by A. M. Arthur
The fact that it took a ten-count for Reyes to nod showed how silently angry he was about this. But he wasn’t angry with Miles, and that was everything. “I won’t go after Dallas, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I text him photos of severed horse heads as a warning?”
“Jesus, Reyes!” Miles jumped off the bed, horrified at the idea. “What the hell?”
“Not real horses, Miles, like The Godfather.”
“I’ve never seen it.” But now that his initial horror was subsiding, he did get the cultural reference. “Still, gross. And no texting. No contact of any kind. Dallas hasn’t shown up here again, so hopefully it’s over. Did he get away with doing some epically shitty—”
“Also illegal.”
“Things to me? Yes. Am I worried he’ll hurt someone else? Yes. But there’s no proof. Emotional manipulation is impossible to prove, and it’ll end up being ‘he said/he said’ in the end. I’m just...relieved that he’s finally out of my life.”
“But is he fully out of your mind?”
“No.” Miles returned to sit next to Reyes and lean into him. “I’ve known him since I was eighteen, Reyes, I don’t know that he’ll ever be completely out of my mind. But talking about this today is a big step in getting him to shut up. Maybe go hide in the back for a while and leave me alone, so I can build wonderful new memories with you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I thought you might.” Miles tilted his head so he was looking up at Reyes through a fan of eyelashes. “Want to make a fun new memory right now?”
“By all means.”
With a bark of grateful laughter, Miles pounced on his boyfriend.
Chapter Fifteen
Reyes spent the next two days silently raging about everything Miles had admitted to him on Sunday night, and when their weekly Tuesday dinner date with Wes and Mack rolled around, he realized he needed to vent to his dearest friend. On the horse ride to the house, Reyes brought it up, and Miles was quiet for several long moments after.
“I need to tell Wes,” Miles finally said. “I kind of talked myself into doing it tonight, and I trust Mack’s discretion. If you need to tell him so you can work through your anger in a healthy way, then I’m okay with it.”
“You’re positive?” Reyes asked.
“Yes.” Miles sounded so confident that Reyes took him at his word. He hadn’t lied to Reyes yet, and Reyes marveled at the strong man riding beside him. A far cry from the anxious, jumpy man who’d first moved to the ranch back in April.
After supper, instead of a movie, Reyes asked Mack if they could take a walk. Miles gave him a knowing look, then barely tilted his head at Wes. He was going to talk to his best friend, too.
“What’s up?” Mack asked once they were a few dozen yards from the cabin. “You and Miles okay?”
“We’re great. Better than great, actually. It’s just...man, I am so fucking pissed about something he told me the other night, and it’s got me all torn up inside.”
“Something Miles did?”
“Not exactly. More like done to him.”
Mack stopped walking, and in the dim moonlight, understanding shined in his eyes. “I see.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Honestly, I’m not. Wes was real worried about Miles for a spell last summer, and I’m guessing this is about the same thing.”
“Yeah.” Reyes shuffled his feet, picking his words carefully so he could paint the right picture, without violating too much of Miles’s privacy. While Miles had never sworn him to secrecy over any of it, it was still Miles’s personal history. “I’ve learned a lot more about Miles’s history with his ex Dallas, and how controlling and manipulative the bastard was. He hurt Miles physically and emotionally, and at one point, Miles said enough and broke things off. Walked away.”
“But Dallas didn’t stay away.”
“No. The month before they came to the ranch last year? Miles went out for his birthday, only Dallas showed up, drugged him, took him home with another guy, and Miles doesn’t have any memory of it, but when he woke up he could tell someone had penetrated him.” Familiar rage came rising up. “Miles won’t call it for what it is, but that fucking bastard raped him, and not for the first time, I’ll add, and all I want to do is find the slimy prick and cut his dick off with a dull spoon.”
“I understand the impulse, trust me,” Mack said, anger in his voice now. “If that ever happened to Wes, they wouldn’t find the body, because there’s a lot of land up here.”
He grunted. “Miles swore me off revenge.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“I just really want to punch something right now. And I want to fix this so it never happened, but that’s obviously impossible.”
“You love him.”
Reyes had never told Mack they’d exchanged those words, but he didn’t have to. “I do. A hell of a lot, and I’m so grateful he trusted me with the truth, but damn it, Mack. I also hate knowing what I know, and knowing the prick will probably never be punished for it.”
“I don’t know, karma’s a tricky bitch.”
“If he ever comes near Miles again, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
“At this point, he’s unlikely to. No one’s seen him around the ghost town in months. Miles is as safe here as he’s ever gonna be, and he’s got a fuck-ton of people around who’d get in line to protect him, including me. He’s family.”
For some reason, those words made his eyes sting. “Thank you, brother.”
“Of course.” Mack cleared his throat. “So go on, get it out of your system. What other ways would you find to rearrange Dallas’s anatomy?”
Reyes’s mouth twisted into an evil smile, and they kept walking.
* * *
Miles let Wes hug him until Wes deemed it okay to let go. Wes’s blue eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but also glittered with anger. He’d told Wes the truth about his birthday, like he knew Reyes was telling Mack, and it had been easier saying it all the second time. Wes had listened with an unusual amount of patience and restraint, and then he’d hugged Miles for dear life.
“I should have known Dallas did something that night, the pig fucker. Well, I did know,” Wes said. “But you didn’t want to talk, so I didn’t push, even though you got so distant and quiet, but then you started getting better.”
“It wasn’t on you to fix me. I had to be ready to talk, and in order to talk, I had to get over my own shame. Being with Reyes has helped me heal in so many ways, and I can never repay him for that.”
“You repay him by loving him, trust me.” Wes squeezed his hands. “We can all pool our money and hire a professional to professionally kick Dallas’s ass.”
Miles laughed at the absurd suggestion. “No, we will not. To be honest, after tonight, I don’t want to think about Dallas anymore. He doesn’t deserve my thoughts or my energy. But I needed to tell you, because you saw it all without knowing what it was, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Hey, honey, no, you had to tell me when you were ready. I get that. But if he does happen to show up at the ghost town looking for you again, I will end up tripping and stabbing him in the junk with my penknife.”
Miles laughed again, grateful for his friend’s unwavering loyalty. “The fact that you would willingly stab someone in the junk means everything, but please don’t get yourself sent to jail on my account. I already had this conversation with Reyes.”
“I can imagine. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t driven into San Fran to murder the guy. It’s not like they’d ever find a body up here.”
“We are not killing Dallas and burying him on this land. Period.”
“You’re no fun.”
“And I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.”
&
nbsp; “It’s a Bentley thing. You don’t fuck with our family.”
They turned on the TV and watched a game show until their men returned. Reyes looked less wound up than he’d seemed the past two days, and he went right to the couch to kiss Miles on the forehead.
“So who do you think came up with the most creative punishment against Dallas’s body?” Mack asked Miles.
Miles shrugged. “Probably Reyes, because I wouldn’t let Wes go there.”
Wes harrumphed. “I didn’t know we were competing. I feel cheated.”
“You’ll get over it.” Miles leaned into Reyes. “You feel better?”
“Yes.” Reyes brushed a curl away from his ear. “You?”
“I’m definitely ready to move on. I came here for a change and a new life, and I’m really ready to embrace that now. Clean slate. New me.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all month.” He kissed Miles gently. “I love you.”
“Love you more.”
“Gawd, you two, get a room,” Wes drawled.
“Get a room, huh?” Mack said. He hauled Wes off the couch and into a forceful kiss full of tongue and a little bit of growling. Wes gaped at him when Mack pulled back, and Mack just looked self-satisfied.
“I think we need a room, daddy.”
“That’s our cue to go,” Miles said, pulling Reyes up to stand with him. “Thanks for dinner and for listening. Both of you.”
“Happy to.” Wes hugged him again, careful to keep his bottom half out of it. “Take care of yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Ugh, Reyes, take care of him for me.”
Reyes smiled. “I’ll take care of him as much as he lets me.”
Outside in the warm evening air, Miles took Reyes by the hand and led him into the yard. “Do we have to go straight home? It’s such a nice night and still early. I’d love to ride awhile.”
“Sure, we can ride. I’ll never turn that down. You’ve been too tired lately for our usual evening rides.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It just means the saloon is a success, and I’m thrilled for you. Art Milo and his Tango Saloon are building a fantastic reputation, and I couldn’t be prouder, Miles, I promise.”
“Thank you. It means everything to hear you say that.”
“You mean the world to me. Mi corazon. Mi alma. My everything.”
Miles wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and held tight. “You’re my everything, too. Thank you for loving me.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s too easy to love you.”
They hugged awhile longer, until a very distinct sex noise from the house broke them apart on shared laughter. They fetched their horses and began to ride out into the wilderness. Miles trusted Reyes implicitly to always lead him safely home, and tonight was no exception.
He trusted Reyes to lead him forward always, no matter their destination.
* * *
The first time Miles’s face showed up on the social media connected to Art Milo, he freaked the fuck out, but Wes had the post taken down within minutes of discovering it. A fan of the saloon who’d been told the only time the mysterious chef appeared was during the holdup, had arrived in time and had covertly snapped the shot of Miles and Shawn “cowering” near the kitchen doors.
The fan had posted it to the ghost town’s main social media page, which Wes moderated, and he sent the fan a direct message explaining their chef was an intensely private person, and please don’t do that again.
Still, everyone decided it was best if Miles stopped participating in the holdup. One of their volunteer actors would be dressed appropriately and stand in for the chef from now on. In some ways, Miles was sad to give up the small role, but he was also happy to only have to do what he loved: cook. He was tense about it for a few days after, and Reyes did everything possible at night to ease his anxiety—everything from massages to toe-curling blow jobs. They made love several nights a week, but not every night.
After a few weeks, Miles forgot all about the photo and life went on as usual.
Stifling August heat melted into a slightly less hot September, and a heavy rainstorm shut down the ghost town for a whole day. Since ranch guests weren’t doing anything outdoors, Reyes gave himself the day off, too, so he and Miles could spend the day in bed together, alternately watching movies, playing cards, and enjoying each other’s bodies. It was like the best adult snow day ever, minus the snow and hot cocoa.
The next day was overcast, but dry, and everything was muddy, so business was slow. It picked up again over the weekend, for which Miles was grateful. After getting so used to a busy kitchen, too many quiet stretches left him uneasy. Restless.
Now that Avery had moved to San Francisco for his new job, their regular dinner quartet occasionally drove into the city to hang with Avery and Colt in their apartment. Colt was there every weekend with his boyfriend, and Miles enjoyed hanging out with them, too. While Colt had first struck him as a slightly aggressive flirt, he’d mellowed into his relationship with Avery, and Miles adored the couple.
Life was kind of awesome.
The second Monday in September, after the lunch rush, Miles carried the bus bin of that day’s scraps out to the edge of town where Mack had built a three-sided enclosure facing the mountain, so Miles could have a compost pile. He much preferred it to tossing out everything. The only things he didn’t toss were meat scraps. Raccoons could come along and steal old pie crusts, but the last thing they needed was to tempt a mountain lion too close with a half-eaten burger.
He dumped the bin and tapped its metal side against the wooden enclosure wall, watching as bits of lettuce and beans dripped onto the pile. All in all, they didn’t have a lot of food waste, because customers really seemed to love his dishes, so they ate it all.
The sign of a successful chef is an empty plate after each meal.
The thought made him smile to himself. Satisfied the pan was empty, he turned to head back, only to find a body in his way. A tall, muscled body he knew too well. Miles yelped and backed up two steps.
Dallas grinned at him from behind his designer shades, perfectly at ease while Miles’s pulse raced and his stomach twisted up tight. “Well, if it isn’t Chef Art Milo,” he said in a friendly, too-charming way.
Miles was struck dumb. He couldn’t speak, much less react in any meaningful way.
“Been a long time, baby,” Dallas continued. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
A blast of anger loosened his tongue from the roof of Miles’s mouth. “The fact that I disappeared so thoroughly should have been a big fucking hint,” he snapped. “I don’t want to see you anymore, Dallas, so please leave.”
“I’m a paying customer. I wanted to meet the chef who made my buffalo burger. It was excellent, by the way, just like all your fans say.”
Miles wanted to vomit thinking he’d cooked food for Dallas without realizing it.
“Come on, Miles, not even a hello kiss for your oldest friend?”
“Fuck you.”
Dallas’s good mood fractured. “Don’t push me away again. I can destroy this cute little life you’ve got up here.”
Real fear blasted down Miles’s spine, along with a healthy dose of fury. “Leave. Me. Alone. Don’t make me get a restraining order.”
The threat made Dallas laugh. “This is a new side of you, Miles. Did you go and grow a backbone or something?”
Completely done with this conversation, Miles stalked past Dallas, intent on the safety of his kitchen. A hand clamped down on Miles’s shoulder, and he didn’t think. He spun, swinging the bus bin wildly, and connected with a crack. Dallas shrieked and fell to his knees, clutching at his nose. The shock of impact jarred its way up Miles’s arm. He stared down at Dallas, stunned at what he’d done.
“Miles!” Shawn’s voice.
He turned, unsurprised to see not only Shawn, but two guests and one of their volunteer actors heading in his direction. Shawn came to a stop next to Miles. “What the hell happened?”
“I hit my ex in the face with a bus bin.”
“What?” Shawn gaped at him.
Someone handed Dallas a handkerchief, which he pressed under his bleeding nose. “I should press assault charges,” Dallas said.
“You grabbed me first.” Miles dropped the bin to the ground and pulled out his phone. Mack picked up on the fourth ring. “Hey, I need you behind the saloon. It’s an emergency.”
“On my way,” Mack replied.
“Should we call the sheriff?” one of the guests asked the other.
“He isn’t actually a sheriff,” was the reply.
Miles rolled his eyes. “This is a private matter, but please don’t let it ruin your enjoyment of Bentley. Go see the sights. This will take care of itself.”
Dallas grunted, then struggled to stand. When Shawn reached out to help, Miles pulled him back. The actor, whose name Miles thought was Joe, hung back, and the four of them stood there for a few minutes, until heavy footsteps thundered toward them.
“What’s going on?” Mack asked, his voice even but still somehow booming with authority. “Miles?”
The sunglasses and cloth over half his face probably made it difficult for Mack to recognize Dallas, so Miles ripped the damned glasses off his face. Mack stared a beat, and then went on instant alert. “Gonna say it loud and clear right now that you aren’t welcome here,” Mack said.
“I paid my parking fee,” Dallas said. “And I slipped a twenty into the church collection box. I’m a paying customer.”
“And this is private property, so we can refuse service to any customer we choose.”
“Your employee assaulted me.”
Miles’s vision briefly blurred with rage. “You assaulted me first, you shit heel, and a hell of a lot worse than a bloody nose.”
Shawn startled, but Miles ignored him.
“Seems you need to take yourself off my property right now,” Mack said. “Or I will call the county sheriff and have you removed by force.”
