by A. M. Arthur
“Are you serious? I slept all day?”
“Must have needed the rest.” Reyes sat on his own bed opposite Miles, who looked less panicked now. “I’ve taken way worse punches, don’t worry about it.”
Miles scowled, and Reyes wasn’t sure if Miles thought he’d called him weak with his “worse punches” comment. “I should get up, thank you. I’m so sorry I hit you.”
“It’s okay. No permanent harm done.” He was crazy curious why Miles had lashed out in his sleep like that, but wasn’t sure they were good enough friends yet for Miles to confide in him. Maybe he could ask in a sideways manner. “You have bad dreams?”
“I don’t think I dreamed at all, actually, and that’s pretty amazing. Maybe it’s all the fresh air.”
“Could be. Maybe you just felt safe here. Until I touched you, that is.”
“It wasn’t you, Reyes, I swear. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Who are you afraid of?”
Miles’s frown deepened. “So what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
Reyes took the hint. “Patrice’s weekend specialty. Leftovers pie. She takes all the odds and ends from whatever’s left from the week and makes a kind of meat potpie. You better go grab a bowl before it’s gone.”
“You know, I knew I’d be eating some meals here, but are there rules about us keeping food in our cabins?”
“Not really. Most of us have coffeepots and hot plates, along with the mini fridge. I don’t keep a lot in it because I don’t cook. Mostly water and beer, so buy what you like.”
“Got it.” His lips twitched. “A guy who can’t cook living with a cook. Who says the universe doesn’t have a sense of humor?”
Reyes grinned. “Yeah, she does. Come on, let’s get you supper.”
Miles didn’t comment on Reyes escorting him, but Miles did keep a respectable distance from him as they walked. He liked spending time with Miles, and he wanted them to become friends one day. But friendship required proximity and speaking. “Have you always lived in San Francisco?” Reyes asked.
“I moved there for college when I was eighteen, but I was raised in Fresno. I liked San Francisco enough that I stayed. Maybe longer than I should have.”
“What did you get your degree in?”
“English, actually. My plan was to become a teacher, but I learned how much I loved cooking doing my work-study in the school cafeteria. After I graduated, I got a kitchen job, since I had some skill. The position at the dinner theater came a while after.”
“I see.”
“What about you?” Miles asked with a shy grin. “Why become a firefighter?”
Reyes had forgotten Miles knew that about his past. “Some of it was the TV glamour of the life. More of it was a chance to make a difference and help people, but in a different way than by becoming a cop, like Mack. I enjoyed the work and training and the men in my ladder company.”
“Why did you quit?”
Phantom pain stole through his legs. “Had a bad accident and I got burned. Needed to start over, do something new while I healed.”
“I get that. Starting over.”
“I know you do.”
They both paused by the kitchen steps. Their eyes met, and something unexpected passed between them. They weren’t touching at all, but Reyes still felt a connection to the younger man with the haunted green eyes. A spark crackled in the space they shared. He wasn’t sure if Miles noticed it, and Reyes didn’t understand it.
Uncertain, he took a small step back and deferred to Miles. Miles hesitated a beat before going inside to claim his supper.
I am so screwed.
* * *
Miles was kind of screwed. Even if Reyes hadn’t felt the chemistry passing between them, Miles did, and that chemistry needed to find the nearest exit. He had too much on his plate with the ghost town and starting over to worry about unwanted feelings. And for his roommate, of all people.
No, not happening. Chemistry can take a hike.
Miles scooped some of the potpie into a bowl, intrigued by all the veggies and bits of beef mixed up in a brown gravy, served over rice. He also grabbed a piece of cornbread, because Patrice made wonderful cornbread. Only a handful of employees were still eating, so he picked an empty corner of the table and sat. Reyes sat across from him with a glass of water and piece of cornbread as casual as he’d been at lunch. No indication their “moment” on the stoop had ever happened, and Miles was incredibly grateful for his discretion.
“You didn’t get enough the first time?” Miles asked.
“Always feels weird to watch someone eat and not have something in front of me,” Reyes replied. “Besides, who can say no to Patrice’s cornbread?”
“Good point.” Miles dug into the food, which was tasty and cooked just right. “Mmm, this is good.”
“I don’t think Patrice knows how to cook a bad meal. Haven’t had one in all the years I’ve worked here.”
“Sounds as if I’ve got some competition on who’s the best local chef.”
“I can’t wait to try your food.”
Miles blushed, unsure if Reyes heard the subtle innuendo in his own words. “I’m definitely intrigued by some of the recipes, especially the pies. It’s amazing what people used to make pie out of when fruit wasn’t available.”
“Like what?”
“Crackers. Seriously, there’s one called Mock Apple Pie that’s crackers, water, sugar, lemon juice, and cinnamon. I haven’t made it yet, but I’m curious what it actually tastes like.”
“Well, didn’t they make apple pie out of green pumpkins in one of the Little House on the Prairie books?”
“You read those?”
Reyes ducked his head. “My sister may have dared me to read them when we were kids.”
“You have a sister?” For some reason, Miles had never really considered the fact that Reyes had siblings. Probably because Miles was an only child.
“Two, actually, and a brother. I don’t keep in contact with my family anymore, and it’s for the best.”
“Oh. I don’t talk to my parents, either. Haven’t for years.”
Once again, that odd, unspoken chemistry passed between them. Reyes had his own secrets and hidden pain, and Miles wanted to know more. But didn’t asking also mean telling? If Reyes shared something, wouldn’t he want Miles to do the same? Then again, Wes shared all the time and never demanded Miles talk in return.
No. Reyes’s pain was his own, and Miles didn’t want to share his own secrets with anyone. He could handle his own pain just fine, as he’d done for a year now.
“For what it’s worth,” Reyes said softly, “I’m sorry you don’t speak to them anymore.”
“We barely spoke before, so not much has changed now.” Miles poked at a piece of cooked carrot. “My parents are both very busy, highly sought after professionals in their fields, so I was basically raised by a nanny until I was twelve and deemed old enough to be left on my own.”
“Damn, that’s cold. My parents worked their asses off for what little they had, but they always had time for us kids.”
“It’s funny, because when I first met Wes, he was so cheerful all the time, always talking about his parents and sister, and I really wanted to hate him. But it’s impossible to hate Wes once you get to know him.”
“This is true.”
“Anyway, I started acting out in school, skipping class and being disruptive, anything to get their attention. But they’d sign whatever slip they needed to sign, or make whatever school board call they needed to make. Donate money to whatever function or cause. I grew up feeling like an inconvenience, and after a while I quit trying to get their attention. I learned the only person I could really depend on was myself. Got my act together, studied, and got great scholarships to UCSF. I haven’t been home to see my parents in years, and they only
call on Christmas and my birthday.”
Miles looked up from his bowl, not expecting to have opened a vein to Reyes over dinner, to find the older man watching him with focused grief. As if he was taking Miles’s lonely upbringing personally.
“It’s funny how much alike we are,” Miles said. Reyes was picking at his cornbread with strong, work-calloused hands. Hands that probably knew how to touch without hurting, squeeze without bruising. Hands that would feel so good stroking certain things.
Focus.
“Um, other than the cooking thing,” Miles added, annoyed with his brain for going there. He could excuse admiring the guy’s ass, but his hands? Miles’s body didn’t seem to get the memo he was here to work, not jumpstart his libido.
Reyes smiled. “It is a bit funny. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to teach me how to cook. And I’m talking basic scrambled eggs and toast.”
“You can’t even make eggs?” Miles feigned horror.
“Nope. Tried once. Scorched them. Didn’t try again.”
“I don’t know, you might be beyond help at this point. Forty is a bit old to start learning to cook for yourself.”
“Brat.” Reyes took a gentle, open-palm swipe at his hand that still made Miles flinch. “I’m thirty-five. Thirty-six in a few weeks.”
“My birthday is in a few weeks, too. April nineteenth.”
Reyes blinked. “Mine is April twentieth.”
“Huh. Our star signs are off by one day.”
“And not generally compatible.”
Miles was a little surprised Reyes knew so much about astrology. “Which isn’t an issue, since we’re just roommates.”
“Of course,” Reyes replied.
The air seemed to crackle between them again, and Miles didn’t know what to make of it, so he focused on finishing his supper and not staring at Reyes’s hands. By the time they were done, the kitchen was empty.
“So what do you guys do for fun on Saturday nights?” Miles asked as he put his plates in the industrial dishwasher.
“When the weather is colder, we sometimes have poker tournaments. When it warms up, some of us will project a movie onto the side of the guesthouse and have a picnic. But since Saturday is everyone’s night off, a lot of the guys drive into San Jose or San Francisco to blow off steam.”
“Makes sense. You don’t strike me as the type to go out often.”
“I’m not. Colt invited me out tonight, but I wasn’t feeling it.”
Miles’s phone pinged with a text. He chuckled when he saw the name. “Wes is inviting us over tonight for a movie and drinks.”
Reyes raised an eyebrow. “He invited us both through you?”
“Yeah. Efficient, I guess. You want to go? I slept the day away, so I won’t be going to bed anytime soon.”
“I suppose. Would you like to drive or ride?”
Miles wasn’t sure about close proximity in his car. They’d be cramped enough later tonight when they went to sleep. “Will the horses be okay outside for a few hours?”
“It will be a mild night. They’ll be fine.”
Miles grinned and hoped he hid his relief. “Then let’s ride.”
And they did, saddling up both Hot Coffee and Tango, and then riding them across the countryside to Mack and Wes’s cabin like it was the most natural thing in the world. Miles truly did miss riding, and he hoped to do it more often now that he was living at the ranch. They rode in silence, much like this morning, and even with the sun setting and only a flashlight to go by, Reyes got them to the cabin easily.
Mack and Wes were sitting on the porch with drinks in their hands, and they rose to greet their friends. Wes handed Miles a glass of wine, while Reyes accepted a beer, and they all went inside to discuss a film. The entire thing felt so natural that Miles could have been doing this with these friends for years.
Wes found a recent thriller they all agreed on, then curled up on the love seat with Mack. Reyes and Miles took opposite ends of the sofa, because no matter what Wes might be hoping, this was a night with friends, not a date. Plus, he’d be sharing even closer quarters with Reyes later tonight, and Miles was still a little nervous about that. He hadn’t slept without a locked bedroom door between himself and the world in years.
Halfway through, Miles popped down the hall for a bathroom break, and when he returned Wes had paused the movie to pop two bowls of popcorn. Sharing with Reyes meant sitting on the cushion next to him. No big deal, really.
Their fingers occasionally brushed in the popcorn bowl, and Miles ignored the little thrills. Eventually, he gave up eating and kept his hands to himself, because the rest of his body was getting way too interested in Reyes’s hands. It had been over a year since Miles had had good sex, and his libido finally seemed on board with breaking that dry spell.
Until his memory flashed to the day after his birthday last year, waking up in Dallas’s bed aching all over. Scared and confused.
That got his libido to calm the fuck down, and he lost track of the movie while he focused on pushing those memories away. Not just of that morning, and the parts of the night he couldn’t remember, but of Dallas’s behavior on Wednesday night. At some point, the movie ended, and he was alone in the living room with Wes, who was watching him from the love seat with open concern.
“Where did Mack and Reyes go?” Miles asked.
“Out on the porch to chat,” Wes replied. “I needed to talk to you.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“You is what’s up. Did you even see the end of the movie?”
“Of course I did.”
“So who was the killer?”
Miles crossed his arms defensively.
“Thought so.” Wes strode across the room to sit next to Miles. “Please don’t lie and tell me nothing’s wrong. I know you better than that.” He glanced at the front door. “Is everything okay with Reyes?”
“Of course. He’s been nothing but polite and friendly. We even went riding this morning before lunch.”
“Then it’s Dallas again, isn’t it?”
Miles groaned and dropped his forehead into his palm. “Wes, come on.”
“It is Dallas. What did that asshole do this time?”
“You are a giant pain in my ass, you know that?”
“I love you, too, now spill. Please? I’m worried about you. You changed your phone number because of him.”
“I changed my phone number as part of starting fresh here and leaving my old life behind.”
Wes quirked an eyebrow. “An old life that included Dallas?”
“Fucking fine, yes.” If Wes was going to insist on inserting himself into Miles’s personal problems, he’d give Wes enough to get him to back off a little. Miles was used to handling his own damned issues, and he’d handled this one just fine by leaving town. “Dallas showed up at the apartment after work on Wednesday.”
“He what?” Wes’s face went scarlet. “Did he follow you or something?”
“I don’t know how he found me. He wanted to come in and talk, and I refused. Angry words were exchanged, and he finally left. But the whole thing left me unsettled and upset, and I’m having a hard time shaking it.”
Wes studied him hard, probably looking for the lie, but Miles hadn’t lied. He’d only left out a few crucial details about the encounter. “Now I feel like a shitty friend,” Wes said.
“What?” That was not the reaction he’d expected from Wes, and yet he wasn’t altogether surprised, either. Wes was always the star of the show. “You aren’t a shitty friend.”
“Dallas approached you days ago, and you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about it.” Wes looked genuinely upset now. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Miles reached out to squeeze Wes’s wrist. “This isn’t about you. I’m the one who chose to keep it a
secret and deal with it alone. You know I trust you, but this has nothing to do with you, Wes. I just don’t like talking about my shit.”
Wes twisted his wrist so they were holding hands. “I wish you did. Talking about stuff does actually help, you know, even if it’s painful or scary. Let your friends help you.”
Shame swamped Miles’s gut. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt Wes’s feelings by keeping things to himself, but that was Miles’s default mode. He internalized, because he wasn’t used to having someone on his side who actually gave a damn about his feelings. His parents hadn’t cared, his druggie friends hadn’t cared. Dallas hadn’t really cared, because their relationship had always been about Dallas and what he wanted, when he wanted it.
Miles didn’t want to keep hurting Wes’s feelings, but his life wasn’t an open book like Wes’s. He didn’t know how to open up to people, not even his best friend. And even if he did know how, he flat-out wasn’t ready. Not today, maybe not for a while. “Look,” Miles said. “I’m glad you’re my friend and that you’ll be here to listen if and when I decide to share stuff, but I don’t like being guilt-tripped into talking when I’m not ready.”
“Shit.” Wes’s eyes popped wide. “I totally did not mean to guilt-trip you, I swear.”
“I believe you, so I need you to believe me when I say I’m okay. Being here, even for one day, has really helped. I left the fast-paced city behind for a country boy life, and I couldn’t be happier about that choice.”
“Because Dallas can’t find you?”
He squeezed Wes’s hand. “Because I get a fresh start. And my own kitchen. I can’t wait to get in there on Monday and start cooking. Mack gave me a pretty generous food budget for testing recipes, so I’ll be able to put a shopping list together and hit the local grocery store. And since these are fairly simple recipes, I should be able to get everything Monday. Mack said the one ingredient I may need to have special ordered is buffalo meat.”
“Buffalo?”
“It was a fairly common meat back in the day, so I want to put a buffalo burger on the menu. Maybe even add steaks as the ghost town grows its business and my budget increases.”