Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Martin had become a master at avoiding talking to Justin. Or indeed being anywhere in Justin’s vicinity. Over the last five days, he’d also become very dedicated at carrying out his job at Crooked Tree; fetching, carrying, restocking the small ranch shop, and delivering grocery orders like the one this morning to the over-talkative but gorgeous guy in Forest Cabin six. He’d helped to bus tables in Branches on two occasions. Sam had made it very obvious that he hadn’t wanted him there, but Martin had kept his head down and done his job. Which was exactly what he was doing right now. After managing the Coffee Bean for six years, he’d gotten to the point where he could juggle orders in his sleep.

Noon, and a family of four had taken the table by the window. It was prime real estate, with views of the stone bridge and the river, with the mountains beyond, and had quickly become his favorite table to bus. Any time he got a glimpse of the outside made him happy. Add in the fact this was his first morning of taking orders, and he felt calm and focused.

The dad took the menu gratefully. “What’s good here? We’ve been driving all night, and I can’t even see straight now.” He said all of this as he helped his daughter with a shoelace and glanced over at his son, who wanted to show him something on his cell phone. He didn’t appear harried or pissed. If anything, he was juggling all the demands like a pro.

“Mom, Dad’s not doing it right,” the daughter whined. She was tired and on the verge of crying.

Mom took over and hugged her daughter, and Dad looked up at him expectantly. He didn’t snap at his daughter or shout at his wife, and his son was drooping.

“How about something quick to eat?” Martin suggested, “Then maybe you can get back to the cabin and get some sleep?” He wanted to bite back the words as soon as he said them. It wasn’t his place to comment on whether a guest needed sleep.

But Dad smiled up at him. “That would be great.”

“Have you checked in yet?”

Dad shook his head. “Not yet.”

“How about meatball subs? We have a vegetarian option. Both of them are seasoned with marjoram and rosemary and simmered in a homemade tomato sauce, and they’re possibly the best meatballs I’ve ever tasted. I can bring over some salads as well?”

“Oh god, that sounds wonderful,” Mom said. “Eat, sleep. In that order.”

He asked about drinks and handed the entire order to Sam, who, Martin realized, had been staring at him for at least the last part of the transaction at the table.

“Can I ask a question?” Martin was cautious about asking Sam anything. After all, Sam hadn’t outwardly warmed to him and had pointedly asked him yesterday how long he was staying.

He wished he knew. He didn’t want to stay. He wanted to move on before he got comfortable, but Justin kept catching up with him and telling him to stay just one more day, and he was already on day five just by not leaving. Anyway, he wasn’t going to argue with Justin.

“If you have to,” Sam muttered.

Not a great response, but what did he expect? Sam had every reason to be pissed at him.

“So I had this idea. It’s probably nothing, but the family at table five, by the window, they haven’t checked in yet and they’ve been driving all night. What if I go to the office and grab the keys and the welcome pack, then sit there with them as they eat lunch, and explain about the events and the programs and hand out maps in a conversation rather than a speech? I mean, they’re exhausted.” Sam leveled him with a glare, but Martin had no idea what it meant, and he felt as if he’d just fucked up completely, so he began to backtrack. “I know it’s not what you probably do.” What could he say that would possibly sell this to Sam? “Only I could talk them through the options for riding, up-sell, you know, and it would be a calm place here, where they could talk and…” He stopped and took a step back away from the counter because Sam was still staring. But he didn’t seem angry or defensive or worried. Instead he looked confused.

“How did you know the meatballs have marjoram and rosemary or that the sauce was homemade?” Sam asked, finally.

Fuck, that was way off the subject. Was he being accused of stealing a recipe or something? There was a book left behind the counter, a way for the staff to know what went into the food; common practice in any restaurant. Or at least that’s what Martin had assumed when he’d cast a look over it at the start of his shift.

“I looked at the master list you have for staff. I’m sorry if that was the wrong thing to do.”

“And you remember that kind of detail?”

Martin squirmed inside.

“I like meatballs,” he offered. Any waiter worth his salt should recall ingredients, but maybe he’d overdone the explanation to the customer, given himself away, crossed some kind of non-chef kind of line.

“Okay. Also, your idea about checking them in as they sit in here is a good one. Go get their papers.”

Martin felt warm at the tiny hint of approval from Sam.

The family was grateful, talking about the excellent customer service, and the little girl even demanded that it should be Martin who retied her laces. By the time he’d finished with the paperwork and issued the keys, their lunch was done, and Sam came right out and said that Martin should walk them to their cabin to explain where things were, and help them with their bags.

They attempted to tip him, but he declined as politely as he could and left them with the assurance that anyone would have done the same thing. What he’d done, helping them, left him with a smile he couldn’t seem to shake.

When his shift ended, it was only three, and he actively sought out something else to do, which led to him being outside in the cool May air, knee deep in mud, assisting in fence repair. He recalled Nate mentioning that there was work in the stables if he ever got any spare time, and Martin jumped at the chance. Nate, the oldest Todd brother, and the go-to guy for the horses at Crooked Tree, was the strong silent type, and the master of inscrutable expressions. Martin loved that Nate was happy to work in peace. Together, they carried materials over the field to the fence at the rear, where the paddock stopped and the forest began. Just beyond, tucked into the trees, there was a new construction; a sprawling log cabin that seemed to be close to being finished. Martin wondered who it was for? Some lucky person who is entitled to a home.

They worked in silence for the most part, only covering the simple things like ‘ pass me the hammer’ or ‘ hold this steady’ , and not much else.

That was, until they were nearly done.

“You doin’ okay?” Nate asked and leaned on the most recently finished part of the new fence, his boot on the first rail.

“Yep,” Martin lied.

It seemed that was enough for Nate, as he went back to a silence that lasted until they were done. His muscles ached, but in a good way, through solid hard work. He and Nate had fallen into a rhythm, and when he stood back to check everything, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“See the depth we went there?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s important. For next time.” He side-eyed Martin and nodded.

Martin was quick to reassure him. “I’ll remember.”

Nate nodded, and picked up his jacket.

“Ten tomorrow, here, if Sam can spare you.”

It wasn’t as if he had assigned shifts anywhere on the ranch, but it did seem that Sam had been the one tasked with keeping him busy. Up until now at least. Maybe from today, he would be answering to Nate? Who the hell knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re done for today,” Nate muttered and stalked away, and that was it. Martin had been dismissed.

Now what? He had space in a cabin with four rooms the ranch had for staff who needed accommodation. Only two were occupied—him and a chatty kid who was there for work experience and thought working on a ranch was the “coolest thing ever.” Martin wanted to agree, but that would mean admitting he enjoyed slotting into this weird-ass support role.

And that was something he would never admit. Admitting that meant agreeing he had a place here and that the group of people he was with were worth working for. They were a family, Sam and Justin, Nate and Jay, the kids, Jay’s sister, Nate’s brothers, Adam, who wasn’t there right now, Adam’s partner who was Justin’s brother, and the older generation. A real family.

Martin didn’t hold much with family. Family was selfish and hurt you, left you, and fucked you over. Family was something someone like Martin read about in glossy magazines, and just because he hadn’t seen arguments didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

He had a standing invite to grab food at Branches. All the staff did, entering through a back door and sitting at a table just off the kitchen. He never went. Instead, he’d taken to going into the small shop and grabbing sandwiches, which meant on day five of being at Crooked Tree he’d had ten sets of sandwiches. The only thing he took from the restaurant was coffee, and that was rare. They might not be paying him, but that didn’t matter; he owed them all. Back in his room, sandwiches gone, sitting on his bed in the dark, staring out of a window that faced the trees, he felt wrong. He’d enjoyed working outside, but stuck in here, his skin too tight, he was hungry, tired, should have been happy and relaxed, and was instead tense and desperate to get outside. The same thing happened every damn night.

Back in Vermont, he’d had a room over the café, but that hadn’t been where he’d slept all the time. On any night where it wasn’t too cold, he was on the roof, where he’d strung a hammock and watched the stars until he fell asleep. Up there, he could forget how he’d ended up at the café, forget his fears and worries. Being outside had been the only reason he’d survived the fire that had consumed the entire building. If he’d been in his bed, he would never have made it out alive. He was lucky he hadn’t broken something when he’d jumped from that building to the next. The thought of being trapped inside anywhere had always made him edgy, so he tried not to think about it, attempted to calm his breathing, focus on formulas or theorems—anything to get his brain back on track.

Tonight, not even solving math problems worked, and grabbing his coat, he left by the back door and kept to the shadows.

This side of the river he was away from the family , and if he was quick, he could leave the staff cabin, maybe cross the river higher up, and go for a walk to ease the tension in his chest.

It wasn’t the warmest of nights, but bundled up in his coat, with enough layers, he might even be able to find somewhere to sit and stare at the stars. Fate wasn’t interested in allowing him solitude though, and he had to stop himself from bolting when someone called from the darkness.

“Hey!”

He curtailed his desperate need to run and, instead, turned to face the owner of the voice, making out the features of the man he’d delivered groceries to. “Mr. Colby.”

“Please, call me Tyler, and you’re Martin, right? We met when you delivered my groceries, and of course you know that because you just called me Mr. Colby, which started this whole sentence.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tyler moved closer, and under the bright moon, Martin could make out his smile and the shape of him in shadows. He had a bag in his hand, a large bag that appeared to be weighing him down.

“I bet you think I’m moving a body,” Tyler joked, dropping the bag, where it thudded as it met the ground. Martin hadn’t for one minute considered that Tyler had a body in the bag, but now he’d said it, that was all Martin could imagine. “I’m not. It’s stones, is all. Rocks… I’m a geologist, well, kind of. That isn’t my official title. I actually work in seismology, and I wanted to take some rocks back to my cabin because then I can get a feel for the kind of land we’re sitting on.”

He finished his explanation with an expansive wave of his hands. Was he expecting an answer? In a social situation like this, Martin should show interest, right? He should ask questions, but his mind was blank. This was what happened when he was faced with a hot man. He became tongue-tied, and panicky, and ended up fucking things up.

And there was no denying that Tyler was way up there on the scale of sexy-hot. Actually, right near the top of the chart. He not only looked good, but when they’d got close in the kitchen, he’d smelled good, and his smile was stunning. Martin was attracted to him, and confused by him, and wished he could just vanish in a hole in the ground.

Tyler kept talking, utterly unaware of Martin’s growing panic. “I think I have some granodiorite in here. It’s a plutonic igneous rock intermediate in composition between granite and diorite, not that you need to know that, but it’s interesting.” Tyler paused again.

“Okay,” Martin murmured.

Tyler forged ahead as if that was permission for him to keep talking. He wore glasses and kept pushing them up his nose. He was a contradiction, half genius, half sexy man with his earnest unapologetic focus only making him hotter.

“I picked up too many. They’re damn heavy. I couldn’t leave it though because what if I go back the wrong way and I forget where I’d seen it? So this is me, standing in the dark with what looks like a bag with a dead body, rambling nonsense.” He bent to pick up the bag, made it a couple of feet, and dropped it again.

“Can I help?” Martin asked, waiting for the smile of approval, the acknowledgment from Tyler that he was being helpful, and felt a warmth trickle inside him when Tyler grinned.

“Please.” He unzipped the bag and lifted out what looked like a large common rock and then strained to pass it to Martin. “If you could take the granodiorite, that would be helpful.”

Martin took the heavy weight and held it close to his chest, his jacket getting stuck up and under it. Tyler spent a while helping him pull it down, his touch firm, his focus intense. The scent of the man was intoxicating, and Martin groaned inwardly. Allowing himself to be attracted to the hot cute nerd wasn’t a good idea.

They headed to the river bank and followed the path back to Tyler’s cabin. Tyler didn’t talk much, which was a good thing as far as Martin was concerned because he felt off-balance and a little afraid. Not of Tyler, but of the spark of attraction that had ignited inside him when Tyler had had his head bent close and was fixing Martin’s coat. He’d been so close that Martin could have reached out and touched him. Although then he would have dropped the rock, probably on his foot, knowing his luck.

When they reached Tyler’s door, Martin placed the rock on the porch and backed away, ready to leave immediately.

“Wait, would you like a beer?” Tyler asked. “I have beer, which you know because you packed it away, but maybe you thought I’d drunk it all, so you wouldn’t have expected… shit, I’m rambling again. Come in, I’ll get us a beer and give you a proper thank you.”

Martin didn’t follow Tyler inside, even if his thoughts did turn X-rated at the offer of a proper thank you.

What is wrong with me? I’m not here to lust after the guests. He was confused at the attraction, and he hovered at the door waiting for Tyler to come back so he could explain that he didn’t want to go in. Hell, it was hard enough handling time with the owners of this place, let alone more random strangers. Never mind how nice their voices were or the fact that Tyler Colby was… yeah…

When Tyler returned, he pulled the door shut behind him, still in his bulky coat, and with two beers in hand. Clearly they weren’t going inside at all, and all of Martin’s worries about what he would say had been for nothing. Tyler held out one of the bottles to Martin.

“I don’t drink,” Martin said, firmly.

Tyler didn’t push. If anything, he seemed relieved and placed both bottles, unopened, on the ground by the door. “It’s nice to have company,” he said and sat on one of the big Adirondack chairs. Martin leaned back on the porch surround, just to have something to hold on to. “Sit down. Tell me what it’s like being a cowboy on a ranch?”

All Martin could think was what would a normal person do in these circumstances? Well, to start, idiot, they would have taken the beer and not made a huge thing about not drinking. Then after that, nursing the full bottle, he could sit down and talk about everything and nothing.

“I’m sorry. I need to go,” Martin excused himself and left before Tyler could say anything else.

There was no point asking what a normal person would do because he clearly wasn’t normal at all.