Apologies to Robert Frost
REG STARED intently down from the walkway at the giant vats of whey being churned before being strained, forced into an oaken form, and aged until their contents had a dense, pliable consistency.
Nothing about the process made Reg crave a charcuterie board.
“Oh,” Ilia said next to him as they stood in the viewing gallery of the Tillamook Cheese factory, where much of the tour was conducted. “That’s where cheese comes from.”
“Cows,” said Reynaldo on Ilia’s other side. “That’s why there was a giant cow on the front of the building and all the talk about cows as we wandered down in the foyer. Cheese comes from cows.”
“Well, there’s some stops on the way,” Ilia said seriously. “I mean, you don’t just squirt cheese right out of their udders.” He gestured to the floor beneath them. “As you can see, it’s a process.”
“Do you like cheese?” Reg asked.
Ilia nodded. “I like everything,” he said cheerfully. “If it is food, I will eat it. Is there food at the end of this tour?”
“Ooh,” Reynaldo said. “I could use some cheese.”
“I could also use some ice cream,” Anthony said on Reg’s other side. “They’ve got a café downstairs, and I’m not ready for dinner yet, but ice cream, that dream I can have.”
Reg stared at him stupidly and smiled. Something about Anthony in general made him smile—he couldn’t even say what at this point.
Two nights in a row with that strong body sleeping at his back, assuring him that nothing bad was going to happen on his watch, had pretty much cemented not only Reg’s attraction to the man, but his comfort.
He’d always known he’d be slow to bond with somebody intimately—he had a hard time being comfortable with strangers in the same room, much less another human in his bed.
But Anthony had put in the work, the four months of getting to know him, the quiet touching, the gentle, noninsistent presence.
The day before, as Reg had been hauling Reynaldo out of the surf, he’d been cold, shaking, and scared.
Anthony’s warm hand on his elbow to steady him had made the rest of the rescue seem like basic logic, one step and then the other.
And his arm, wrapped around Reg’s middle, had been the only thing that allowed Reg to sleep.
Without warning, a wave of longing—as intense as the sleeper wave on the beach that had nearly dragged him and Reynaldo out to sea—swept over him, and Reg felt an acute sense of want.
Physical want.
A desire to touch Anthony more.
Oh. So this is why people write songs and do stupid things for love.
He thought it logically, but only because his stomach was clenched and his entire physical being was illogical with need.
Anthony, who was laughing at his own joke about ice cream—and enjoying how excited the boys got about things like cheese snacks and ice cream and maybe some crackers as well—suddenly caught Reg’s gaze.
He gave the boys a wink over Reg’s shoulder, and while Reg tried to pull himself together—he was a chaperone for sweet hell’s sake!—Anthony leaned into his space, captured his chin with two callused fingers, and held Reg’s face in place for a kiss, not lewd but deep, thoughtful, and possessive.
Just enough to quiet the screaming in Reg’s stomach and to let him breathe while they continued to be responsible adults in charge of two impressionable teenagers.
“Later,” Anthony whispered in his ear, and Reg nodded before they both took a step back and checked to see if the boys had taken off to give them privacy.
As. If.
Part of it was basic safety, Reg thought primly. He and Anthony had come up with the idea to tour the cheese factory after the splendid scenery along the Oregon coast had begun to pall a little with the forced six hours of driving.
Coos Bay had been lovely—foggy and mysterious as they’d pulled up to park at the boardwalk, and then the fog had burned away to reveal the dazzle of the water by the pier.
The rock formations of the Oregon coast had been on full display as they’d pulled out, full of fish and chips (and some apples and oranges as well—Reg had insisted that everybody have some fruit, or, he said, they’d never poop again), and resumed their tour of the jagged shores of the Pacific Ocean.
But you can only sell great scenery for so long to active teenaged bodies, and Anthony had been driving when Reg suggested the tour of the cheese factory.
They’d perked up almost immediately and had been practically angelic as they’d toured the place. In fact they’d reminded Reg of why he volunteered with Adelle in the first place.
Kids really could be the best. Curious, funny, excited about learning new things. They’d been fascinated by the cheese-making process, really excited about the free samples, and super grateful that they lived close enough to farm and pastureland to get their milk and dairy products fresh.
Reg hadn’t pointed out that this journey might take them out of the “cheese belt”—he figured Canada had lots of cows too, right?
Keeping his heart from aching for the two of them had become a full-time fight, and he wouldn’t be able to do it without Anthony’s steadying presence.
And God, did Reg miss his phone.
More specifically, he missed his family on the other end of the phone. He wanted to text them so badly. Val’s unflappable advice, Sal’s sass, Prock’s unfailing support—even Laure’s nagging and Dean’s sarcasm. He was used to them being his Greek chorus, the sound of his day.
And Chance, his sunshiny little brother, was his best friend.
Now he had to navigate this frightening situation with the teenagers and the strange new situation with Anthony, without any help or backup.
He’d felt lonely for most of his life, but his siblings had been the only reason he’d never felt alone. And while he found that Anthony’s cheerful fearlessness seemed to assuage his loneliness, that didn’t mean he missed his siblings any less.
Reg was fixed on this very subject as they took the stairs down to the lobby and found the restaurant, and he only came out of it when he reached for his wallet to pay for their ice cream—and the several pounds of cheese “snack packs” the boys had asked to buy.
“I’ve got it,” Anthony said softly. “I stopped at an ATM in San Francisco. I have a lot of cash on me.”
Reg gave him a grateful smile—but also a pained one. He had work waiting for him on his computer, and he wondered if he’d have to give up his apartment and move in with his parents after this.
He must have been pretty transparent, though, because Anthony forked out a hundred and fifty dollars for premium cheese and ice cream and sent the boys to go find them a table before turning quietly to him and saying, “Things getting a little tight?”
Reg grimaced. “Yeah. I mean, Dean or Sal can probably front me until I recover from this, but I don’t have a lot of cash on hand. You?”
Anthony shrugged. “Business is doing great, actually. Dad could officially retire at any time, but he still loves teaching at the range and keeping his licenses current. We’ve been turning a steady profit almost since we opened the place, and after we stopped fighting Dad started the process for the LLC almost immediately, so if either one of us is ineligible to own firearms, that person becomes an investor while the other one of us takes over the business.
So yeah. I could basically take off to Thailand for a year, and as long as Dad keeps the place running, I’d still have my house when I got back. ”
Reg startled, staring at him as he balanced their tray of sundaes and splits. “Are you thinking about that?” he almost squeaked. “Running away to Thailand for a year?”
“No.” Anthony laughed, taking the tray from him and setting it on the table the boys had reserved. “Although this is pretty fun, and I wouldn’t mind taking my boyfriend to Hawaii sometime soon, to see if that’s good too.”
Reg gaped at him while everybody else pulled their frozen treat off the tray. “Your, uhm―”
“He’s talking about you, Mr. Royal,” Ilia said before shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. “Oh my God, that’s good. Thank you, Mr. McCauley, for spoiling us rotten out of guilt.”
Anthony chuckled. “He’s right a lot,” he said softly. “Yes, you are the boyfriend I would be taking to Hawaii. Would you mind?”
“No,” Reg said, staring at him, thinking of ocean and sand, of swimming and surfing and… and doing all the things with a glistening naked Anthony McCauley that he’d been dreaming about since they’d met. “I mean, yes.”
Anthony’s eyebrows rose.
“I mean, no, I wouldn’t mind. Yes, I would love to go. And, uhm, yes. I…. We still need to discuss how that would work,” he said, squeaking.
“Mm.” Anthony took a spoonful of ice cream off the cup on his tray and popped it into Reg’s mouth.
Reg’s eyes went to half-mast, and he sank into the sweetness and the chocolatiness and the cream of it.
“See?” Anthony murmured in a voice meant for Reg’s ears alone. “That’s how it would work.”
Reg swallowed, and then his eyes widened as he got the implications.
Anthony winked at him and gave him his own spoon and ice cream before turning back to the boys and asking them questions about lactose intolerance and if they’d need to take anything before they got back into the car.
Reg chuckled to himself and resumed eating his ice cream, but he was gazing out into space in a happy dream of him and Anthony eating ice cream in Hawaii when he saw something that made him choke.
“You okay?” Anthony asked in concern, and Reg hmmed softly. “Hey, guys—finish up when you’re ready, and then we’ll take turns hitting the head.”
“Ooh….” Reynaldo had pretty much wiped out his entire sundae in the time it had taken Reg to woolgather. “Okay, yeah. I gotta whiz.”
“Bathroom’s right over there,” Anthony said, giving Reg a sideways glance. “We’ll be right there. Ilia, go with him.”
Ilia followed, finishing the last of his sundae as he went.
“What did you see?” Anthony asked as he and Reg stood and finished cleaning the table of their detritus.
“Look through the big window to the parking lot,” Reg murmured. “What do you see?”