by A. M. Arthur
Reyes brushed a stray curl of hair off his forehead, surprised when Miles’s head shifted in the direction of his touch. Even asleep, he trusted Reyes.
He tucked that knowledge close to his heart while he went about his bedtime routine, then climbed into his own bed. If these stolen tender moments were all Reyes was allowed to have, then he’d take them.
As long as Miles was safe and a part of his life, Reyes could live a happy man.
Chapter Nine
Dinner in San Francisco happened a month later, on the first Saturday in June, and Reyes was stupidly nervous, considering this was not a date for him and Miles. They were the only noncouple going, and even though he wasn’t dating Miles, Reyes swore they were in some sort of platonic relationship.
They shared meals together. Always breakfast, rarely lunch, and often dinner unless Miles ate at the saloon during clean up. They continued to stream movies together, share in poker games with other hands, or to visit Mack and Wes for their traditional evenings spent as a quartet, with Colt included now and again. Even on the nights they didn’t visit their friends, Reyes and Miles still frequently went horseback riding together. Reyes had quietly told the other hands that Tango was off-limits to guests, much like Hot Coffee, so she wasn’t too tired by the end of the day to go out with Miles.
Miles truly loved that horse, visiting her on his days off and bringing her treats to nibble. The pair had fallen in love in their own way, and it was beautiful.
Some of his coworkers teased Reyes about his husband, and Reyes just flipped them off. He and Miles were becoming the best of friends, sharing more in their quiet moments than in any conversation they’d ever had. Neither of them was fond of bringing up the past, so they created their own relationship based on the present, and it meant the world to Reyes.
Miles was finishing up his shower after a busy day in the saloon, while Reyes tried not to impatiently pace the cabin. He’d showered and dressed right after the guests left, and now all he could do was wait.
The bathroom door swung open, and Miles stepped out. Reyes turned, and he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open. Miles had dressed up in flattering black slacks and an emerald-green button-down shirt that made his eyes gleam. His cheeks glowed from his shower, and he smiled shyly at Reyes.
“You look amazing,” Reyes said.
“Uh, thanks. You, too?” The way he asked that was intensely adorable, because Reyes was wearing the same clothes as when Miles had arrived home.
Dark jeans and a plain blue polo had nothing on Miles’s ensemble. “Thank you. Ready to head over?”
“Definitely.”
He led the way out of the cabin and around to the barn to collect Miles’s car. Miles had volunteered to drive, since his car could more comfortably fit four people than one of the ranch pickups. Colt was already in the city with Avery, staying at Miles and Wes’s old apartment, which was in its final month of lease. And even though any one of them could have driven Miles’s car, Reyes understood the silent plea to give Miles control over this part of their trip. Being back in San Francisco after so many months away wouldn’t be easy for him.
They picked up Mack and Wes, and then Miles headed for Garrett and the highway beyond. Wes sat up front with him to control the radio, and he kept Miles relaxed by blasting Katy Perry, Kelly Clarkson, and Shawn Mendes, the pair of them singing along to the various songs. Mack occasionally joined in, but Reyes wasn’t much of a singer. It helped the hour-long drive go much faster, though, and soon they were trekking down familiar city streets.
Wes texted ahead, and Colt and Avery had agreed to meet them two blocks from the apartment building. Reyes didn’t know how much Wes told them about Dallas, but they’d both been out with their group the night Dallas accosted Miles at Club Base. Sometimes things between friends were understood without words.
Miles’s car wasn’t the biggest, but it had a bench front seat, so all six of them were able to squeeze in, with Wes squished into the middle up front, and Colt in the back, since he was the smallest of their trio.
Avery gave directions, and they ended up at a trendy tapas-style restaurant. Reyes would have preferred a steakhouse, but he was also a man of simple tastes. Miles seemed amused by the plate sharing, though, so Reyes got with the program. Some of the stuff was too spicy for him, but he enjoyed the experience. And he loved listening to Miles talk about the food, describing flavor profiles and his thoughts on tweaking the dish.
Sharing plates at a round table gave them all a chance to really talk inclusively. Avery chatted about his new job, and everyone teased him by calling him Dr. Hendrix. Colt complained about fixing a toilet one of that week’s guests had somehow clogged with a pair of underwear, until Mack threw a piece of bread at his head to make him stop.
Miles didn’t contribute much beyond his thoughts on the food, but he smiled and laughed, and as the evening progressed, he relaxed by degrees, as if he realized Dallas wasn’t going to pop out of the woodwork to harass him again. Eventually he told a humorous story about Shawn accidentally using salt in place of sugar in one of the pie batches and having to eighty-six it for half the day until new ones could be made.
“That sounds like something I would do,” Wes said on a peal of laughter. “And to be fair to Shawn, they do look exactly the same.”
“Say that again the next time you put salt in your coffee,” Miles retorted.
Mack grabbed the crostini Wes was about to eat and popped it into his own mouth; Wes squawked.
Reyes laughed at the entire production and sipped his beer. Artisan stuff so bitter it was hard to drink, but he didn’t like to waste alcohol.
Once everyone was full and the bill settled, they moved on to a comedy club for more drinks and a lot of laughs. Reyes and Miles sat next to each other, and every time Miles’s face lit up with laughter, Reyes basked in it. He’d never seen Miles so joyful and relaxed, not even at the ranch. Miles was out with friends, eating good food, and having a good time, with not a shadow or line around his eyes.
He was happy.
Reyes reached out, then pulled his hand back. Touching was for boyfriends, not best friends and roommates. Not the kind of touching Reyes was compelled to do, so he kept his hands in his lap. If Miles reached for him first, Reyes would celebrate and hold on tight. Until that happened, he’d ignore his own feelings and wait—no matter how hard it was to keep his distance.
* * *
Miles made the mistake of ordering the first of several glasses of wine at the comedy club, and by the time the show was over, he was in no condition to drive, so he handed his keys over to whomever was more sober than him. Avery took them, the only one in their group who hadn’t had a drink all night.
They all ended up strolling around the Castro for a while, occasionally popping into a bar for another drink and music, but staying away from the most popular clubs. Miles leaned on Wes a lot, and eventually his care was transferred to Reyes, who smelled amazing. Then they were in the car again, and Miles got a little fuzzy while conversation buzzed around him.
“...three in the morning.” Was that Wes? “One night will be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Reyes, yup, right next to Miles and still smelling great.
“Sure about what?” Miles slurred.
“Sleeping in your old apartment tonight.”
“Why not? ’S closer than the ranch.”
“Drunk logic,” Mack said.
Miles couldn’t untie his dry tongue long enough to deny being drunk, because yeah, he was drunk.
“I just don’t want him to be upset in the morning,” Reyes said.
“Who’s upset?” Miles asked.
“No one. Relax, you can fall asleep soon.”
“M’kay.”
He probably fell asleep way too soon, because he felt himself being lifted up, much like he’d been carried last month. S
trong arms held him tight, until he was deposited onto something soft, but also hard, and he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was sleep.
Miles woke a while later still on his back with other people breathing nearby. Sunlight peeked in through a curtainless window, and it took him a minute to realize he was in the living room of his old apartment surrounded by other sleeping bodies. Five bodies, all in sleeping bags like him, and he blearily blinked at the faces on either side of him. Wes and Reyes.
His mouth was dry and sticky, and his stomach was sore, but he didn’t mind, because his friends had taken care of him last night while he got drunk and blew off steam—something he hadn’t done in over a year. And since Miles remembered leaving this apartment mostly empty, someone had planned ahead for tonight’s sleepover.
Miles slowly extricated himself from the pile of sleeping bodies so he could pee and swish his mouth out. A shower wouldn’t have gone amiss, but the only toiletries belonged to Colt and Avery, and he didn’t want to poach. The fridge did have water, so he cracked one of those and sipped.
Colt was the next to wake, and he waved sleepily at Miles on his way to the bathroom. One by one, everyone got up and packed away the sleeping bags—all marked with the Clean Slate Ranch logo, Miles noticed. Colt must have borrowed them. Miles tossed Reyes a shy smile, unable to forget how it had felt to be carried by him. Warm, safe, and oh so right.
Why am I fighting this attraction so hard again?
Knocking on the front door startled Miles into squeezing his water bottle too tight, sending water over his fist and acid into his stomach. Reyes was the first to stalk to the door and check the peek hole. He glanced at Miles and shook his head—not Dallas—before unlocking and opening the door a crack.
“Delivery from Lola’s,” a woman said.
Reyes turned his head. “Anyone order food?” He got a chorus of noes. “Wrong apartment.”
“Are you sure? The ticket says number thirty-two.”
He stuck his head farther out the door. “Dunno, that looks like a thirty-seven to me, ma’am.”
“Oh, could be. Sorry to bother you.”
“No problem.”
Miles didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until Reyes shut the door again. In his drunken stupor, sleeping it off at the old apartment had seemed like a completely reasonable idea. In the clear light of day, he realized how stupid that had been. What if Dallas was still looking for him after all this time? The truly creepy thought made Miles sick.
And then Reyes was standing in front of him, a solid wall of muscle and dark skin, and Miles hugged him, because he couldn’t think of anything better to do. Reyes brought his arms up to cinch around Miles’s waist, and Miles sighed.
“It wasn’t him,” Reyes said softly. “You’re okay.”
“Thank you.” Miles chanced looking up, into Reyes’s eyes. Dark eyes that burned with so many warm, wonderful things. Things he still couldn’t bring himself to ask for, so Miles pressed his forehead into Reyes’s neck and enjoyed the contact for a little while longer.
* * *
After breakfast at a diner in Alameda, their original foursome headed back to the ranch. Colt was staying in town with Avery until Avery had to fly back to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. Reyes had just enough time to change into his work polo and dash out to help Judson pick up this week’s guests at the parking area.
They were full up with twenty guests, and Reyes was happy to see a set of familiar faces ready to climb the buckboard. Last spring, Suzy and Dianne had brought their two sons, Andy and Joey, to the ranch to celebrate Joey being one year cancer free. When Reyes received the email reservation back in April, his eyes had smarted with tears to hear Joey was now two years cancer free, and the family was back to celebrate.
Reyes and Judson greeted the family with light hugs. The ranch always loved repeat guests, but Reyes particularly adored stories like this.
Back up at the guesthouse, the little family was given the third floor, which had two bedrooms and a private bathroom. The rest of the guests were divided up into the second floor, which had four larger rooms with two bunk beds each. One room ended up being mixed, but both women had checked that they were fine sharing with the opposite sex on their applications. They’d never had an issue reported, but it still made Reyes a little nervous.
He did his job, explaining the rules of the ranch, with Judson as backup, the entire time wishing he was back at the cabin with Miles. They hadn’t really talked about the hug, or Miles’s fright over the unexpected knock. And while Miles had seemed completely fine on the drive home, Reyes needed to know he was okay.
His chance came at lunchtime, when Miles arrived at the kitchen for sandwiches and potato salad. He’d obviously showered, because he’d changed his clothes and left his dark hair to dry in haphazard curls and swoops. It had grown out since he’d moved here, getting shaggier at the top and near his neck, and Reyes wanted permission to tease those curls.
“How’s the hangover?” Reyes whispered once Miles settled next to him with his lunch.
“Pretty much gone now, thanks. Breakfast helped settle my stomach, and I took a nap.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Gotta get up to the saloon soon, though. Shawn is going to kill me for leaving him with a weekend lunch rush. But Emily pitches in on simple things, like dishing up stew and sides.”
“That’s good. It’s nice to be needed, but it’s also nice to know the saloon can carry on without you for a few hours when necessary.”
“Yeah.”
Miles ate without any hesitation or nerves, so Reyes decided that the hug had simply been a hug between friends and nothing more. He told Miles about Suzy and the boys, and after he ate, Miles went out to say hello to the family before he left for the ghost town. Reyes watched him disappear, and then finished his own sandwich so he could get back to work, as well.
* * *
Miles had absolutely no good reason to say no that night, when Reyes casually asked if he’d like to go camping again. Especially when Reyes said it could just be the two of them, instead of tagging along with the other guests. Miles loved the idea of the two of them and their horses, stargazing and relaxing by a crackling fire.
“How about tomorrow?” Reyes asked. “You’re off Tuesday, so we don’t have to worry about rushing back. Most of the guests signed up for tomorrow’s camp, anyway, so they won’t need me back too early.”
“Yeah, okay,” Miles replied. “Are we going to be able to manage all the gear on two horses?”
“Yup. We’ve got proper camping backpacks in the garage. They’ll hold everything we’ll need.”
“Sounds like fun. Any particular location?”
“I was thinking down by the pond. It has a sand pit nearby we can use for a fire and enough wood in the area to fuel it.”
Miles grinned. “You really thought this through.”
Reyes looked a bit sheepish for a moment. “Been thinking about it for a few weeks, but could never get up the nerve to ask.”
“Did you think I’d say no?” He was genuinely curious why Reyes had been nervous about it.
“I guess. I mean, just the two of us, out in the middle of nowhere overnight...”
“I trust you, remember?” His chest burned with adoration over how careful Reyes was being with him. From other people, it might have felt condescending, but not from Reyes. Miles knew better. “My virtue is safe with you.”
Reyes chuckled. “I guess I was overthinking things.”
“Maybe a little. I think it’ll be fun.”
“You’re not worried about gossip?”
“Friends go camping together all the time, and yes, I’ve heard the husband jokes.” Miles shrugged. “It’s a small enough ranch. People need to entertain themselves. Believe me, I’ve worked in kitchens long enough that gossip doesn’t bother me much anymor
e.”
Reyes studied him a beat, his dark eyes glinting. “Okay.”
“Cool. Want to watch a movie on my tablet?”
“Absolutely.”
Miles grinned. “Your bed or mine?”
* * *
“Fuck, but I really did miss this,” Miles said as he let out a groan of pleasure.
The sound sent prickles across Reyes’s skin, and he worked hard to keep his dick from reacting to it. They’d been riding for less than thirty minutes, taking trails and enjoying themselves before heading to camp. Both wore a backpack loaded with sleeping bags, a tent, and cooking equipment, and Reyes had been impressed with how easily Miles had mounted Tango with that added weight.
“You missed what?” Reyes asked.
“Being on a horse. I really did love riding and dressage shows, but I gave it up like the rebellious teen idiot I was.”
Miles had mentioned that once before, and Reyes was curious. “You rebelled to get your parents’ attention.”
“That was the plan, but it didn’t really work. I stopped going to my riding lessons, I showed up late for competitions. Even when I flat-out quit, nothing. So I got worse. I started skipping school, smoking with the potheads, getting detention. I barely passed ninth grade, and they didn’t even notice.”
Reyes had a hard time imagining Miles as the weed-smoking, rebellious sort. He had a hard time picturing Miles doing some of the same stupid shit Reyes had done as a teenager.
I bet nothing Miles did led to another kid’s death.
“How did you spend your summer?” Reyes asked. “Raising hell?”
Miles snorted. “They sent me to a summer camp for rich kids, which is basically like boarding school without the studying. It was all boys, and while it was boring as hell most days, it definitely helped me figure out I was gay.”
“Did you...act on that attraction?”
“A little. I mean, when you’re around a bunch of teenage boys for two months, you end up experimenting, even if it’s all ‘no homo’ shit. I got blown, blew a few other guys. Some of the older guys fucked, I think, but I wasn’t ready for that.”