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The wine was bitter with just a hint of sweetness to balance it out. Red wine wasn’t Josiah’s favorite thing, but after he tried the steak, he knew he’d be having at least two glasses. The food was amazing, the steak a perfect medium rare, the potatoes nice and creamy.
“This is beyond fantastic,” Josiah said. “I don’t think I’ve had a better meal at a restaurant.” Not that he had much restaurant experience beyond diners and simple mom-and-pop places along the highway. Eating out of the garbage cans of the fancier places definitely didn’t count. He shoved that maudlin thought away and focused on the perfect bites he kept putting in his mouth. Even the dinner rolls were flaky, moist, and everything he’d ever wanted in a piece of bread.
He did manage two glasses of wine and most of his plate of food before his stomach rebelled and said no more. Michael had done the same, his cheeks rosy from the wine, and he grinned like a fool over his very successful meal.
“I feel like I should leave you a tip,” Josiah teased.
“You can tip the chef by giving him a kiss later.”
“I think I can manage that. The chef definitely earned at least one kiss for his efforts.”
“Yeah? How do I earn two?”
“Did you make dessert?”
Michael’s eyes went comically wide. “Uh...”
“I’m joking.” Josiah reached over and briefly squeezed Michael’s wrist. “I couldn’t eat another bite for the rest of the evening. I am well and truly stuffed full of meat.” Michael’s eyebrows started wiggling with humor; Josiah laughed when he realized what he’d said. “Down, boy. Why don’t you find us a movie or something to watch, and I’ll do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. You deserve a bit of a rest as reward for that meal.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Michael topped off their wineglasses with the last from the open bottle, then strolled into the living room.
Josiah watched him go, appreciating the sight of Michael’s ass in those faded jeans, and got to work. Michael was the kind of cook who cleaned as he went, so there wasn’t a lot for Josiah to do besides their plates, the pan he’d cooked the steak in, and two pots. Some green beans were left, so he put those in a plastic container and slipped it into the fridge. A second bottle of wine was chilling, this one sweeter and fruitier.
With a grin, Josiah opened it and took it with him into the living room. Put the bottle on the side table, then sat next to Michael, who’d perched dead center on the couch. Josiah sat close without crowding him, glad he had his wineglass as a prop, because he wanted to reach over and kiss Michael. To crawl onto his lap and know he was safe, that Michael wouldn’t do anything Josiah did not invite.
His nerves kept him firmly in place—nerves slowly being beaten back by the warm buzz of alcohol. “So dinner and a movie, huh? That’s pretty classic for a first date.”
Michael gently tapped his knee against Josiah’s. “Not so classic, considering we technically slept together before we started dating.”
“True.” Didn’t count in Josiah’s book, though. Monday night had been all about comfort, and they’d only shared a bed that one time. When they actually slept together, there would way fewer clothes involved. “So no dessert but you bought two bottles of wine?”
“We can throw it in the freezer for two hours and make a sorbet of sorts. That can be dessert with a touch of alcohol.”
“It’s fine.” Josiah sipped his red wine. “You know, you’re kind of easy to wind up. Is that from so many years hosting swanky parties with protocols and fancy toast points and caterers who wear cummerbunds?”
“Pretty much. Although Kenny usually hired a party planner to manage the caterer and servers, so I only had to make my ten-minute appearance, pretend I liked all those people, and then I could go back to my office and hide.”
“I’ve heard you talk about your life in Austin and not liking to be sociable, but you were amazing last weekend at the picnic. You weren’t hiding from people—you were engaged, especially with the kids. Maybe you were just in the wrong environment before. Around stuffy people who didn’t really see you or understand you.”
“Maybe I was. I let my resentment and anger at my dad keep me away, stuck in a world I never really embraced. I thought being rich was the key to being happy, but if I really look back, I was just as unhappy in Austin as I was here.”
“What about being here now? Are you still unhappy?”
“No.” Michael ran his fingertip around the rim of his wineglass in an oddly mesmerizing way. “Dad and I had a really good talk the other night, about a lot of things. Neither one of us actually said ‘I forgive you’ for the fight we had, but I think we reached an understanding about it. I get him more than I used to, and I think he gets me. We feel like father and son again, and it’s been a long time.”
“Since your mom died?”
“Yeah.”
Josiah wanted to gulp his wine before venturing here, but if Michael answered him, he didn’t want to be sloshed when he got this story. “Michael, you can tell me to fuck off, but can I ask what happened between you and your dad? I’ve heard it was a falling-out because of your mother’s death, but no one’s ever told me how she died.”
Michael leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the wineglass dangling in the fingers of his right hand. He swirled the wine as he stared down at it, his jaw tight and occasionally twitching as his mind worked through something. Josiah stayed quiet, unsure if he’d crossed a line. He didn’t regret asking, though. If Michael truly wanted to date him, to get to know him, then Josiah needed to get to know Michael, too.
“Mom’s death is one of those small-town secrets that people who were around for it know,” Michael finally said, “but we don’t talk about it.”
