Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

5. Ruther

five

Ruther

I stood along the main street. Very little had changed since I’d seen it last, though the trees lining the street were fuller. At one time, I could see my old home on the hill from this vantage. Now, I couldn’t even tell the house or the Queen Anne near it were up there.

A shiver went through me as I thought of the house and, inevitably, the fire. For a split second, I could feel the flames lapping at my skin and smell my burnt flesh before Corey put his hand on my arm.

“You okay?” he asked.

I shook off the terror. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go face the demons.”

Corey followed my gaze toward the old house and shook his head, clearly understanding. “No need to face that one quite yet. Why don’t we go to the café for breakfast first? You can get your bearings and decide where to go from there.”

Corey had begun preparing the moment we boarded my private jet to fly from New York to Nashville. He’d told me at least half a dozen times that he’d arranged a hotel in Nashville, just in case Crawford City was too much for me to handle.

The man was a menace most of the time, but as the years progressed, he’d also proven to care about me. I’d often wondered if there was any hope that we could be more than employer and employee, but I always reached the same conclusion.

The idea was preposterous. Corey wasn’t my type and although I loved him, he was like my family. Not a lover in any way.

I snickered as I thought about it while we walked toward the café. I was never going to be his type either, as evidenced by the string of models he’d dated and dumped over the years. I wasn’t anywhere near perfect enough. The smile slipped from my face as I thought of my scars.

I kept my burned body hidden from everyone, Corey included. Even the few men I’d dated over the past twenty years had only caught glimpses. The surgeries had helped, but the scars would never be gone, at least not entirely. They spanned across my torso, so keeping my shirt on usually hid the worst of them.

We walked into the Crawford City Café and were immediately confronted by a smiling woman. “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said before waving her hand around the cute little place. “Sit anywhere you like. We’ve got the buffet, or you can order. There’s a menu on every table.”

I followed Corey to a booth and slid in as I watched him check the seat for crumbs, then wipe his pretentious finger across the top of the table. When it appeared clean enough, he sat down.

“My God, are you always like this?” I asked.

He stopped unfolding a paper napkin to use as a placemat and looked at me. “Like what?”

“A pretentious snob?” I asked.

He promptly ignored me, picked up the menu, and began to peruse it.

When the same woman who’d greeted us approached with coffee, I gladly allowed her to pour me a cup. We’d left New York in the wee hours of the morning to avoid a storm that was building over West Virginia, so I needed a caffeine boost.

“So, what’ll you have?” she asked.

“I’ll have the buffet,” I announced, and Corey cringed across from me. Hoping the woman wouldn’t pay him any mind, I asked her about the town.

She smiled and answered my questions while Corey continued to peruse the menu. When the woman finished giving me her elevator pitch for the town, Corey said, “I’ll have the eggs Benedict.”

The woman frowned. “I’ll warn you, I just hired a new short-order cook, and this will be the first breakfast he’s fixed, so you’re gonna hafta be a guinea pig. Is that okay?”

Corey sighed and shrugged. “If it sucks, I’ll let you know.”

I shook my head as the woman nodded and disappeared through the back.

“How about we try not offending the locals. This isn’t New York, and since our dining options here in town are extremely limited, we may be eating here a lot.”

Corey laughed. “Hardly. I’ll cook until I can hire someone to do it for us. But I’ll try not to be so…myself,” he said dryly.

“Thank you,” I replied and took a swig of my surprisingly decent coffee.

Corey flipped through his phone as I looked around the café. It was dated, almost like it hadn’t been updated since I left thirty years ago. But, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember eating here.

Like Corey, I searched for signs of the café being dirty, but everything seemed clean. It appeared as if someone had scrubbed the floors on their hands and knees. That spoke volumes about the place, and I just hoped the food was good.

The woman returned with a plate for the buffet, told me I could go help myself, and that Corey’s food would be ready soon. Then she promptly disappeared again.

My grandmother had grown up in the house on the hill. She always considered herself a Southern woman instead of a New Englander like the rest of us. As I surveyed the buffet, I smiled when I saw the same types of food she’d cooked when I was young.

As our server had predicted, Corey’s food arrived just as I returned to the table. She placed the steaming food in front of him as I sat down. For a moment, before he could contain it, I saw pleasure in Corey’s expression.

“You boys let me know if you need anything else,” the woman said.

I dug into my food, ignoring the fact she had called me a boy, while Corey looked at me in disgust. “You know there are probably more germs on that buffet than on the floor.”

“It's possible,” I conceded, “but I’ve literally watched someone wipe down those serving utensils three times since we arrived, and even you can’t say the place isn’t spick-and-span. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my chances.”

“Well, it’s your funeral,” he said and, using his knife, cut through the eggs Benedict. I’m not a foodie. Most of the time, I eat what’s put in front of me and don’t worry so much about what I’m eating, but even I could see Corey’s meal was cooked perfectly.

The poached eggs poured over the rest of the meal as he cut through them, and the creamy sauce mixed beautifully with the eggs.

Corey cut a small piece and placed it in his mouth, and I watched as my pompous assistant lost control just long enough for pleasure to wash over him at the taste.

“That good, huh?” I asked, and Corey’s eyes popped open.

He finished chewing and nodded. In a conspiratory voice, he said, “This is five-star quality. What’s it doing being cooked in a two-bit country café in the middle of nowhere?”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Corey, you are just wrong.”

I dug into my own meal then, and as the rich flavors swarmed in my mouth, the same pleasures swept through me that I’d seen on Corey’s face a moment before.

“The food here is excellent,” I said as our server passed our table.

“Best for miles around, so I’m told,” she replied with a proud smile.

“This really is excellent,” Corey told her. “I can’t remember when I’ve had eggs Benedict as good as this.”

She eyed him for a moment, clearly looking to see if he was being honest, and when she accepted the fact that Corey wasn’t someone to give idle compliments, she nodded. “That’s good news. I haven’t had time to test my new cook’s skills. I’ll let him know you approved.”

Just as she said that, a young woman rushed into the café and straight back to the kitchen. A flash of annoyance crossed our server’s face before she masked it and refilled my coffee cup.

I watched as she followed the woman, then I glanced at my watch. Considering it was a quarter past the hour, she was probably late for work. From the look on our server’s face, I guessed there was a serious talk going on in the kitchen.

I finished my food and contemplated going back for seconds, then remembered I couldn’t work out at my home gym or see my personal trainer in Crawford City and decided to pass. Southern food was designed to keep hardworking people fueled to work, and it’d be all I could do to somehow work off what I’d already eaten.

I leaned back in my seat as Corey finished eating and returned his attention to his phone. “Crap, really?” he said, then swiped the phone and made a call. “Denise, it’s Corey. No, you are supposed to go to the house today and begin the repairs. I have no idea how long we’ll be here. That’s why I asked you to—”

I stopped listening. Since I’d sold the business and was spending more time at home, I’d learned that several things in my apartment weren’t conducive to being there so much. The toilet downstairs was fashion with no form. The kitchen wasn’t much better. So, I’d asked Corey to arrange to have some work done on the place while I was away. Clearly, he was now dealing with the predictable issues that come with overseeing a remodel.

Once again, I praised the universe that I had the resources to hire someone to handle this sort of thing.

I heard a commotion in the direction of the kitchen and glanced up just in time to see a man emerge from the back with a large gray tray. I watched transfixed as the extremely handsome man began bussing tables.

He wasn’t what I’d consider tall, maybe five-nine, five-ten at most. A thin build but strong arms. The kind that came from working hard for a living rather than hitting the gym. I watched as he circled the restaurant, cleaning tables and wiping down booths.

My temperature rose when his lithe body leaned over a table to gather dishes. His perfectly round butt was a lovely sight.

“Like what you see?” Corey said, and my face immediately blushed bright red.

“Hush,” I said and took a swig of my now cold coffee. I usually would’ve cringed, but I didn’t want to give Corey the satisfaction.

He just chuckled, and my blush deepened as the man came to our table and asked, in a sexy Southern drawl, if he could take our plates.

“Um, yes, that’d be nice,” I stammered, giving Corey the stink eye as he chuckled into his water.

The handsome man smiled at me and disappeared into the back with our plates. Unable to help myself, I watched him go.

“You should ask for his number,” Corey said, and thinking he was teasing, I looked back, ready to nail him for it. His face didn’t register humor, though. Instead, he looked concerned.

“I don’t know if he’s gay or bi.”

“So ask.”

“This isn’t New York, Corey. You can’t just go around asking strange men about their sexuality.”

“I could give your number to him, if you’re interested. Are you two gonna be around for a while?” a server asked. I hadn’t even seen the younger woman come our way.

“No…well, yes. Or, well, maybe,” I stammered. “But no to giving my number out. I’m here on personal business, not to find a date.” I gave Corey a withering look, then smiled at the server. “Besides, I’m here for at least a week, so I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

She returned my smile. “I’m sure,” she repeated, placing our check face down on the table. “You can pay me whenever you’re ready.” Before she could leave, I handed her my credit card.

Once we’d paid, I looked around, hoping to see the sexy man again. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. With nothing left to distract me from my mission here in Crawford City, it was time to face the demons ingrained in my psyche.