Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,51
was about him running up to Kyle to have lunch with Nate for the first time in…months. Not because he needed help. Not because he needed a shoulder to cry on.
Because he wanted to say hi. Visit. Show off a little bit and go, “ha ha ha, I figured it out on my own.”
“Honey, you know I don’t mind a bit.” Brent was watching him carefully, his expression unreadable.
“Thanks. I’m going to stop at the big H-E-B out there. You want me to bring something fabulous for our supper?” He wasn’t going to hook up. Hell, he’d bring Brent, but the man hadn’t seemed interested. Of course, “hey, come meet my ex” always sounded weird, so Trace had played it down…
“Sure. Something amazing, huh?”
“Maybe a grown-up supper?” He could grab a couple of steaks and some Gulf shrimp, surf and turf it up.
“Excellent. Grab some mac and cheese or pizza for the kids from the deli.”
“I can do that. Wine?” Trace was willing to flirt a little. Maybe a lot.
“Sounds like a plan.” Brent winked at him, which always made him flush with pleasure.
“Good deal. Okay. I look all right?”
“You look great.” Brent kinda chuckled. “You think he’ll recognize you?”
“Maybe? Maybe not.” Trace smoothed his dress shirt down. “It’s not like I look like a cowboy.”
“No, you look real good, though.” Brent gave him a hard once-over.
“Thank you. I’ll be back for supper.” He felt weirdly nervous, which was stupid but true.
“Good deal. Have fun with your buddy.” Brent kinda stood there, shifting from foot to foot.
“Yeah. I want to show off how good I have it now. See you in a few.”
He took the keys for the van from the hook. His car had been looked over and pronounced the biggest piece of shit in the history of pieces of shit and towed off for six hundred bucks.
The van was safe. Serviceable. Big enough for all the heathens.
He laughed as he pulled out, singing “Baby Shark” at the top of his lungs.
Trace needed to bolster himself for this. It was either going to be anticlimactic or kind of a trial. He bet on the former, really. Nate was a good man. A happy guy who needed a way less complicated life than Trace could offer.
Trace thought he had that now, so hopefully this would go really well.
He turned on the Eagles and headed toward Austin. He hadn’t been alone in the car in… Lord, forever. Maybe since before Taneshia passed.
When he got to Kyle, he remembered to put the restaurant into the GPS. Nate had picked it out, but he liked enchiladas fine, so he wasn’t going to complain.
Chips and salsa were good, no matter what. And he was craving guacamole.
He pulled into the parking lot next to Nate’s little blue Mustang.
Okay. He sat there for a minute, hands on the steering wheel. He really was proud of himself, so he needed to get over his jitters.
He hopped out of the van and bebopped in, reminding himself that he and Nate had been friends once upon a time, and the fact was, they’d always been better friends than lovers.
As soon as he walked into the restaurant, Nate rose from the table where he sat, smiling. “Trace! Wow, look at you!”
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” He grinned and took a hug. “I missed you.”
“Good. Good.” Nate led him back to the table. “Trace, this is Evan. Evan, this is my friend Trace.”
So to be fair, Evan—who was not Ivan or Igor—was a cute, lanky hipster who looked like he might own a barbecue joint.
“Hey there. I would have brought Brent, but he’s watching the kids. Nice to meet you, man.”
“Nice to meet you!” Evan shook his hand. “Sit, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.” He laughed, because he knew better. They’d had a rough breakup.
“Well, I know he was worried about you.” Evan looked so earnest.
“I know. He’s a decent man.” Trace smiled, feeling just a little uncomfortable. “Mostly.” He eased the words with a wink.
Nate laughed out loud. “Yeah, yeah. I try. Iced tea?”
“Please.” He waved down the server and made his order.
“Mmm. Enchiladas. Evan got the brisket tacos.”
“Mmm.” Trace fought the urge to say, “Of course he did.” That wasn’t fair.
“So.” Nate leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “What happened to your hair? You going back to teaching?”
“No. No, I have my hands full with kids and goats and Curly and chickens.”
“Goats?” Evan smiled, putting his elbows on the table. “So this is really, like,