Page 16 of Christmas Home

I looked over, knowing if I ignored him now, the consequences would be worse. “Me?” I asked.

“Yeah, you. You look like… Oh, Idoknow you. You and that faggot Jimmy were a thing.”

I cringed. Less because he’d called my ex-boyfriend Jimmy a derogatory term than because he’d recognized me. “No, I’m Alan Swift, but folks tell me I favor other people all the time.”

I turned to go into my room, which, luckily, was close. “No, you look too much like him, unless you got a twin.”

I waved behind me as I slipped inside. “Shit,” I said as the door swung shut and I threw the deadbolt. “This isn’t good.”

I set the groceries on top of the dresser and paced the room, trying to figure out what I should do. Leave. That’s the solution I usually went with, and it made the most sense. The problem was I didn’t want to leave.

Also, as long as I was staying in no-tell motels, someone who knew me, knew my family, or, in this case, knew an ex, would keep showing up. Small towns were notorious for everyone being in everyone else’s business. The community that man belonged to, the one I accidentally fell into because I’d gone out with someone like Jimmy, well, it was small too.

I heard the motorcycles and knew the guy and others were leaving. They’d been here a few nights, and I’d avoided them until tonight—stupid, careless me. I got back here later than intended. I’d stopped by the café on the way to the store, and Mrs. Cole had said “my admirer,” as she put it, had come looking for me.

Of course, I knew instantly who she meant. I was thinking about Ruther instead of keeping my head down when the jackass had spotted me. Would he tell Jimmy? The fact he’d referred to my ex as a faggot told me he didn’t have good feelings for the man.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t sell me out if Jimmy was still looking though. Considering the amount of money I had taken from him, he very likely still was. I forced all that out of my mind as I put my groceries away.

I flipped the TV on, hoping it would calm me, and smiled as I recognized the old movie with Bette Midler calledBeaches. This was the part where Bette’s character and her best friend had moved in together and she’s banging on the pipes with a frying pan to get heat to their apartment. That scene always made me laugh.

I let the sad but awesome movie distract me until I was ready for bed. Tomorrow would be an early morning since I’d onceagain agreed to be at the café at four. We were all-hands-on-deck until Mrs. Cole found someone to replace the woman she’d fired. Luckily, though, thoughts of work were swept aside for more desirable ones of Ruther. With him in mind, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

fifteen

Ruther

Isat across fromCorey, who’d returned to ordering his poached eggs and hollandaise sauce, and watched for any sign of Clyde. Mrs. Cole had winked at me when I came in, so I knew somewhere back in the kitchen was the man I longed to see.

I ignored Corey, who gave me a knowing look that made me want to yell at him, but I was rewarded with a perplexed-looking Clyde a few moments later. He came out of the kitchen with the bussing tray and looked over the restaurant until his gaze fell upon mine.

He smirked as he turned back toward the kitchen’s closed door, and I realized Mrs. Cole must’ve kicked him out of the kitchen so he could show up while I was out here.

He didn’t immediately come over but bussed a few tables on the other side of the restaurant. Not that many needed it.

When Clyde came to our side of the restaurant, he smiled at me. “Hi, Ruther. Nice to see you. Your ankle doing better?” he asked.

I nodded and felt my face heat. I liked this guy a bit too much if he made me blush.

Across from me, my assistant cleared his throat and smiled. “I’m Corey King. It’s nice to meet you.” Then he waited for the object of my desire to introduce himself.

“Name’s Clyde Griffin. Pleasure to meet you, Corey,” he said. “Can I take those plates?” He gestured to the dish I’d moved to the side after I’d devoured a cinnamon roll off it.

Once Clyde took the plate, he finished bussing tables, and before slipping through the kitchen door again, he glanced back over and smiled.

“You’ve got it bad,” Corey said.

“Got what?”

He laughed. “Just remember, there’s consequences for squeezing the Twinkies!”

“You’re so crass,” I said but chuckled nonetheless. Clyde did have a distinctive twink quality to him, although I could tell there was more to him than the hot young model types Corey seemed to go after.

When Jake came in and asked if he could join us, I didn’t hesitate to scoot over. Had we been in the city, I’d have thought it strange and intrusive if someone asked to join Corey and me for breakfast, but I’d been here long enough to realize it was pretty much how things were done.

Jake talked a mile a minute about how his buddies, who’d opened a winery, were going to expand their store in the hotel.

“A winery in Tennessee?” I asked and barely managed to suppress a shudder at how awful the wine must taste.

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