by A. M. Arthur
His phone buzzed with a text, and Miles’s pulse raced. He’d had this reaction to any text for the past couple of weeks, because Dallas wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. He checked his phone.
I miss you, babe, so fucking much. Just ping me back once, please?
From Dallas. Miles deleted it, like he’d deleted all the others. He was changing his number soon, anyway, so what did it matter? One more week in San Francisco, five more shifts at his job, and then he was done. Out of there. He hated seeing the apartment sit empty for the next few months while he and Wes continued to pay rent, but in the long run it was surprisingly cheaper than the penalties for breaking the lease early, and he didn’t want the hassle of subletters. If they left the place a mess, Wes was responsible for it out of his deposit.
He’d drive into the city every few weeks to check on the apartment, but that was it. Cutting ties with the big city for a quieter life as head chef for the Tango Saloon.
The name of the place made him grin; Tango was the horse he’d ridden during his ranch vacation.
Miles had spent the past few weeks chatting with Avery about the menu, coming up with ways to modernize old recipes so folks would want to try them, and he loved what they’d come up with. Miles had done a few practice recipes at home, but he didn’t have a lot of extra cash to blow on groceries. He’d be in his own kitchen up at the site in a week, ready to play and show off his food to Mack.
“What do you look so smug about?” Wes asked.
Miles looked up from the immersion blender he’d been holding. “Thinking about my new job. I’m excited to get started, but I have to survive one more week at the dinner theater first.”
“Exactly! One more week, and you’re here to stay, Chef Miles. And I meant what I said before.”
“Which time?”
Wes winked. “About you and Reyes looking adorable together.”
Miles whipped the blender cord at Wes, who jerked out of the way. “So what? Neither one of us is interested.”
“Oh honey, he’s interested. You should flirt back and see what happens.”
“No. We’re going to be living together, Wes. Flirting is a very bad idea.”
“I don’t know, it worked wonders for Colt and Avery.”
“Colt and Avery are different.” Miles put the blender into the appropriate cabinet. “They had a previous relationship, and they were both ready to start over.”
Last fall, when Mack was getting the ghost town project off the ground, he’d hired Avery as his historian without realizing the insanely complicated history Avery had with their mutual friend Colt Woods. Avery had been living at the town motel, but a bedbug infestation forced Avery to move to the ranch—and share a cabin with Colt. The pair had never stopped loving each other and after proving they could make long-distance work, they were incredibly happy. Avery still lived in Los Angeles and continued to consult via phone, while Colt still worked at the ranch as a handyman.
“All valid points,” Wes said, “but that doesn’t mean forced proximity doesn’t work on relative strangers.”
“Will you drop it, please?” Miles asked with enough anger to make Wes’s smile droop. “I’m not interested in dating right now, least of all my future roommate.” He was having a hard enough time reconciling his future living arrangements with his personal insecurities, and Wes was not helping.
“You two can get horizontal without dating. Maybe it’ll loosen you up. When’s the last time you got laid, anyway?”
Wes had asked that way too casually not to be fishing for more information about last year’s birthday. “None of your business,” Miles snapped.
“Whoa,” Mack said. He and Reyes turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped. “Everything okay in here?”
“Wes being his usual annoying self,” Miles said. “Are we all ready for pizza? I’ve got the oven preheating.”
“Sounds good.”
Miles collected the pizza stones from where he’d just put them, then pulled two frozen pies out of the freezer. One pepperoni, one supreme. He busied himself getting those into the oven to cook and pointedly ignored meaningful looks from Wes as he poked around his new kitchen.
Hopefully, working around Wes every day wasn’t going to end up being a mistake. He adored his friend, but sometimes Wes could be a little much, and when he got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. If he decided that somehow, someway, Miles and Reyes were destined to be together, Wes was going to meddle.
Maybe Miles could head that off at the pass.
Talking to him in the cabin would only fuel Wes’s fire, but Reyes gave him the perfect opening when he went outside to check the cars for any lingering possessions. Miles counted to ten, straightened his spine, and followed him. Reyes was bent over, head in the trunk, butt in the air, and Miles looked away. Cleared his throat.
“Hey, Miles, you need something?” Reyes asked.
“I do,” Miles said. “I need you to do me a favor, please?”
“Anything,” Reyes replied, his dark eyes burning with curiosity.
“I have a weird feeling that Wes is going to try and get us to hook up, and I’m not looking to get into anything right now, and I don’t even know if you’re gay, or into me, so can you help me shut him down if he tries? Please?”
Reyes’s eyes burned with something that Miles couldn’t identify, before he slowly nodded. “Yes, I can do that. I’d never force or trick you into anything Miles, I promise. You’re my friend.”
Miles let out a relieved breath. “Thanks. And you’re my friend, too, so why let Wes mess that up, right?”
“Right. Speaking of starting things up, have you heard from your ex recently?”
So not going there with you.
“Not a peep. I guess you scared him off.”
“I was happy to do it. Excuse me.” Reyes went back into the cabin with a purposeful stride.
Miles couldn’t read the guy all that well, so he wasn’t sure how to take their conversation. Instead of worrying over it, though, he allowed himself to relax in the knowledge that Reyes was on board with keeping Wes out of their separate love lives.
* * *
Reyes shut the bathroom door, then sat on the closed toilet seat lid to think. He’d enjoyed spending time with Miles today, but the conversation by the car had been a kick in the teeth. Miles obviously didn’t share his attraction, which was both a relief and disappointing.
A relief, because Reyes could keep hiding that part of himself away and not indulge in forbidden fantasies. And disappointing, because he was attracted to Miles. Very much so, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted Miles, deep down. Reyes reacted to Miles’s presence like a bee to pollen, and he hadn’t felt that in a long time. But he’d never allowed himself to explore those attractions in the past, so why should this be any different? The universe knew he didn’t deserve it.
Miles wasn’t interested, so Reyes had to live with that. He’d share his cabin with the guy, go to work every day, and try to pretend those feelings didn’t exist. He could manage that.
Maybe.
Chapter Three
Miles was counting down the days to Friday and his last shift at the dinner theater. Part of him was sad, because he’d worked there for three years, and it had been his first real job after college. The rest of him was excited to get out of this damned city, with all its bad memories.
Living alone in the apartment felt strange at first, but these past few months Wes had been away on acting gigs or visiting Mack enough that it didn’t completely bother him. The still-frequent texts from Dallas left Miles a bit on edge, but mostly he was fine. Packed up except for a few things, plus some leftover food, and waiting on the weekend.
Wednesday evening, he clocked out and drove home, still too unnerved to ride the bus. At least Dallas hadn’t left any more love notes, o
r let the air out of his tires. The mechanic had told him that was the cause of the flat—no cuts, no nails, just a missing air valve cap. Its timing with the note was too much of a coincidence, though, for Dallas not to have done it.
And if Dallas thought notes and flat tires were somehow going to win Miles back, the guy was truly unhinged. And that worried Miles.
Two more shifts, and I’m free.
He didn’t start to relax until the elevator opened on his floor and his own door was in sight. But as he approached, a piece of paper taped to the door sent a splash of acid into the back of his throat. Dallas’s handwriting stood out on the folded note, which had Miles’s name on the front. Miles stared at it a beat, but it was only paper. Paper couldn’t hurt him.
The real fear came from knowing Dallas had discovered where he lived.
Did he follow me? Dox me? How the fuck?
He snatched the note off the door and unfolded it.
“All I want is a conversation, Miles, please. I miss you so much.”
“Not gonna happen,” he told the paper.
“Why not?”
Miles yelped as he spun around, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he faced down his own personal bogeyman. Dallas Ward had once been Miles’s best friend and protector, and now Miles was terrified to be alone with him. A year older, buff as hell, Dallas was a strong guy and he knew it. He was also gorgeous on his worst day, and he knew that, too.
“How the hell did you find me?” Miles asked, glad his keys were tucked between his knuckles like a makeshift weapon.
“I have my ways.” Dallas’s easy grin did nothing to calm Miles down. “I’ve missed you so much, and you keep ignoring me.”
“Maybe that should have been your first clue to leave me alone.”
“But I’m not ready to leave you alone, baby. Please? Just let me in so we can talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about, Dallas. I told you that at Club Base, and I’m telling you again now. We’re over. Period.”
Dallas’s smile shifted into something darker. “Why do you get to decide that?”
Anger rippled down Miles’s spine. “Because of what you did on my birthday, you raging asshole. Go away.” He was seconds from shouting, and he didn’t care if that woke up his neighbors. Maybe causing a scene would make Dallas leave him the hell alone.
“I seem to recall us all having a great time on your birthday.” Dallas leered at his crotch.
“Gee, I’m glad one of us remembers what happened.” All Miles remembered was dancing with Dallas at the club and feeling guilty about it, because he’d come out with Wes and a few friends, and then waking up naked in Dallas’s bed with Dallas and a stranger. And God, he’d hurt that day, and for several days after.
Never again.
Miles palmed his phone. “If you don’t walk away, I’m calling the police, and I will file a restraining order against you. You want that on your record?”
Dallas put one hand on the wall by Miles’s head and leaned into his personal space. “All I want is a conversation, baby, and maybe one more fuck for old time’s sake.”
“No.” God, why weren’t any of his neighbors around when he needed them? Normally, he was thankful to avoid human interaction. “Back off or I’ll scream.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Stringing me along, making me beg. Fuck you, Miles.” Dallas’s expression went from determined to cruel, and Miles quailed. “I had you first. You’ll always be mine.”
“I don’t belong to anyone, least of all you.”
“No?” Before Miles could think, Dallas had one hand over his mouth and the other down the back of his jeans. Dallas used his bulk and height to cage Miles against the wall, and Miles was so stunned he didn’t react right away.
Not until the hand down his pants started wiggling toward his crease. Pure anger and hatred washed over Miles, briefly blinding him. Never again. He was fucking done being used. Miles crushed that violating hand between his ass and the wall, wiggled his right hand free, and smashed those keys threaded between his knuckles right into Dallas’s rib cage.
Dallas shouted in pain and released him. Miles followed that up with a swift kick to the groin that dropped Dallas to his knees. With shaking hands, Miles got the apartment door unlocked, and dashed inside before Dallas could lunge. Turned the knob lock and snapped the dead bolt into place.
Lungs heaving, Miles stood in the middle of the dark living room and shook from head to toe as his adrenaline rush waned. Dallas banged on the door until a neighbor screamed at him to shut the fuck up. Miles stayed put for a long while after, until he could get his limbs to move and check out the peephole.
Empty hallway.
His stomach lurched, and Miles raced for the bathroom. Flipped on the light. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet as his stomach heaved. Nothing came up, though, and he sat there, rocking, allowing his terror to run its course. He could still feel Dallas’s hands on him, holding him down, groping him, so he ran a hot shower and got in with his clothes still on. Sat under the spray until it turned cold.
He slept for shit that night, unable to truly relax, even after he shoved the apartment’s only remaining armchair in front of the door. The apartment was on the fifth floor, so the tiny balcony and the windows weren’t good entry spots, but at this point, he’d put nothing past Dallas. The guy was deeply disturbed, and he might have been a little high, too.
At dawn, Miles started packing the last of his stuff. A local thrift store was picking up the rest of the furniture on Saturday, and Miles would leave a note with the super about it, but he wasn’t staying another night. Not knowing Dallas had found him. He packed up his car with his few boxes and suitcases, then drove to a hotel in San Jose to hide for the next two days. Fuck his job, he was done.
Part of him wanted to drive straight to Garrett, but if he showed up two days early, Wes would want to know why. And no way was Miles telling him about last night. Wes would worry, he’d want to interfere, and Miles didn’t want that. All he wanted was to get away from the constant fear of Dallas showing up and hurting him again. He could do that in a hotel for the next two nights, and then on Saturday morning, he’d go to his new home in the middle of nowhere.
He’d be safe at Clean Slate Ranch.
He hoped.
* * *
Reyes had switched around his Saturday morning schedule with Robin, so he could be there when Miles moved into the cabin. It was absolutely not because he was eager to see Miles again. Nope. Not a chance at all.
It made perfect sense to want to personally greet his new roommate. Sleeping in the cabin alone for the past week had been strange. He was used to having another body around, making noise and snoring like a chainsaw. The only real challenge would be getting dressed. Reyes had no issue dropping his towel in front of Mack, because of their decades-long relationship. And Mack had seen the scars on Reyes’s legs from day one.
No one else in the past six years had seen those, except his doctor.
Miles probably wouldn’t care about the scars, but Reyes did. They were a reminder of his second major failure. The second time he’d gotten someone killed.
The cabin was neat and tidy, waiting for Miles and his stuff, so Reyes went outside to the porch. It was warm for late March, with a steady breeze blowing. He sat on the small built-in bench and stretched his legs out.
“You look pretty relaxed for a guy who’s going to be living with a stranger,” Colt Woods said as he ambled onto the porch. “Then again, it takes a hell of a lot to ruffle your feathers.”
“Miles isn’t a complete stranger,” Reyes replied. “He’s a friend and a nice guy.”
Colt leaned against a porch post and folded his arms. “A nice guy you were checking out last weekend?”
Reyes groaned. “Wes gossips too much.”<
br />
“So it’s true?”
“Miles bent over. I was facing his direction. I was not ogling his ass or checking him out.”
Liar.
“I mean, none of us would care if you were,” Colt added. “Be kind of hypocritical, right?”
He loved that his friends respected his privacy and had never outright asked, “Are you gay, straight, or other?” They let him live his life without judgment—even if Colt did like to tease him about Reyes’s prudish nature once in a while.
“Yes, it would be,” Reyes replied. “And I’m not interested in Miles.”
“Okay. You interested in coming out tonight? Me and Robin are going to meet up with Derrick in the city.”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
“Sure. I won’t see Avery again for a few weeks, so I need to get out and dance my sexual frustration away.”
Reyes was genuinely impressed by Colt and Avery’s long-distance relationship, because he’d never imagined Colt as the long-distance type. But the pair flew out to see each other whenever possible, and they kept in constant touch on their phones and tablets. Avery had recently accepted a university position in San Francisco for the fall, so he’d be moving locally at the end of the summer, which had delighted Colt to no end.
Colt had matured so much since his reintroduction to Avery last year, becoming a calmer, steadier presence at the ranch, instead of the flirty wild child he’d been before. Still loved going clubbing, though, and that probably wouldn’t stop until he finally sprained something.
“You guys have fun,” Reyes said.
“You do realize that if our lives were a soap opera, you’d be the next one of us to fall in love.”
Reyes rolled his eyes. “Good thing our lives are more like an episode of Quick Draw.”
“With extra hot cowboys and bonus spankings?”
