Reno dropped his head into his hands when his tenth date of the night got up and moved to the next table. He drew in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly on the off chance he could “Zen away” his frustration. Who knew four-minute speed dates could be so painfully long? Only halfway through the event, and he didn’t know if he could make it to the end.
“Go to The Rainbow Inn,” his dad had said. “Get out of your music studio and meet some men,” he’d said. “It’ll be good for you.”
Reno snorted. Right.
He really hadn’t had the time to spend driving all the way up to The Rainbow Inn—as it was known to the locals but was officially named The Retreat—for their gay speed-dating event, but his dad was set on him finding someone to share his life with. Before Christmas, which was all of three days away. He thought Reno spent too much time alone with his music and was constantly trying to set him up on blind dates.
Reno loved his dad. He couldn’t have asked for a better role model growing up, and his dad hadn’t batted an eyelash when Reno had come out. He’d just ruffled his hair, kissed the top of his head, and said, “I love you. Now, go set the table for dinner.”
So, for his dad’s sake, Reno said yes to a night of festive speed-dating. At least this way he didn’t have to spend half the night trying to come up with the politest way to cut a date short. A couple dozen four-minute dates with built-in endings he could handle much better.
And thank his gay stars for that.
His first date’s opening line was “I just want someone to have sex with while I look for my soul mate”. Insulting much? Reno had never used it before, but he was pretty sure that was what Grindr was for.
Things hadn’t improved a great deal from there.
Next up was a gorgeous young man—emphasis on young. He must have had some incredible fake ID because there was no way the kid was even old enough to drive, let alone attend a speed-dating event where the minimum age was midtwenties. He’d only been interested in finding a Sugar Daddy, it seemed. The moment Reno had said that wasn’t his scene, his “date” spent the remaining few minutes scanning the crowd for better prospects. Interesting thing Reno noticed: when the young man wasn’t all bright eyes and big smiles, he did look old enough to be there.
Following him was a very attractive man in a stylish suit that probably cost as much as Reno’s baby grand piano but whose personality was drier than the first Christmas turkey his dad had cooked after his parents divorced. All Reno could glean from the guy was that he worked at some legal firm in downtown Denver and was, of course, rich. Maybe this man was whom Reno’s last date was looking for.
There had been one interesting man. He was shorter than Reno by a good half foot, with curly dark hair, a closely trimmed beard, and kind brown eyes, who worked as an oceanographic cartographer. He’d been wearing an ugly green Christmas sweater depicting a naked muscular man with a Santa hat. A gift box hid his junk, and the saying read, “I have a big package for you.” Reno had laughed out loud. The ice breaker had been perfect, and he’d enjoyed their short conversation. Unfortunately, there had been zero spark. A romantic relationship wasn’t on the horizon for them, but Reno could see them becoming good friends.
Then there was the guy who looked down his nose at Reno with disdain after learning Reno was a musician. Funny how so many people assumed the “sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll” stereotype when he told them what his career was. Of course, his age and appearance leaned a little more toward rock ’n’ roll than classical composer. He didn’t have long hair or wear dark eyeliner; he didn’t have a ton of piercings and wasn’t covered in tattoos, though his fashion sense did tend toward denim, leather, and Doc Martens.
But the date that took the cake was the one that had just ended. The man hadn’t fully sat down before he started talking a mile a minute. His hair was dyed as black as night, and his complexion was so pale he could have passed for a vampire. His eyes were an unnatural shade of gold that could only be attained with colored contacts, and his veneers were so blindingly perfect Reno found he couldn’t look at them directly for more than a couple of seconds. Reno hadn’t said a single word as his vampire date barely took a breath—maybe he was a vampire!—as he regaled Reno with stories of his lavish jet-set lifestyle and all the countries he’d visited. The man had been trying way too hard to impress. Under all that costume and big talk and name-dropping, he was probably a great guy, if terribly insecure in himself to be putting on such a show.
Reno sighed and took a long draft of his microbrew. One thing about The Rainbow Inn, they always had the best local beer in Colorado. He rolled his shoulders back and mentally sang along with a jazzy Christmas song playing in the background while he psyched himself up to sit through another painful four minutes.
His next date, a tall, lean-muscled redhead, sat down, and the world tipped on its side. Or maybe it was just the ground shaking. Like when a semitruck and trailer rumbled past his house and the whole place shook.
Tate . . .
Reno’s breath caught in his throat.
It was Tate-fucking-Boylan. His eyes—a gold-specked green hazel that Reno had never forgotten—widened in surprise, and his mouth formed a soundless O. It had been over a decade since Reno had last seen Tate. Twelve years to be exact. Tate was his older brother Ricky’s best friend—the “straight” best friend who’d kissed Reno and then run away—but Reno would have recognized him anywhere. His heart raced and lurched to punch at his ribs as though it knew the heart beating just a few feet away was its other half.
“What are you even doing here?” Reno blurted.
Shit. Even he heard how breathy his voice sounded. Heat burned his cheeks, and he took a desperate gulp of his not-nearly-cold-enough-to-cool-him-down beer. How could he still react like he did as a teenager after all these years?
This was so not how Reno had pictured seeing Tate again. Not once in the thousands of reunions he’d imagined in his mind, year after year. He should be angry. Thought he would be. Wanted to be. He was due some righteous indignation for the way Tate had bolted on him. But at that moment, he felt like he’d finally reached an oasis after walking too many miles across a sweltering desert.
“Reno Pierce,” Tate replied with a note of awe in his voice, a voice that was deeper and huskier than Reno remembered. A shiver of excitement cascaded over his skin. “As I live and breathe.”
Dumbstruck and lovestruck. That’s what he was, and it was just as frustrating as it had been when he was a kid. When he’d followed Ricky and Tate around like a lost duckling that had imprinted on the wrong species and was never more than a foot off Tate’s heel. When he’d worshipped the ground Tate walked on, hung on his every word, and doodled their initials inside hearts in his schoolbooks. When he’d dreamed that Tate loved him as much as he loved Tate, and Tate would sweep him off his feet, and they’d live happily ever after. Just like in the movies.
But then Tate had broken his heart after one blissfully exquisite moment in time when their lips had touched and every single nerve in Reno’s body had lit on fire. Reno closed his eyes for a second, needing to push away old memories and regroup. He’d outgrown his Godzilla-sized Tate crush years ago. Or so he’d thought.
A round of gasps spread throughout the room like a wave.
“Well, this is different,” Tate said in a hushed amusement-infused voice. He sounded the same, but there was a lower resonance to his voice that came with age and experience.
Reno briefly wondered what Tate’s life had been like during their years apart before he opened his eyes to . . . total darkness? He blinked a few times, attempting to adjust to the lack of light, but there wasn’t anything to adjust to. Not even a sliver of light filtered below the doors to the main hallway.
Light from a cell phone flashlight punched a hole in the black, waved back and forth, and a few seconds later, Clark, their event host, shouted to be heard above the confused crowd. “Can everyone look this way, please?”
He clapped his hands, and once he had everyone’s attention, he set his phone down so the flashlight created a spotlight on him.
“Okay, I know that was a bit of a surprise, but I need you all to keep calm.”
Nothing in Clark’s voice gave Reno any cause for concern. Power outages in the mountains were a thing. Heck, he lived on a mountain, and it happened more often than he could count. “Honestly, this isn’t anything strange for an old hotel all the way out here in the mountains.”
“It isn’t?” someone a couple of tables over from Reno’s asked. Reno could just make out the speaker’s features—it was dry-personality guy in the expensive suit.
“Last year, we had the same thing one night. Turned out it was a blown fuse. And I believe up here, power lines go down all the time. Before you know it, the generator will kick in and—”
Reno shielded his eyes and blinked a few times. It took a few seconds to readjust to the sudden brightness. The overhead lights had been low to begin with, so the Christmas lights that ringed the room could take center stage and set the mood for the daters, but after the few minutes of complete darkness they may as well have been high-powered floodlights.
“See, just like that,” Clark said with a note of pride in his voice.
Reno’s vision cleared, and Tate was right there. In full living, breathing, technicolor-vision focus before him. He was even more gorgeous than Reno remembered, and Reno’s heart did that excited little fluttering thing it had done every time his teenage self had seen Tate. As though his heart didn’t understand the passage of time and he was still that clumsy kid tripping over feet he hadn’t yet grown into.
“This is wild, seeing you here,” Tate said once everyone settled back down.
His grin was conspiratorial, like he had a secret to share. Tantalizing lines bracketed his mouth. They didn’t quite form a dimple, but close enough that Reno wanted to slide his tongue along them. The kiss they’d shared once upon a time replayed in his mind again.
The best and worst moment of his life.
His greatest desire and biggest embarrassment.
He’d crushed so hard on Tate back then, but Ricky had taken his big brother role seriously and was protective of him—overly so. He’d noticed how Reno looked at Tate with hearts bulging out of his eyes like a cartoon character. He’d sat Reno down and explained that Tate was straight and to let it go. But Reno hadn’t believed him. He’d seen the way Tate looked at him when he didn’t think anyone was looking.
It had all come to a head the summer Ricky had thrown an “adios, high school” party before he left to play for an American Hockey League team out of state, and Tate left for university in California. Every time Reno scanned the crowd for Tate, he found Tate looking at him. Tate would only hold his gaze for a second and then turn away as though suddenly realizing he’d been caught staring. At some point during the party, Reno wandered off to the bathroom. When he’d opened the door to leave, Tate had been standing there, looking nervous but determined. He’d looked over both shoulders and then walked Reno back inside, closed the door, and after a long stare, leaned down and kissed him. Though it was Reno’s very first kiss, he’d thrown everything he had into it. He hadn’t done too bad either, he remembered proudly, if the hardness of Tate’s erection pressed against his thigh had been anything to go by. That single kiss had been the most amazing of his life. Even after all these years, no kiss had ever truly compared. There was always something missing.
The day after that life-altering kiss, Tate had ignored Reno. At first, Reno had chalked it up to Tate being majorly hungover. But then he’d taken off early for university, without saying goodbye, and Reno hadn’t heard a single word from him since. Ricky had told him to stop mooning and not to lose his heart to straight guys, but Ricky had never known about that kiss. He didn’t know his best friend wasn’t quite as straight as he’d thought.
“You left,” Reno said flatly. He winced internally at the pout in his voice. He wasn’t a heartbroken kid anymore, dammit. Apparently, all it took was five seconds in Tate’s presence to regress twelve years.
The spark in Tate’s gaze dimmed, but Reno refused to feel any guilt. He wasn’t responsible for Tate’s actions. Tate was the one who kissed and ran, after all.
Tate opened his mouth, but his reply was cut off by Clark, who’d called for a ten-minute break. Their four-minute date was over.
“I’ll be right back,” Tate said as he rose from the table. He raised the empty bottle in his hand to indicate he was going for a refill. “Can I get you anything?”
Reno shook his head and narrowed his eyes. Sure, he would be right back. Tate was running again.
Reno cursed himself for noticing how nicely Tate’s ass looked in his well-fit pants as he walked away, and retrieved his phone from his back jeans pocket to check the time. There was a text on the lock screen from his dad. He opened it with a smile that slipped as he sighed.
Dad: Hope you found your Mr. Right.
Dad: Call me in the morning with all the details.
All the details. Reno snorted. His dad was a hopeless romantic—especially around the holidays. Even after a messy divorce, he still believed in true love. Reno did too, but he wasn’t going to find it tonight.
Tate’s grin flashed in his mind.
Reno shook his head and tapped out a quick reply to his dad. He hit Send, but a “message failed” error popped up. Huh, no bars. He shrugged and pocketed his phone.
He should just head home now and be done with all of this. Except he didn’t want to leave just yet, not now that he’d reconnected with Tate. Even though he still harbored resentment at having been left behind, remnants of how he’d once felt for Tate—always felt for him—refused to fade.
Before Reno decided to stay or go, Tate reappeared. He stood by the table and fidgeted with the label on his beer bottle. Reno’s gaze dropped to his long, slender fingers, and the first note of desire played low in his belly.
“I went to university,” Tate said as if that answered why he’d taken off on Reno.
He stared at the table for a second as though he was gearing up for a spiel. But once again, Clark interrupted to announce the official end of the break and start of the second half of the evening’s dates.
“Wait for me after?”
The vulnerable note in Tate’s voice shifted something inside Reno’s chest, and he nodded. He didn’t want to give in so easy, but of course he would wait for Tate. Who was he fooling? If he really thought about it, he’d been waiting for Tate ever since he’d run off to university without so much as a “see ya”.
After Reno’s “date” with Tate, he couldn’t stop thinking about him and couldn’t for the life of him remember a single guy who’d sat across from him for the rest of the night. If he’d thought the four-minute dates before Tate had dragged on, after the break, they were excruciating. Every minute until he could talk to Tate again felt like an eternity.
When the last date finally ended, Clark called for everyone’s attention again. He quickly reminded them about filling out their match cards and how he would be contacting everyone who’d made mutual matches so they could connect on their own later. Then, oddly, he asked everyone to remain in the event room until further notice. A frisson of confusion ran through the crowd. Reno glanced at his watch. Whatever it was, he hoped it didn’t take too long. He’d have to get back on the road for home soon. It was already a late night, as it was.
He flipped his match card over on the table and checked only one box—the one beside Tate’s name. He handed his card off to the bartender since Clark had left the room again and sat on a barstool. He ordered a virgin tequila sunrise since he didn’t want to be buzzed while driving the winding mountain roads home from the hotel. There was always the option of booking a room for the night—which was another reason The Retreat’s speed-dating events were such a big draw—but he’d rather sleep in his own bed.
A waft of spice and bergamot teased Reno’s senses and announced Tate’s arrival as he sat on the stool next to him. From this point on, he knew he’d always associate those scents with Tate. His childhood crush ordered another beer before turning to face Reno.
“I thought you stayed in California.” Reno picked up their conversation as if there hadn’t been an hour break in between. “After university.”
Tate shook his head. “Only for the summer after graduation. I live in Boulder now. I, uh, work at NCAR.”
“You what?” Reno rocked back on his stool. He’d known Tate was into climate science, but figured he’d end up working at a research center in California. “For how long?”
“Six years.”
Reno snapped his mouth shut while his mind tripped over itself in search of words that made sense. Reno lived in Boulder. Well . . . he lived up the mountain in Nederland, but he was down in Boulder often. Tate had been living so close all these years, and Reno had had no idea.
Not once had Ricky mentioned that to him, and they talked on the phone as often as Ricky’s hockey schedule allowed after he’d been drafted to play for Vancouver’s NHL team. Had Ricky kept that from him deliberately? Reno was a grown-ass adult and didn’t need his big brother to look out for him anymore. He could make his own mistakes quite nicely, thank you very much. Not to mention, Tate was obviously not straight.
No, Ricky wouldn’t do that. More than likely, Ricky had just forgotten about Reno’s crush and Tate just never came up in conversation anymore. That and Reno never asked either, so he couldn’t lay it all on his brother.
“Does Ricky know?” Reno asked. He avoided eye contact by swirling the straw in his glass, blending the grenadine into the orange juice until the whole concoction was a deep orange-maroon color.
“That I moved back home? Yes.”
“No, I mean, that you’re gay.”
“What makes you think I’m gay?” Tate challenged, but there was a teasing note in his voice.
Reno turned a glare on him. His tone was sarcastic when he said, “Oh, I don’t know. Kissing other men? Attending gay speed-dating events?” He shrugged. “Just a guess.”
Tate’s grin morphed into a brilliant smile that sent another flurry of flutters in Reno’s chest. “I’m bisexual if you need a label. And yes, Ricky knows.”
Ricky knew? Reno looked away again, fighting down a flare of unexpected hurt. “He never told me.”
“Ricky and I don’t travel the same circles anymore, and with him in the NHL and always on the road, we don’t get to catch up very often,” Tate said with a touch of regret in his voice. “And even though I was his best friend, he didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
Reno swung his head around. “Are you kidding me?”
Tate’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “I’m out now, but I was in the closet for a long time. It wouldn’t have been fair to you, and we both knew it.”
“Neither of you had the right to decide what was or wasn’t right for me.”
Tate studied him for a long minute and then said softly, “No, you’re right.”
Reno fell silent. As revelations went Tate’s weren’t all that earth-shattering, but to know he’d been living so close all these years and their paths had never crossed . . . What did he say to that? Were they not ever meant to be? He sighed and looked away, but Tate kicked at the leg of his chair to get his attention. When he met Tate’s gaze, his big easy smile lit up his eyes.
“We’re here now,” Tate said. “Tell me about you. I haven’t seen you gracing the cover of the Rolling Stone yet.”
Reno laughed and fidgeted with his straw again. “I was never going to be a rock star. Fame wasn’t what I was after.”
“No? What was it, then?”
“A compulsion to create emotion through sound.” Reno snapped his mouth shut. He had not meant to say that out loud. Now Tate would know that he hadn’t been just a geeky band kid; he was an adult band geek. Sure, his whole life revolved around music, but he was highly successful at it, and he did it without being on the paparazzi’s radar. Which was exactly how he wanted it. “I mean, I compose.”
“Compose? Like for orchestras?” Tate sounded genuinely interested.
Reno nodded as he warmed up to his favorite subject. “I’ve composed some symphonies for the Denver Symphony Orchestra and a few others, but these days I mostly compose film scores.”
“No way!” Tate leaned forward on his stool, obliviously sending another wave of his distracting spicy scent Reno’s way. “Which movies?”
Reno took a sip of his drink. “You know the new action flick with Chris Hemsworth?”
“No!”
“Yes.” Reno couldn’t help grinning back at Tate, who looked like a kid that had just been set loose in a candy store.
“He’s hot,” Tate said with a dreamy note to his voice as a smile tugged his mouth sideways.
Reno laughed and clinked his glass to Tate’s bottle. “Cheers to that.”
Surprisingly, the conversation flowed easier than Reno would have thought after all their time apart, and he was glad his dad had talked him into coming up here tonight. Even the anger he’d harbored for so long after Tate ditched him faded into the ether. Perhaps this was the closure he’d needed to finally move on.
He sucked up the last drops of his mocktail and glanced at the clock behind the bar. It was getting late. He pushed his empty glass away.
“Another?” Tate asked as he flagged the bartender down.
“No, thanks.” Reno shook his head and, with a reluctance that surprised him, said, “I need to get on the road before it gets much later.”
“I’m afraid you might be out of luck there,” the bartender said. His name tag read Grady, and he wore a revealing black tank top that showed off the amazing tattoos on his forearms and biceps. “Rumor has it there was an avalanche earlier, and the road is blocked.”
“What?” Reno burst out at the same time as Tate, and for a split second, his thoughts wandered to how well their voices harmonized. They could make music together.
Reno snorted at his stupid thoughts. He and Tate would not be making music together. Of any kind.
Grady paused a second and then nodded as he grabbed Reno’s empty glass. He dropped it in a soap-water-filled bucket behind the bar. “That’s why we have to wait here for Bryan, the manager, to let us know what’s going on.”
Reno slumped back in his seat, dismayed. “But I can’t stay here tonight.”
“Uhm . . .” Tate shifted around to face Reno head-on. His expression was hopeful. “I have a cabin. You’re welcome to stay with me if you can’t get out.”
Reno’s brain screeched to a halt.
Spend the night with Tate? All alone in a snowed-in cabin up on a mountain? Sounded like the stuff of romance novels, and as much as the teenage Reno would have jumped for joy at the idea, the adult Reno knew that would be the worst of all the worst ideas. But also . . .
“You have a cabin?” Reno said instead. “That’s . . . a bit presumptuous, no?”
Chuckling, Tate held his hands up in surrender. “It’s a rental. Kaylie booked it for me.”
Reno opened his mouth and closed it. Twice. Reno had never spent much time with Tate’s older sister. She’d always seemed like a cool girl who had it all together and didn’t take any crap from anyone, and Reno had admired her for that from afar.
“I’m not sure what to say to that,” he finally replied.
He flagged Grady with the tattooed arms over and ordered another tequila sunrise. This time with the tequila since it didn’t seem like he’d be driving anywhere soon.
A point proven when Clark called for everyone’s attention a little after midnight. He introduced Bryan, The Retreat’s manager, and turned the floor over to the slim, dark-haired man in a rumpled suit who looked just as frazzled. In his white-knuckled grip was a clipboard.
“Thank you for waiting here,” Bryan began.
After a few murmurs from the crowd, he continued. “So, here’s the long and short of it. An avalanche has blocked the road about half a mile from the hotel—”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy of questions and complaints and ridiculous solutions like skiing or snowshoeing out—five miles, in the dark—or using sled dogs, of which there weren’t any. Even melting the snow to what . . . swim out? Reno shook his head. The only thing they could do was be patient and wait for the road to be cleared. Surely by morning, the road crews would have traffic moving again.
Bryan clapped his hands and brought the crowd’s attention back around.
“We think the best idea is for everyone to get at least some sleep, and we’ll regroup in the morning. We can double up in rooms with some careful organization, use rollaways, and luckily, we do have some empty rooms and some of the cabins.” He gestured to a tall, lean man with dark hair standing beside him. “Chet has some room assignments, so if you could come up one at a time.”
“So,” Tate said beside Reno. “Looks like you’re going to need somewhere to spend the night after all.”
Reno regarded him for a few seconds while his heart warred with his mind. He so badly wanted to say yes, but also, he had a feeling it would be a very bad idea.
“Or I could get my own room,” he countered.
“You heard the man.” Tate grinned that sexy grin of his again. “They’re pairing people up. Why not pair up with someone you know?”
Because I won’t be desperately fighting to keep my hands off anyone else.
But with his luck, he’d probably end up paired in a room with his overcompensating vampire date and be stuck listening to endless tales of his incredible life all night.
“Breakfast is included,” Tate sweetened his offer in a sing-song voice when Reno hadn’t replied.
Reno studied him. He didn’t look like a scientist, but then, Reno didn’t look like a classical composer either. Not that either of them had to adhere to any specific appearance for their chosen fields. The warm-toned white Christmas lights hanging over the bar spun gold threads through Tate’s full head of fiery-red hair. It was riding that fine line of needing to be cut or left alone to grow out, and the perfect length to twine his fingers through. Would Tate’s hair feel as soft against his skin as it looked? His gaze dropped to Tate’s full lips and smirking mouth, bracketed by those damn enticing grooves in his cheeks.
This was trouble, and he knew it. He didn’t do one-nighters. Not even with Tate Boylan, who had planned to hook up tonight, or he wouldn’t have booked a cabin. Reno had no intention of having his world rocked by Tate, which he knew it would, only to be left behind once again. But it would only be one night, right? Surely, he could be an adult and keep his wits about him. He could sleep on a couch or even the floor, and in the morning, the roads would be cleared, and he could hightail it home before he made a fool of himself.
Reno huffed. “Fine, you win.”
If Reno had thought Tate’s smile was blinding before, the one he graced Reno with this time might as well have been the sun.
Tate stood and gestured for Reno to follow him.
Such a bad idea . . .
