“Then why did you put hash browns on this one?”
“Shit.” Alex looked to the deck, seeing the plate did indeed have hash browns. He grabbed the ticket from Jamie, confirming his mistake. “Sorry, man. Thanks for catching that.”
“No problem.” Jamie smiled at Alex. It made him look even younger and more handsome than he already was. “I got your back.”
He saw the interest in Jamie’s blue gaze, and Alex thought he must be getting desperate, because it was tempting. If they were anywhere else but his kitchen working the morning breakfast rush, he might have acted on it, but Jamie did work for him. Alex wasn’t quite that stupid.
“Yeah.” Alex turned around and dismissed him as politely as possible. “Gimme the plate. I’ll fix it.”
After that Alex kept his mind on cooking. With only Jamie for help, he couldn’t afford to get caught up in other issues. This was the reason he loved owning a restaurant. Most days he was too busy with the concerns of the day-to-day operation of it to be bothered to sulk too much over the rest of his life.
He didn’t have a lull for another hour. When he did, he dashed out of the kitchen and ran to the server station, cup in hand, in desperate need of iced tea. It was too damn hot in the kitchen to drink coffee.
“Daryl wants to know why you hired a faggot to cook for you.” Holly leaned against the open doorway leading to the dining room. Her long hair was tied up in a bun as usual, and her day dress covered by an apron. She pulled a face at Alex. “I told him to suck it.”
“You can’t tell customers to suck it,” Alex said in annoyance. “Go apologize to him.”
“Fuck you.” Holly let out an incredulous laugh. “I’m not saying sorry to that bigoted bastard.”
“If someone says something like that, you just tell them we’re an equal-opportunity employer. Do you see the difference? You’re still defending your decision to hire Jamie; just one way is less confrontational.” Alex turned around to glare at Holly. “You run the front of the house. I rely on you to be professional, even to assholes like Daryl.”
“I’d suck
you
before I’d say sorry.” Holly’s eyes narrowed in determination. “If you want Daryl’s ass kissed, you better be the one to do it.”
“Christ!”
Alex pushed past Holly and walked into the dining room of his seaside diner, Starfish and Coffee. He tried to avoid the front of the restaurant most mornings because they were always busy, and everyone knew him. Baseball glory in a small town like Mirabella Island was hard to shake. It still haunted him ten years later.
The dining room was small and cozy, decorated the way a beachfront breakfast café should be. The walls were pale blue with white trim, and the floors were all light wood. Alex wanted to create a warm, friendly atmosphere and succeeded for the most part—except on days when Holly was telling customers to suck it.
Despite feeling largely antisocial due to extreme irritation, he greeted everyone who said hello. It took him longer than he could afford to get outside to the large covered veranda that faced the beach and sported ten tables for people who wanted to brave the outdoors for a view of the ocean.
“When are you gonna cure Holly of all that liberal bullshit?”
Alex fought the urge to growl under his breath as he grabbed a chair from one of the empty tables and carried it over to where Daryl and two more of Alex’s former baseball teammates were sitting. He turned the chair backward and crossed his arms over the back of it as he sat.
He gave Daryl a bored look. “You know it pisses Holly off when you say shit like that. Why do you do it? This back-and-forth between you two is
so
old.”
“She’s a communist.” Life hadn’t been that kind to Daryl. A good forty pounds heavier than he had been in high school, he still had the look of a bully, with buzzed blond hair and beady brown eyes. Dressed Florida casual in a T-shirt and shorts, he was a good ol’ hometown boy if ever there was one. He gave Alex a narrow-eyed look of someone trying his hardest to intimidate. “You should fire her.”
“He can’t fire her, asshole.” Brandon Carver rolled his eyes, making it obvious he didn’t share Daryl’s negative opinions of Holly. “He’s been fucking her since high school. They’re practically married.”
Alex just raised his eyebrows instead of verbally agreeing to that assessment.
“She
is
a communist,” George Harden agreed. Daryl’s longtime drinking buddy, the two of them shared the common goal of staying single and drunk for as long as possible, neither of which was all that difficult for them. “Her car’s got all those bullshit bumper stickers on it. Recycling—”
Alex snorted. “What the fuck is wrong with recycling?”
“Antiwar stickers.”
“War sucks,” Alex argued. “No one likes war.”
“She doesn’t support our troops.”
“Yes, she does. She sends four care packages a week to our troops. What are you doing to support them, Georgie?”
“She’s got a rainbow sticker in the window.” Daryl gave him a pointed look. “That means she’s a lesbian, Alex. For all you know, she’s been living a secret life all this time. That’s why she’s all fired up over that new cook of yours—she’s protecting her own.”
“A lesbian?” Alex couldn’t help but laugh. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself coming up with that theory.”
“All those liberal women are lesbians.”
“God, could you two be any more predictably redneck.” Alex was so tired of their bullshit. “She’s not a lesbian. She’s a champion of causes, all causes. You know that.”
“She told me to suck it. She’s a shitty manager.”
“She’s an awesome manager,” Alex argued, forcing a smile. “But she shouldn’t have told you to suck it, and I apologize. You’ve been pissing her off since kindergarten, Daryl. I think you do it on purpose because you secretly enjoy her scratching your eyes out.”
“He does.” Brandon laughed and reached over, punching Alex’s arm. “When you gonna bust out of this restaurant and come fishing with us for a day or two?”
“Probably never.” Alex rested his chin in his hand as he sighed longingly, craving several days of deep-sea fishing. He missed the days of feeling the sun shining on his bare back for hours and having nothing to do but fish and drink beer. “Customers don’t respond well to GONE FISHING signs around here.”
“Sure they do.” George scowled at Alex. “You never hang out anymore. You close at four. At least stop by the bar for a drink. You’d be surprised who you run into when you actually do something besides fuck Holly. I saw your ol’ buddy Matt last night.”
Alex couldn’t hide the wide-eyed look of shock he gave George. “Matt’s in town?”
“Yeah, man. You didn’t know that?” Brandon glanced to everyone at the table before looking at Alex in confusion. “He was asking about you. Come out tonight, you’ll probably run into him.”
Alex wanted to question them, to ask for every detail of what exactly Matt wanted to know about him, and more so, what they’d told him. He also wanted to know what he looked like. If six years later he was still Adonis beautiful or if life had beaten him up a little. Alex found he really didn’t care if Matt’s broad, muscular body had gotten thick the way Daryl’s had. Once upon a time Alex’s favorite daydream was the two of them growing old, bald, and doughy together.
He swallowed hard, forcing the stiffness out of his shoulders as he shrugged. “Got inventory for the next few days. How long’s he in town?”
“He said he’d be here for a few weeks visiting his mama. Can’t blame him. How long’s it been since he’s been home?”
“Six years,” Alex responded without thinking. “Maybe I’ll make it out,” he lied, knowing his eyes had to be haunted. He stood and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I gotta get back to work. I’ll have Darleen bring out a basket of starfish—on the house.”
“Thanks, Alex!” Brandon beamed. “We gotta have Daryl piss your girl off more often.”
Alex shrugged, uncaring about Daryl and Holly’s battle of wills that had gotten old around the third grade. He tried to focus on the kitchen that was probably swamped with orders. Instead he thought of Matt and hated himself for secretly hoping to see him again.
He turned around and headed back inside. His mind was off to a place when youth and enthusiasm reigned supreme. Days when he thought with his dick and heart instead of his brain, never realizing how badly he would spend the rest of his life suffering for it.
Holly ran up and met him at the door while he was still lost in his memories. “Give ’em some starfish, Holly.”
“Alex.” Holly’s eyes were wide and stunned as she pulled him to the side of the dining room. To others it would look like she was hugging him, playing the affectionate girlfriend as she wrapped her arms around his back. Her touch comforted as she whispered in his ear, “Matt’s here.”
He stiffened in her arms, too stunned to appreciate that he had been at least a little prepared for this. He looked over Holly’s shoulder, finding Matt easily in the crowd of people standing at the counter. Alex sucked in a sharp gasp, feeling a shiver of white-hot desire roll down his spine. Fate was officially a cruel bitch, because Matt didn’t look as good as Alex remembered: he looked better.
“Oh, shit.”
“You’re strong.” Holly gripped his shoulder, squeezing tightly, making it apparent he was suddenly being obvious.
“Sure,” he mumbled, still staring at Matt hungrily.
He stepped back from Holly and looked away from Matt while searching for the strength Holly seemed convinced he possessed. He rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to steel himself against the emotions washing over him. Weaker than he thought, Alex looked back after only a quick, shaky breath to calm his nerves. Matt’s black hair was shorter than he remembered, cut in an expensive, very metro-type hairstyle. He wore a polo shirt and khaki shorts, pulling off that casual, but still successful and wealthy look common in Florida.
He could see Matt was still built as the linebacker he was in his youth, broad shoulders and thick muscles. It was hard to tell the way his shirt was tucked in, but Alex had an eye for these things, and he was certain Matt still had a firm six-pack.
Alex heard newcomers greeting him, but didn’t acknowledge them as he walked around the counter toward the register. He thought he was acting like his normal easygoing self.
It was a lie. His knees were shaking, and his stomach jittery. Just breathing was taking effort as he leaned casually against the counter and faced Matt, praying for strength to protect both of them and keep his cool. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Matt said, his voice smooth, but there was a haunted look in his light gaze as he studied Alex.
Matt wasn’t even being subtle as he studied him. It made Alex wish he were wearing something besides beaten-up jeans and a T-shirt he used for work. The black apron he had tied on over his clothes had flour smeared on it. His baseball hat was on backward like he hadn’t grown up since the last time they’d shared the same air.
Matt took a deep breath, as if also looking for the strength to breathe. “You look handsome—h-healthy. Um, you look good, Alex.”
That caused Alex to look past him, seeing if Matt’s stuttering compliments had been heard. Matt had never been subtle. He hadn’t honed the fine art of being a gay man in public, perhaps because he was straight—most days.
Nonetheless, Alex was flattered. Matt was going to do away with Alex’s own cool exterior and make them both obvious.
He grinned and rubbed his sweaty palm against his apron before he held it out to Matt, shaking his hand across the counter in an effort to remind both of them that to the world, they had only ever been friends. “You too, buddy. You’re looking pretty healthy yourself.”
“You’re doing good.” Matt gave him a beaming smile that lit up his entire face. “I’m really happy about that.”
“Thanks.” Alex pulled his grip out of Matt’s and looked around when he felt his eyes sting. “You want something?”
“Absolutely.” Matt nodded, making it obvious he was genuinely excited about being there. “My mama never told me you actually bought this place. I found out from the guys last night.”
Alex wanted to yell and scream, to point out that Matt’s mama came in every morning for breakfast to torment him with her presence and the reminder that she was always watching.
“Anything you want,” Alex said instead of berating Matt for having a mama Alex loathed more than anyone in this world. “On the house.”
“Bullshit, I’m paying for it.” Matt’s grin was still wide and full of happiness about Alex’s success as he grabbed a menu off the counter next to the register and looked at it. “What are starfish doughnuts? I’ve been hearing about them everywhere.”
“House specialty, starfish-shaped doughnuts, got cinnamon and sugar on them. Really fattening, really good.” Alex grinned.
“So it’s not just a catchy name?”
“Nope, there was thought put into it.” Alex found himself mindlessly straightening the counter, a blush burning his cheeks because despite his lousy attire, he was pleased Matt was seeing he’d made something of himself. “You should try ’em.”
“I usually don’t eat fried food.” Matt gave Alex a guilty wince. “But sure, yeah, I’d love to try them.”
Alex laughed. “Well, sit down. We’ll give you the five-star treatment. Coffee and napkins and everything. I got a hot server—you’ll love her.”
“Owner’s pretty hot too.” Matt’s gaze met his. “He must set the standard.”
“Whatever,” Alex said dismissively, though the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy, and he was thankful for his apron because his cock was rock hard. He turned around, making sure no one had heard Matt before he searched for an escape. “I gotta go back to work. Got a new guy on. I’m leaving him in the weeds.”
“I’d like to talk to you, Alex.” Matt was as honest as ever. He had never beaten around the bush. “I’ll wait around till you close.”
“We’re open till four.” Alex looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “That’s five hours from now.”
“I’ve got time.”
Alex wanted to tell him to fuck off and stop tormenting him. But he just nodded and swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even. “Then find a booth and make yourself comfortable.”