7. Ridley
SEVEN
RIDLEY
“Is something in the air making everyone in town hungry or what?” I lean on the silver counter in the kitchen, waiting for my table’s food to come up, and it’s the first time in hours I’ve had more than a minute to chill.
Wren glances up, sort of smiling, but I can tell he’s stressed as he barks out orders to the staff and finishes dressing a plate of grilled salmon.
“Is this a ‘be careful what you wish for’ situation?” he asks, sliding the dish forward. “I need the mash, stat.”
“Coming, Chef,” a cook hollers, sprinkling chives on a side dish of creamy garlic mashed potatoes before swinging around to set it next to the fish.
I place the items on a tray even though it’s not my table, checking the order slip. “Needs broccoli.”
“Yep.” Wren snaps his fingers. “Veg, Rinaldo?”
“Coming, chef. Twenty seconds.”
Jerryn pushes through the kitchen doors, joining me as he waits for the broccoli. “Fuck, it’s crazy out there.”
“We haven’t even started the chaos of next week yet.”
“Broccoli up,” Wren says, sliding the dish forward.
Jerryn loads his stuff, smiles, and carries the food out.
“ETA?” I ask.
Wren turns to me, meeting my gaze, and for just a second I indulge in the memory of last night—his cum coating my tongue, his moans a new favorite song.
“Table?”
“Four.”
His gaze shifts to the order slips. “Carlos has the steak. Frites are in the fryer. Time, Carlos?”
“Three minutes, Chef.”
“Club sandwich in four,” another cook calls out.
“Given more thought to hiring?”
Wren chuckles. “Sure the fuck am tonight. This is crazy. I mean, I fucking love it, but wow.”
“You should step out into the dining room when you get a chance. We have a forty-minute wait.”
His smile grows. “Incredible.”
“It’s your food, man. They wouldn’t beat the doors down like this for shitty wings and greasy fries.”
“Thanks, Rid.”
“Steak up,” Carlos yells.
The other cook adds the fries and I set them on a tray just as the club sandwich arrives.
“Perfect timing as always.” I wink, lifting the tray above my head. “Two hours until the kitchen closes.”
“We’ve got this,” Wren says.
“I know you do.”
I deliver the food to the table then jump back in, taking orders and dropping off drinks. All of us are here tonight except Kit and Stewart, who are attending some university event. Indy grins, bumping his shoulder to mine as he passes me on his way to the kitchen while I head to the bar.
Moby’s is doing better than any of us expected it to, even Indy.
We thought we’d have a quiet neighborhood bar where locals hung out with college kids, but that’s not at all what’s been happening.
In the past six months, we’ve had write-ups in magazines and online social pages recommending us, and now we’re getting people coming in from the entire New Onyx metro area.
The locals consistently show up for us too, keeping traffic steady throughout the day.
It’s honestly amazing, but I’m not twenty anymore, and I’m tired. I’m already dreaming of a hot shower later and getting off my feet. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and have a midnight visit again.
Shaking my head, I punch in the next order, mentally convincing myself to get over it.
It was an anomaly, that much I’m sure of.
When it was all over, Wren looked like a terrified rabbit staring down a rabid wolf.
He let his libido lead the way and I was the lucky bastard caught in his sights, but hoping for a repeat would be stupid.
I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.
I’m chalking it up to a one-hit wonder, adding to my collection of them, and even though it outranks every single one before him, it has to be enough.
Hours later, I unlock the front door and step inside, joined by Indy, Salem, Bane, Jerryn, Lowen, Oakley, and Wren. We all stayed to clean tonight, exhausted as we are, but we’ve learned the hard way that leaving the cleanup for morning is far worse than just dealing with it.
“I think I’m too wired to sleep,” Salem says as he stretches his arms above his head.
“We don’t have to sleep,” Indy says, more growl than speech.
“Isn’t your dick about to fall off by now?” Bane asks, but Indy just laughs.
“My dick is doing just fine.”
“Can confirm.” Salem waggles his eyebrows.
“I’m starving,” Oakley groans, rubbing his belly. “No time to eat tonight.”
“I can whip something up real fast,” Wren offers, rubbing his eyes, but the exhaustion in his voice is clear.
Before I can protest, Lowen does. “No, Wren. You just spent twelve hours busting your ass in the kitchen. We can make our own late-night snacks.”
Wren nods, dragging a hand through his ginger curls. “I’m gonna go up and shower.” His eyes linger on me for a second. “Hope I can sleep tonight.”
“Me too. You earned it.”
I watch him shuffle up the stairs then turn to find my friends discussing late-night meal ideas.
“You joining us, Rid?” Jerryn asks.
I glance up the stairs, torn between the lure of my bed with the possibility of sleep and the reality that it will likely continue to elude me.
“I’ll stay for a while.”
“Still having trouble sleeping?” Indy asks on our way to the kitchen.
“Yeah. I usually get a few hours though. It just takes a while to get there.” But not last night after an epic orgasm and a delicious sandwich. I slept so good I almost didn’t remember my name when I woke up.
We busy ourselves in the kitchen making ham and cheese sandwiches and chips, all of us gathered around the large island that is probably the only thing keeping most of us upright. My legs feel like heavy weights, but the company of my friends keeps my mood up.
“I can’t believe this all worked out like it has,” I say, suddenly and out of context.
Everyone stops talking and looks at me.
“What do you mean?” Indy asks.
“All of it. The house, the bar, that fact that twenty years in, we’re all still friends. It’s wild when you think about it.”
Indy grins. “Yeah.”
“And it’s growing,” Lowen says. “We’re adding new people to our lives.” He glances at Oakley, smiling. “People who make it even better.”
Oakley leans over and kisses his man’s cheek, and I’d swear he has cartoon hearts in his eyes. Seeing Lowen in love is freaking awesome. None of us thought he’d go any further than hooking up with Oakley, but now look at them.
My attention shifts to the entryway when a freshly showered Wren appears.
My cock literally twitches at the sight of his damp curls framing his face, a t-shirt that’s a little tight so it shows off the softness of his belly and the pebbled texture of his nipples, and the ubiquitous basketball shorts.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.
“Want a sandwich?” Bane asks. “We have two left.”
Wren nods, padding over and squeezing between Jerryn and Salem for a place at the island. He grabs a sandwich and a handful of chips that he puts on a paper towel, and as he takes a bite, his eyes flicker to mine.
Is he replaying what happened between us last night the way I am? Does the taste of my skin linger the way his does for me? Does he want more?
Chatter fills the silence around us, both of us eating without contributing until Bane nudges me with his arm.
“What?”
He chuckles. “A customer told Jerr that there were rumors this place is haunted.”
“I think we’d know by now. We’ve been here over a year.”
“True,” Jerryn says. “But there was that weird rattling in the attic that Oakley and his team never found the source of.”
“It’s gone now,” I say.
“No it’s not,” Wren says absentmindedly as he pops a chip in his mouth, drawing all eyes to him.
“No?” I ask.
“I hear it from my room a lot. I figured it was old pipes or something.”
“We don’t have old pipes anymore,” Lowen says. “What do you hear exactly?”
Wren shrugs. “Sometimes it’s like a rattle, like you said, but other times it sounds like knocking.”
“Like knocking on a door?” Salem asks.
“Yeah. The windowpanes shake sometimes too. I thought it was a draft.”
“We don’t have drafts,” Lowen says, looking at Oakley, who shakes his head in agreement.
“Come on, guys.” I chuckle. “We’re not actually thinking the place is haunted, right?”
“Do you have a better explanation?” Bane asks.
“Yeah. It’s an old fucking house. Sure, it’s been renovated, but the bones are the bones. You’re gonna hear shit sometimes.”
Wren nods, picking at some ham on the side of his sandwich. “Totally. Except that doesn’t explain the whispers.”
Lowen blanches. “The what?”
Wren grins. “Sorry. I’m just teasing about the last part. I’m a horror movie fan.”
Lowen exhales. “You and Ridley with the horror stuff.”
Wren winks at me and I chuckle.
“If it is haunted, it’s a pretty chill ghost,” I add. “Works for me.”
“I think we should cleanse it,” Lowen says. “Can’t be too careful these days.”
“Or a priest can bless it,” Bane adds.
“Or both,” Jerryn says.
Shaking my head, I grab another chip from the bowl. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Hey,” Salem says. “Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep. It’s a ghost.”
“I wish. This has been going on for years, way before living here.”
“Not being able to sleep when you want to…” Salem shakes his head as his words trail off. “It must suck.”
“It does,” Wren interjects. “I’m so tired right now that it doesn’t seem possible to be awake, but unless this is an elaborate dream, I am.”
“Does anything help?” Indy asks.
Wren seems to ponder the question, his gaze distant until he blinks and focuses on Indy. “A few things, but they aren’t always available.”
“Like?” Jerryn asks so innocently that Bane musses his hair with a soft smile on his face. “What? Did I miss something?”
“Sex, I’m guessing,” Salem says.
Wren blushes, averting his eyes while Jerryn whispers, “Right,” and nods.
“Orgasms help,” Wren says. “But things with Trent were so bad even that didn’t help. Solo time has lost its appeal.” He glances up then away again. “But when it’s good, it puts me out.”
My cock reacts to the veiled conversation. At least I know it was good for him too.