by Ari McKay
“After what I’ve heard, I thought you were a bullshitter,” Beau said, giving Paul an assessing look. “But that sounded like an honest answer to me.”
“It definitely did,” Jake agreed. “What do you think, Beau? You can’t drag this out, because if Dev decides to take that job he’s been offered, Paul will never find him.”
Icy fear that bordered on panic spread its tendrils throughout Paul’s body, immobilizing him so all he could do was stare at Jake, aghast. Why would Devin consider another job when he’d been offered a promotion on the Pearl? It didn’t make sense.
“What job?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“That’s Devin’s business, not yours,” Beau said, a frown creasing his brow briefly, but then he glanced at Jake. “I reckon you’re right. We could let Devin know Mercer is here, and he can make up his own mind about what to do.”
“That’s reasonable.” Jake gave Beau a smile of approval. Then he looked back at Paul. “Where are you staying?”
“The Holiday Inn.” Paul shrugged and smiled wryly, hoping what he was about to say didn’t cause offense. “It’s the only hotel I saw aside from a dubious-looking place outside of town.”
“The Tumble Inn,” Beau said, cracking a smile for the first time. “Yeah, you made the right call driving on by that place. Most folks who get a room there ain’t planning to stay the night, if you know what I mean.”
“Maybe I should talk to Carter and Liam about franchising a hotel here in town. One that doesn’t have an hourly rate,” Jake said. “Well, then, if that’s settled, you have a phone call to make, Walker. Unless you think you ought to go see Devin in person.”
“I’ll call him,” Beau said. “Give me your number just in case, Mercer. If Devin wants to see you, you’ll hear from him. If not, you’ll hear from me. Either way, you’ll get an answer soon.”
“I appreciate it,” Paul said, relieved they were willing to help him. Even if Devin said no, at least Paul could walk away knowing he’d tried.
Beau got a pad from under the counter, tore off a slip, and handed it to Paul along with a pen. Paul jotted down his phone number and room number at the hotel and handed the paper back.
“You’ll be at the hotel?” Beau asked.
“Yes, I’m going straight back there,” Paul said. “I’m not planning to go anywhere for the rest of the day.”
Beau studied him for a moment before pushing away from the counter. “I’ll make you up a plate to take with you. The food at the hotel ain’t shit.”
Paul was surprised by the offer, but the barbecue did smell delicious, and despite his nerves, his stomach was starting to growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
“Naw, think of it as either congratulations or condolences, whichever turns out to be appropriate,” Beau said, and then he disappeared into the kitchen.
Jake chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t let Beau’s bark scare you. That man is a natural-born caretaker. I thought he hated my guts. Then one night he showed up at my house with homemade fried chicken and macaroni and cheese, plus chicken soup for my sister-in-law, who was pregnant and on bed rest. He’s not happy unless he’s feeding people—and he’s damned good at it too.”
“Devin is the same way,” Paul said, remembering the dinner Devin had cooked for him. At the time, he’d thought it would be the first of many meals he would watch Devin prepare, but now he wasn’t sure if his visions of domesticity would ever become reality.
Jake leaned across the counter and lowered his voice. “Let me give you some advice, Paul Mercer, because I think you really do care about Devin. Walker men aren’t the best with subtleties, and they aren’t mind readers. They say what they mean, and they tend to expect the same directness from everyone else. No doubt that’s why finding out you weren’t who you said you were hurt Devin so much and why it probably made him doubt everything you’d ever told him. Some of them also have this odd inferiority complex, like they could never be good enough for the man they want. So if you want Devin, you have to be as direct as you can, okay? Don’t tell him what you think he wants to hear. Tell him the truth, even if it’s not pretty and even if it makes things harder. Trust me on this. I want to save you the ten years it took me to figure out what I just told you for free.”
Devin didn’t seem to have an inferiority complex, but knowing Paul was due to take over Triton Cruises might make him feel their relationship was imbalanced, so Paul was grateful for the advice. He’d already planned to be honest anyway, but Jake’s suggestion reinforced that it was a good idea.
“I’ll do that,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Devin’s a great guy. He deserves to be happy.” Jake straightened up. “And so do you.”
“We’ll see how that works out,” Paul said, smiling wryly.
The doors leading to the kitchen swung open, and Beau emerged with a carry-out box stuffed to the point of not closing all the way in his hands. “This should get you through the rest of the day,” he said, holding out the box to Paul. “If you’re on your own tomorrow morning, skip the continental breakfast at the hotel. There’s a diner no more’n a block away that’s got a lot more options that are more filling and taste better.”
“I hope I’m not, but thanks,” Paul said. The box was heavy and warm against his palms, and he could smell the sharp tang of barbecue sauce.
“I got a call to make,” Beau said, dismissing Paul with a wave before heading back into the kitchen.
“Don’t mind the abruptness,” Jake said, shaking his head with an expression of fond exasperation. “Beau is protective of the people he cares about. But I have a good feeling about you. When you and Devin work things out, have him bring you by Parnell’s Pantry. That’s my family’s restaurant. I’d love to introduce you to everyone.”
Paul had lots of questions about how Beau and Jake balanced having two rival barbecue restaurants in the same town, but now wasn’t the time to ask them. Instead, he slid off the stool and nodded.
“If they work out, I’d like that,” he said.
“Great!” Jake grinned. “Go on, Mercer, and get back to that hotel. You’ll want to beat Devin there.”
Jake seemed far more optimistic than Paul felt, but he kept his pessimism to himself and waved goodbye instead. With food in hand, he returned to his rental car, and he drove back to the hotel to sit in his room and wait—an all too familiar situation. At least this time, however, he had the assurance that someone would be in touch, and he wouldn’t be left to wonder what was going on. Whether the news was good or bad, this time, he would know.
Chapter Fourteen
“YOU don’t have to cook just because you’re home,” Devin was turning over golden pieces of fried chicken in his mother’s big iron skillet, and he smiled down her and shrugged.
“I really don’t mind, Mom,” he replied. Judging the chicken pieces to be done, he removed them from the oil to a platter that was lined with paper towels. “It helps me feel useful.”
“If the boy wants to cook, let him cook, Mimi.” Buddy Walker paused on his way to the refrigerator for a beer to kiss his much shorter wife on the cheek, then patted her ass, a gesture that made Devin smile. His parents had never withheld their affection from either one another or their children, and even after almost thirty-five years of marriage, they sometimes acted like newlyweds.
Buddy retrieved his beer, then stood beside Devin, looking at the chicken. “Smells good, son,” he said.
At six-foot-three, Buddy was slightly shorter than Devin, but Devin got his tall, rangy build from his father, as much as he’d gotten his golden skin and dark hair and eyes from his mother. Buddy was blond like most of the Walkers, but it was liberally mixed with silver now, and his skin had been tanned by the Texas sun for years. It made his blue eyes, surrounded by laugh lines, look all the more bright.
“Thanks. Here, Mom, carry this to the table, please.” Devin handed her the platter of chicken, then pass
ed a bowl of mashed potatoes to his father. The three of them were eating in the homey kitchen, where the walls were decorated with wallpaper of horseshoes and cowboy boots, and his mother’s copper gelatin molds hung like artwork. It was a far cry from the elegance of the Pearl, but Devin needed it at the moment.
As Devin walked past the wall-mounted telephone, it rang. Juggling a bowl of steaming corn on the cob, he picked it up. “Walker residence.”
“Hey, Dev. It’s Beau. Got a minute?”
“Hey, Beau. Sure.” Devin handed off the bowl to his mother, then reached for a dish towel to wipe his hands before bracing the phone against his shoulder. He wasn’t too surprised to hear from his cousin, especially after Liam’s recent call. “What’s up?”
“I hate to drop this on you without warning,” Beau said, his voice quiet and tinged with sympathy. “But there ain’t really a way to ease into it. Paul Mercer just came by the Shack looking for you. He wants to talk.”
Stunned, Devin didn’t reply. Of all the things he had thought might happen, Paul turning up at the Barbecue Shack definitely wasn’t among them. His heart leaped with hope, but then began to pound painfully. Just because Paul was in Buffalo Lick, it didn’t necessarily mean he wanted anything more than to apologize for not telling Devin the truth. Paul seemed to have a conscience, after all. Perhaps he’d heard Devin had quit Triton and wanted to know why.
Licking his dry lips, Devin managed to find his voice. “I see. I think.” He sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just surprised.”
“Understandable,” Beau said. “I got his phone number and room number. He’s staying at the Holiday Inn. You want ’em?”
Did he? Devin bit his lip. Part of him wanted to see Paul almost desperately—it was a part that Devin had clamped down on ruthlessly for the last week. That was his heart talking, and following his heart had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He had to use his head.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m torn. Beau… damn, this sounds stupid, but… do you think he’s just here to apologize? I mean, I don’t think I can take it if he wants to clear his conscience, then go on his way.” Devin swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do.”
Beau was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke again, he sounded speculative. “Let me ask you this. Do you think you’re a good judge of character?”
Devin laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I used to. But then there was Brad, and now Paul….”
“What was your take on Mercer before you found out he was using a fake name?”
“I thought he was a good person,” Devin admitted, unable to keep the pain out of his voice. “I thought he might have felt something for me.”
“Y’all were supposed to meet up the night after the cruise, right? Do you think he was waiting for you?”
“I thought he was. But then when I talked to my boss, she thought he’d gone back to Charleston,” Devin said. “I blocked his number, because I didn’t want to have him calling up with some flimsy excuse for not meeting me after all.”
“So let me make sure I got this straight,” Beau said, his deep drawling voice turning sardonic. “You spent two weeks hanging out with this guy and getting a good vibe from him. You were ready to see what y’all could work out after the cruise, but you found out he didn’t tell you his last name, and you cut and run. You jump straight to assuming everything he did and said was a lie and he was gonna dump you because your boss thought he was going home? And here I thought you didn’t have much of the Walker temper in you.”
Devin winced. “When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but Beau…. Damn.” He drew in a breath. “It’s not like his name was Paul Smith! Besides, you spent a hell of a lot longer thinking Jake hated your guts, when you two had known each other almost all your lives.”
“Yeah, and we both know how fucking stupid that was, now don’t we?” Beau said tartly. “Me’n Jake could’ve been together ten years sooner, but we let pride and fear get in our way. So if you wanna play that card, Devin Walker, you go right ahead, but know this: your man Mercer wasn’t on his way back to Charleston that night. He was sitting in a hotel room wondering if he should call the hospital because you hadn’t shown up and he couldn’t get in touch with you.”
“Ouch.” Devin grimaced. “Point taken. I just meant you’d known Jake a hell of a lot longer than I’ve known Paul. But, Beau… you realize he comes from enough money that he could buy this whole damned town, right? Oh, never mind. I guess I should be talking to him about this, right?”
“Damned right you should,” Beau said. “So what if he’s got money? All that means is he don’t need to come to some small town in the middle of nowhere, Texas, to track down your dumb ass. He could find some hoity-toity rich boy in Charleston.”
Beau never did pull any punches, but while he had a point, that didn’t mean Paul wanted Devin Walker. But Devin only had two choices—keep his broken heart safe by turning his back on Paul, or risk everything by going to talk to Paul. He might be a dumbass, but deep down, Devin knew he had to go. Even if all Paul wanted was to apologize about not telling Devin who he really was, even if Paul didn’t want a future with him, Devin needed the closure. At least this way he wouldn’t spend years like Beau had, not knowing the truth.
“What’s his room number?” he asked finally.
Beau told him, then added, “If you chicken out, let me know. I told Mercer he’d hear either from you or me by the end of the day so he wouldn’t be left hanging.” The again was silent, but it transmitted across the phone line loud and clear anyway.
“I won’t chicken out,” Devin replied. “Thanks, Beau. I guess not all the Walker men are dumbasses.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Beau said, chuckling. “But we can learn not to be. Good luck, Dev.”
“Thanks, cuz. I’ll need it. Bye.”
Devin hung up the phone, then drew in a deep breath before looking at his parents, who were sitting at the table. His mother dabbed her eyes with a napkin, and his father snorted and shook his head. Buddy pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Devin, who caught them reflexively.
“Take the truck, son,” Buddy said quietly. “For the record, I was a dumbass too, once upon a time. Thankfully your mama got me over it.”
That sounded like a tale he’d have to hear at some point, but not today. “Thanks,” Devin said, then crossed to the table to give each of his parents a hug. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Of course, sweetie,” Mihoni said. She squeezed his hand. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” With a last smile for his parents, Devin left the house.
He wasn’t certain what was going to happen, and by the time he got to the Holiday Inn, his guts were knotted up with anxiety. But he made himself continue, entering the hotel and taking the elevator up to Paul’s floor. His steps were slow as he headed along the hall, and it took him at least half a minute of standing outside Paul’s door to get his breathing under control. Whatever happened would happen.
He knocked on the door, the sudden, horrifying thought occurring to him that Paul wouldn’t be there after all. But a few seconds later, the door swung open, and Paul stood there, his expression a mix of hope and trepidation.
“Devin.” The word came out almost like a sigh of relief, and Paul stepped aside to let Devin into his room. “I’m glad you’re here. Please, come in.”
Devin couldn’t help staring at Paul. He’d missed Paul so much, and part of him wanted to wrap himself around Paul and hold on for dear life. But instead he stepped into the room, feeling awkward. “Beau told me you were here.”
Paul’s room was one of the larger suites the hotel had to offer, and it had a separate sitting area with a love seat, two chairs, and a coffee table, with a door leading to the bedroom. Paul took a seat in one of the chairs and gestured for Devin to join him.
“Yes, I spoke with him and Jake,” Paul said with a wry smile. “That was
quite a vetting process.”
Devin took the other chair, perching on the edge and clasping his hands in front of him on his knees. “I can imagine. Beau is protective of everyone he cares about.” Devin tried to smile, but he knew it was a feeble attempt. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
“I was surprised when you never showed up or called that night,” Paul said. “Although I suppose ‘scared out of my mind that something terrible had happened’ is more accurate than ‘surprised.’ It wasn’t until I spoke with Kate that I realized what must have happened. I decided to give you some space and see if you got in touch. When you didn’t, I wanted to see if I could find you because we do need to talk.”
Devin swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you were worried. I was… in shock.” He looked down at his hands. “It was hard finding out you weren’t who I thought. That you hadn’t told me. When Kate offered me the sous chef job and said you had been all for the idea, it seemed….” He looked up, knowing his pain was probably showing, but unable to hide it. “It seemed like you might be trying to buy me off. I wanted to go confront you right then, but Kate said you’d already left, and she was sure you were on your way back to Charleston.”
Paul frowned and leaned forward in his chair. “Kate said all that?” He shook his head, the frown deepening. “When I met with her that morning, she asked how you’d done as my liaison, and of course I gave her a positive report. She said your performance with me was the last piece of information she needed before offering you a promotion. Apparently, she’s been keeping an eye on you, and she’s been impressed. I had nothing to do with it other than agreeing that you deserved the promotion. I also didn’t say anything about going back to Charleston. That was her assumption because I had my luggage with me.”
