“I’m going to throw up,” Miles said for the fourth time in the past five minutes.
“You are not going to throw up, you’ll be fine,” Shawn Matthews replied. “Your food is amazing.”
Miles looked at his sous chef of the past three days and grimaced. He and Mack had interviewed Shawn together earlier in the week, because while the menu was simple and they didn’t expect huge crowds right away, Miles still needed help in the saloon’s kitchen, especially for prep work. “You’re biased because I’m technically your boss.”
“You’re crazy, and you’re overthinking everything. Besides, this is just a tasting.”
“Yeah, a tasting attended by my boss, my best friend, my landlord, and my freaking roommate. No pressure.”
After spending his entire week playing with various recipes and testing small batches to perfect the spice levels, Miles was ready to present his menu to Mack, Wes, Arthur, Reyes, and Megan Landsdowne, the actress in charge of the general store. He had two plates of everything either firing or ready to serve, so everyone could taste the food and offer comments. Since the attraction wouldn’t open its gates until ten o’clock, Miles and Shawn could focus on lunch-and dinner-type foods, not breakfast.
Although he did have cornmeal mush as a side dish that could be ordered separately for early bird customers, plus coffee and an assortment of pies and breads. Miles had never been much of a baker, but Shawn excelled at it.
Old-fashioned double-saloon doors set the kitchen apart from the dining room. Everything was hidden from customers, so they didn’t see the modern cooking equipment or industrial refrigerator in the back, making life easier for a chef cooking old-time food. Miles peeked over the top of the doors. All his tasters were seated at a long table made out of two six-tops pushed together. Shawn had already presented the drink menu, which, besides strong coffee, offered bottled sarsaparilla, lemonade, locally sourced milk, and water.
Miles loved sarsaparilla, and he hoped to convert as many new fans as possible to the drink.
“Guess we should get the appetizers out,” Miles said. That was the simplest part of the menu, because appetizers hadn’t really been a thing in small-town saloons, reserved more for fancy city restaurants. Most of the app options were also side dishes served in a slightly different format, which kept extra cooking to a minimum.
He and Shawn armed themselves with a tray of different things to take out and they set them around the table. Miles was extra-proud of the corn fritters and dipping sauce, and he stood back silently while the dishes were passed around the table and everyone started eating. Shawn tossed him a supportive smile and waited with him.
Not a single crumb was left on any plate, and everyone at the table was grinning at each other.
“You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t like something,” Miles said.
Mack beamed at him. “Damn, man, you can cook.”
“Yeah?”
“I told you so,” Wes crowed, then shimmied in his chair for good measure. “Everything was delicious. Like, maybe a tiny bit more salt in the pinto beans, but damn.”
Similar feedback came from around the table, and Miles soaked in both the praise and the small bits of criticism. It buoyed his confidence for serving the main course dishes. Buffalo burger on a sourdough bun with a homemade sauce; a Hangtown Fry, which was basically a savory omelet with bacon, oysters, and a few other ingredients; beer-braised beef stew; cheddar biscuits and sausage gravy (not just a breakfast food); with sides of cornmeal mush, baked beans with ham hocks, and a few other things.
They also had sides of cornbread, sourdough, and both cheddar and regular biscuits. Miles relaxed another few degrees as the same positive feedback—and occasional criticism—was handed out for round two of the meal. He listened carefully, thankful for the help, because he was still learning and growing as a chef. Arthur’s feedback, in particular, overjoyed him, because the man had been cooking for himself for sixty-plus years, and he knew food.
While passing out slices of the different pies, he caught Reyes’s warm smile and dark brown eyes, and he paused to smile back. Reyes winked, and that simple action heated Miles’s insides in a way he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t explain a single thing about his body’s reactions to Reyes, and now was not the time to ponder it.
Everyone was shocked by the Vinegar pie, which was custardy and tangy, and actually really good with a big dollop of whipped cream. Fresh, not canned.
“You’ve got some talent with pastry, Shawn,” Arthur said. “You might be able to sell pies to go, you keep cooking ’em like that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Shawn replied. “I’ve been baking with my mom since I was five years old. Glad to know something stuck.”
That got a round of chuckles from their guests.
“I am impressed,” Megan said. “And I love that you’re serving some of the foods we’re selling at the general store. If someone mentions they love the applesauce or the pickles, you can send them our way.”
“That’s the plan,” Miles replied. “Cross-marketing, and we’re helping the community by selling their wares.”
“I can’t believe this is all coming together so well,” Mack said. “We’re opening in a week. It’s fucking nuts.”
Wes pressed a hand to his own chest. “Oh God, you aren’t going to start panicking, are you? Because that’s my job.”
“No, I’m not going to panic. Rehearsals are going great, the saloon menu is almost complete, all the other attractions are in their final stages.” Mack grinned at them all. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m excited.”
Arthur whooped, which began a round of cheers and clapping. With the meal complete and the tasting a success, Miles and Shawn found themselves slightly surrounded, with Arthur and Megan asking questions about the menu, or the history of the recipe. Miles wished Avery was there to help with that, but he did his best with what he recalled. Megan even suggested Miles write a cookbook of his recipes and sell copies in the general store.
Miles wasn’t sure about being a cookbook author, but he did accept the compliment graciously. Wes would have been proud if he’d been there to hear it.
Instead, Wes and Mack were sharing another piece of Vinegar pie.
Score.
And then Reyes shocked the hell out of Miles by producing two bottles of champagne and plastic flutes. “To celebrate a very successful menu,” Reyes said directly to Miles. “You deserve it.”
Shawn clapped Miles on the back hard enough that he flinched. Reyes turned a dangerous look onto Shawn, then opened the first bottle.
He’s protective of me.
Miles wanted to enjoy that, but Dallas had been protective, too. More than was healthy, at times, and Miles was terrified of meeting another guy like that. But Reyes wasn’t Dallas. Dallas had used him over and over again, while Miles repeatedly made the mistake of taking him back.
Until he’d finally had enough and walked away.
He accepted a glass of champagne with a grateful smile and blushed even more when he and Shawn were both toasted. The champagne was slightly sweet, and the bubbles tickled his nose. Miles gladly took a refill, then went into the kitchen to clean up.
Wes followed him. “You’re a rock star, my friend.”
“It’s food, Wes.” Miles still smiled at the dishes he was putting into the industrial washer, stupidly pleased with how well the tasting had turned out.
“Food you created and rocked, and the saloon is going to be awesome.” Wes invaded his personal space. “Also? The champagne was completely Reyes’s idea. He likes you.”
Miles groaned. “This again?”
“Don’t tell me you couldn’t use a distraction from Dallas.”
“Moving here is my distraction. I’m not in a good headspace to be with anyone else right now, even if he was interested.”
“Honey, trust me, he’s interested,” Wes said.
Euphoria over today’s culinary successes died quickly beneath Miles’s quick temper. He spun on Wes, fury blazing in his chest. “Will you fucking drop it? I don’t want anyone touching me ever again, not even someone I trust.”
Wes blinked hard several times, his shock melting into anger. “What did Dallas do, Miles?”
Since Miles didn’t actually know what had happened on his birthday, he used the most recent example of Dallas’s cruelty. “When he confronted me outside the apartment, he pushed me against the wall and put his hand down the back of my pants,” he replied in a harsh whisper.
A dark growl from behind them scared Miles into dropping a coffee mug onto the floor. Its crash in the silent room startled him less than the black look on Reyes’s face. He stood just inside the kitchen doors with a stack of dirty dishes in his hands, knuckles so white Miles half expected the porcelain to crack. Reyes stared at him, perfectly still except for his heaving chest.
Then he put the dishes on the counter, pivoted on one heel, and strode back out of the room.
“Holy shit,” Wes said. “He doesn’t know where Dallas lives, right?”
A ball of ice dropped into Miles’s stomach, and instead of making a scene by following Reyes out the front, he bolted toward the kitchen’s back entrance, which was for deliveries and staff entry. Around to the front of the building, where Reyes was stalking across Main Street toward the parking lot.
“Reyes, wait!” Miles raced after him, panicked and unsure exactly why. It wasn’t as if Reyes was going to drive straight to San Francisco to confront Dallas. He probably thought Miles was some kind of helpless idiot who couldn’t defend himself, and Reyes was probably pissed that he’d agreed to room with such a coward.
Reyes kept walking with amazing speed, so Miles picked up the pace to a full-out run. He finally overtook Reyes five feet from the nearest truck, forcing the bigger man to stop. “Listen, I don’t know what you heard,” Miles said, surprised by the tremor in his own voice, “but it’s not what you think.”
“It’s not?”
Miles had no idea how someone could so effectively growl two simple words, and he couldn’t bear looking Reyes in the eyes. “N-n-no, um...” But it was exactly what Reyes thought, so why lie? “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Reyes’s entire demeanor changed from raging bull to sad friend. “What are you sorry for, Miles?”
So many fucking things.
“For making you angry.”
“I’m not angry with you, not at all.” Reyes spoke with a smooth cadence that calmed some of Miles’s rioting emotions. “And I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I promise. I thought you heard me come in.”
“Wes had me distracted.”
“You were having an intense conversation.”
Embarrassed for chasing after Reyes now, Miles crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. “How much did you hear?”
Reyes grunted. “Enough to know Dallas put his hands on you again, and that I want to break his arms for it.”
“That’s not your job, Reyes.” Miles shocked himself with his authoritative tone, but damn it, he didn’t need a bodyguard or babysitter.
“You’re my friend. I take care of my friends.”
“Then be there for me if I want to talk, and hear me if I say I don’t, but do not go off in a huff because you hear about something bad. I can handle Dallas on my own.”
Reyes scowled, opened his mouth as if to disagree, then shut it. “He hurt you. Again.”
“Yeah, he did. But I’m here now, and he has no idea where I am. I’m safe and all I want to do is forget about him, but fucking Wes won’t let the past die. I don’t want to talk about it. Please respect that.”
For a long moment, Reyes looked at him with uncertain eyes, somehow both angry and sad. As if letting this go was personal to him, when they’d been roommates for a week. His loyalty was endearing, but this wasn’t Reyes’s battle to fight. This fight belonged to Miles alone.
“I can respect that,” Reyes finally said. “I don’t have to like it, but I can respect it.”
“Thank you. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, but I’ll take a friend. Dallas is my problem, and trust me, a little groping isn’t the worst of the shitty things he’s done over the last five-and-a-half years.” Miles straightened his posture, finding courage under Reyes’s calm, intent expression, and from deep within himself. “I was a very lonely teenager, and when I went to college and roomed with a guy like Dallas, I was the perfect mark. He could charm anyone, male or female, and his charisma drew people to him.
“Dallas was also the first guy I ever slept with, and when he said I belonged to him, part of me believed that. It’s why I kept taking him back every time he did something shitty or broke my heart. It took a long time for me to find the courage to finally walk away from him, and it pissed him off.”
And he’d stayed away from Dallas for nearly a year, until Dallas showed up for his birthday celebration last year. He’d gotten Miles into his bed again, and that had been the final straw.
“I appreciate you wanting to help,” Miles said. “I really do. But I’m here now. No forwarding address with the super. I have a neighbor picking up the last of my mail, so unless Dallas figures out how to hack the DMV, I’ve ghosted him. I’m free. Hell, the head chef on the ghost town website is a pseudonym, so my name isn’t listed. I’m safe here. Maybe not from the memories, but from the man himself.”
“I hope you’re right,” Reyes said softly. “I apologize for storming off in a rage. I just... When I care about someone, I tend to take their suffering personally.”
Miles’s heart thumped. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Yes.”
“Are you, ah, attracted to me?”
Reyes’s eyebrows rose slightly before settling again. “Will it offend you if I say I am?”
“Of course not.” His pulse did race a little faster, though. “I’m asking because, in the effort of full disclosure, I’m attracted to you, too. But I’m also not looking to be with anyone right now, maybe not for a long time. I need to readjust my true north, you know? Settle in and discover the new Miles, the head chef who lives here in Garrett.”
“I understand. Would it make you more comfortable if I asked Arthur to swap us out for different roommates?”
Miles startled. “No way! I know you, and I trust you, Reyes. I have slept better since I’ve been here than I have in years, and I know I couldn’t be that relaxed with a stranger, especially in those cabins.” He paused. “Um, would it make you more comfortable?”
Please say no!
Reyes paused, his dark eyes studying Miles’s face. “No. I’m an adult. I can accept being turned down.”
“Thank you. I just want to focus on work right now.”
“Understood, I promise. I still want to break Dallas’s arms, but I understand what you need from me.” Reyes held out his hand. “Friends?”
“Of course.” Miles shook and tried to ignore the thrill he felt by touching Reyes’s skin. “I should get back and help Shawn finish cleaning up.”
“Right, I won’t keep you. I apologize for my behavior. It was possessive and rude.”
Miles smiled. “A little bit, but I won’t hold that against you.”
“Thank you.” Reyes tilted an imaginary hat. “See you later, Miles.”
“Yeah.”
Walking away from Reyes felt strange, but it was what Miles needed. Time to clear his head, dive into a new job, and try to make new memories that would overshadow the bad ones. The last thing he needed was to risk his heart and body a second time.
* * *
Reyes leaned against the truck bed, eyes closed and head tilted to the sky, while his brain buzzed with various ways he could cause harm to Dallas Ward. Not that he was going to, but the various painful scenarios in his head helped burn off the last of the overwhelming rage that had filled him when he accidentally heard Miles’s confession to Wes.
Seeing Dallas grab Miles by the arm at Club Base had been intense enough at the time, but hearing about Dallas sexually assaulting Miles had flipped a switch in Reyes. He’d gone Kill, Maim, Avenge, and he had needed air before he broke dishes out of fury. He hadn’t expected Miles to follow him, but Reyes had felt a keen sense of pride as Miles laid out what he needed with his spine straight and his green eyes determined.
As difficult as it would be to live with someone he was attracted to, he preferred that to Miles moving in with someone else. At least they could continue cultivating their friendship, as they’d done this past week with evening horse rides and quiet solitude in the forest. Miles deserved a better boyfriend than Reyes, anyway.
“You okay, man?” Mack asked.
Reyes raised his head, then blinked colorful spots out of his vision. Mack stood a few feet away, hands in his jeans pockets, wary. “As okay as I can be, I suppose.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Can’t. Not my secret to share.”
Mack wandered two steps closer. “Something with Miles, I take it? Wes mentioned you’d overheard something and I saw the way you stormed out of the saloon. Hell, everyone did.”
Reyes groaned. “Fuck. Who’s gossiping?”
“No one, really, and Wes is being unusually tight-lipped about it, which tells me it’s something bad. And really personal.”
“Wes is right, I did overhear something that happened to Miles, and it pissed me off. I needed air.”
“I see.” Mack leaned against the truck next to him. “So how long have you had feelings for him?”
Reyes didn’t see the point in denying anything. Mack was his brother, after all. “A while. But we talked, and Miles isn’t in the market for anything. So we’re friends, that’s it.”
“That’s gotta be hard for you. I can’t think of any other time in our lives you’ve openly admitted to having feelings for another person.”
That’s because I don’t let myself act on those feelings. Ever.
“Doesn’t happen often, and usually it’s someone I don’t know well, so they’re easy to avoid. Never been someone like Miles.”
“What’s different about Miles?”
Everything.
“I’m not sure,” Reyes replied, grateful for this moment and to talk about his attraction with someone else. “Everything about Miles makes me want to protect him. To keep him safe from the world. But he’s made it very clear he doesn’t want that. He wants a friend, so I’ll be his friend.”
“I’d rather be his friend than give him up. But maybe a stronger man would give him up.”
“Nah, you’re as strong as they come.” Mack knuckled his shoulder. “Good on you for putting his feelings first. This Dallas guy is obviously a selfish prick who never did that for Miles.”
I can think of much stronger adjectives for that creep.
“The champagne was also a nice touch,” Mack added. “If you ever manage to romance someone, they’ll be putty in your fingers.”
Never gonna happen now.
Reyes had come to terms with being single a long time ago, and Miles’s rejection only brought the hammer down on that choice. “Thanks, Mack. You staying up here or heading back down?”
“Staying up. We’ve got another rehearsal in an hour, but you can hitch a ride home with Arthur.”
“All right.” As much as Reyes wanted to stay at the site, he had duties and guests waiting for him down at the ranch.
At least he had his job to drown himself in, while his feelings had nowhere else to go but back inside his heart where they belonged.