Tasting Notes

by Cate Ashwood

  “What? Why?”

  “I saw how you looked at him. Your eyes got all dark and you looked at him like you never looked at me.”

  “That’s because I thought he was a douchebag,” Rush said.

  Sebastian tilted his head to the side and shot Rush a dubious look. “Maybe, but that undercurrent of attraction was there. Don’t tell me it wasn’t. You wanted him the moment you saw him.”

  “But I don’t see why… oh.” Rush clamped his mouth shut as realization dawned over him. West had been right. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Because I knew you didn’t feel the same way as I did. Which is fine. It’s my issue, not yours. It just hurt to see you with someone else. I didn’t want the front row view of your budding relationship, so I checked out. I’m sorry I’ve been so weird about the whole thing.”

  “I didn’t know….”

  “I know you didn’t. I really am fine. Knowing you were with West was the kick in the ass I needed to start to move on. Gavin and me… we kind of have a thing going. It’s in the early stages yet, but I think things are good.”

  “Yeah?” Rush grinned. He was happy for Sebastian. Just because things had never been serious between them didn’t mean he didn’t deserve something special. He hoped Gavin was the right guy for him.

  Sebastian blushed. “Yeah. I really like him.”

  “I’m happy for you, man. But you tell him if he fucks with you, I’ll break both his legs.”

  “I’ll let him know,” Sebastian said with a chuckle.

  “So we’re good?”

  “We’re good.”

  Rush lifted his glass and Sebastian did the same, clinking the rims together. He was happy to have his friend back.

  “Holy shitballs, is it hot,” Rush muttered to himself, stepping out of the helicopter and onto the tarmac. He anticipated it would be warm—California in August was never cool—but he hadn’t realized the desert would be hotter than hellfire. The heat in San Diego wasn’t nearly as crushing as the desert. He was happy to be there, though. When his teaching contract for San Diego extended to include a week in Twentynine Palms leading a training session on close air support, he agreed immediately. It wasn’t far from Rancho Mirage, where his parents had bought their new home, and he was anxious to see them.

  It had been nearly six months since they left Canyon Creek, and he missed them. Spending a few days next to the pool at the end of a three-week-long teaching stint sounded nothing short of amazing. He only needed to get through the next seven days and he’d be sipping margaritas in a lounger with two of his favorite people once again.

  The liaison stepped forward and shook Rush’s hand. “I’m Daniel O’Brian. It was me you were speaking to on the phone for the last month. Thank you so much for coming. We appreciate you making the trip over for the training. I’ve put your week’s itinerary into this file for you, but if you have any questions or concerns at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll do all we can to make sure you are supplied with all the resources you need.”

  “Thanks, Daniel,” Rush said, taking the file from him. He looked it over as they walked to the truck. It seemed extensive, but Rush wasn’t bothered. There was little else to do in the area, so keeping busy would stop his mind from wandering in directions it shouldn’t.

  They climbed in, and the liaison pulled out onto the road, which took them past the hospital and over to the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center to get orientated. It was quite a massive facility, with areas for training and simulation. As far as Rush was concerned, the closer the Marines could get to real situations in training, the better off they’d be when it came time for the real thing.

  Every class he taught, the students seemed to be younger and younger. He tried not to think about what was possibly coming next for them. It wasn’t his job to worry about them. It was his job to make sure they were as well trained as possible for their missions, to ensure they were capable of making decisions moment to moment that would guarantee their safety and the safety of the others they fought next to. He wanted them to be able to go through the motions in their sleep, to be so prepared their reactions to threats were smooth and faultless.

  By the end of the week, Rush was exhausted but satisfied he’d done as much as possible for the young Marines. It was out of his hands now, and he wished them all luck as the class ended on the last day. They had clocked quite a bit of air time, and Rush was ready for a break.

  He checked his cell phone as he walked out to the main parking area, looking for his dad’s silver Ford. Rush spotted it just to the left, and he walked over, a wide grin splitting his face. His dad stepped out of the car and had his arms wrapped around Rush’s shoulders before he could blink.

  “Missed you, kiddo,” he said, hugging him tightly.

  “I missed you too,” Rush said before pulling back. They loaded Rush’s bag into the trunk, and a few minutes later they were cruising down the highway toward Rancho Mirage. The landscape was beautiful and so different from Canyon Creek. It never ceased to amaze Rush how diverse California was. The coast, the north, the desert, it was as though they were different parts of the world rather than being only a few hours’ drive apart.

  They drove through Yucca Valley as his dad recounted everything that had happened in the six months prior to Rush’s visit. Before Rush knew it, they were taking the on-ramp to the I-10. Large groupings of windmills dotted the hills on either side of the freeway, and for a moment Rush wondered what Don Quixote would think of these. They were monstrous, white and sleek. He remembered reading about Don Quixote when he was in school. Most of the story was lost to him, but he remembered the windmills. Somehow he didn’t think these looked anything like the ones from the story.

  As they neared Palm Springs, Jim pulled off the highway and, through a series of quick maneuvers, directed them into the drive-thru line for In-N-Out Burger. Rush checked the clock in the car. Four o’clock. It was getting close to dinnertime, and he knew very well that his mom would have made something, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” his dad said. “Your mother is on a new cooking kick where she’s attempting Italian cuisine, and believe me, she was better off with the classics. Tonight, I believe, we are having some sort of gnocchi with brown butter. But if the smells coming from the kitchen when I left are indicative of what dinner will taste like, you’d better get a burger too.”

  Rush laughed. “Okay. You’d know better than me.”

  “You’ll be thanking me later, trust me.”

  His dad pulled into the long lineup, and after a few minutes, they placed their order. Suddenly he was ravenous, and if what his dad said about his mom’s cooking was to be believed, he was grateful to be getting the greasy predinner meal.

  They ate in the car on the drive, which was surprisingly short. Rush loved that all the major street names were taken from old-school Hollywood. When they pulled into the driveway, Rush was impressed by the exterior of the house. It was quite beautiful, done in a very contemporary style. Different from their old house, but it still somehow suited the couple. His dad gathered up the remnants from their illicit meal and snuck them into the trash beside the garage before he guided Rush through the front door.

  “Had to destroy the evidence, but now here we are,” he said pushing the door open and gesturing for Rush to enter.

  “Is that my boy?” Rush heard his mom call from somewhere in the house. Her voice sounded amplified against the smooth marble of the floors. The interior of the house was huge, the open concept design making it appear even larger. The kitchen was to the right and boasted a large marble island in the center. His mom was standing behind it, an apron tied neatly around her waist and an array of different vegetables and various kitchen utensils spread before her.

  The moment Rush stepped into the house, he understood his dad’s motivation for fast food. The acrid scent of burned garlic permeated the air, and Rush did his best not to let it show as he walk
ed in and wrapped his arms around his mom, enveloping her in a hug.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said, suddenly more grateful than ever that he was there. “It’s great to see you.”

  “You too, Robert. You should have visited before now. I heard that boyfriend of yours bought you a helicopter. That means you have even fewer excuses for why you didn’t visit.”

  Rush flinched internally at the mention of West. Of course his parents would have heard about the chopper. Something like that isn’t small news in a place like Canyon Creek, and they were still very well connected to the community, despite the fact they had transplanted themselves to southern California.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll do better from now on.”

  “You’d better. Now, what can I get you to drink? Beer? Wine? Tequila?”

  Rush chuckled. “Maybe I’ll save the tequila for a bit later. Beer’s good if you’ve got it.”

  “Of course,” she said, walking over to the beverage fridge at the end of the island. It was half-height but had double doors, and Rush could see through the glass it was well stocked. Retirement seemed to suit his parents well. The house was gorgeous, and they both seemed incredibly happy.

  His mom handed him a bottle of beer. “Why don’t you two go outside and sit by the pool. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “It smells incredible,” Rush said, taking the bottle from her. His dad smiled conspiratorially and tilted his head toward the french doors that led to the backyard.

  Rush followed him outside and took a moment—as his feet hit the stone of the pool deck—to take it all in. If he thought the house was gorgeous, the backyard was something else. For a desert, it was incredibly lush. There was a small grove of citrus trees to one side—lemons, oranges, and grapefruits hung heavy on the branches. The pool took up most of the rest of the yard, with a handful of palm trees springing from the ground along the back wall. One side of the pool was built up with rocks, and water cascaded over them, creating a soundtrack Rush could have happily spent all week listening to. To the right there was a large tented area, beneath which was the table and six chairs, and immediately adjacent to the dining area was the BBQ, built into the outdoor kitchen.

  “Holy shit,” Rush said.

  “Something else, isn’t it?” his dad said proudly. “The yard is the reason we bought this place.”

  “I can see why. You guys shouldn’t have let me come. You’re never going to get rid of me now. I’ll be the adult son who still lives at home.”

  Jim laughed. “I think that might actually make your mother very happy. And me too,” he added.

  “You guys are happy here, though?”

  “We are,” he said. “There are days we miss the vineyard; I won’t lie, but this was right for us. We would have made the move eventually. West made it possible for us to do sooner. I’ll be forever grateful to him for that.”

  Rush simply nodded. He didn’t want to discuss West. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

  His mom appeared a moment later carrying a large bowl of pasta and a basket of bread. She placed them on the table and trotted back into the house to make three more trips with dishes of food before retrieving the dishes and cutlery, which she set down in front of Rush.

  “Dig in,” she said.

  As Rush plated up, she explained what each dish contained, and he could tell from the tone of her voice how proud she was of her culinary exploration.

  “Is that all you’re going to take?” she asked, eyeing the mound of food on his plate. She knew him better than anyone and knew he could pack away more food than most. Not wanting to tip her off to their earlier meal, he scooped another heaping spoonful of gnocchi onto his plate.

  Rush made good use of his beer, drinking to mask the taste of the meal. From the looks of it, his dad was doing the same. They ran out midway through the meal, and the look he shot Rush from across the table made him burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” his mom asked.

  “Nothing. Sorry. I was remembering something weird Casper did,” Rush said. It wasn’t the best lie, but she seemed to buy it.

  “How is Casper? Who’s looking after him while you’re here?”

  “I’ve left him with Sebastian. He was happy for the company.”

  “Oh, how is Sebastian doing?”

  “He’s good. Working a lot. I don’t think he’s going to be able to help me out this Christmas. I’m going to have to find someone else to pitch in, I think.”

  “I always liked that boy. When you first came back, I thought you two would end up together. He always seemed like he cared about you a great deal,” his mother said.

  “We gave it a shot, but we work better as friends. Something didn’t click.”

  “The way it clicked with West?”

  Rush looked over the table at his mother. He really didn’t want to talk about West.

  “Charlotte, would you mind grabbing us another couple of beers?” his dad asked, shattering the awkwardness of the moment.

  She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Something wrong with your legs?” she asked but rose anyway and walked to the kitchen.

  “Quick,” Jim said, standing and carrying his plate to the fence. He tipped it and let the food slide over the other side.

  “Did you just dump your meal into your neighbor’s yard?” Rush asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. They have a dog. Don’t worry about it. I do it all the time. Hurry up, before she gets back.”

  Rush sprang to action and followed Jim’s instructions, dumping the remnants of his dinner over the fence. He managed to sit back down and look nonchalant before she returned with their drinks.

  “Wow, you boys sure were hungry,” his mom said. “Would you like some more?”

  “Oh, no thank you,” Rush said. “I’m full.”

  “Not too full for dessert, I hope.”

  Rush snuck a glance at Jim, who gave him an encouraging look. “Nope, I saved a little room for dessert.”

  His mom beamed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  West’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He was mid-conference call with a startup company, a new up-and-coming tech firm, in Iowa of all places. Their ideas were promising, and West hadn’t been this excited about an investment in quite some time.

  Nearly an hour later, he finished up the call, assuring the clients things were going to happen quickly for them, then hung up. After digging his cell phone from his pocket, he checked the caller ID and saw it was Rush who phoned. His pulse quickened at the sight of his boyfriend’s name. He smiled to himself and hit the button to return the call.

  “Hello?” Rush said once he answered. He sounded like he was laughing.

  “Hey, I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” West said.

  “No, not at all. Just one second.”

  West heard scuffling and the sounds of Rush breathing. Then a moment later Rush spoke again. “Sorry about that. I can talk now.”

  “How are you?” West asked. The question seemed strained and unfamiliar. As the weeks passed, the closeness they experienced when he lived in California seemed to dissipate. He missed it.

  “I’m good. I’m in Palm Springs. Rancho Mirage, actually, with my parents.”

  “How are they?”

  “They’re good. They love it here, and with good reason. Their place is amazing. The pool alone is worth moving for.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of moving,” West joked.

  “Nope, but I’m going to have a tough time leaving here next week.” Rush’s voice got quiet. “Hey, I was thinking, maybe if you didn’t have too much going on, you might want to fly out for a few days. Spend some time in the sun before you turn all pasty white again.”

  West’s heart sank. He wanted to. He did. But despite being back in Chicago for nearly two months, he still hadn’t managed to get on top of things. E-mails, conferences, contracts, they were all piled up, and West couldn’t see a way out of them for the f
oreseeable future.

  “I’d love to, really—”

  “No, it’s okay. I get it. It was a long shot anyway, but I thought I’d ask.”

  “If there were any possible way, I would. It’s a bad time this week. Scarlet has me booked solid with meetings and appointments, and that doesn’t take into account… never mind. It’s boring. I’m not trying to make excuses, but we’ll plan something soon. I promise.” West hoped he wasn’t lying to Rush. This wasn’t the first time they vowed to make plans for a visit. The week West left, he hoped to be back on the weekend and in Rush’s arms, but an emergency meeting delayed his plans. In fact, his plans were delayed indefinitely. He felt like shit for continuing to push it back, but it was all he could do when he was dealing with the ramifications of leaving Chicago in the first place. He could only hope things settled down soon and he could make his way out to California to visit.

  “I miss you,” West said.

  “I miss you too.”

  “I should go, but I’ll call you later.”

  “Yeah, that’d be good. I think it’s going to be an early night for everyone here, though. The desert heat zaps your energy like nothing else.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to call early.”

  “Talk to you soon,” Rush said.

  “Bye.” And with that, West hung up. He wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Rush. Hell, he wanted to call Marshall and be en route to the airport in less time than it would take to book the flights. But he couldn’t do that, and listening to the sadness lacing Rush’s voice broke his heart. He missed him fiercely, but there were things that needed to be taken care of. That afternoon, he had four meetings booked for four potential new investments, and that didn’t take into account the backlog of issues that had cropped up since his return. It was never ending, and West was reluctant to admit he didn’t know if his schedule would ever clear up.

  He placed the phone back onto the desk and logged on to his computer, trying to get his head back in the game for the barrage of e-mails he received since he last checked. His eyes drifted over the screen, but halfway down he realized he hadn’t retained any of the information he read. West wasn’t even entirely sure he had read it. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he closed the laptop, then stood. The e-mails would still be there in an hour.