Of Love and Corn Dogs (2 page)

“That was fast, Dare.”

Darwin grinned at his oldest friend. “They didn't have what I wanted for dinner tonight. The new waiter suggested something, and I find I really want to try it.”

He'd been friends with Henley since they were kids, and he rarely frazzled the man. So, Henley's puzzled expression delighted Darwin. He wondered what he'd say when he told him where they were going. Henley opened the back door to the limousine, then closed it after Darwin slid in. He returned to the driver's side and started the car.

“Okay, where to?”

“We're going to the mini-putt course on Klein for a corn dog.”

At that moment, Darwin wished he'd had his phone out to take a picture. He'd frame the shot and hang it in the house so everyone could see Henley looking as though his jaw had unhinged and was now resting atop his polished shoes.

Yes, Ricky could be an inspiration to me.

 

“This is a corn dog?” Darwin asked, biting into the savory breading.

“Dude, I cannot believe you've never had a corn dog,” Henley said through a mouthful of his own. “My mom used to give them to us every Friday along with cheese fries.”

Darwin snorted. “Yes, well, you know my parents would have gone into meltdown if their son had ever touched something greasy.”

“And delicious, don't forget that part.”

Darwin had to admit, the batter-dipped frankfurter was very tasty. He agreed with Ricky—the corn dogs were a damn sight better than the offered special at Asiago. He reached out and took another french fry, slathered it with ketchup, and popped it into his mouth.

“How did you never tell me about these things?”

“Mom told me your parents might have sacked her if she polluted you with our common ways.” Henley shrugged, and he stuffed his mouth full of fries, then grinned, showing off his cheesy smile.

Darwin wanted to protest, but Henley spoke the truth. His parents took great care of their employees, but staff was never meant to be family or friends. They firmly believed in keeping Darwin away from them unless absolutely necessary. Still, he and Henley had snuck away most nights, hiding out in one of the unused rooms of the mansion.

He'd shared his secrets with Henley. Henley had listened when Darwin spoke hesitantly about his crush on his tutor. And Henley had been the person with whom Darwin had shared his first kiss. His anxiety during the worst board meeting after taking over the company paled in comparison to the terror of that moment when their lips met. So many thoughts had gone through Darwin's head in that instant—how cool Henley's lips were as they brushed against his, how he'd known Henley had sucked on a mint, judging by the flavor, and how he'd wished the kiss had been with the tutor instead of Henley, because there had been no emotion there for either of them.

“Do you remember our kiss?” Darwin asked, glancing toward his friend.

Henley rolled his eyes. “You never forget your first kiss. Even if the person you kissed had a serious case of fish lips going on.”

Darwin gasped and covered his heart with his hand. “I so did not.”

“You're such a drama queen.” Henley bit into his corn dog then swallowed hard. “All I can say is I hope you've gotten better at it. If you'd kissed like that when you were with Dean— Oh, shit. Dare, I'm sorry.”

An icy fist gripped Darwin's heart. God, he missed Dean.

“It's okay,” he whispered.

“No, it's not. I shouldn't have said it.”

Darwin shrugged. “It's been six years.” Six years, seven months, and twelve days since Darwin had lost the only man he'd ever really loved. He'd watched as Dean had wasted away, becoming thinner, paler. Darwin had known all the money in the world couldn't save him from the cancer that consumed him.

“I know. But I also know there hasn't been anyone since then. Or am I mistaken?”

“Please. You'd be the first person I'd tell.” He smiled when Henley's cheeks pinked.

“I appreciate that.”

They finished their meal in silence, then Henley threw away the trash, and returned the tray to the stack. “You know,” he started, “we
could
continue your education on what good food is.”

Mischief danced in Henley's eyes, and Darwin couldn't help but be intrigued.

“Oh, do tell?”

“Wait here. I'll be right back.”

Darwin chuckled. “Since you have the keys to the limo, I think I'm pretty well stuck until you're ready.”

Henley gave his trademark cheeky grin, then headed back into the small restaurant attached to the mini-putts course. When he returned, he carried two very large paper cups with clear plastic domes on them. Inside was a thick concoction, topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. He placed one in front of Darwin, then pulled the lid off his own.

“You'll need to take the top off,” Henley explained. “The shakes are way too rich to use a straw.”

Then Henley tilted it back and began chugging down the frosty beverage. Darwin followed his example, lifting the cup to his lips. The smell of fruit had nothing on the flavors bursting on his tongue. Tart berries and sweet ice cream, plus the richness of the topping, had Darwin moaning.

“Good, right? This is a raspberry nebula shake. Those bits in there are chocolate chips.”

Fuck. Darwin had found his new favorite dessert. His whole life had been sliced melons or some other thing the staff served. His mother had insisted on proper nutrition and thought that sweet things were the devil's work. Once, he'd seen Henley eating a chocolate bar and begged for a bite. His friend had hesitated, then made Darwin promise not to tell. After he'd given his word, Henley had broken off a small piece and handed it over. It had been indescribably delicious, and Darwin had tried not to chew, to let it melt in his mouth so he'd be able to enjoy it as long as possible. He regretted that he'd missed out on things like this during his childhood, and that those habits had carried on into adulthood.

“Welcome to my world, Dare,” Henley said, tipping the cup toward Darwin. “It's nice of you to visit.”

Darwin never really thought of the divide that existed between him and Henley. In Darwin's mind, they were equals. But the comment he'd just made reminded Darwin that he didn't belong in this kind of place, eating corn dogs and drinking shakes. But, damn it, he refused to feel guilty about finally enjoying something.

“I want to play mini-putts,” he said emphatically.

“You have that meeting at eight with Kent and his board, remember?”

A groan escaped Darwin's lips. He'd forgotten the discussion his brother had scheduled to talk about Darwin taking over his company, which had gone deep into the red. The only way to avoid foreclosure would be for new management, the kind with deep pockets, to step in and bail them out. Almost since birth, Darwin had been schooled on the importance of business, how it had to come before everything else.

He'd taken that lesson to heart every day of his life, including the one time he shouldn't have. Dean had been so sick, but Darwin had been scheduled to meet with foreign investors who were only in the States for a week. That would be the only opportunity he had to meet with them. Darwin had wanted to cancel, but Dean had urged him to go. He'd protested, and Dean had reminded him how important that deal was, not only to Kincade International, but also to the employees who worked there. So Darwin had gone. They'd wined and dined him, then signed the agreement. He'd returned home flush with pride at sealing the deal. That had lasted until he spotted the ambulance in the driveway, loading a gurney with Dean on it into the back. Darwin had rushed over and clutched his lover's hand.

Dean had reached up to pull the oxygen mask off, despite the paramedic saying it needed to stay in place.

“How…did…it…go?” he'd gasped out.

“We got everything we wanted.”

Dean had reached out a trembling hand and stroked Darwin's face. “I knew you could.”

Then his hand had fallen away, and the paramedics had called the police officer over to take Darwin so they could work on Dean. His lover had died on the trip to the hospital, Darwin never getting the opportunity to tell him how sorry he was for leaving him alone. Never getting the chance to tell him he wanted to marry him. The man was his husband in everything but name, and now he could never be more.

Tonight he'd be self-indulgent.

“I want to play mini-putts,” he repeated. He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed his assistant.

“Heather, I want you to call my brother and reschedule the meeting. It won't be taking place tonight after all.”

“But, Mr. Kincade, it's all been arranged.” Heather sounded flustered, which was unusual for her. She could face a horde of reporters and never bat an eye.

“Then rearrange it. Tell him something came up at the last moment, and I'm unable to attend.”

She answered in her usual business-like tone, clipped and efficient. “Yes, sir. I'll take care of it right away. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Darwin thought for a moment before he answered. “Yes. I'd like a reservation at Asiago on Monday. Make sure you request Ricky as my server. Tell the manager I want no one else, and that Ricky is to serve only me. I don't want him waiting on other tables while I'm there. Let her know we'll pay for his time, so she won't have to worry about that.” Then an idea came to Darwin. “And tell her I want corn dogs.”

“You want… I'm sorry, I think we may have a bad connection. Did you say you wanted corn dogs?”

“I did. And let them know I want corn dogs, cheese fries, and a raspberry nebula shake.”

“At Asiago? You know they're not likely to have that, right?”

“Make sure you tell Louisa it's for me, and she can find everything she needs at the mini-putts place on Klein Street. I'm sure she'll make arrangements.” Darwin grinned. He wished he could see the snooty restaurant manager's face when Heather relayed his orders. She should know better than to be rude to her staff. Especially Ricky, who'd been absolutely perfect as far as Darwin was concerned.

“And how many people shall I make the reservation for?”

“Just me, but I want enough food for two people.”

He thought he heard Henley whispering something in the background, but he chose to ignore his friend.

“Yes, sir. I'll take care of it.”

“I know you will, Heather. And thank you. I really appreciate this.”

Her voice softened. “You know all of us are happy to do what you ask.”

It was true. Darwin's parents had always treated their workers very well. They'd instituted the first employer sponsored, on premise daycare center in the state, leave was available after the birth of a child for both mothers and fathers, they received well above average salaries for their positions, and the turnover rate was practically nil.

“I know,” Darwin answered. And he did. He never took them for granted. Without his staff, he had no company to run. “Please send my regrets to my brother. If you can, reschedule him for early next week. Just not on Monday, okay?”

“Understood, sir. I hope your business goes well.”

He turned as Henley stepped out of the restaurant, two putters in his hand, and a wide smile on his face.

“I think it's going to be a great night.”

Ricky glanced at his watch again. The reservation had been made for seven thirty, and it had just turned eight. Perhaps Mr. Kincade had gotten tied up with something and couldn't make it. When Louisa told him that he'd be working the private party, he had been stunned. Then when she tipped her glasses down and glared at him, reminding him that he should already be out the door, he lowered his head. He thought he'd been doing a good job, but it had become obvious he wasn't Roy, and the staff had told him that the young man had been Louisa's favorite.

“Where is he?” Louisa grumbled.

“I don't know,” Ricky answered, then flinched when she glared at him.

“Whatever you did to get in his good graces, it won't keep you on the payroll. You'll mess up and he'll complain, then you'll be out the door.”

Sweat trickled down Ricky's arms, tickling the fine hair there. If he had guts, he'd walk out and let her explain to Mr. Kincade why the waiter he'd requested wasn't there. But school wasn't cheap. He needed this job, and if it meant he had to take her abuse, then so be it.

“Louisa, Mr. Kincade just walked through the door,” the busboy whispered.

She turned and gave Ricky the death stare he'd seen a dozen times, before she rushed to greet Mr. Kincade.

“Thank you for coming,” she gushed as they approached Ricky's station. She put her hand on his back, until Mr. Kincade turned to glare at her. She swept her hand toward Ricky. “Your private room is ready, as is your server.”

The man's smile took Ricky's breath away. The day he'd first seen the man seated in his station, Ricky had been so nervous he prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself. Even though that night started out bad, it quickly got better when Mr. Kincade relaxed enough to show he could be a little fun.

Of course,
that
only lasted until he'd walked out the door. Then Louisa had been angrier than he'd ever seen her. She'd muttered something about snobs, then stormed into her office and slammed the door, much to the chagrin of the staff. Still, it felt good to know something could ruffle her feathers.

“My apologies for being late,” Mr. Kincade said. “I had something I had to attend to, and it couldn't wait.”

“Nonsense,” Louisa purred. “We're only too happy to hold a table for you.”

She escorted him to the room and pulled out his chair. When he glanced at Ricky and gave him a sly wink, Ricky's pulse sped up.

“As you requested, Richard will be your server this evening. Should you require anything, please don't hesitate to ask me. Oh, and we were able to accommodate your dinner request tonight as well.”