Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sam sat at the table nearest the kitchen, his notebooks laid out in front of him and Gabe pacing from one end of the restaurant to the other. Which, after all, wasn't that far. Ashley was composed and silent as she watched her fiancé walk past, but a smile tilted her lips.

"Chocolate," Gabe announced as he slid to a stop on a turn. Then he frowned. "No… strawberry."

Gabe took up the pacing again, and Sam couldn't help sighing loudly. "It's cake, not a cure for cancer. There is no wrong choice.

"Hush," Ashley murmured, "this is funny. I've never seen anyone so worked up before over one of my cakes."

Sam elbowed her gently. "I still can't believe you're making your own wedding cake."

He ran a pencil down the list: salmon, chicken, salads, champagne, the small wedding was no more than forty people in the restaurant but it was being planned with military precision.

Gabe stopped again. "Is fudge an option? With the chocolate?"

Ashley took pity on him by standing and stopping his latest turn around the restaurant. "How about a layer of each?"

Gabe gripped her arms. "Really?" He said it as though she'd saved the day. Then he scooped her up, kissed her hard.

"That's it, guys. It's late—go to bed," Sam said with feigned disgust.

Laughing, Gabe pulled Ashley out of the restaurant, with thanks and a wide grin, and Sam locked up after them. He couldn't help feeling a tiny bit lonely seeing all these couples. Only because he'd experienced real attraction for the first time in years and the man of his X-rated dreams had just upped and left without a word.

Of course, it wasn't just Sam who'd experienced loss with Justin leaving like a thief in the night. Ethan was hit the hardest; Adam was there for him, and Marcus was trying his best but not quite coming up to scratch.

For a while, Gabe had said he wanted two best men, Adam and Justin, and even suggested they should delay the wedding until Justin came home. That soon changed, and Gabe wasn't the only one to think that Justin was gone for good. No one actually held out hope that Justin was ever coming home again.

So that weekend, some four months after hope had hit Sam hard, he'd given in and was going out with Nate and Jay. Apparently they were getting him a boyfriend or at least a friend with benefits because, as Nate put it, Sam was a miserable, confused idiot. This Saturday, Sam was getting laid. Whatever.

He checked all the windows, an impulse left over from a certain cat burglar who'd used the back window to get in and finally switched off the interior lights. There were no drapes at the windows, and moonlight from a cloudless sky glinted on polished cutlery, all ready for the brunch guests tomorrow.

Pride spiked in Sam. He'd signed all the paperwork last week, and Branches was now his baby; he owned a little piece of Montana land, and it was home. His days off, he still had his bike to disappear on, when the restless itch between his shoulder blades meant he needed to travel, but in the main he was happy.

He yawned when he reached the top of the stairs, cracked his neck, and walked into the bathroom. He showered, scrubbing away a day of catering, brushed his teeth, and with a towel wrapped around his waist, walked into the moonlit bedroom.

"Sam."

"Fuck!" Sam yelped in surprise and then stumbled back and straight into the wall. That was his name; spoken softly—there was someone in his room.

Justin.

"Sorry," Justin held up his hands. "Shit, I didn't mean to startle you."

Sam pressed a hand to his chest. "Justin! What the ever-living shit?—"

"I just wanted to see you before I go up to Dad's house. Wanted to apologize and see?—"

"Wait, what? You're here, in my place, in my bedroom? What do you mean ‘see'? See what? Are you home? Are you hiding?" A horrible thought hit him. "Are you safe?"

Justin stepped closer, no more than two feet away, and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Sorry I left." He sounded sheepish.

Sam cleared his throat. "It's okay. Everyone expected it."

Sue him for lying, but he wasn't going to single himself out as being disappointed, verging on disturbed, when he'd woken up to find he was alone in the cabin.

"And, I wanted to thank you, because you stroked my hair."

Sam wasn't entirely sure how to take that one. "Sorry?"

"That is mostly what I remember, when I was ill. When I collapsed, when they asked questions or judged me, you were there. So, thank you."

He turned to leave, heading for the window with its ten-foot drop to the ground.

"You could use the door, you know," Sam said, following him to the window.

Justin looked at him, studied him as if he was looking for something. Then, in a move so smooth that Sam had no chance to react; Justin grabbed the back of his neck, drew him closer, and pressed a kiss to his lips. Before Sam could kiss him back or react in any way, Justin vaulted the window frame and then slid to the ground. He landed like a freaking superhero, brushed himself off, and without looking back walked away from Branches and toward Marcus's house.

Sam realized he was standing there with his mouth open and his hands outstretched, reaching for Justin, with so much dizzying lust flooding through him that he couldn't stand.

He knew one thing: no way was he going anywhere to get off with a stranger now, not if there was any chance on this earth that he could do it with Justin.

And why was Justin back?

"I'll ask him tomorrow. He has to put his family first," Sam whispered into the dark, with hope in his heart for the first time in months.

But it wasn't like Justin was playing easy to get, or hell, even easy to find. Every time Sam spotted him, it seemed Justin had a reason to walk the other way, or vanish into a house, or hell, anything except stand with Sam. Clearly he was also keeping his head down. Justin was here and that was just how it was. There'd been no police visits, no arguments; everything was very quiet.

Sam didn't see anything of Justin the next day, although his return was all anyone could talk about. To Sam's disgust, they all did it within his earshot.

Like Gabe, for example, telling Luke about the fact Justin had explained how he could come home. "And then, seriously, he just stood there and explained it all. Said he'd made some kind of deal for his safety, and that's it, he's home."

"Wow," Luke said, "He's here to stay, then? He's kind of cool."

Gabe grinned at his little brother. "So he says, and yeah, he is."

And then it was Ashley, talking about how happy Gabe was to have his other best friend home, how Gabe, Adam, and Justin had talked on their back porch till some ungodly hour of the morning.

"And so Gabe asked him," she said as she cleaned the nozzles on the coffee machine.

Sam was slicing the TCC slab cake for a group of teens who'd been booked in with a local high school, and had tuned out the newest Justin-is-back story. But Ashley was waiting for him to show interest.

"Asked him what?" he asked. He'd clearly tuned out way too much. He should go and find Justin and ask him what the hell was going on, had that kiss meant anything, and was it just Sam who was confused to the point of not knowing anything at all.

"Are you even listening to me?" She teased and smacked him on the ass with the wet dishrag. "Gabe asked Justin to be his second best man, with Adam."

Great. More Justin stories.

"Does that mean you need to adjust the boutonniere order?" he asked.

Ashley paled. "Damn," she said, "I hadn't thought about that. I need to phone the florist."

And with that clever change in conversational direction, he'd managed to get her talking about the wedding. Score! Sam refused to feel guilty, but he'd had his fill of the prodigal son's return. Because listening to other people talking about Justin was just plain uncomfortable.

And leaving his bedroom window open in hopes of Justin using it was giving Sam backache from the cold air that woke him at 3:00 a.m. It ruined his sleep patterns.

Not to mention how awkward it was when three days after coming home, just after lunch, the man himself came in with the kids from the school. He'd been assigned the job of teaching them how to pitch tents—or something equally outdoorsy that Nate had explained at ass o'clock this morning and Sam had tuned out.

And damn it to hell, the asshole looked good: jeans and a rolled-up scarlet cotton shirt that exposed his muscled forearms and the fine hair that was so soft to touch. Anticipation swelled inside Sam. Just maybe, Justin would smile at him, ask him out, push him back against a wall and steal a kiss; anything that meant touch would be involved or at least would give him hope that it might happen later.

All the bastard did was smile at Sam as he came over to collect the tray of soft drinks, and Sam was hard and needy in seconds. Pathetic.

"Hey," Justin said, all innocently, as if he had no idea that Sam was in some state of weird flux, if that was even a word. "Can I get a coffee?"

"What kind?" Sam asked. And those two words were a feat because up close, Justin was looking good, and Sam was losing control of his faculties, including his ability to make coffee.

"Cappuccino."

Sam spoke before he fully engaged his brain. "That's a bit cutesy for you, isn't it?

"What?" Justin frowned.

"Not strong black and straight up? Like a real man?" Sam wished he'd never started this, he was edging toward bitchy, and that was so not what he wanted, but his frustration was showing. Real man—what the fuck?

Justin smiled at him, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "No, I like the cream," he said.

Shit, and there it went, the most innocent of comments, and Sam was a mess.

"Ashley, can you get a cappuccino for Justin? I need to get out back."

And he left, and yeah, he was being a dick, but he was embarrassed and awkward and didn't know where he stood. So he ignored Justin's frown and Ashley's raised eyebrow, and went and hid in the pantry.

At least the vegetables didn't talk about Justin.

Nate had tracked him down, Sam was in the small office near the kitchen, working on menus, ordering, and finances—all the back office work he normally hated.

"Hey, Sam, can I get a meal replaced for the guy from the bowling league? He's a Type 1 diabetic and low carbing."

"Get Ashley to give him a fucking salad."

Yes, he admitted to himself that he wasn't in the best of moods, but all Nate had asked was one thing, and Sam really didn't need to jump down his throat.

Nate stared at him. He stared back. And then Sam groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"You okay?" Nate asked carefully.

He hadn't moved all the way into the office, but he did now, closing the door behind him. There wasn't that much room in there, no space to swing the proverbial cat, anyway, and when Sam looked up, Nate filled the room with his height and his breadth and his ridiculous cowboy muscles.

"Fuck my life," Sam said. Then he stood up and brushed himself down, giving himself a few seconds to regroup before facing Nate. "Sorry, I'll get right on it. Did he say what he wanted?"

"Can he get a steak or something instead of the pasta?"

"Totally. No worries."

Sam waited for Nate to move, but Nate didn't move; he leaned back on the door, placing his hand behind him on the doorknob. "Want to talk about it?"

"No," Sam snapped, and then eased his tone down a notch or two. "Sorry, not sleeping, and I have a lot to do, what with Gabe and Ashley's wedding."

Nate grimaced, "You should have said. I can help." He smiled, then "Not cooking, but I can lift things."

Nate looked so earnest. He'd revealed last week that he wanted Gabe to have the best wedding, wanted his brother and future sister-in-law to have the happiest start to their new lives.

And now, Sam felt like shit. "It's not the wedding, actually," he began honestly. Nate had a way about him that invited confidences. "It's Justin."

"Justin? Is he okay?" Nate looked suddenly so damned worried.

Yeah, because it's all about Justin. "He's fine, I'm sure. Not talking to me, or visiting me, though. Other than that, he's fine."

Nate's mouth opened as if he was going to say something. Then he closed it, evidently considering what to say. "Sam?" was all he actually managed.

"He was in my bedroom, and he vaulted out the window—oh, wait, he kissed me first. Then he went out the window and parkoured his ass down to the ground, and it was so sexy."

Nate nodded, and suddenly looked like he wished he were anywhere but there. "I'll get Jay," he said.

"What? Why?"

Nate indicated between him and Sam. "Because he can do this couple thing better than me."

"We're not a couple… I don't need Jay to… shit, Nate." And he thumped Nate on the chest, and Nate faked a huff of pain before opening the door and slipping out. Sam was close behind. "You're an asshole, Nate Todd," Sam faux whispered.

All he got from Nate was an answering chuckle.

The rest of the day went by molasses slow, and that night Sam deliberately locked his window. He still hadn't quite worked out how Justin had managed to get in that first night, but fuck if he was leaving the window open like some pathetic loser who was waiting .

He slept well, not woken by the cool night air, and he actually woke feeling more normal than he'd done in a couple of days.

Justin had kissed him, but he hadn't come near Sam since. Literally nowhere near him. The kiss had probably been some kind of apology for disappearing that night.

Sam didn't care. After all, there was still the bar with the suggestion of sex, which was what he clearly needed. Then he could stop fantasizing about getting a taste of Justin Allens.

Breakfast was slow. It always was, this early on a Monday, but it was also the day that most of the staff gathered in and around Branches to discuss business.

Nate and Gabe were poring over maps, along with Duncan, the wrangler from up with the herd, who Sam saw rarely. Luke was sitting at a window table with Kirsten; he was sketching, she was on her phone, and alternated that with helping Josh on last-minute homework. Luke and Kirsten had come back from college for the wedding. Sophie and Ashley had their heads together. Only five more days and the wedding of the year was happening, and Sam couldn't fail to see the smiles that Gabe and Ashley exchanged. They really were a sweet couple.

Even Henry was there, muttering under his breath about the state of politics today as he read the news on an iPad. And wasn't that weird? For a man so stuck in the past, he sure managed to use an iPad well enough. Although he often tutted with impatience as he pressed things on the screen.

Adam and Ethan stumbled in just after seven; it didn't look like they'd had a good night, but coffee helped. Ethan was in his suit, so clearly he was off to Missoula for work, and Adam looked like he hadn't slept at all. Ethan told Gabe he would be in Missoula for five straight days. Unspoken was the added "can you keep an eye on Adam for me?"

Sam resolved to visit with Adam this evening if he was going to be on his own. Maybe take over dinner or something, because Adam still struggled with nights on his own.

The only person conspicuous by his absence was Justin; although why Sam expected him to join the Monday-morning get-together, he didn't know. Justin had been here less than a week and was probably still acclimatizing.

Gabe encouraged Josh off to school. Kirsten and Luke followed citing project work, which was likely an excuse for the two of them to go up to Silver Lake swimming. Soon after, Nate and Duncan left. Slowly but surely the restaurant space became Sam's again, and he lost himself in the mindlessness of cleaning up and ordering.

Jay was the last to leave, coming over to stand next to him. "We're going to Carter's Bar tonight if you want to come with?"

That sounded like a very good thing; a chance to hang out away from Crooked Tree, but he'd already mentally committed to checking in on Adam. "Maybe next time."

"You sure?"

Sam chuckled. "Definitely. I'm well overdue for getting laid, but I've got plans tonight."

"Plans to get laid?" Jay teased. "You dark horse."

"Yeah," Sam played along with the joke. He'd look like a freaking dork if his idea of a good time tonight was lasagna and beer with Adam. "If you only knew, you'd be jealous."

"He's that good?" Jay elbowed him in the side.

"Past good and onto mind-blowing."

"Later, then," Jay said. Then he added a couple of words that made Sam's stomach clench. "Hi, Justin, you okay?"

Sam listened to them shooting the breeze, something about working on Forest 6, and photos for the website showing the subsidence and how they were dealing with it. The door shut, and Sam slowly turned from the coffee machine and back to the counter.

To meet the coolly assessing focus of Justin freaking Allens.

"Sam," Justin said flatly.

He looked so good: young, with his skin warmed by the sun and his gray eyes focused right in on Sam. Worn jeans and a shirt clung to the spare shape of him, but Sam knew about the muscles under there, the hidden strength. "Hi."

Sam waited for Justin to ask for what he wanted, but all he did was look at Sam, with that focused gray gaze, his lips pressed in a firm line.

He made a show of waving a hand in front of Justin's face. "Cappuccino?"

"No," Justin said. He glanced around the empty restaurant, then leaned over the counter, grabbed Sam's shirt and hauled him as close as he could.

Sam flailed a little, got his balance, and parted his lips. Justin was going to kiss him; it was what Sam had been waiting for since that night in his bedroom. "Justin?"

Justin didn't lessen his grip or kiss Sam; in fact he didn't move, frozen in that space. For the longest time they were like that, and Sam imagined everything, from a kiss to Justin bending him over the counter, so he was seriously disappointed when Justin simply let him go.

"Fuck," Justin muttered and left the building.

The door slammed behind him.

And all Sam could do was watch him go and wonder what the fuck had just happened.