Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“ O h my God, I will never eat again.” Nathan put his hand on his belly as he climbed into Ames’s truck. They’d spent a whole day in Santa Fe, driving down after they’d dropped off doughnuts and checked in with Sophie.

There had been a Frito chili pie and Mexican Coke at this little touristy drug store right off the Plaza. A shared bowl of mole at the Plaza Cafe. A cup of chocolate and some truffles at the Kakawa Chocolate house, which served indigenous-style chocolates and Mayan hot chocolate of joy. A slice of pizza at this place called Upper Crust, which was right next to the San Miguel mission, the oldest church in Santa Fe.

Maybe in the damn country.

And since they’d walked everywhere, he’d worked it off.

They’d finished up at this funky hotel bar he’d seen on the way back to the truck, splitting some parmesan truffle fries and a tequila lime tart. He’d also had a smoked sage margarita that was like…a revelation from the gods.

Even Ames had declared it freaking amazing, despite having a Dos Equis instead.

“I take it you approve.”

“I feel like a snake that swallowed a—something bigger than a sheep. A gnu. A gnu is bigger than sheep, right?”

Ames chuckled at him. “You are a lightweight and yeah, gnu are way bigger. Hairy damn things too.”

“You ever met one?”

“Well, sure.” Ames started the truck, “I mean. I’ve never dated one.”

Oh, that was how it was gonna be. Fine. He got his seat belt on and leaned back. “So what kind of livestock have you dated, cowboy?”

“Well, I didn’t know…there was this roper this one time. I’m about one hundred percent sure after having seen his back that he was at least part buffalo.”

“Okay, that’s relatively gross.” Seriously, he wasn’t all that shallow, but hard-core back hair. Umm. Not his kink.

“It is. That really wasn’t the worst part about him, though. The worst part about him was the smell. Have you ever heard that if you didn’t like the way someone smelled, you couldn’t really be compatible in bed?”

Nathan nodded. “I have indeed heard that.”

“Did you like how your ex smelled?” Ames asked.

“Oh, that’s a good question.” Nathan frowned, trying to remember. “I don’t know that I didn’t like how he smelled. Does that count?”

Ames nodded. “Yes, but only if you like the way I smell. If you don’t like the way I smell, then no, it doesn’t count at all.”

That got Nathan to grinning. “Ah, I see how it is. Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Your right hand, the one you’re not driving with, give it to me.”

“Okay… Is this some weird city thing?”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “No dork. I’m going to see if you smell good.”

He took Ames’s hand, leaned down and smelled right where the hand met the arm, that wrist where the veins were so close to the skin. It was rich and musky and just right.

“You totally pass.”

Ames’s fingers curled, and a smile kicked up the corner of his lips. “Good to know. I’m surprised I don’t smell like pizza and truffle fries.”

“Well, you do kind of. But that’s okay. I’m a chef. I find that sexy.” Did he say that out loud? Was that stupid?

Ames turned his hand to grab Nathan’s, squeezing, and he didn’t think he’d made an error. No, he thought Ames liked that.

“Well, good.” Ames chuckled. “Anyway, happy food tour of Santa Fe day.”

“It was a great day,” he admitted, closing his eyes as they drove. “Thank you. Tell me, what’s your perfect date?”

“Do you mean like a date-date?” Ames asked.

“No, asshole. I know what a perfect date-date is like. They’re sweet and a little crunchy. Incredibly good in a milkshake. That’s not what I’m asking.”

Ames snorted. “Remind me why I’m taking up with the chef again?”

“Because I make the perfect blue and bacon burger. And I can make your life a living hell, which turns you on.”

“Right.” Okay, that made him smile. “So what was the question again?” Ames pulled up at a stop sign, the lights of Santa Fe like a rainbow to his kinda tipsy self. “So, a perfect date… Would it be, like, incredibly cowboy of me to say I like to go camping?”

Nathan stared at Ames. Camping. Of course it was camping. Camping involved things like bugs and possibly rattlesnakes and pooping on the ground, which was kind of weird. Cooking outside was all right though, and…

Hell, what did he know?

He’d never gone camping.

The closest thing he’d ever done to camping was his first two weeks here at the ranch.

“I’d try camping with you.”

“Yeah? That would be cool.” Ames grinned at him in a sideways kind of way. “Literally. We could run up to someplace like Durango and do some hiking…”

“No horses?” That was kind of an awesome idea. He’d thought that Ames meant going up to one of the upper camps on the ranch, and while he would have done it…

“Not the first time.” Ames actually laughed. “I’d go easy on you and get a cabin or a platform tent, even.”

“Oh now, that’s love there.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Nathan’s cheeks went red hot, and he was glad that Ames couldn’t see his face.

“It’s something all right…” Ames chuckled, the sound warm, not mean at all and Nathan was glad for it. “Honestly? We could totally get a little rustic cabin. Something where you could shit in glorious privacy and actually have a shower. Maybe.”

“Is that actually camping?” He could probably be okay with a place to go to the bathroom and shower.

Probably.

Maybe a cabin was the best thing for a first time, he didn’t know. “You arrange it, and you let me know. I’m in.”

“I’m on it.” Ames sounded tickled.

“I have Fridays off for the next three weeks, for sure, and I do get vacation time.” Which was a little weird, honestly.

He’d never had vacation time before. Not really. After all, when a man owned his own restaurant, it was working all the time. There was no vacationing. There was just working. And Lord knows dishwashers and line cooks, they got what they got.

“I do too. I’ll square it with the bosses. And with Sophie.”

“Cool.” He knew they’d hired a camp cook. She was a stocky little lesbian who made the best potato soup. If Layla wasn’t up at the high camp, she could fill in for him…

He’d agreed to go camping.

Nathan wasn’t sure what to think about that, given that he’d never even had a yard. Or a place to grow things. Or really any opportunity to.

Now he was living in…the freaking Wild West.

He hadn’t known this world had really, truly existed. The high desert was fascinating and weird and the most beautiful and terrifying place he’d ever seen.

He wasn’t sure he belonged here, but he wasn’t sure he didn’t.

So far, for the most part, everyone had been very decent. Even kind.

And it hadn’t been the backwater, bullshit kind of job that he had expected.

Maybe at first.

That whole up in the mountains thing had been hard.

On the other hand, he thought he could do it again.

If he practiced.

On the horse for a few weeks. Maybe for fifteen minutes at a time.

He didn’t hate the horses, right? Okay, so they might scare the living shit out of him…

“Why did you decide to become a cowboy?” he asked Ames, “Speaking of horses.” Which they hadn’t been, but in his head he had, so it was a fair question.

“Oh, that’s really all I know. I mean, my people are more dirt farmers than anything, but all I saw growing up were cowboys. I wanted to be one so bad.” Ames shrugged. “And I kept getting told that wasn’t possible, so I guess it was a say I won’t kind of situation.”

“Okay. Will you totally do it?” That was a stupid thing to say, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. Obviously Ames was, like, the ultimate cowboy.

Different than Ryder and Kase though.

Yeah.

Nathan was beginning to understand that there were different kinds of cowboys, which seemed ridiculous, but it was true.

There were the ones who rode in the rodeo. There were the ones who owned the rodeo. There were the ones who worked the land, the ones who owned the land, the ones who liked horses, the ones who liked cows, the ones who liked other things that weren’t either horses or cows.

The rodeo itself had like five million different working pieces—absolutely none of which Nathan understood.

Then there was the support staff, and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure whether or not they were cowboys, and whether cowboy was an official designation.

Was it something that if you worked around the ranch and you wore the hat and you did all the things, did it qualify you?

Because that seemed odd.

Nathan was relatively sure he wasn’t a cowboy, but then he didn’t have a hat. And he did own boots, but they weren’t the pointy-toed kind. That was a totally different thing.

Also, he didn’t wear Wranglers, although he did really, really like the look of a man’s butt in that particular brand of jeans.

He supposed he was more cowboy adjacent-adjacent.

“Well, you can’t tell me nothin’, honey. So, say I won’t, and I probably will.” That little grin lurking on Ames’s mouth made him chuckle.

“I can see you being stubborn.”

“Me? Nah.” Then Ames shook his head. “I never wanted to do anything else. So I left home and started hunting for a job.”

Now that, Nathan understood.

“I hear you. I did basically the same thing. I started washing dishes and then moved up and up. Once I was eighteen, I went to culinary school.”

Ames glanced over at him. “Where did you go to school?”

“I got my first degree in Austin, and then I continued working and cooking and exploring.”

“Yeah, the bosses said that you’ve worked all over.”

“I have!” He’d traveled, explored as much as possible. “I’ve staged all over the place. It’s one of my favorite things. I really enjoyed learning about new restaurants and new cuisines, techniques.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s one of the reasons I came here, you know. This is totally not in my current skill set, and so it’s been interesting.”

“Where will you go after this?” Ames asked, his tone careful.

“I want a restaurant. I want to run a restaurant. Nothing huge. Nothing—I won’t say nothing fancy, because I do like my fine dining, but I want something with, you know. Maybe four or five tabletops. Something with the menu changing on a daily basis depending on what’s in season. Or what simply sounds good, or what the farmer’s market has. Something where you could have another chef come in and… And maybe cook for a night. Wouldn’t that be cool? You know, a guest chef.”

He trailed off as he understood that he was waxing poetic about something that Ames cared about very little.

“That’s really cool. I mean, that’s a good goal.”

“Yeah. I signed a contract for a year, so I’m solid here for a bit.”

Ames seemed to relax. “That’s good for me. I eat well with you here.”

“Look at you, finally admitting it.”

“I know! We’re a stubborn breed, cowboys.”

“I heard that.” It was weird, how well they were getting along. When he stopped to breathe, he liked Ames a lot. He was rock-solid, kind, and he at least acted interested when Nathan talked.

That wasn’t even acknowledging the kiss. Which had made him weak at the knees. It hadn’t been super sexy or anything, but it had been intimate as all get-out.

He was hoping to try again, in fact.

He wasn’t sure how much further they should go beyond that.

All right, that wasn’t exactly true.

He knew exactly how much further he wanted to go.

But he had to remember that he had to work with these people. Also, he wasn’t exactly sure how that functioned in this universe.

Where he was from a hookup was a hookup was a hookup. Of course, he subscribed to the rule of you didn’t shit where you eat, so to speak. So, he never ever slept with employees.

It wasn’t out of the question, before he was taken, of course, to find a guy who was willing to settle for a quickie.

It seemed as if it would be different here, and he didn’t want people to think poorly of him. He didn’t know how exactly to ask either.

Hey, Ames, how do you feel about fucking around?

Yo, Ames, if we had a one-off, would that be cool? And also, if it’s really good, could we have a two-off or maybe a twelve-off?

Dear, Ames, I know that you have a kid who lives in your house so we can come do the dirty at my little house.

But was that going to be one of those Brokeback Mountain type of things? It didn’t feel that way because they had married queer people running the show, but Ames had never come out and said, “Yeah, I’m up to bumping uglies.”

Nathan grinned at himself.

Ames had been, however, incredibly clear with the kiss.

Not to mention it hadn’t been the kiss of someone who had never done it before, so he was going to make the assumption that, one, Ames was queer, and two, Ames wasn’t a virgin.

Hopefully both of those were true.

“I can smell the smoke,” Ames told him.

“Huh?”

“From you thinking so hard. You’re lost in there somewhere.” Ames slanted him a concerned glance. “Did thinking about a restaurant upset you?”

“What? No. God no. I was just…” Pondering kissing Ames again. “Woolgathering.”

“Mmm. Maybe dozing off because of all the food.”

“As long as you’re not dozing off while you’re driving,” Nathan teased. “I was actually thinking about you.”

“Oh, do tell?” Ames glanced over again and then back to the road. “Were they good thoughts?”

“They were. Define ‘good’.” He had to tease.

“Define good. Okay.” Ames chuckled and kind of rolled his shoulders like he was about to get into an altercation.

Like he was getting himself ready.

It was hot enough to make Nathan pant like a dog.

“In this case good would be defined by thinking about me in a sensual sort of way.” A little grin played on the corner of Ames’s lips.

“Sensual, huh? Okay. Well, that’s fair then. Yes, I was totally in the arena of good possibly. More than, but totally in that positive space.”

“I like a good headspace,” Ames said, and Nathan then raised his eyebrow.

“And what do you know about headspace?”

“What? I read. I know things. I explore things.” Ames waved one hand, swinging it in a circle from the wrist. “I mean not like in real physical time, but on a reading level, you understand.”

“Oh, I see…” Nathan was going to die. “Well, yes, I do understand both reading and exploring and… Trust me. Whips and chains are not in my personal repertoire.”

“Oh thank God.” The words sort of burst out of Ames. “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if you told me that we were fixing to get all spanky and shit.”

“No, that seems one, like a lot of work and two, sort of loud given that you don’t live alone. And I have walls that are literally like two layers of drywall thick. Besides, I’m pretty sure that that sort of equipment wouldn’t fit where I live right now, and those are questions you don’t need asked by a certain teenager, if you get my drift.”

“I hear you. I cannot express to you how much I hear you.”

There was a long moment of silence before the hysterical laughter started, and when it did, it sort of exploded out of both of them, filling the cab up with sound and merriment.

“You know, man, we’re both idiots.” Ames managed through his chuckles. “I mean, we ain’t even touched hardly at all, and we’ve already figured out that neither one of us are kinky.”

“Boundaries are important.” He nodded. “Boundaries are super important. Especially in situations like ours.”

“So what exactly is our situation?” Ames asked. “I mean, are we exploring this thing? Because I’m feeling a thing.”

“Are you?” That made something tighten up deep in his belly. “I am too, but we work together.”

“Well, I been thinking on that, and I reckon we’re not really co-workers.”

“No?” He was curious now. “How do you figure that?”

“We work for the same guys—but they’re a corporation. It’s like if I worked for McDonald’s, and you worked for… Uh…some other company that McDonald’s owned…”

Nathan snorted. “That’s an awfully thin hair to split. But I can see it. So we’re allowed to fraternize.”

“Hell yes. It’s not like we live in the bunkhouse or anything.”

“No. No, I think that might have been a bridge too far, even for me.” While Nathan could accept the fall from gorgeous condo loft to tiny house behind the kitchen, sharing a bunkhouse with a bunch of stinky cowboys was simply not going to happen.

He’d done his time. He’d dealt with the weird shower thing for two weeks. No more.

Although he had agreed to go camping.

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t wanna hang out with a bunch of the guys for hours on end, watching them cut their toenails and scratch their watches and wind their butts?”

“I will hurt you.” Nathan warned. “I don’t. I don’t do mess.”

“And yet you’re here, working on a ranch. You know how much shit is on this ranch? I mean, like, literal poop. Like manure. You ever seen one of those bulls up close?”

“No. I saw the horses. That’s got to be enough.”

“Have you seen the donkeys?”

Nathan kind of sat up. “You mean real donkeys, like hee-haw, hee-haw?”

Ames laughed. “Listen to you. You must have had a See ’n Say when you were little. Yes, like those kind of donkeys. We have an entire little herd. One of them girls talked the bosses into getting miniature ones for 4-H. They’re like dogs. They’re they are the cutest things.”

“Did you know there’s a convent outside of Bonham that has miniature horses? It’s right near an ice cream factory.”

“No shit? Well, we do not have a herd yet. We do have three females and a male. So a herd is imminent.”

“Be honest.” Nathan leaned forward, closer to Ames. “Is it weird to watch them? You know. Do The Dirty?”

Because they seemed like baby critters. It seemed kind of nasty.

“You are a strange little man. I like you.” Ames started chuckling. “But yeah, it’s sort of like when the dogs go after it. There’s a part of you that kind of goes, eurgh.”

“I figured.” He sat back. “But I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Another kink worry you can mark off your list. Totally not into that.”

“So what are you into?” He felt daring asking.

“You, man. I’m still kind of reeling from the change in attitude. Mine, not yours. But I am super into you.” Ames held out a hand, not meeting his eyes at all.

He took that hand and held on, because Ames seemed perfectly okay driving with one hand, and he loved the heat and callused roughness of Ames’s skin.

“Is it weird to admit that this is a little scary?” Nathan kept holding on. “I mean, I really thought… I really thought he was the one. Like in that stupid monogamous, long-term, adopt babies, and run restaurants. The write-cookbooks-and-have-photo-shoots-at-the-house kind of way.”

“Do you think that’s real?”

Nathan managed not to snarl at Ames, because really? It hadn’t been, had it? Not a bit of it was real. “No. It isn’t real. It’s all a lie.”

Ames shrugged, his fingers curling further around the steering wheel and sliding a little. “I’m not a lie. Ranch. It’s not a lie. It’s dirty and dusty. Folks get hurt. Folks get hungry. It’s all truth.”

“I guess so. My restaurant was real. I loved it. And he fucked it all up.” Nathan sighed. “Somehow the fact that you didn’t like me to begin with is comforting.”

Ames snorted. “Well, that’s messed up. But I get you. That means the chemistry is there, and it’s not just an easy con job.”

“Exactly. If it was all smooth sailing and smiles, I would be suspicious.”

“Anybody ever told you that you were weird?”

“All the time.” That didn’t bother him. “Anybody ever tell you that you are grumpy?”

Ames grinned. “All the time.”

It was fair enough. “I think we’ll figure something out.”

And if they didn’t figure it out today? They had nothing but time.

It was going to take a while to save up for a restaurant.

He could afford to be patient.