Refired (Recovery Book 1)

by BA Tortuga

“Let’s meet at the house. I’ll make you breakfast.” Jesus, he had run-on of the mouth. Might as well go big on their last hurrah.

  “I remember those.” Josh nodded. “Sounds good. I’m going to get the rest of the lights set.”

  “Okay. Look, I think I’ll head out.” Josh could handle the opening, and Kris needed to get a good four or five days’ worth of work in before Monday.

  “Daniel’s bringing your coffee.”

  “Right.” He grinned. “I wasn’t running away. I’m just feeling useless.”

  “You do know how to hold a ladder still, right?”

  “I do. I thought you were wanting to live dangerously.”

  “Nope. Just trying to get the job done.”

  “I’ll hold.” Kris took off his jacket.

  Josh gave him an appreciative look, then blinked as their eyes met.

  Kris swallowed hard. This was about moving on, not going backward. He cleared his throat. “Lights.”

  “Yeah. Lights.” Josh gave him a nod and headed out to the gallery floor, then scrambled up the ladder.

  Kris followed more slowly, walking over to hold the ladder, determined not to stare at Josh’s ass. God, he hoped this whole thing wasn’t going to be the clusterfuck he feared it would.

  Right now, he just needed Daniel to show up with the fucking coffees so he could go without embarrassing himself.

  2

  Josh packed light—jeans, T-shirts, a hoodie, briefs. He packed the little tiny tent and sleeping bag too, just in case.

  He’d intended to do this on the cheap, not even because of the money, but because he wanted to do something, experience something.

  Feel something that wasn’t just dead.

  He sighed, closing up the trunk of his old Toyota. They would take Kris’s vehicle, and he told himself that was good. More room for art.

  All he had left to grab was his electronics—headphones, phone, laptop, chargers, iPad. The regular stuff.

  Okay, he was stalling. All those hours in a car with Kris, who was acting like he’d had a brain transplant. Josh was freaking out.

  He locked his apartment, then headed up north to Kris’s place, the dark just barely holding on.

  He parked off to one side of the driveway, smiling a little at the crazy steel whirligig in the front lawn, one of those perpetually moving pieces of art that the HOA had to hate. Kris was doing well for himself, everywhere but at the gallery.

  Josh knew that was why Kris wanted out, but he couldn’t give up now.

  It had been, what, three years? Four since he’d been inside this house? That last Christmas party where Kris had watched him every second, watching for him to slip, he guessed. The man had been there when he’d left the bathroom, when he’d had a cookie, everywhere.

  It had been the last party Josh attended, and the last one the gallery threw.

  He didn’t go to the front door. He simply texted Kris from the driveway and grabbed his bags.

  Sure enough, Kris came out right away, dressed in business casual, a cashmere sweater and gray gabardine pants.

  Josh lifted his hand in a wave, then headed over to the SUV. No staring. The door locks clicked open, and he stowed his gear next to Kris’s. He could do this, stay calm and sober and not come on to the most perfect motherfucker in history.

  “Hey.” Kris gave him a smile, tentative but not strained. Good start.

  “Mornin’, man. Whose stupid idea was this again?” He’d just keep it light.

  “Yours. I would still be asleep otherwise.” Kris chuckled. “Boomer at the kennel?”

  “Last night. I think he likes it there more than he likes it at home.”

  “He goes to that Cait lady off Spicewood, right? She’s nice.”

  “Yeah. I pay a fortune and drive a bit, but….” Boomer was happy there; the big goofball hound loved his snuggles.

  “He’s a good dog.” Kris’s smile slipped. “I miss Precious.”

  “She was amazing. For real. I loved her.”

  “Yeah.” Kris sighed, then put a laptop bag in the backseat. “I was going to make breakfast, but I’m out of eggs, milk, and bacon. Want to hit something on the way out of town?”

  “Sure. There’s that Café Java place. They have eggs.” And great coffee.

  He needed a few thousand pots of great coffee. Kona, he hoped. They changed their coffee daily, so he might get Mexican or Colombian.

  “I’m game. That’s over by the Randalls, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I used to go there all the time.”

  “They have french toast, I hope.” They got in the car, and Kris drove, heading toward the restaurant. “I have a craving.”

  Kris had a sweet tooth, though you’d never know it to look at him.

  “I’m sure they do.”

  They went in and found a seat, the restaurant just barely starting to get busy with the early morning guys.

  “Well, hey!” One of the longtime waitresses came and gave Josh a one-armed hug, her blonde ponytail brushing his shoulder. “Long time no see. We have Kona today.”

  “God, yes. Please. Two cups. Please.”

  “You bet.” She handed them both menus, then bustled off to get coffee.

  “So, you said you have an artist lined up to look at?” Kris asked, even as he studied the menu.

  “Yes. Cypress is his name, like the tree.”

  “No shit?” Kris raised a brow. “I wonder if that’s on his birth certificate.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him yet.” That was the whole point of the trip.

  “I was just jabbering.” Kris clammed up then, menu in front of his face.

  “What?” What the fuck had he done now?

  “Nothing.” Kris set the menu aside finally. “I really was only making conversation. I mean, how many artists do we know who take on weird names?”

  “Yep. If I was an artist, I’d call myself Spiderman.”

  “Spiderman?” Kris grinned a little. “Why?”

  “He has the best theme song. Spiderman! Spiderman!”

  Kris hooted, the sound one Josh had missed. “I like Batman’s better. Bat-maaaaan.”

  “Do do do do do.” He knew that one too.

  “You know it. I’d have to be Cerny. A one-name wonder.”

  “Cerny. I like it.” Josh chuckled, surprised that Kris was smiling at him, talking to him. They usually went maybe five minutes without a snarl. Maybe Kris was really trying to give the business end one more try, at least.

  Maybe he didn’t want to spend the long car ride having a fight.

  Whatever the reason, Josh found himself smiling back, teasing. Enjoying breakfast. The omelet he’d ordered was amazing. Rich, dripping with cheese. The day felt full of possibility, as if he was on an upswing.

  Oh, please let that be so.

  He needed something to hang his hope on.

  Kris worked through a huge plate of french toast and bacon, humming at the end, licking syrup off his lips. “That was amazing. I’ll hit the bathroom first?”

  “Uh-huh.” That would give his cock a chance to recover, because happy Kris was the best kind of addiction.

  Kris hit the head, then came back and grabbed the bill. “You go pee, I’ll go pay?”

  “I’ll get lunch.” He headed down the hall and did his business. Maybe this wouldn’t be all suck, all the time. Josh knew better than to hope they wouldn’t get into it, but today could be pleasant. Damn it.

  He was actually whistling as he headed out of the bathroom. Maybe they could do this.

  3

  Kris stared across the console at Josh, the SUV pulled up next to a large chicken coop. “This isn’t a hotel, Josh.”

  “It’s a B and B. Fresh eggs for breakfast, you know?”

  “Very fresh.” Which meant roosters in the morning. Josh did love his weird guesthouses and shit. “Tell me they have cookies.” It had been such a good day that he hated to ruin it by fussing.

  “Cookies, brownies,
and twenty-four-hour coffee.”

  “Works for me.” He loved a good brownie. “We’re going to look at art tomorrow, yeah? We should check in and find supper.”

  “We are. Santa Fe tomorrow, Madrid on Wednesday.”

  “May-drid.” He chuckled, having a Texan’s appreciation for towns who deliberately mispronounced their names. “At least you didn’t make reservations at the KOA.”

  “It looks decent. There’s a nice one in Las Vegas.”

  “Freak of nature.” Josh loved to camp. Kris had loved it once too. He wondered for a moment when that had changed. He was too plugged-in these days, maybe.

  “You know me.” Josh liked to walk; he could do it for hours.

  “I used to.” Kris glanced over, but the sunglasses Josh wore hid everything.

  “Yeah.” Josh headed to the door, banged on it.

  “Hi! You’re the McPhee party?” The little man who opened the door was tanned as a walnut, dressed in a pink tank top, board shorts, and flip-flops, and carried a Yorkie under his arm. “I’m Hal. Come on in!”

  “Hey, Hal. I’m Josh McPhee.”

  “So, are you two or one?” Hal peered at him over Josh’s shoulder. “Two. Do you need the extra bed?”

  “Please. Thanks.” Josh looked over at him, shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you were really coming.”

  Kris let that slide off like water off a duck. He couldn’t blame Josh for doubting. “No problem.”

  “I’ll take the rollaway.”

  “Well, I have a lovely room with two full beds and a garden tub. Do you need help with your bags?” Hal radiated yoga-teacher energy.

  Josh shook his head and jogged out to the car. Kris watched him for a moment before going to greet Hal. “Kris Cerny.”

  “Nice to meet you. Come on in, I’ll give you the tour.”

  The place was fascinating—all wood and books and games and soft places to sit. No one would mistake this for a single-family home. The smell of cookies baking hit Kris, and his mouth watered.

  “Something smells amazing.”

  “There’s chocolate chip, peanut butter, and snickerdoodles. The brownies are from yesterday.”

  “You’re my hero.” He and Josh had stopped for lunch, but they’d forgotten munchies.

  “Are y’all tea or coffee folks?”

  “Coffee.” Kris had tried to give up caffeine once and become an herbal tea drinker. His sister had threatened to tie him down and pour coffee in him through a funnel. He went sparingly, but he was on vacation, right? And Josh? The man lived and breathed java.

  “Oh good. I’m a coffee man, so tea is always awkward.”

  “Yeah, I bet. How long have you been running this place?”

  “Three years.” Hal took him to the dining room, where treats sat on a tray, marked regular and gluten free.

  “Are you a local?” he asked as Josh came in with the bags.

  “New Mexican, born and bred. We’re a rare sight. I left for a long time, but came back like everyone does.” Hal struck a pose. “How about you? Texas, right?”

  “Austin,” Josh said. “Looking for art talent.”

  “Well, this is the place. We’ve got artists popping out all over.”

  “Good deal.” Kris really hoped Josh found someone who lit the art world on fire. Someone who made all this bullshit worth it.

  “Did you get a sweet, or did you want supper first?” Josh asked. “Where should we go for supper, Hal? We forgot to make Shed reservations, so we’ll have to go tomorrow.”

  “You’ve got the Pantry, Tomasita’s. We’ve got everything you could want.”

  “Let’s do something simple tonight.” Kris didn’t want to have to wash up or change clothes.

  “Head to the square. There are a couple of decent, casual cafés.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled, and Hal showed them their room.

  There was a fireplace, a little sitting area for working, a set of beds, and the biggest garden tub he’d ever seen in a room. Yeah, that would work.

  Maybe he would see if Josh would go sit downstairs for a while tonight so he could soak. He could totally use a nice long hot bath.

  “This is amazing,” Josh told Hal. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Breakfast is available from eight to nine thirty. There’s wood if you want the fireplace. There is a book with instructions for the tub and all sorts of other things—where the extra towels are, blankets, TV channels.”

  “Thanks.” Kris nodded and smiled, Josh nodded and smiled, and Hal finally let them be.

  “Which bed do you want?” Josh’s voice was soft, quiet.

  “I don’t care.” He really didn’t. He’d be up half the night working.

  “Okay. I’ll take the one by the window.” Josh tossed his bags on the bed. “I’m going to grab me a cup of coffee downstairs.”

  “Let me know when you want to head out for supper.” With chickens in the yard, he had a feeling the Plaza wasn’t in walking distance.

  “Sure.” Josh nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “No problem.” He watched Josh leave, then grabbed his laptop out of its sleeve to check in really quick. If Josh decided not to go out, he’d order some pizza.

  He heard the door open and close, and he peeked out the window. Josh’s bright red hair just glowed in the late afternoon sunshine, a cup of coffee in the man’s hand. The courtyard and grassy lawn were groomed, pretty, and peaceful. He couldn’t blame Josh for wandering out.

  Josh sat near the chicken coop, watching the birds peck the ground.

  He watched Josh. Somewhere in the five years, Josh had learned the art of stillness.

  Kris shook his head. This wasn’t the party boy he’d loved and learned to distrust. This was someone he really didn’t know.

  Maybe it was time he tried to learn the new Josh.

  Josh headed upstairs with his fourth cup of coffee, and knocked at the door in case Kris was in the tub.

  “Yeah, come on in.”

  It was beautiful up here. Stunning. So much cooler than Austin, which was hot even in winter. Well, hot compared to the rest of the world.

  “Good coffee?” Kris asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “I’m good. Should we order in, or do you want to hit the Plaza?”

  “I don’t care. Either one works for me.”

  “Josh, I need some input. I’ll drive if you want to go, but I could just stay in too.”

  “Okay. I’ll get my phone.”

  “So we’re going?” Kris stood, grabbing his wallet off the desk.

  “Sure. It’ll be easier than staring at each other for four hours. At a restaurant we can stare at everyone else.”

  Kris laughed, the sound surprisingly true. “Good point. The air feels way thinner here, doesn’t it? I may have to skip jogging.”

  “You’re seven thousand some odd feet higher up.”

  “True. I could murder a cold Dr Pepper.”

  “They have a whole fridge downstairs for your late-night cravings. Come on, Altitude Boy.”

  Kris stretched, which sent his untucked shirt riding up over his flat belly. Then he grabbed his cowboy hat off the table. “Cool. What do you feel like?”

  “I could murder some New Mexican. I’ve been reading all the magazines downstairs.”

  “Then we have a ton of choices.” They headed down to the car, and Kris pulled out and drove toward downtown Santa Fe. All roads seemed to funnel to the Plaza, so it was easy to navigate.

  They found a parking space near the river. It was a pretty city, but it seemed tiny to be a state capital.

  “Want to walk a minute?” Kris waved at the river, the walkway so peaceful looking.

  “Sure. You know me. I’m a walker.” He grinned. He might just walk into town tomorrow morning, talk to people. See new and interesting things.

  “This will help make up for my run.” Kris seemed to be in a good mood, so yay.

  “Yeah.
You don’t want to pass out here.”

  “God, no. Embarrassing.” They walked side by side down the path, the late evening air cool.

  “Yeah. This is a little like SoCo, but square as opposed to one long street.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll do Canyon Road,” Kris told him. “Way more like South Congress.”

  “Yeah. I’m looking forward to that.” This place was high dollar—even more than Austin—and utterly Southwestern.

  Kris seemed more familiar with it than he expected, but Josh didn’t ask how. They had separate lives, really, and he kept his mouth shut a lot.

  It wasn’t any of his business what Kris did. All Josh had was the gallery; Kris had a thousand projects, investments.

  “Hey, this place does great tacos.” They’d left the river behind and turned in on a road called Water Street. “Blue corn even, to match the name.”

  “Works for me.” He was easy, and food was his friend. Kris could be the picky one, wanting chile this and meat that and such. Way more Austin than Josh, no matter what their wardrobes said.

  “Stairs?” There was an elevator, but Josh knew Kris liked a challenge.

  “I might pass out.”

  “Nah. Come on.”

  Kris trotted up the stairs, and if he was wheezing, Josh decided not to mention it.

  The place smelled like chiles and cheese, all the good things. Chile always made his mouth water, and they had a cherry lemonade that sounded nice.

  He settled in, looking around at the crowd. Lots of jeans, lots of big skirts. Lots of hats.

  He wouldn’t have thought this was a hat place. Just went to show that preconceived notions flew out the window more often than not.

  Lord, he was so punch-drunk, so fucking stressed out.

  “You okay?” Kris asked him.

  “Yeah. I just can’t remember the last time we had supper together.”

  Kris tilted his head, staring at him. “Me either.”

  “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

  “A little.” The unspoken a lot hung in the air.

  He didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry? I suck? I love you? You suck?

  Kris grinned, eye lines crinkling up. “Tacos. Did you want to share an appetizer?”

  “Sure. I like crunchy salty things.”