He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it, but he didn’t think so. It was important for him to do this, though. After his injury, when he realized he’d never play competitive baseball again, Gray had felt useless—what could he possibly do to delight his parents in the way that he had playing ball? Luckily a good therapist had helped him through the worst of feeling that way, but learning to elicit smiles through his food, that had helped so much. Sure, he wanted Jess and Doug to have a reception they could be proud of, but he wanted to make food that would make them happy.
He liked cooking for people, and cooking for people he cared about even more. It was one of the things he wondered about people when he met them—what did they eat? What did they like to eat? What were they afraid to try and what might tempt them to do so? His thoughts turned to Cameron Dunlop.
I wonder what he likes to eat. Traditional food like roast chicken? Southern favorites like fried chicken and baked mac and cheese, or trendy food? How does he feel about Moroccan? Has he had it? How about Szechuan? I wonder if he’d like my cassoulet—no, that’s more of an autumn meal. A salad Niçoise, maybe? With a crisp white wine, a cherry clafouti for dessert.
Gray pictured Cameron sitting down to eat something Gray had made. That was a sure tell. More than once someone had told Gray that they could tell he was interested in a man when he started planning a menu. Cameron was really cute, but Gray was probably getting ahead of himself. Cam was just an acquaintance, a property manager, and come to think of it, Gray really did still need a property manager.
All the food he was imagining making needed a place to be eaten. Jess had sounded hopelessly frustrated and a little resigned, but Cameron was affable and seemed smart. Plus, he knew the current property situation as well as anyone. Gray slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the slightly crumpled business card. He’d run it by his family, and if they gave the okay, Gray would call him in the morning.
Chapter 3
THE NEXT morning Cam arrived at work to find that by some miracle, there were no voicemails or emails from clients who needed urgent attention. Unfortunately, by whatever the opposite of a miracle was, there was also no coffee.
Penny had left a note that she was at the bank and would be back by ten.
Cameron squinted at the clock, mentally evaluating if he could hold out or if he could make do with one of the room-temperature cans of Diet Coke still waiting to be put in the fridge. Penny always said he made terrible coffee. Cam had to admit she was right. He was a little foggy without coffee, but he was in a good mood. His best friend, Travis, was going to drive down from Columbia for a weekend trip at the Stick Shack, their place on the Edisto River. They told everyone it was their little cabin on the water, but it was really a double-wide trailer Travis and Cameron had built a screen porch and a patio for. It wasn’t much, but with the little fishing boat Travis had bought thirdhand, it was good enough for them, and occasionally a few of the guys from college joined them. There’d be cheap beer, fish if they could catch it, and hot dogs from the BI-LO if they couldn’t.
But that was Friday, and this was just a day with no coffee and, his grumbling stomach reminded him, a day he’d skipped breakfast. He pulled up the office calendar. There wasn’t anything to keep him from running out for a coffee and a biscuit.
He’d started the car but hadn’t actually backed out when an SUV pulled up next to him.
“Oh, come on.” Cameron put the car back into Park and grimaced at the steering wheel. “Just when I committed to sweet, sweet caffeine?” He allowed himself the grousing before plastering on his customer service face and getting out.
“Oh, Cameron, great, looks like I just caught you.” The voice was warm, friendly, and newly familiar.
Well, coffee maybe could wait a few. Suddenly Cameron’s smile wasn’t fake at all.
Gray handed over the signed lease, which Cam should have noticed he didn’t have already (whoops). But he was grateful, if a little embarrassed, that Gray had brought it over.
“Thanks.” Cameron took it and smiled sheepishly. “You could have just dropped it in the slot, but it’s good to see you. Is everything with the house okay?” He was glad to see Gray again for sure, but he hoped he wasn’t unhappy with anything.
“Oh no, the cottage is great,” Gray reassured him. “I do have another property problem, though. Do you have a few minutes for a chat?”
Cameron wasn’t expecting that. He must have hesitated a moment longer than he thought, or maybe he honestly looked hungry, because Gray added, “Talk about it over breakfast?”
“I would absolutely love that.” Cameron smiled at him, completely sincere. Coffee and the company of handsome Gray sounded like a good way to start his day, and if he could solve a problem for Gray, even better.
Gray drove them over to Main Street. He parked in front of the cafe owned by Patsy Leighton, which was locked and dark. Someone had scrawled Closed due to Family Emergency on a piece of paper and taped it to the door.
“Putting it mildly.” Gray rolled his eyes.
Cameron nodded. The cafe had served the best coffee in the small downtown, but Cameron wasn’t picky, especially not with Gray for company. “I think that leaves us with the diner. It’s hot and cheap, at least. You game?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. Sometimes I think the world is conspiring to keep me from a good cup of coffee,” Gray said.
“I feel your pain.” When they got to the door, Cameron opened it for Gray, getting a smile in exchange. Cameron wanted to call it a flirty smile, but that was probably just wishful thinking. This was a business breakfast, not a date, and Don’s Diner was hardly any kind of a romantic atmosphere.
What passed for the morning rush in the diner was over, leaving them with their choice of almost any table. Cameron avoided the one with the local sports paraphernalia, opting instead for a booth beneath a taxidermied deer head decorated with University of South Carolina Gamecocks gear.
“Understated choice.” Gray flicked his finger at one of the strands of garnet Mardi-Gras-style beads hanging from the deer’s neck.
“I thought after years away, you might appreciate some local décor.” Cameron smiled innocently, even though they both knew Gray hadn’t missed the Let’s Go Cocks! bumper sticker between the antlers.
“Believe it or not, I’m kind of into it.” Gray cut his gaze up toward the antlers. “I mean, it’s kind of ridiculous in a way, what with all the beads and stickers, but it’s sincere love for something, even if it’s a little silly. No fucks given and all that. I get it, because I’m like that about food.”
“Like that?” Cameron hoped Gray would say more. Apparently that simple question was all the encouragement Gray needed to start talking, only pausing to order coffee and breakfast.
Gray told him about getting hurt in college, how the doctors told him he’d never play competitive baseball again. “I sat in the dorm and sulked and watched TV. Watching sports made me too mad, so I started watching the food and travel channels.” Gray shook his head after he said that, like it was hard to believe. “I’d always liked food, and what with training and everything, I could eat a lot. I’d even cooked a little, but I’d never thought about food as a job and I sure as hell had never cooked anything that could be considered haute cuisine.” Gray said the last word with an exaggerated French accent as he rolled his eyes at his past self.
Cameron imagined college Gray trying to make a gourmet meal in a dorm kitchen. The mental image was much cuter than it had any right to be.
Gray told him that he’d first started cooking more complex things for his roommates, who were easy to please, then his other friends. “Then my friend Jake told this girl he wanted to impress that he was going to make her this fancy romantic dinner.”
Cameron chuckled. “I bet I can guess where this is going.”
“If you guess that I was channeling my frustration with everything from baseball to my lack of love life into preparing for that dinner, you’d be right. I busted my
ass for a week testing stuff, looking up new recipes, shopping, the whole nine yards, until I made a four-course meal for two in Jake’s shitty apartment kitchen.”
“And did it work?”
“Well, it got Jake laid, mostly because he felt so guilty when she went crazy over the food that he confessed, which was apparently just too adorable. The next time I saw them, she told me her mom managed a restaurant and I should go talk to them about a job.”
They didn’t put him in the kitchen at first. Gray apparently had to do everything from busing tables to checking stock and supplies to washing produce before he got near a knife or a pot. “I loved every second, though. When I started cutting classes to peel carrots, I called home and told my parents I wanted to drop out of college and go to culinary school.”
“How did that go?”
“Pretty dicey until I decided in for a penny, in for a pound and used the same conversation to come out to them.”
Cameron’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God. That’s bold.”
“Actually, they said they suspected about the whole gay thing, and they were so focused on trying to show me how open-minded and supportive they were that the chef thing kind of got swept up in that. Dad made me come up with a financial plan for getting my career started, but they gave their blessing, and here I am.” Gray held his hands out like he was some sort of diva expecting flowers to be thrown at him, but his expression was wry. “Unemployed chef who skulked back home, scrambling to put on a wedding reception in less than two weeks.”
There was definitely something more to the story than simply unemployed, and probably something to do with the guy who deserved the lap of fish stew. Cameron wanted to ask, but their breakfasts arrived, making eating the eggs while they were still hot the highest priority.
Cameron watched as Gray reached for the hot sauce and splashed it liberally over his scrambled eggs in an amount Cameron thought would make them inedible to most people.
“You look surprised.” Gray took a big forkful and ate them with obvious delight.
“Wouldn’t’ve expected a chef to, you know.” Cameron gestured at the plate of Tabasco-spiked eggs, hash browns, and crisp bacon.
“Eat diner food? Slather it with Tabasco? Let me tell you, most chefs have a secret love for at least a few ‘lowbrow’ foods. The first big deal chef I worked for, like cover of Food and Wine big deal, hit Taco Bell almost every night after close. He made the best Italian food I’ve ever had, but he would fight you over a gordita.”
Cameron tried to imagine Gray at a Taco Bell drive-thru at two in the morning but couldn’t quite picture it. “I can’t see you doing that, honestly.”
“Doesn’t do it for me, but diner food, for sure, and don’t ever try to talk me out of a hot dog and a pack of mesquite barbecue chips. Add a cheap beer and you’ve got me.”
Gray’s cheeks colored a little, like he was a bit embarrassed to admit it, but Cameron tucked that fact away in hopes it might come in handy.
“Good to know.” Cameron wanted to ask more about Gray’s likes and dislikes, but he was also curious about what Gray wanted to talk about. As their plates were being cleared and their coffee refilled, he asked.
“Remember what I said about putting on a wedding reception in a week and a half? Somehow I don’t think the Leightons are going to be back in the event-hosting business by then, and Jess is really not keen about getting married at the golf club or out at Divertissement.”
That made a lot of sense. “This one is too stuffy, that one is too caught up in glamorizing the Old South, and I need one that is just right?”
“You sound like Goldilocks.” Gray tilted his head back, laughing. It exposed his throat, which made Cameron swallow hard as he tried not to think about him being Goldilocks and trying to find a comfortable bed. That wasn’t a good line of thought to have in public.
“Well, I’m not sure what’s available, but I promise if I find it, it will be 100 percent free of bears. Now, let’s have the deets, how many people and all that.”
CAMERON HAD told Gray the truth when he’d said he wasn’t sure what was available, but he definitely had something in mind. He drove out to the Parrys’ barn again, hoping he’d finally found its purpose. He pulled off to the side in a little bare patch of ground, this time evaluating it for parking. Not fancy but a good amount of space and level too. There weren’t any slopes or steps, which was good since Gray had mentioned the importance of accessibility for wheelchairs. Cameron walked up to the building, trying to imagine the posts of the porch area strung with little white lights. It would be pretty, he thought, especially if there were some potted shrubs or flowers around. He could maybe ask Penny for help in explaining how it could be done up. The main room was wide enough for dancing, with spaces for tables at the sides; there was a bathroom in the barn and another in the cabin out back. There wasn’t a kitchen, but what did caterers need besides power and water? Gray didn’t say they’d need an oven, so that might be okay.
Thinking about Gray’s potential reaction to this place made Cam feel warm inside. He wanted to impress Gray, sure. He was a hot guy with way more worldly experience than Cameron had, a literal pro at putting together memorable meals. Cameron wanted to show that even though he hadn’t gotten away from their small hometown, he wasn’t a yokel. Part of that was resisting the urge to call Gray back immediately, babbling that he’d found the perfect place. What did he know about wedding locations or any kind of social event planning, anyway?
Luckily, he knew someone who did.
He found Aunt Lucy working on another jigsaw puzzle, this one a colorful row of tropical cocktails with bright umbrellas.
Cameron sat down across from her. “More church lady puzzles?”
“Mm-hmm.” Aunt Lucy placed a fuchsia piece to complete a flower garnish. “Maybe they’re trying to send me a message.”
Cameron poked at the row of pale blue pieces that would make up the background. “Help, I’m trapped at the St. Agnes Women’s Auxiliary. Please get me booze and a handsome firefighter?”
“Can’t blame them for that! But you didn’t come here to evaluate my puzzles. What brings you here so early? Aren’t we having supper tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I wanted to ask your advice on something if you have a moment, and if I can start work on it this afternoon….”
“Well, I have a very busy schedule, but seeing as how you’re family, I’ll make room.”
Cameron filled her in on meeting Gray; she gave him a knowing look, even though Cameron had been trying, and obviously failing, to describe him as blandly as possible. He told her about his sister’s wedding and how the situation with the Leightons had ruined her plans—that drew pursed lips and a close-mouthed hmph. Then he pulled out his phone to show her the photos he’d taken of the Parrys’ barn as he described its features, its charm, how in a week the azaleas and wisteria would be out, even the parking. She nodded and asked a few questions but didn’t offer any opinions as Cameron prattled on, which was either a very good sign or a very bad one.
“So, what do you think?” Cam fidgeted with a puzzle piece. “I remember that time you did the luncheon for the DAR thing and how much time it took and everything.” Cameron had been about nine then, still shy and sad about losing his mom and new to living with Aunt Lucy. Aunt Lucy was planning a scholarship luncheon for her chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. (“I didn’t volunteer; I was voluntold,” she’d said, introducing Cameron to a very useful word.)
“And you helped me immensely, even then.” Aunt Lucy looked out the window to the garden as if recalling the day. “Running around hauling chairs almost as big as you.”
“And completely willing because you’d promised me as many deviled eggs as I could eat if I did.” It wasn’t until years later that he’d realized Aunt Lucy had been completely capable of handling the whole thing herself, but she’d wanted to encourage Cameron to participate in something in the community and to come out of his shell a
bit. And of course, indulge him in a few of her excellent deviled eggs.
“You always were motivated by a good snack—and now you say that this young man you’ve met is a chef too. What a coincidence.” Her eyes sparkled. “Did you tell me he was a Callahan?”
Cameron hadn’t mentioned his last name at all, and they both knew it. Sometimes he forgot that over seven decades of living in their smallish town meant that Aunt Lucy knew everybody, or at least knew of everybody. He wondered what she knew about Gray and his family. “Gray Callahan, yeah.”
“His mother, Melinda, was a substitute teacher for a while when I was at the middle school. Grayson would have been about twelve then, which would have made you….”
“Eight,” Cameron mumbled.
“Yes, and his sister a couple of years younger than you. A nice family, sporty, all of them. Melinda played tennis, and Gray, baseball, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am. He got a college scholarship,” Cameron volunteered, knowing he was making her soft interrogation easy. “But he went into cooking after he got hurt and couldn’t play anymore.”
Aunt Lucy nodded. “Practical skill to have. A good thing in a husband, at least that’s what I hear, not having that experience myself.”
Cameron blushed crimson. “Aunt Lucy, you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”
“At my age, no such thing.”
Cam let it go. He didn’t want to argue, partially because he wouldn’t win, but partially because that line of thinking was really nice to contemplate, if a little premature. He steered the conversation back to the barn. “So, what do you think? Is this too out there? It’s definitely no Leighside.”
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