The Shack wasn’t overburdened with kitchen equipment, but it had bowls and utensils, and Gray was resourceful. He set out his mise in a cheerful assortment of tumblers printed with images of Snoopy, the Atlanta Braves, and Dale Earnhardt.
“Much obliged,” Gray muttered to the NASCAR driver’s face as he mixed the ricotta into the batter.
To Gray, pancakes were the quintessential lazy lie-in breakfast food. They weren’t as time sensitive as a lot of egg dishes were, and they weren’t too fiddly to make, even special ones like these. And they were usually a hit with the fellas as well.
“Oh my God, what is that amazing smell?” Cam came up behind Gray as if on cue, sliding his hands around his waist.
“Bacon in the oven, lemon ricotta pancakes here, and a bit of blueberry compote.” Gray grinned, then giggled as Cameron nuzzled his neck with his morning stubble.
“You’re fantastic, and if there was coffee, I’d be absolutely hooked.”
“Kettle is on, french press standing by.”
“You brought a fr—oh my God, you did.” Cameron sounded awestruck. “A guy could get used to this.”
“All part of my fiendish plan.”
“Your delicious plan.” Cameron gave him a squeeze before going to tend to the coffee.
“I’m not sure if you’re talking about my food or my—”
“Both,” Cameron interrupted. “Definitely both.”
The pancakes turned out beautifully, rich yet light, a perfect mix of sour with the sweet. Cam sheepishly asked if he could have the leftover compote in a side dish, and when he’d finished his pancakes, he ate the compote with a spoon.
“Amazing,” he said, leaning back and rubbing his stomach, below where his thin white tee rode up. “And you can cook bacon in the oven, who knew?”
“Good for small spaces or when you don’t want to make a splattery mess.”
“Are you full of surprises every day?” Cameron asked him.
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Gray said, and Cam’s blushing grin was the only answer he needed.
THE REST of the morning they spent lazing around on the hideous yet comfortable plaid couch, flipping channels between house-hunting shows—Gray was gratified to find they had very similar tastes—and the Golf Channel, which underscored that they might not have every interest in common, but Cameron rubbed his feet while watching some man talk about putters, so it wasn’t a total loss.
“I wish we could spend all weekend here, but duty calls.” Gray checked the time, which was moving too quickly for his liking.
Cameron stretched, gently moving Gray’s feet from his lap before standing. “Stick Shack has survived two teenage boys and a hurricane, so I reckon it’ll be here after next week.”
“Speaking of next week….”
“Mm?” Cameron offered Gray a hand to help haul him up from the saggy sofa. He pulled Gray up hard enough that he landed against Cam with a soft oof. It was a nice place to be.
“I think I’ve been assuming something without actually asking you,” Gray began.
“It’s true, I’m gay,” Cameron deadpanned.
“Well, that’s good. Be a lot less awkward for you to be my date at the wedding.”
“I’d be happy to,” Cam said and kissed him. “Then we can spend a couple days unwinding, or we can go to an actual hotel with real service and all.”
“I dunno, I kind of like the cabana boy here. And he doubles as a wedding date.”
“Full-service,” Cameron said, so of course Gray made him prove it again before they headed back home.
THE NEXT few days Gray hardly saw his bed or Cameron, much less both at the same time. On Monday, he hosted a “staff meeting” at the barn where it became clear Missy was a natural leader. She was also a natural organizer, and with her collaboration, they had a plan for what they needed to rent or buy. Gray’s dad came by with his checkbook and so became the hero of the hour. After that, most of the assembled group went home except for Edgar’s youngest brother, Luis, whom Gray asked to be his sous chef until the wedding. He and Luis retired to the diner, where they went over the menu and made a shopping masterplan.
TUESDAY, DEVANTE and Janelle flew down with Janelle relaxing at their Charleston hotel while Devante set up his “cake command center” at Gray’s parents’, mostly because they had a double oven. Gray introduced him to pastry student Jason, who looked at Devante like Gray had looked at Hubert Keller when he’d met him. When they were up to their elbows in flour and Devante was calling Jason “Padawan,” he left them to it. Pastry chefs were always so weird, but in a delightful way.
WEDNESDAY, HE spent the day either cooking or shopping, with Luis doing the same. By midmorning it was clear they were going to need more equipment already. He’d thought he’d planned well, but together he and Luis were fast enough that they were ahead of schedule on the make-ahead. He texted Mom, Jess, and Cameron with pleas for mixers, bowls, and pans. At lunch, Cameron and his mother showed up at the same time.
Gray didn’t even realize until they walked in, Cam holding the door open for Mom, a stand mixer tucked under one arm.
“Mom! Cam!” Gray wiped his hand across his forehead, forgetting he had been chopping basil.
Cam set down the mixer before walking over to pluck a stray chiffonade from his hair.
“Careful or you’re going to smell like basil all week,” he joked.
“Pfft, my pesto brings all the—” Gray started, but when his mom cleared her throat he finished with, “all the guests to the party. Hi, Mom!”
Cameron, knowing a good chance when he saw one, dashed back out muttering about unloading the car.
“I met your young man,” she said.
“I see that.” Gray grinned. “He’s nice.”
“Very helpful. Cheerful. Polite.” She grinned back. Mom had really never liked Matt. “I look forward to getting to know him better?”
He knew she was phrasing it as a question for a reason. Was this a convenient date or something else?
“You bet you will,” Gray answered just as Cameron came back in with another box of equipment. Of that he had no doubt.
BY THE end of the week, he might have been freaking out just a little. Luckily Dad was handling the equipment rentals, with Gray and Jess’s aunts and uncles pitching in on the setup while his cousin Audra was handling the flowers. According to Cameron, Penny Parry had enthusiastically volunteered to help clean up the barn and set up the strings of lights. Cam had texted him some pictures around dinnertime (or what would have been dinner if Gray hadn’t been working and grazing all day). Not only did the barn look amazing, with swags of pale tulle and tiny twinkling lights, but Cam also had included a shot of Jess walking in and seeing the dressed-up venue for the first time.
Her expression was ecstatic, and thinking about how Cameron knew to get such a good shot warmed his heart. Gray was pretty sure Cam was a romantic at heart. It was nice to see that peeking out, and Gray wanted to see more of it. Soon. He didn’t resent doing this for his sister at all, but he was a little wistful maybe, that he had his first date in quite a while and he wouldn’t get to spend as much time with Cam as he’d like. Hopefully there would be time for one dance, but if not, maybe they could share a lazy Sunday together.
The oven timer’s buzzer distracted him from woolgathering, and the tart shells he pulled out looked good, if not Devante good. As he looked around at the kitchen, from dirty dishes to cooling racks, he thought they’d done a very good day’s work. There were a few things left to do in the morning, but he thought he’d have time to get the food ready and himself ready too.
Luis left at a quarter ’til eleven, offering to make the trip down to Mt. Pleasant to pick up the shrimp in the morning, but Gray insisted. Not that he didn’t trust Luis—he did, and definitely was going to go see Luis’s guy—but Gray was going to need to get out of the kitchen and into the fresh air, if just for a little while. It had been a long week. He needed a break, he could proba
bly use a drink, and it was a shame it was too late for a booty call, because he could also use a—
“Hey, big city boy, don’t you know if you leave your door unlocked in a small town, anyone is just likely to walk on in?”
“Cam.” Gray’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I am so glad to see you.”
“And glad to see this too, I bet.” Cameron held up a six-pack of IPA.
“And here I was thinking I’d just go have a hot bath before bed,” Gray admitted.
Cameron set the beer down so he could wrap his arms around Gray. “Property manager tells me the master bath is big enough for two, and I bet we can improvise for the cup holders.”
Gray couldn’t have agreed more.
Epilogue
CANDLES TWINKLED in their mason jar holders, and colorful dresses swirled on the dance floor as the guests danced to the DJ’s tunes. Around the perimeter, a team dressed smartly in pale blue shirts and black trousers moved gracefully around tables groaning under artfully placed trays and baskets. Behind the bar, Velma and her twin sister, in matching red-and-black polka-dotted dresses, poured drinks like they were pros, and in the corner, a renowned pastry chef freshened the flowers on the cake he’d made so it would be perfect for the last photo before it was devoured.
“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it, more than I can say,” Gray told him. “There’s a cooler with a few plates made up and a bottle of wine for you and Janelle.” Out on the dance floor, Cameron was spinning Devante’s wife.
“Hope you made one for yourself; boy’s working up an appetite. He moves all right.” Devante nodded his approval.
“That he does.” Cameron glanced over as if his eyes were burning. Gray raised his glass, getting a wink in return. “I think he’s a keeper.”
“Does he know that yet?” Devante asked. “Because if not, you need to tell him.”
Devante was right. Gray had done a lot of thinking the past week about what was next, and with how busy he’d been, he realized he actually hadn’t said anything to Cameron about it. “Yeah, I reckon I do.”
“Then go get your man, Chef.”
Gray stopped by the bar for two glasses of the fizzy cocktail of the evening, gesturing to Cameron when the song ended. Cameron sauntered over to take the offered glass.
“You did an amazing job,” Cameron said as Gray led them outside where they had more quiet and more privacy. When he’d imagined some version of this talk with Cameron in his head, they had been in an intimate restaurant or at least curled up on the ugly Stick Shack sofa, but the romantic atmosphere brought out something that made him not want to wait.
Gray led Cam out to the gravel parking lot and lowered the tailgate of his grandpa’s truck so they could sit in the bed of it.
“Okay, I kind of love this,” Cameron said as he shimmied into place beside Gray.
Gray turned to look at him. “For real?”
“Yeah for real, like it’s beautiful out and we’re dressed up and at this fancy party, but we’re still two guys in a pickup truck in a blacktop and gravel lot. Remember when you told me about that fancy chef, the one who loved gorditas?”
Gray nodded.
“It’s like that. Both really different but both really good.”
“Exactly,” Gray said, knowing a good conversational opportunity when he had one. “I used to think I had to choose. I could be a big deal fine dining chef, or I could give up and move home. I could meet someone in the big city, or I could—”
“Be alone here?” Cameron finished. He reached out to squeeze Gray’s hand. “I know what you mean. I felt that way for a while. I like my life here, you know? A lot. And I didn’t want to leave just for a chance to meet someone that wouldn’t want to come back with me.”
Gray leaned over to nuzzle Cameron’s hair. “I’m not sure what exactly I’m going to do yet with work, though seeing this place, and working at home this past week, it’s given me all sorts of ideas. At the very least, there’s an opening for a caterer in town.”
Cam nodded, mock serious. “For a while at least, depending on the parole board.”
Gray cracked up. “God, you’re terrible, and I mean that in the best way possible. Thanks for everything, Cam. Not just everything you’ve done to help, but for showing me I’m not doing the next thing alone.”
“Nope.” Cameron turned toward him and leaned in for a kiss. “You definitely aren’t.”
More from Claudia Mayrant
When long hours and crushing stress push Bellamy Alexander to his breaking point, he walks away from his consulting job and drives until he runs out of gas. Fortune deposits him in front of Antonio’s, a place with decent pizza and an opening for a delivery boy. Even better, he finds an apartment right across the street from his new job. And best of all, Chris McGregor, the property manager who runs the custom furniture shop below Bell’s new digs, is super hot—and super into Bell.
It seems too good to be true—and maybe it is. Things aren’t exactly going smoothly. Bell avoids telling his mother the truth about his new job because he doesn’t want to hear how he should go back to the corporate world. On the other hand, he doesn’t think he wants to deliver pizza forever either. He’d like to think about settling down, but Chris runs hot and cold. Between Bell’s uncertainty and the hang-ups Chris refuses to talk about, they have their work cut out for them. Fortune may have caused their paths to dovetail, but it will take more than wood glue to hold them together.
CLAUDIA MAYRANT has been exploring the world around her since she was old enough to get around under her own power. Her early travels took her on her bicycle “all the way to but not on the main road.” Happily, since then, she’s enjoyed visiting as many places as she can, from bustling marketplaces and enchanting castles to funky dives. She can’t possibly decide which she likes best, but details of her favorite people, places, and things usually get put in the fiction blender so they can make an appearance in her stories.
Claudia maintains that each new adventure requires the appropriate footwear, which explains her closet. Her passion for taking photographs of the things she sees, does, and eats far exceeds her skill with the camera, but no matter the setting, she has fun trying to get a good shot.
For all her love of travel, she’s most relaxed back in the South on a Gulf Coast beach with good friends, refreshing beverages, and plenty of sunscreen.
Her smartphone isn’t literally connected to her hand, but anyone would be forgiven for thinking so.
Twitter: @claudiamayrant
Pinterest: ClaudiaMayrant
By Claudia Mayrant
With Ashlyn Kane and CJ Burke: Babe in the Woodshop
Place Setting
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Place Setting
© 2019 Claudia Mayrant.
Cover Art
© 2019 Brooke Albrecht.
http://brookealbrechtstudio.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publ
isher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-972-7
Digital eBook published January 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
Place Setting Page 8