Alex got the impression they weren’t talking about being a line cook and that was a major issue. He turned back to see Matt smirking at him and said warningly, “I don’t bottom, Matty, not even for you.”
“I probably would’ve said I don’t like guys a few days ago too.” Matt went back to washing the dishes. “Minds can be changed with the right motivation.”
Alex snorted at his audacity. “I’m being serious.”
“We’ll see,” Matt said in that annoyingly confident voice of his that made it sound like topping Alex was hardly a challenge.
That’s what
he
thought…
Chapter Nine
September 2006
Matt started off determined to have Alex’s ass, but failed quite simply because he wasn’t really trying that hard after the first week. Every night would start with the two of them hanging out, which immediately led to making out, and somewhere along the way Matt would find himself plastered against a flat surface, with Alex pushing into him. That rush was always so potent he’d forget any sort of quest to reverse their positions.
It was the sexiest, most exciting, but unbelievably low-maintenance relationship Matt had ever been in. He felt like he resided on the same planet as Alex, which was more than he could say about any of the women he’d dated, and his and Alex’s romantic goals were essentially the same—to fuck as often as possible.
He didn’t need to buy Alex flowers or jewelry, and if he tried, Alex would just use it against him, because he hadn’t let up on his joke about being Matt’s dirty little secret.
“I think I like being your rent boy.” Alex leaned against his motorcycle, grinning at Matt. His hair was still messed up from his helmet, and his eyes twinkled with mischief under the dim street lamps behind Frank’s café. “When are you taking me to the French Riviera?”
Matt leaned against his own motorcycle, which he’d bought last week and matched Alex’s a little too much, but Matt couldn’t bring himself to regret the purchase even if it did make them obvious.
“Wouldn’t
I
be the rent boy?” Matt mused. “Considering I’m the one who ends up being used and abused every night?”
Alex frowned. “I don’t abuse you.”
“Don’t you?” Matt squinted at him through one eye, giving him a smile. “I got the rope burn to prove otherwise.”
“That was
your
idea,” Alex said defensively. “It doesn’t count if you’re the one buying the fucking rope, asshole!”
Matt’s dick swelled and strained against his jeans when he remembered the scrape of rope against his wrists as he looked up at Alex while he fucked Matt into the mattress. All Matt could do was hold on to the headboard where his hands were secured and ride out the wild surge of pleasure. It’d been so hot, he’d come without being jerked off.
Matt looked at his chafed wrists. “Maybe we should buy different rope.”
“Yeah, I think they make some specifically for stuff like that.” Alex grabbed Matt’s hand, turning his wrist upward to inspect the angry red burns neither of them had bothered to pay attention to the night before. “Shit, I didn’t know it was this bad. You should’ve bought it somewhere besides Jack’s Hardware.”
“I think it’s okay.” Matt shrugged, not bothering to pull his hand out of Alex’s grasp. “I don’t mind a few war wounds.”
Alex’s thumb swept over the injury, and a shudder shot through Matt. His dick jerked once more, refusing to be ignored. He was just wondering why they were outside the cafe at five in the morning instead of still in bed fucking when the creak of the back door broke through the intimate quiet of the morning. Alex dropped Matt’s hand like it was on fire, and they both looked to Frank when he peeked outside.
“Are you two gonna stop sucking each other off and get to work? This shit doesn’t prep itself.”
Frank was gone before either of them could respond. They just shared wide-eyed, horrified glances. Even if Frank hadn’t seen them touching, they were leaning in way too close to each other. Just the fact that they’d tried to enjoy the few minutes alone together before work seemed odd. They’d been making those mistakes more and more. Frank wasn’t the only one who’d made those comments. He’d just been the most blatant about it.
Matt glowered at the closed door. “I’m officially sick of working at Frank’s.”
“So quit,” Alex barked, his voice harsh and edgy.
Matt gave him a look. They both knew if Matt quit, they really wouldn’t have an excuse to be hanging out as much as they did.
“Do you mean that?”
Alex grabbed his helmet off the seat of his bike, then met Matt’s penetrating gaze. “No.” He sighed. “We just gotta work at being less obvious. My brother’s been saying shit too. I can’t keep spending the night at your place.”
“Fine.” Matt shrugged, not knowing why something in his chest stung from Alex’s harsh attitude. His pride, his feelings; he wasn’t really sure, but he knew it made him defensive. “I got things to do tonight anyway. I’ve been promising my mother I’d take her up to the club.”
“Good plan,” Alex agreed as he walked to the back door. “We’ll hang out this weekend.”
Considering it was Tuesday, the blow-off was obvious. They were just fuck buddies. Matt had no reason to be pissed off about it, but it still rubbed him the wrong way.
It was one of those days that started off bad and went steadily down hill—for both of them.
* * * *
“They said the hollandaise sauce is too thin.” Holly placed two plates of eggs Benedict on the deck. “God, I could kick myself for switching shifts with Melissa.”
“I thought you were excited to work with us for once,” Matt asked to cut the tension, because Alex looked ready to strangle someone.
“Yeah, I thought so too, but we don’t have all these society ladies on the night shift.” Holly huffed, her usually perky demeanor more than frayed. “I swear they’re giving me shit on purpose.”
“Fucking rich, stuck-up bitches. This is the fourth time a plate has come back from that group.” Alex reached past Matt and grabbed the plates. “I should jerk off in the hollandaise to make it thicker.”
Alex very rarely threatened food quality, even in jest, but it’d been one of those mornings. Out of curiosity Matt followed Holly out of the kitchen and peeked into the dining room. His stomach dropped when he spotted his mother at the head of the long table.
The Mirabella Island Historical Society was having their meeting at Frank’s café this week, which was highly irregular. They usually met somewhere more formal.
His mother lifted her head, as if sensing him, and met his gaze. She arched a dark eyebrow in challenge, and Matt knew this was clearly some sort of sadistic retaliation at him for still working there.
Once the most-prized debutant at Northridge Girls Academy, his mama was born rich and beautiful. Then she managed to
stay
rich and beautiful for the span of her entire life, which created a very spoiled, selfish woman who truly believed she deserved to be placed on a pedestal above all others. She had the black hair and green eyes every Southern belle dreamed they had, and even in her fifties would still point out to anyone willing to listen that her father always thought she bore a striking resemblance to Scarlett O’Hara.
She was the head of every committee, historical society, or fund-raiser she’d ever participated in because the only authority she recognized was her own. A force to be reckoned with, the message she was sending to Matt was clear. If he didn’t quit, she was going to help him lose his job.
“I didn’t want to say it was her,” Holly whispered next to him.
“You didn’t have to. I know my mother’s MO.” Matt turned back to Holly, seeing how tense and frustrated she was. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged and gave him a strained smile. “You didn’t do it.”
“Yeah, I did.” He sighed as he walked back into the kitchen. “But I’m going to fix it.”
Matt found Alex furiously stirring the hollandaise sauce, adding flour to it to make it thicker. His entire body was practically vibrating in fury as he snapped, “It was prefect the way it was. Now the flour is gonna make it taste bland, and they’re gonna send it back again.”
“No they won’t.”
Alex turned to glare at Matt. “You don’t know their type. They’ll send it back fourteen times ’cause they don’t got shit to do besides fuck with us. It’s a power trip or something.”
“I do know their type,” Matt assured him. “It’s my mother sending it back.”
Alex blanched. “She’s here?”
“Don’t worry about it. I got this,” Matt assured him. “Just replate it.”
“Why is she fucking with us?” Alex asked, his anger being replaced with blatant paranoia. “Does she know? Did you tell her? I know you’re missing that barrier between mouth and brain. You just say whatever the fuck comes to mind.”
“It’s not about us.” Matt looked behind him as he said it. Alex’s paranoia was catching. “It’s just like you said, a power trip.”
Alex went back to work on the plates that had been sent back, now working quickly but silently. When he replated both eggs Benedicts, Matt grabbed the orders before Holly could.
“What’re you doing?” Holly hissed as he walked past her.
“I’m solving a problem,” Matt told her simply, leaving it unsaid that he was an expert at dealing with this particular problem.
Matt walked up to his mother, who had watched him make his way to the dining room. Her eyes were wide and stunned as her gaze flitted over him in his jeans and T-shirt with a faded black apron tied around his waist. She hadn’t expected him to show his face in front of her friends, which just proved Alex knew him better than his own mother did. Matt never had a problem with honesty, and he certainly wasn’t ashamed to be spending the year working at Frank’s. He couldn’t give a shit what his mother’s friends thought of him.
He placed the plate in front of her with a glare. “Send it back one more time, and there’ll be
added ingredients
.”
The entire table gasped, and his mother’s light eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Matthew,” she snapped. “You’re being rude in front of my friends. Apologize.”
“Right after you go apologize to my friends. You were rude first,” he reminded her before he turned around and held up the other plate. “Who else had a problem with my cooking?”
That part was a lie. Alex had made it, but Matt did it for dramatic effect. If there was one thing his mother had taught him in spades, it was how to use dramatic effect to his advantage.
Laura Hastings raised her hand, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “I didn’t know you learned to cook.”
“Not very well, apparently,” Matt said as he walked around the table and put the plate in front of the young debutant who’d been trying for four years to get Matt’s attention. “You sent it back, remember?”
“I’m sure it was good the first time. I hadn’t tasted it.” She gave him a wan smile as she nervously tucked some stray long blonde strands behind her ears. “Your mama assured me it needed to go back, and I listened.”
“A blind follower.” Matt was wholly unimpressed. “Charming, Laura.”
“Well, I never.” Laura’s mother huffed next to her. “These vagrants are teaching you bad manners, Matthew.”
Matt turned to Bethany Hastings with narrowed eyes. “Vagrants are beggars who depend on the hard work of others to sustain them. Seems to me like the only vagrants in here are ya’ll—unless one of you has gotten a real job, and I hadn’t heard about it.”
Every woman at the table made a sound of shocked disgust as Matt walked back over to his mother.
“I’d recommend against bringing your ladies in here to do your dirty work next time,” he told his mother and then bent down to speak low enough so only she could hear him. “And I suggest you leave a sizeable tip for the trouble you caused, or I’m going to start voicing my opinions on a whole host of topics you don’t like to talk about. Trust me, Mama, you really don’t want that to happen.”
Matt turned around and left his mother stuttering and huffing in fury. When he walked into the kitchen, Frank followed him, his broad chest puffed out indignantly.
“What the hell were you thinking going to the front of the house, Tarrington?” Frank barked in disbelief. “You can’t just go off and run your mouth to the customers. Especially those kind of customers.”
“It’s his mother,” Alex said with a stunned look. “Don’t you know who Cecilia Tarrington is?”
“Oh.” Frank’s shoulders slumped, as if he’d forgotten exactly who Matt was and where he’d come from at some point over the past month. “Was it your idea for them to meet up here?”
“No.” Matt laughed at the idea. “She came in here to fuck with me.”
“Well, damn.” Frank seemed to deflate a little. “We could’ve used the steady business. You don’t think they’d be interested in using us as meeting place?”
Matt shook his head, feeling a pang of pity for Frank. Even if he was an asshole, he was in way over his head with the restaurant, and the stress of it was obviously getting to him. The entire place was mismanaged to the point that Matt had considered sitting down with him and offering some business advice, but he knew it wouldn’t be welcomed.
When Frank went back to work the register, Matt shared a long look with Alex. The two of them stood there in silence for the span of several seconds before Alex turned back to the flattop and said, “You scare me, Matty.”
“Why?” Matt asked, not expecting that sort of reaction.
“You’re just too bold.” Alex turned back to give him another long look of concern. “I worry one day you’re gonna open your mouth to the wrong person and ruin both our lives.”
“I wouldn’t say anything without talking to you first,” Matt said with a glare. “I know you’re private. I wouldn’t betray you like that.”
“I hope not.” Alex sighed. “For both our sakes.”
* * * *
The shift from hell was over, and Alex was still working. This time he was straddled over Holly on the couch, rubbing oily hands over her bare back, trying to work out the knots.
“Mmm, God, right there.” She let out a low groan of pained pleasure. “I think I love you.”
“You better
know
you love me,” Alex countered as he rubbed his thumb along the curve of her shoulder blade. “I’m tired too. I haven’t been this fucking tense in ages.”