Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

A mes grinned at Sophie, who was poring over a list of classes she could take at the local high school. She had to sign up soon if she was going, but she’d been given the opportunity to homeschool, too. Wat thought he could come up with a great curriculum for her.

“So you think I could make school credit if I keep working with Nathan?” She was on her stomach on the floor with her tablet, one foot up in the air while she scrolled.

“I don’t know. We’d have to ask Wat.” And Nathan, because he would be leaving before the school year officially ended, if he only stayed for his year. Hell, school hadn’t even started yet, but the thought of Nathan leaving in the spring made him queasy.

So, they’d come home from Santa Fe and walked into—not really a shit show—but, the fancy pants magazine dude had stayed and wanted to talk to Nathan about his “process” . ‘process’,

Whatever the hell that meant.

So Ryder and the Grannies and Nathan had spent all of Sunday showing off the kitchen, cooking, and having pictures taken. They’d even done filming for some sort of a little segment for the local news morning show.

Sophie had watched with wide eyes, and when Nathan had asked her to join him on-screen as his sous chef, she’d almost vibrated apart.

Ames guessed it was cool.

Would have been more cool if they’d’ve been able to spend the night together at least once. Possibly gotten naked.

That didn’t happen, though.

He had hopes that maybe he would get to see Nathan today. He’d been slammed, busy all week himself with all the guys in and out, enjoying their Cowboy Christmas and making their money.

So they were a bit shorthanded, and he had to admit he’d fallen into bed absolutely exhausted every night.

However, it was Friday, Nathan had the day off, he was done with work, so Ames kind of cleaned up some. He put on some smell-good, just in case.

“I really think, Uncle, that I want to work with Chef and get some credits for it. Maybe do homeschooling, and that would give me some flexibility. You think that’s stupid?” Sophie looked up to him, and it hit him all of a sudden that this little girl was trusting in him to know what the hell he was doing.

Which he did not.

Not even, like remotely. He didn’t have any idea about going to culinary school or what someone needed or…

It was hard to be a good parent. He wasn’t supposed to do this.

But he damn well was going to do it.

Sophie believed in him.

Damn it.

So he would talk to Wat with her about her choices, and he would ask Nathan about culinary programs. How much did they cost? What did she need to get into one?

See? That gave him a reason to see Nathan.

“Okay, kiddo. If that’s what you want, we’ll find a way to make it happen. If anyone can build you a curriculum for that in homeschooling, it’s Wat.”

“Thanks!” She set the tablet aside. “I want to try to finish my brown butter chocolate chip cookies today. It’s a King Arthur Flour recipe, and there’s a bake-along for charity on the Alzheimer’s association, so I’ll be busy this afternoon…” She gave him a glinting grin.

“As long as you save some for me and Nathan.”

“That’s why I’ll bake them here and not down at the kitchen on the ranch. The hands smell cookies, and it’s all over.”

“You know it. Well, you need a ride anywhere…”

“I’ll call Elijah. He’s just doing work around the house today, so I can text him. Go do weird uncle things.”

“I will.” He winked, then headed out to the truck.

He texted Nathan while he walked.

Wanna go into town and get lunch?

Nathan had never tried their local Mexican place. Or the diner, for that matter.

It took no time at all for Nathan to text him back with

I would love to

All right then. He checked his shirt—no stains, not too fancy, but also nice enough to go out to town. Then he texted back.

Pick you up.

Is it OK if I drive out to you? I can bring my swim trunks.

There was a pause.

And a toothbrush.

See you soon.

Ames was going to have to go to the bathroom and kind of thump his poor prick because this was the most exciting series of texts in the history of the Earth for all that they were kid-appropriate.

“Mr. Nathan’s going to come over, and then we’re going to go to town. When we get back, we’re going to enjoy cookies and have a soak in the hot tub tonight.”

Sophie applauded. “Go you, Uncle. Getting you some!”

He cracked up. “Oh girl, shut up.”

His cheeks were hot, though, weren’t they? Damn.

Didn’t he hope that she was right, though? He didn’t want some. He wanted lots.

Maybe all of it.

It felt like heaven when Nathan pulled up in his little SUV and hopped out. The man was fine as frog hair split three ways—black T-shirt, jeans, ball cap.

Ames had to admit that he approved all the way.

“Hey, man, thanks for letting me come over. I-I’m free until Sunday night. Monday morning.”

“Well, listen to that. I think I am too.” He gave Nathan a grin. “What do you think about Mexican food?”

“I believe Mexican food is proof that there is a God, and that he loves us with all of his heart. Especially if chips and salsa are involved.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “I understand that it’s not high-class, but it is one of my fondest things on earth. Dipping things. I love to dip: guacamole, queso, salsa. I’m a dipper.”

Every so often, Nathan said that sort of thing, and it made him fall in love a little bit.

In fact, Ames was very afraid that he was falling for Nathan a lot. That scared him kind of. But he could do scary things. He grabbed his own hat, and they headed out to the truck.

He liked the salsa at Tequila’s. So he figured Nathan would like it too, and they had decent queso. Sometimes it was a tiny bit too hot, but hey, who was he to say? He was so totally a gringo.

He glanced over as he got them moving. “So you’re gonna stay the night tonight? I don’t wanna be all hopeful if I’m on the wrong page.”

Nathan granted him. “Yeah. You’ve got the right idea.”

“Perfect. That way we know what we’re getting into from the start. Sophie is making cookies. We’ll have dessert when we get home.”

Nathan seemed somewhat panicky at that idea. “So is she gonna be there?”

“Nah. She’s probably gonna go spend the night with somebody. She didn’t want to make cookies down at the kitchen because she was afraid that the hands would clean her out before she even got them done.”

“Smart girl. Those hands can eat some cookies.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I understand. I can too.”

“Well, I would love to try her cookies.”

“She says they’re gonna be brown butter chocolate chip.” Ames wasn’t sure what browning the butter had to do with it.

Nathan smacked his lips. “Those are the best kind, if she’s using the King Arthur Flour recipe.”

“She says she is,” Ames agreed.

“Great, I’ll eat half a dozen.”

“Hey, you’ll have to fight me for them.”

“Oh, cookie-wrestling in the hot tub. That sounds kinky.” Nathan waggled his eyebrows.

Ames laughed out loud. “I thought we’d discussed this whole kink thing. Right? Right.”

“We have. I think that we have a running joke now—you, me, in the truck, talking kink.”

Ames had to chuckle. “You’re a butthead. How was your week?”

“It was good. It was weirdly good. We got some nice publicity from the TV spot and the article. I think that the bosses are pleased.”

“Well, why wouldn’t they be? You’re kind of famous.”

“More infamous.” Nathan shrugged. “It was nice to be able to do what I do. Sophie was an absolute doll, so it worked out.”

Right. He’d asked the man out for a reason. “Speaking of Sophie, she’s thinking about homeschooling so that she can work with you and get credits for culinary school. She asked for my advice, but I got nothing, man. I don’t know what to tell her.”

“Well, Watson should be able to tell for sure, one way or the other, about culinary school and credits. So we will defer to him on that, I think. But if you’re good with it, and that’s what she wants, I’m willing to work with her. I think she has real talent, and I wouldn’t say that to you, if I didn’t believe it.” Nathan got quiet for a second. “Now don’t get me wrong, this is not an easy life. It’s long hours, it’s hard work. It’s getting burned and cut and being around a lot of alcohol and some people that are not necessarily savory—pun intended—especially if you’re in the fine-dining world. It can get real cutthroat real fast. But if it’s a passion, then it is what it is. People don’t become chefs to get rich. People become chefs because they love to cook, and they love to feed people.”

“That’s awesome, man. I mean, if you think she can do some of the work now.”

“Oh well, I know there’s all sorts of equivalencies and stuff with work and credit. I know that a lot of the culinary schools will take that kind of thing from like, a vocational school. So like I said, I bet Wat could come up with something no problem.”

“Cool. Thanks. Sometimes this parenting thing is, like, really tough.” And he hadn’t even had to do it for very long, so he needed to shut up.

“I think you’re doing a great job. She’s an amazing kid, and she really admires you. And I think that she could really do well in culinary school,” Nathan said. “I think that she has what it takes.”

“That means a lot to me,” Ames told him. “You’re really good at what you do, so if you think that she’s got it in her, I want her to go for it. I don’t want to discourage her like many people did with me.”

Nathan gave him a searching look. “They really did a number on you, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess they did. I mean, they told me all the time that I couldn’t be what I wanted to be, and that I wasn’t good enough.”

“I’m glad my mom didn’t do that to me.” Nathan kind of grinned. “She was a hard worker, and she didn’t exactly know what to do with me, but she never put me or my sisters down.” Nathan reached over and grabbed his arm, sort of squeezing. “I think you’re pretty awesome.”

“Yeah? You didn’t think so to begin with,” Ames had to tease. He always had to tease about that. The way they’d started out had been rocky at best, but now he kind of figured they had it going on, and hopefully tonight they would have it going on way more. He was really excited about that idea.

Mexican food first, but still.

“I’ve had time to form a new opinion. And you’ve been way nicer to me lately.”

“You inspire me, what can I say. I needed time to get to know you.” That wasn’t a tease. It was true.

“I am a bit of an acquired taste. Like Uni.”

“Okay. What’s a Uni?” Ames asked.

“It’s sea urchin. Tastes like the ocean, buttery, lots of umami. It’s incredibly popular right now, very hot.”

Yummy. “Do you cook with that much?”

“If I had a purveyor that happened to have it, and I thought that I had a recipe that I needed it in, sure. But that’s not really my schtick. I tend to elevate comfort food, and I also am very into comfort foods from other cultures. Like feijoada or…”

“That I know. In fact, I can get you that.”

Nathan blinked over at him. “No shit?”

“Dude. Bull riders, Brazilians. They can make some feijoada like a bitch.” He loved it—meat, black beans, stew? He was in.

“I would love to learn from somebody who learned from a grandma. That would rock my world. I’ve already hit Granny Chiara up for her Sunday sauce.”

“So your deal is you take these things that are like a hamburger, and you make them…better than a hamburger?”

“No, not exactly. I make them more upscale than a hamburger.” Nathan settled in to chat with him. “So let’s say we’re having a hamburger. I might make a patty out of the best beef with cubes of cheese in it… Oh, maybe the best Irish cheddar and perfectly pickled cucumbers and heirloom tomatoes on a brioche bun that was handmade that morning. Then I’d serve it with truffle fries. That sort of thing. Or maybe I would say take a hamburger and instead of making hamburger I would make meatballs out of it and have a meatball salad that tastes like a hamburger when you eat it!”

Ames loved listening to Nathan talk about cooking.

Not because he cared about the cooking; he didn’t. But he cared about the way the man’s entire body lit up and sort of rejoiced at the idea that there was the chance that a meatball could taste like a hamburger.

It was his personal opinion that meatballs tasted like meatballs, and hamburgers tasted like hamburgers, and there was a reason for that.

But he was also smart enough to understand that this was not the appropriate time to bring that up, and it might harm his chances of getting laid. So maybe he would keep that opinion to himself.

He pulled in at Tequila’s, the smell of chiles already making his mouth water. “Well, I do like me a meatball,” was what he settled on. “Hell, I like food.”

Nathan laughed. “I know. And you’ve been venturing outside your comfort zone lately, which I appreciate. I know you did it for Sophie to begin with.”

“Yeah, but then I started dating a chef.”

Nathan’s lips parted when he glanced over to see how he took that comment.

“‘Dating’… That’s kind of wild, man.”

“Uh-huh. Wait until we get to the sleeping-with-the-chef part.” He was determined to do that, dammit.

“Hopefully it doesn’t take us so long to get from dating to fucking, as it did from meeting to dating.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Nathan’s mouth.

“Listen to you. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Not anymore, I don’t.” Those pretty lips quirked, giving him a half smile. “But you should see what I can do with my mouth. I’ll turn your ass inside out.”

Then Nathan got out of the truck and headed toward the restaurant.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

They headed inside, and Ames worried for a minute about Nathan not loving the tacky décor, the scratched-up tables, the menus that were peeling a little at the corners and had seen better days. But Nathan let himself be seated and took the menu with a grin. “Oh, I do love a good dive.”

Ames tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“God, yeah, this is where the food is. I mean, don’t get me wrong—exceptional restaurants, Michelin-star restaurants? They can be amazing. They can be transformative. But this is food.” Nathan waved one hand in an expansive sweep. “This is let’s have supper. Let’s sit and chat and have a beer and be relaxed. These are two different experiences. One’s not necessarily better than the other.”

It was fascinating to see Nathan settle in, talk to him like he was…worth sharing shit with.

“It’s sort of like listening to classical music or listening to country music. Or reading some fancy-assed literature, hard-backed book thing, versus reading like some dog-eared horror novel. They’re all good. Sometimes you need one, sometimes you need the other. Most of the time, you need the other. And that’s okay.”

Ames stared at Nathan, trying to decide if he should go for glib or for serious, because his instinct was to kind of blow Nathan off.

However, something in him thought that this was the same man who’d gotten on a horse when he’d never even had a dog. Who’d ridden for four hours and never once complained about it.

“Well, I can tell you that this place has the best salsa in three counties. And that the cook has a secret love for seafood enchiladas, which are actually really good.” He sat across from Nathan, staring at him, because something about that dark red hair and those sherry-colored eyes was so arresting. He’d thought it was an odd combo to begin with, but now he thought Nathan was the hottest damn thing he could imagine.

“Hola, amigos. Se?or Ames, how are you? You want a Modelo?”

“Yes, please. Thanks, Leo. This is Nathan.”

“Hola, hola. Beinvenidos.”

“Gracias, Leo. Do you have Dos Equis?”

“I do. And water? I’ll be right back.”

Nathan glanced at the menu. “So what do you get when you’re here?”

“I’ve eaten almost everything on the menu,” he admitted. “But my absolute favorite are the chicken fajita chimichangas covered in chile con queso. I only have it like once a quarter because you know, there’s no way that it’s any good for you.”

“Oh man. Yeah, cheese, chicken flour, tortilla, fried, smothered in queso with rice and beans. Oh my God.” Nathan’s eyes rolled.” That sounds so good, but so do the flautas. Ooh…how’s their guacamole?”

“Not as good as yours,” he admitted, “but damn good nonetheless.”

Nathan beamed at him. “Good to know. I think I’m going to try the combo plate to kind of get a feel for the whole thing. Can we share guacamole as an app?”

“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.” He was going to go for enchiladas with an egg on top. That suited him down to the bone. “So now that the Fourth of July party is over, what’s your next big thing?”

“I’m assuming I do have a Labor Day type of situation, and really, I would assume we start fairly early with any sort of holiday preparations. Although Nanette has explained to me, very clearly, that she and the grannies do Thanksgiving and Christmas and that I would not be required to do that. So. That’s gonna be kind of odd.”

“Yeah, they’re very into that being family time, especially with the kids. Everybody sort of does their own thing.”

“Huh. Well, I suppose, if everybody’s doing their own thing, should I do like an Orphan’s Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know; everyone’s welcome at the Chiara’s table on Thanksgiving. There’s always turkeys and hams and everything in the smokers, I mean, we all kind of get a plate. We set out those long tables, and sort of, you know, make it happen.”

“So am I the first full-time chef here then?”

“Yeah, besides the camp cooks. Really you are.” Ames wasn’t sure what that expression on Nathan’s face meant exactly.

Was he pleased? Was he worried? Was he constipated?

“I bet if you talked to the grans and offered to help in a family way, you and Sophie, you’d be welcome. The ranch really is like a big family.”

Nathan chewed his lip, then finally nodded. “Sure. I can do that. I mean, I don’t want everyone to think I’m too snooty to do it.”

“Babe, I don’t think anyone thinks you’re snooty. I think you’ve been too busy to really meet anyone.” And he was going to remedy that. Nathan was going to assimilate.

“Well, I’ll feel them out. If they want me to help, I can, and if they don’t, I totally understand. I mean, I can just eat at home.”

“You will not. You don’t have to.” He shook his head. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Nathan’s eyebrow flew up. “You’re sure of that are you?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.” The grannies would love to have help, and he knew it. He had to kind of tread carefully—at least with Nathan; the grannies would be easy. Maybe they could make it a big potluck.

Charlie would be home from school, and God knew she made some weird things. Their family had obviously done lots and lots of strange vegetable boards with ranch dip and French onion dip and chips.

Those kids were all about the pre-dinner munchies.

“You’ve got months to start worrying about that,” he told Nathan.

“Fair enough. I’m looking forward to experiencing winter out here. I’ve never really had to deal with snow.”

“Well, you’re going to get experience, that’s for sure, more than ‘kind of’. Do you have the things that you need? Boots, a good winter coat, that sort of thing? Because it gets bitter, and it will stay that way for a while.” Ames made a note to check the insulation on that tiny house because he didn’t want his cook to freeze. Or for the pipes to freeze, for that matter.

“Ames, you’ve seen my boots. Do you think I need different ones? Or maybe better socks? Buying a heavy winter coat is on my plan for while I’m up here. I figured I would have better luck finding something that was suitable up here, where it’s actually cold.”

“Yeah. Yeah, the best place for that is the local outfitters. It’s like a feed store meets Ace Hardware.” Bobby Garcia would be able to hook Nathan up with all he needed. He’d need boot socks and gloves and all too.

Leo brought drinks and took their food order, and Nathan peppered him with questions about winter in Northern New Mexico.

“Oh, man, I can’t wait for you to see it at Christmas. We do up the farolitos and you gotta learn to make biscochitos and posole, babe. It’s amazing up here then. The ranch does it up right. We even have a sleigh.”

“No shit? I’ve never been on a sleigh.” Nathan actually bounced in his seat. “And I do not know what biscochitos are, but posole I am familiar with, so we’re good there. I have also been researching green chile everything because, apparently, that’s one of my jobs. Green chile everything. Nanette is going to give me lessons.”

“So what do you use in Texas? If you don’t have green chile, I mean.”

Nathan chuckled, the sound soft. “Jalapeno everything, man. Jalapeno everything . Candied Jalapenos. Pickled jalapenos, stuffed jalapenos.”

Ames stopped him. “You’re not serious. Candy jalapenos?”

“I shit you not. They’re really nice. You pour them over cream cheese, and you serve them with crackers. It’s sweet and spicy and creamy and really delicious. I’ve also made a kind of preserve that has peaches and jalapenos and sugar…”

“Huh. I mean my mom used to do prickly pear and red chile on cream cheese…”

Nathan’s eyes lit up. “No shit? Is it good?”

“It is. I can see if I can remember how she did it. Maybe Sophie would know. She was there a lot more recently than me.” Ames shrugged. It wasn’t like he could call his mom and get the recipe.

“Hey, all we have to do is remember how you started it, then we experiment. That’s how recipes are made.”

“Yeah?” That made him feel a little bit better.

“Totally. It’s strange because you think that recipes are like these eternal things, that they never change. You know, I remember this potato soup my mom used to make, all the time, and I loved it. Then, when I got old enough, I started making it, and I told everyone, ‘this is my mom’s famous potato soup’.” Nathan rolled his eyes like thrown dice. “And before she died, she made me some. And, I have to tell you, it wasn’t the same. I mean not the same at all.”

“Really?” That had to have been weird as hell.

“Really. I mean, I’m talking there wasn’t anything that was the same about it. Except for maybe the memory of it. So, we start the recipe, and we make a memory of it—you and me and Sophie.” Nathan blinked and leaned back, glancing down at his hands. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to insert myself, get myself into your family or anything, because that’s creepy and weird. I just meant that…”

“Hey.” Ames held up one hand. “Look, babe. You don’t have to get all ashamed. You’re not inserting yourself in anything.” No, if anything. Nathan was rescuing him—rescuing a memory for them maybe? He didn’t know, but he did know that Nathan was not putting himself anywhere he didn’t deserve to be.

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll take it. I’d love to know your favorite recipes and try to recreate them with you.”

“I get it,” he admitted. “I’m gonna teach you how to ride better and, you know, share that with you.”

And now it was him who was blushing because. Nathan had a point. This felt ridiculous and intimate and weird. Not to mention they were in a restaurant, and there were going to be people coming in that they knew, and…

“We’re going camping, right? Are we bringing horses to camping?”

That sounded like a bad idea. “Probably not this first time. Let’s start slow. I’ll teach you how to camp. You can teach Sophie how to cook.”

“And I’ll teach you how to enjoy eating.”

Ames thought that was fair because he was like most of the people he knew, just a shoveler. There was food, it was there. It was tasty. He ate it.

Sophie and Nathan paid attention to the food and how it was put together and how it tasted and how one thing tasted against the other thing. And that was very much a different ballgame.

The chips and guacamole salsa came, and Nathan sighed happily. “Ah. This is heaven.”

“On that, babe, you and I are of the same mind.” He tilted his head. “Do you like anything besides cooking?”

“There are things besides cooking?” Nathan winked and scooped up some salsa with a chip. “I kid. Baseball. Legos. And garage sales.”

“‘Legos’?”

Nathan nodded his head. “I have an entire storage building full of them. It was like one of my things, I guess. I couldn’t afford them when I was a kid, and when I grew up, and I could afford to, so I bought them. Then it was something I could do when I got off work at two in the morning, and I couldn’t go to sleep right away. You know, I’d be up, I’d be sitting there, and I could click bricks together.” Nathan pushed the guacamole closer, offering it to him. “So what about you? You’ve got to have some kind of a hobby that you’re embarrassed to tell your rough-and-tumble cowboy friends.”

“I know how to crochet.”

And he was really good at it, too. It was peaceful, and it ended up making things that were useful, and he liked that. He liked things that made other things.

“My grandpa could knit.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he said it was a skill that he’d been taught, he knew how to do, it and it was useful, so he did it. He loved it. He could spend hours. He made all sorts of hats and scarves and sweaters and shit. I never could quite get it, but I kind of remember the sound of the needles sliding together.”

“Were they Texans?”

“They were. Their parents had both come to the United States. From Nova Scotia.”

“My people have been from New Mexico for a long time. They’re like old, conservative New Mexico.” Ames grinned. “And Mom has people who claim to be from Spain.”

“Ah. So old New Mexican that they don’t speak Spanish? I knew people like that in Texas.” Nathan munched and sipped his beer in turns.

“Yep. I do speak Spanish, though. Six years in school, and I worked on a place up in Chama where no one spoke English at all. That will brush up your skills fast.” Ames remembered the Dominguez family so fondly.

“My kitchen Spanish is exceptional. So is my kitchen French.”

Kitchen Spanish. Ha. “So did you learn French in school?”

“Nope.” Nathan shook his head. “I staged in a restaurant outside of Nice. You want to talk about being dunked into a language. I had no idea what I was doing, and Chef didn’t care.”

“Okay, so what’s this stodge ? It sounds gross.”

“It’s sort of like an internship, really. You go for a certain period of time, and you work in a kitchen. You learn about the chef’s style, and you learn about the chef’s food. It’s not a permanent position, and you’re not even looking for a permanent position a lot of the time. It’s a place to go and learn from somebody who really knows what they’re doing.”

“Dude, that’s kind of cool. We do something in that vein, kind of. You have to learn how to rodeo, right? You have to learn how to cowboy. There’s not rules for it so much as it’s just a thing.”

“I think that’s like how it is in most of life, right? Most trades—all this is, is a trade—you have to learn from somebody, and you can’t learn it from a book.”

Ames liked that. “You gonna write a cookbook one day.”

“I doubt it, but I never say never. I have notebooks and notebooks filled with recipes, of experiments, of disasters and successes, you know.”

He did know, because he watched Sophie carry that damn notebook of hers around all the time, scribbling and writing in it, so serious. “Chef gave me this book,” she’d tell him. “It’s for me to take my notes in so that I know what I’m doing. You have to be able to replicate your work.”

“Has it been hard coming here?” The words kind of slipped out of his mouth, and he hadn’t intended to say them.

Because he wasn’t absolutely sure he wanted to know what the answer was.

Nathan shrugged. “There was a culture shock, for sure. But I think I’m starting to kind of fit in a little bit. It’s hard, though. When you have a kitchen brigade, you have a built-in family, friends. Folks you can go to the bar with after work or go have pancakes at midnight. Here, if I want pancakes at midnight, I have to open up the kitchen and make a mess and turn on lights—so I don’t.”

“Shit, man. I am the king of midnight pancakes. You can come to my place anytime. Or call me. I’ll run you out to the truck stop. There’s one about twenty miles north. It doesn’t take but a few to get there. It’s twenty-four-seven.” Ames could and would provide late-night food if it kept Nathan here longer.

“Yeah. Well. I’ll take you up on that.”

Not maybe I’ll take you up on that.

Not oh, that’s neat

Or where’s that truck stop.

I’ll take you up on that.

This was feeling more and more like a thing.

Hopefully it was a good thing. Because he wasn’t sure his heart could handle losing his good thing.