gulping, I nod and turn to face the vat that's nearly as tall as I am. I strain my arm high and manage to slip the precious thermometer in. Hands bounce into my ankles and Roq places a little step stool beside me. After climbing to the top, I'm able to see the rising red line.

"Do not take your eyes off of it for a second," he says and places his thermometer into the other vat.

Focus. If you turn away, the milk will spoil. You'll ruin their lives. They'll hate you forever.

"You bastard!" Cheddy shouts, followed by the sounds of goop hitting stone.

"My mother and father bore me in a proper, hate-filled marriage, thank you very much," Cam cuts back. "Duck, Brie."

"I've never had duck with brie…" Splort. "Oh."

Even with the rising distractions of three men turned into schoolboys, I laser focus on the numbers, watching the red creep up from fifteen to thirty-two.

"Roq," I cry out and wave a hand. Then I rub my eyes to make certain I didn't imagine it. He lingers behind me and pinches the thermometer between his fingers. "I think this is it."

"Indeed." His voice rumbles over the back of my ear. I turn in surprise and nearly swipe my lips over his cheek.

Dipping my chin down, I try to shrink away when his other hand grips the lip of the vat, pinning me between him and gallons of hot milk. His jaw almost skims my ear as he stretches to test the temperature in the center of the vat.

"It's best to check twice," he says like this is a classroom and I'm not sweating from his thighs and hips nearly pressing into the small of my naked back. If I take one deep breath, I'll be sitting in his lap.

Roq shakes the thermometer and the downy tufts of his chest hair brush my skin. A shivering tickle races to my feet, but he pulls away with a smile. "Perfect. Let me turn down the flames and then we add the cultures."

After he puts out most of the fire under the vats, he pulls a mess of old coffee cans from the cabinets. Every one has a piece of tape with labels like "s. lacticus" and "p. roqueforti." Roq pries off one lid, then he takes a tiny measuring spoon and shakes the powder in. "About fifty milligrams or so will do for this batch. I use a blend of five different cultures." One by one, he carefully closes a tin, opens another, then adds a dash of the new powder.

"For god's sake man, let her do something," Cam calls. He dumps into the sink an armful of metal tins that look like springform pans with holes drilled through them. Brie sighs and takes over scrubbing them down as Cam leans back against the trough. "She's never going to learn if you do it all for her. Or is your perfectionist pride too fragile to risk it?"

Roq blisters at Cam's cut. He shoves the next can into my shocked hands. Doing my best to not shake, I pull open the lid and am hit by the smell of yeasty cheese.

You're going to ruin this. You'll add too much and the whole thing will turn into clotted garbage.

"How…? How much?" I ask, locking the canister in my arm so I don't drop it or fling the whole thing into the vat.

With a sigh, Roq darts his gaze to Cam, then he picks up the tiny spoon. "Use this."

I dig it in, and he shakes his head. "Too much, too much. Okay. Ah, a little more. Good. Now add it in."

Taking a deep breath, I toss the granules into the warm milk.

"A bit more celebratory than I tend to, but…good job. You just have three more cultures to go."

Feeling more secure, I'm able to get through the mess of cans while Roq watches like a hawk without any major disasters. He passes me a large wooden paddle to give the mixture a good stir while he quickly adds other cultures to the second vat. The heat from the warm milk is invigorating, and I'm drawn in by the sweep of the wooden handle through the still, opaque surface.

Didn't queens bathe in milk and honey? I used to find the idea ludicrous and kinda nasty, but slipping into this vat—maybe while Cam and Cheddy feed me grapes—sounds fantastic.

A hand lands on my shoulder, pinning me to the step stool. "That's good." Roq takes the paddle and hangs it on a rack above our heads. The excess milk drips back into the vat as we stare.

"What now?"

"We wait for the cultures to acidify the milk."

"For how long?"

Roq tugs over the chair. He sits with elbows on his knees and fingers tented. Focusing on the vats, he mouths from the side of his lips, "An hour and a half. Give or take."

Great. What am I going to do for an hour and…

Leaping in the air, Cheddy slaps his palms over Cam's shoulders, then Brie's. Both men turn and spray a hose at Cheddy. Rather than recoil, Cheddy poses like he's in a shower. Water drenches his body until every naked inch of skin glistens like diamonds.

That'll do.