Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

8. Clyde

eight

Clyde

B last that stupid woman. The same one that showed up late yesterday didn’t show up at all today. Mrs. Cole was hot enough that we could fry eggs on her forehead. I’m guessing my new boss was trying to give the poor soul one last chance but she was, for sure, getting fired after this.

I put my head down and worked at whatever needed doing. By the time the noon hour hit, the kitchen was in full meltdown. Knowing what was needed, I simply handed the bussing equipment to the kid who’d just come in, slipped into the back, washed up, and joined the line cook.

At first, the guy looked at me funny, then nodded. “You do the chicken. Crawford City can put away a lot of fried chicken, and it never does well for us to run out.”

I nodded as I reached for the flouring tub. Mrs. Cole walked in and spotted me tossing battered chicken in the fryer. I almost expected her to complain about me taking the initiative, but a smile crossed her face instead.

Okay, well, I’d done right .

We rushed through lunch, then I joined the kid bussing tables to help clean up the dining room before the dinner crowd hit. Once again, as the crowds increased, I slipped back to the line and helped keep the food coming.

I worked an extra couple of hours before Mrs. Cole sent me packing again. “I don’t have the money to be paying overtime, so you get on back home,” she chastised, but then patted me on the back, letting me know she appreciated my efforts today.

I ate quickly, knowing from experience I was so tired that I’d probably fall asleep standing up, and I hadn’t been wrong. Even though the sun still shone, I knew I had just enough energy to walk back to my motel room and take a shower. Then I’d crash like a lead balloon.

The old motel sat across from a beer joint. I knew to stay away from there. It seemed every man I’d ever dated came out of a place like that, and every man I’d ever dated was about as worthless as a cracked tooth and just as painful.

As I rounded the corner, I ran headlong into someone walking in the opposite direction. “Ouch,” I said, grabbing my head where I’d bumped it after ricocheting off the man’s hard frame.

“Oh, sorry, are you okay?” he asked, and I felt a couple of large hands reach over to steady me.

“I think so,” I said before the words died in my mouth. The silver fox from the day before stood in front of me. Damn, why do attractive men have such a visceral impact on me?

I felt my face flush before all the blood rushed from my head down to my lower regions. I immediately shook it off, or tried to. No more men! I chastised myself.

“I-I’ve got to go,” I said, slipping out of the man’s grasp.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

I almost didn’t answer, determined not to get involved. I knew no one put their hands on someone like he had if they weren’t interested in exploring more. His touch had lingered a little too long, and damned if I didn’t like the feel of it.

“Clyde,” is all I said as I darted past him, forcing myself not to look back.

I could almost feel the silver fox’s eyes on my back. If I were lucky, he’d only be a town visitor. He certainly didn’t seem to fit in this part of the world with his fancy haircut, perfectly trimmed beard, and designer clothes. No, he was a tourist, and damn, it’d be better for me when he moved on from Crawford City.

I knew I was being silly, thinking Crawford City would be anything but a stopover for me as well. Nothing lasted long when it came to me and small towns—cities, too, for that matter. I always made some bad decision, almost always regarding some loser, and then I’d be off without any foundation to keep me stable.

I sighed as I closed the door of my motel room and began stripping out of my clothes. I needed a shower after working all day in the hot, sweaty kitchen. I’d let myself indulge in thoughts of being able to stay put for a change. Crawford City seemed nice. If Mrs. Cole was correct, it was even nice to people like me. That still seemed off to me. I couldn’t imagine any small Tennessee town tolerant of gay people.

The world was changing, though. Maybe I was wrong. Anyway, indulgences were for quick showers, then it was time to get your head back on straight. Although anything straight for me was impossible, I’d try in this case.

Images of the man I’d run into forced themselves into my head as I scrubbed off the day. I’d always dreamed of having a loving husband who cuddled me after a long day of work. Those dreams had been behind all my troubles, though. Sorry, sexy silver fox. Starting now, there will be no more men to keep me from finding peace.

I dried off, hung my towel over the shower rod, and climbed into bed. I thought about watching some TV, but I needed rest more than anything. Unfortunately, my stubborn brain thrust images of the man front and center, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Who was he? Where was he from? So many questions. All stupid shit that would sink me again. I banged my hands against the mattress and sighed. You’d think someone who still had the bruises from his last mistake would know better than to obsess over the next bad choice.

I guess that’s just what I am, a loser who couldn’t learn from his past mistakes. “Well, screw that!” I yelled into the room.

Banging on the wall shocked me enough to calm my inner thoughts. I closed my eyes and, this time, fell into a fitful sleep. Fitful was better than none, though.