Page 7 of Pretty ’n Peak

It was still pretty new, though the sleek black paint job had been inevitably scuffed by loads of plaster, paint, cement, and construction tools.

Mostly, he was worried because each of the doors said Delgado Construction in neat, white letters, large enough to see down the block. Below was the phone number and website for the business.

He wouldn’t have any anonymity. What if someone saw him there and knew where he’d been? His heart started to pound, even though the little B&B was too far away for that to be anywhere near possible.

Then another thought occurred to him. What if some hot Dom—his mind immediately conjured a sexy, older Daddy with russet skin and salt and pepper hair—saw the truck and thought he was just there to work? Or looked down on him for his job?

Maybe he could rent a car? Or borrow Maria José’s for the weekend?

No, not enough time for the first option, and if he even asked about the second, Maria José would never let it go.

His brothers hadn’t let up on the teasing as it was.

It was a relief when another truck, dark red but otherwise matching his, pulled into the parking lot.

“Hey, Silas, Leo.” He gave the two fellow employees a nod as they climbed out of the truck, amid the similar greetings from his brothers.

“Look at you!” Ian remarked teasingly to Leo. “¡Qué bonito!”

Mateo’s head whipped up. Leo, Maria José’s husband and the overseer for their larger construction sites, was wearing a pale pink collared shirt. It looked good on him. Professional, with his dark gray slacks.

But since it was pink, someone had to tease about it being pretty.

Leo looked down at his shirt, then laughed. “My wife gave it to me. You want to try talking her out of something?”

And there it was. The reason Mateo dreaded coming out.

It was alright to wear pink, as long as you first asserted your marriage, and then blamed it on your wife.

It wasn’t like his family was going around shouting homophobic slurs at people. But his brothers had all gone through a “no homo” phase in high school without anyone saying a word. He’d never noticed it much until recently, but he’d heard words like maricón and barbilindo jokingly slip from their mouths if they saw a pretty man walking down the street.

It didn’t even sound like they were being cruel, just adding it into the general teasing.

But sometimes that teasing could cut like knives.

Mateo opened the door of his truck. The sooner he got moving, the sooner he could leave.

“I want pictures!” Maria José called out, just before he slammed the door.

Right. Of his hypothetical girlfriend.

He gave her a quick wave and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive took just over the promised two hours, and Mateo spent it oscillating between excitement and anxiety. When he finally pulled into the parking lot, his back was starting to ache and his joints clamored for movement. Still, he needed a moment to take it all in.

Holy shit. He was really here.

The Meadowlark Lodge looked like something out of a travel magazine. It was all smooth glass and knotted pine, somehow both attractively modern and charmingly rustic. The A-frame lobby was flanked by picturesque columns with little windows that must be bedrooms, and the tree-lined gorge made a dramatic landscape behind it.

It was a far cry from the Motel 6s Mateo had always chosen on his rare trips out of town. This place wasn’t quite swanky. More a mixture of wholesome and decadent.

Even if nothing else worked out, he was still going to treat himself. For the rest of the weekend, the lodge was going to be filled with kinky gay men. Men like him.

Or at least like he imagined he might be.

Bright fuchsia azaleas outlined a little trail that drifted back to where he figured the cabins must be. The sun was setting over the mountains, the last golden rays meeting the honeyed pine beams of the lodge.

Mateo took a deep breath, getting ready to walk in. He grabbed for the keys, fingers clumsy like he’d never pulled them out of the ignition before. When he started to move, he had to laugh because he hadn’t even taken his foot off the brake. He’d just been sitting there, stunned.