by E M Lindsey
“That’s not my goal,” Antoine assured her. “You want more people coming down—maybe not to stay, but to check out your market, to eat at your restaurants, to shop at the local places. Cherry Creek has a lot to offer. I can think of maybe three or four little towns like this, and all of them are closer to the bigger cities, like Boston or Orlando. This place is unique.”
“We’ve got Denver,” she said quietly.
“Yes.” He took another bite of chicken, then drank water before he went on. “Yes, but it’s two hours away. Coming here feels like a getaway. It’s not a fifteen-minute drive from civilization, but it’s also not so far the place doesn’t feel worth the trip.”
Rose dropped her gaze to where her hand was splayed over the top of the bar. “This was Sonia’s dream. Well, after she,” Rose licked her lips and smiled. “She got diagnosed with RP. It’s…”
“I’m familiar with it,” Antoine said softly. He knew—intimately. It wasn’t what was responsible for Marcel’s blindness, but it was similar to his brother’s glaucoma.
“She was in culinary school, and she couldn’t finish. Her teachers were awful about it. But she didn’t want to give up her dream, you know? So, we decided to sink what we had into this place. It paid off for a while, but lately we’ve been struggling and I’m not ready to look at closing.”
“I get it,” Antoine told her. “Right now—at least from the research I’ve done—no one is on death row just yet. I have some ideas, and it’s going to take town cooperation because it means restructuring things, it means advertising for vacation rentals and expanding what you can offer at the Farmer’s Market. It means more than a parking lot petting zoo during the holiday events.”
Rose laughed softly. “Okay.”
“I have several weeks,” Antoine told her. “That’s usually enough time, and I’ll take your plan of action with me back home to get the marketing started. I know I’m an outsider, but I want you to succeed.”
“I’m happy to work with you,” she said. “And so is my wife. We love it here, and we love our place.”
“Then we can use that,” Antoine told her. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I can promise to use all the tricks of my trade to get you something sustainable. You won’t be rich, but…”
“I don’t need to be rich,” she insisted.
He nodded. “Good.” His salad was half gone and the edge of his appetite with it. He opened his mouth to say more just as Max texted, and he let out a small sigh. “That’s my ride. Can we reschedule? Barring any and all future car accidents?”
She winced but laughed and stuck out her hand. “Yes. Can I give you my number?”
Antoine handed out yet another business card. “Text me and I’ll save it in my phone. Rene’s secretary is making a meeting schedule for me over the next few days. Give his office a call to set up something formal, but I’ll be back in. I look forward to meeting Sonia later.”
Rose’s smile was easy, the smile of a woman in love, a woman who had been married for a long damn time and had never grown tired of the gift she’d been given. He ached with envy, but he wouldn’t begrudge her that softness.
“Good luck with your car, Mr. Tremblay.”
“Antoine,” he corrected. “I’ll see you soon.” Swiping his mouth with his napkin, he left cash next to his plate and hurried out the front door.
It took him only a second to find Max, and he was both everything and nothing like Antoine expected him to be. He was thin and lithe with grease stains over his forearms and a shirt that might have been white once. His dark hair was brushed back away from his face, and he had furrowed brows behind dark glasses.
He was driving a small, sporty car, leaning over the roof with one leg inside the open door. When he saw Antoine, he offered something more like a smirk than a grin. “You get time to eat?”
Antoine tried not to sigh as he opened the passenger door and got in, trying not to jostle his ribs too much. “Hard to have much of an appetite with cracked ribs.”
At that, Max winced. “Fitz said he thought your ribs might be broken.”
“I’ve had worse,” Antoine assured him. He buckled up, and he felt a surge of gratitude when Max took the corners and turns of the road with careful ease. “I appreciate the work.”
“It’s my literal job. It wasn’t a favor. And insurance pays way better than people.” Max turned and smirked at him again. “So, feel free to crash any rental you want while you’re here.”
Antoine bristled, but he realized Max wasn’t trying to be cruel. “Do you know a decent way to get into the city? I know they’re going to make me pick up the new car.”
Max laughed. “Lyft doesn’t like to come out here when it can help it. But my husband’s at the shop and he already said he’s happy to give you a ride.”
“The disgruntled lumberjack,” Antoine muttered without thinking, then braced himself for Max to get pissed, but the guy just laughed instead.
“Who said that?”
“Dr. Alling,” Antoine said, happy to push that on to someone else.
Max snorted and rolled his eyes. “That dude is a koala. All fluffy cute on the outside, claws and fangs on the inside.”
They didn’t make much small talk after that, and Antoine was grateful for it. He was getting more achy by the minute, and the hot tub and a long sleep was sounding better and better. He held his breath as Max turned onto a mostly dirt road right on the edge of the forest, and the shop instantly came into view. It was an old trailer with what looked like a home-built garage attached to the side, and two men were in front of the open bay kissing. Thoroughly.
Max made a curious humming sound, and it didn’t take long for Antoine to put two and two together because the taller man definitely had a lumberjack thing going on. He was dark haired and broad with a bushy beard, and he was even wearing grey and white flannel.
“Shit,” Antoine whispered.
“Spencer is supposed to be with the damn cats,” Max said. He glanced over at Antoine, then he laughed again. “Oh my god, dude. No. They’re both my husbands. Or…you know, whatever. It’s not legal, but we’re together.”
Antoine felt relief so instant, it made him dizzy. “Thank fuck.” When Max raised a curious brow at him, he shook his head. “It’s been a really weird couple of days and the last thing I needed was to be with my mechanic as he discovered his husband having an affair.”
Max chuckled again, then pulled the car up and put it into park. “No worries here, at least. Come on, the car’s gone but I have pictures for you to check out and some forms to sign so I can submit them to the insurance. We can head into my office.”
As Antoine climbed out, he could feel the two new men staring at him, but he didn’t look over. He just followed Max up the stairs and into the makeshift lobby where there was a file folder waiting for him. He’d done this before—he was no stranger to insurance claims, so he quickly flipped through the photo printouts and then signed and initialed in the spaces that had been highlighted.
“Thanks for this,” Antoine said again, and went on when Max opened his mouth to argue. “I know it’s your job, but your husband definitely doesn’t need to drive me into town.”
“The disgruntled lumberjack thing is more of a look than a mood. He honestly doesn’t mind.” He took the folder from Antoine and tucked it under his arm before gesturing toward the door. “He should be out front now. If you need anything else…”
Antoine understood he was being dismissed. Not out of cruelty, but it stung a little. All the same, he offered a small wave, then headed out to where the lumberjack himself was waiting.
Chapter Nine
Fitz took a long drink of his beer and let the happy groan ease from his chest. Early May was the hardest on his booth—not that he minded so much since it was really just a hobby and, at best, he only cared about recouping his cost of materials. He’d be knitting no matter what, and though he knew his scarves and hats were hideous, malformed blobs of wool and acryli
c yarn, people were kind enough to buy them anyway.
Still, the start of the Market mostly had people staring in horror, then offering a polite smile before moving on to Collin’s soap stall, or the stuff Birdie made when he took up blacksmithing for his weekend hobby.
“You good, man?”
Fitz looked up from brooding into his beer and saw James smirking at him. It was a Thursday night ritual now, beer with James. It started up the summer after things with Levi had settled into something more permanent and comfortable, first to fill a need to get some space from work, and it turned into something like real friendship.
James had started off antagonizing everyone, in particular Simon and Levi Kadish, and frankly, Fitz was one of the few who hadn’t seen the relationship between Levi and James coming. But he was glad it happened the way it had.
James and Levi had fallen together, then apart, and then crashed into each other and locked in an orbit that no one could challenge. James was fiercely protective, but Fitz liked that about him. He liked to think he’d feel the same way if he met someone who made him soft inside. That hadn’t been Chance, and he was okay with that now, but he was starting to wonder if there would be anybody.
“It’s been a day. It’s been a couple of days,” he admitted.
James snorted and shook his head. “Yeah. How’s our friendly town manager?”
“He’s not the damn town manager,” Fitz started, but realized James was fucking with him. “Is he a terrible guest? Does he leave shit stains on the sheets and vomit piles on the floor?”
James looked horrified. “What is wrong with you?”
“Just,” Fitz sighed and dragged a hand over his face. He looked across the bar where Rose was chatting with a couple of her regulars and shook his head. “There has to be something to hate. He’s charming everyone. Gwen was singing his praises today, and I heard Rose telling everyone he’s going to save the town. The town is fucking fine. It doesn’t need saving.”
James raised a brow. “Some of the town is fine. Levi’s doing better than ever, and the Lodge is in the black. But you know Simon wasn’t the only one struggling, and it wasn’t just because he wouldn’t put bacon on his bagels or whatever.”
Fitz pursed his lips. He didn’t want to hear it, because it made him feel like he’d let Cherry Creek down. He couldn’t single-handedly be responsible for saving the locals, but the sole purpose of his job was taking care of these people. Maybe his pay wouldn’t be able to hold everyone afloat, but he could have done better. Somehow.
“I know that look,” James told him. “It’s okay to admit maybe the guy knows more than you.”
“He’s an ass,” Fitz insisted. He finished his beer, then held up his finger to Sonia for another. He wasn’t on call, and yes it wasn’t a good look for the Fire Chief to be wasted in public, but he could hold two or three alright—even with a buzz. “He swaggers in here with his fucking Hollywood attitude and thinks he knows this place?”
“I feel like,” James told him, soft and a little quiet, “maybe you just don’t like that a stranger knows how to fix the problems you can’t. Which makes sense.”
Fitz narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Does it?”
“No one is bleeding, Fitzy. No one’s unconscious, no one has broken bones. No one’s shit is on fire—at least, not literally. You’re good at your job, but figuring out what Cherry Creek needs to be better off financially, that’s never been your responsibility.”
“I don’t want to become like those bullshit ass hipster towns that rich people on HGTV come spend millions on to set up yurts and glamp-grounds.”
James choked on his bourbon that Fitz knew he wished was an appletini, and he swiped his hand over his mouth. “Where did you even learn those words?”
Fitz rolled his eyes. “From Gwen’s billion satellite channels when I had the flu last year.” It wasn’t a lie, he just didn’t admit that he’d kept watching after he’d gotten well enough to take care of himself at home.
He actually didn’t hate the idea of buying a small cabin out near the lake and remodeling it into something more…him. A little rugged, a little soft. A fire pit and a hammock out back with the view of the water. Being the Chief of the fire department in a tiny town didn’t really offer him a salary big enough, but he liked the idea anyway.
“I think you should go easier on the guy. He is trying to help. And he’s going to be gone in a few weeks, right?” James gave him a pointed stare, so Fitz nodded, but he didn’t know why that somehow made him feel worse. Maybe it was the idea that Antoine could breeze in, impact the entire town, then leave like it meant nothing.
“I’m not getting invested,” he said after a beat.
James laughed. “No. You’re just going to keep saving his life.”
Fitz opened his mouth to argue, but his phone buzzed, and he looked down to see a text from Spencer saying he and Max had Robert for their nightly walk. “I’m going to close my tab and talk to Spencer for a few.”
“Have fun, man.” James tipped his drink toward him. “I’m waiting on Levi. See you later?”
Fitz nodded, throwing cash at Sonia before taking the side door that led to the alley. As usual, Spencer and Max had a small crowd visiting with Robert who adored the attention—the goat a lot more like a cat than anything else. He was currently sitting on Max’s feet while a young girl scratched along his neck.
“How’s the resident troublemaker?” Fitz asked as he slid up next to Spencer.
“Same as before. No escape attempts last night. How’s the poor guy’s car?”
Fitz laughed. “You tell me. Max is the one who repaired it.”
Max shrugged, looking as passive as ever as the small crowd departed. He was holding the leash, and he wrapped it around his wrist before dragging fingers through his hair. “I didn’t tell him it was Robert, and Collin didn’t either, though he was annoyed at having to lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” Fitz started.
“A lie by omission,” Spencer and Max quoted at the same time, and it sounded so much like Collin, Fitz burst into laughter.
“God, he has you two well trained.”
Spencer scowled, but Max laughed and shrugged. “When you’re with a man who eats ass like him, it’s hard to care.” He made a small oomph noise when Spencer elbowed him, but over the last few years, most of the Cherry Creek residents were used to the trio’s lacking in filter. “Anyway, his car is fucked, but I made sure to include him not being at fault on the report. He’s got a new car. Collin likes him.”
Fitz groaned. “Everyone likes him and I don’t know why. He’s a total ass.” The pair exchanged a look, and Fitz felt his cheeks burn. “What?”
Spencer gnawed on his bottom lip before he said, “Max and I hated each other when we first met. He thought I was a spoiled brat, I thought he was a massive asshole. And look how that worked out.”
“If you’re suggesting that I take the guy on a rafting trip and then lock us away in a cabin,” Fitz started.
Max snorted and shook his head. “No, I’m saying that maybe there’s a reason you don’t like a guy who’s managed to charm every other person he’s met. Even I liked him.” When Fitz gave him a disbelieving look, he shrugged. “Okay, I didn’t find him intolerable.” Which was pretty much the same thing for Max.
Fitz shrugged. He wanted to hold on to his frustration, but everyone seemed like maybe they were making sense, and Fitz was the one totally out of line. Antoine didn’t like him any better, but Fitz had been playing the antagonist. “Maybe I…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence.
“You…is that the fucking goat? Oh my god, you fucking liar! You made me think I was going crazy!” Fitz only just managed to swallow back a groan and affect a grin as he turned his head to find Antoine a few feet away, hands clutching his ribs, eyes fixed on Robert. “That’s… that’s the goat that almost killed me!”
“To be fair,” Spencer offered, “he’s tried to kill a lot of p
eople in town.”
Antoine took a step closer his face cold and menacing as he fixed his gaze on Fitz. “You said there were no goats here.”
“I said,” Fitz countered, surprised at how steady his voice was, “there were no wild goats here.”
Antoine spluttered, and Spencer and Max took the opportunity to slowly back away, urging Robert to trot along. Antoine watched them go for a moment, then whirled back to Fitz. “That. Is fucking. Semantics. And you know it. You were…you were trying to make me look like an idiot!”
Fitz ran fingers through his hair, then scrubbed his hand down his face and groaned. “I was trying to protect Robert.”
Antoine poked him hard in the center of his chest, hard enough he actually took a step back away from him. “Protect him? He totaled my car!”
“It’s not like he jumped out at you on purpose,” Fitz said, but he was backing up toward the alley as Antoine stepped forward. “He’s a pet, and he doesn’t…he didn’t mean to drive you off the road.”
“So?” Antoine said, his voice high and tight. “What does that have to do with anything? Why make me feel like I was losing my mind and hallucinating farm animals on an empty road?”
Fitz laughed. He didn’t mean to, but the whole situation was so absurd. Here was this man—half his size, backing him into a wall with his fury over a damn goat. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he reached out, taking Antoine by the arms. Spinning their positions, he pressed Antoine against the bricks, then he moved his hands to the man’s waist. Antoine’s skin was searing hot under Fitz’s palm through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“I didn’t trust you,” Fitz said, his voice dropping several octaves. He leaned his head in close. “Sorry, Hollywood, but I couldn’t trust that some uppity, spoiled rich brat wasn’t going to call the cops and demand the goat be put down because his precious sports car hit a tree.”
“It was a Honda Civic,” Antoine growled at him. “And it wasn’t even mine. It was a rental.”