It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

Maybe Beckett was way off base. He didn’t know Julian well enough to make such a bold claim. But he was happy to be the one Julian shared his day with.

“The dog’s sitting by the front door. Do I let him out?”

Beckett lifted his gaze at the sound and smell of cooking oil spray as Randy used a can of Pam to grease the cogs of Beckett’s chair.

“Mom swears that’ll draw ants,” Beckett murmured, cocking his head to see Woofer sitting at the door. Beckett had worried about all the wild animals he had heard roaming last night and had kept Woofer close this morning. He decided a normal German shepherd could handle himself against coyotes or wild cats, but Woofer had been raised as a city dog.

As much as it was likely to piss Randy off further, Beckett rose from his seat. Damn, the Pam worked. The squeak was now completely gone. He could have this conversation with Julian while sitting on the porch to let Woofer outside for a while.

“I got you, boy. I wanna be out there too.” Beckett barely had the front door open before Woofer pushed through, shoving it the rest of the way. A fresh breeze riffled through the opening as Woofer took off, running toward then leaping from the porch steps. Another text message from Julian arrived as Beckett followed the dog out, sitting on the porch steps to keep an eye on Woofer.

Well, one eye. The other was on the text message Julian sent. This one had a selfie of Julian with a stack of paperwork on his desk. All Beckett saw was the crystal aqua eyes slanted into Julian’s bright smile. Those pleasure-inducing lips had Beckett growing plump. Julian was beautiful and somehow always looked crisp and pristine, never fatigued.

“I’m heading into the kitchen for prep training. I’ll be away for a few hours. Wish me luck. They expect me to help with dinner prep tonight. Not my forte. I think I’m better at setting the standard than creating the standard.”

So taken with Julian’s handsome face, Beckett had somehow missed the apron Julian wore. Beckett would have to see how Julian held up his appearance after spending time in the steamy kitchen. He hurriedly typed a message. “Good luck. Have I told you I like a man who can cook? Take a picture when you’re done. I’m always a messy chef.”

“I watched Ratatouille. It’s all in the elbow placement. Signing off. Look out for my dog.”

The back door opened and slammed carelessly shut with a loud whack. Randy’s heavy booted footsteps came toward Beckett.

“Here.” A cup of coffee appeared over his shoulder. He took the offering as Randy thumped down several steps before landing on his ass beside him. “You know you gotta get your head in the game. The trainees arrive in a few hours.”

No shit. His headspace had been a problem for the last twenty-four hours. Every thought he had revolved around Julian. If he wasn’t wondering what Julian might be doing, he was reliving some special moment in their last week together. Every thought was Julian.

“I know,” Beckett said, inhaling the enticing aroma before lifting the mug to take a hearty sip of the steaming coffee.

“Wanna talk about him?” Randy asked, cutting his gaze toward Beckett. “It might help to get whatever it is off your chest.”

Beckett barked out a harsh laugh, jostling the coffee. He had to spread his legs and absorb the sting of the hot liquid as it sloshed out of the cup onto his hand and down to the porch step. “No, I don’t want to talk about him, and at the same time, he’s all I want to talk about. I’m so fucked over this guy.”

“No shit?” The kind of jeering that came from a lifelong friendship readily slipped from Randy as he knocked Beckett on the shoulder. “I couldn’t tell… It’s literally all anyone is talking about—you being fucked.”

Beckett cut his steely gaze toward Randy, judging the sincerity of those possibly vulgar words. His Julian-induced protective side leaped forward. He didn’t like the idea of his and Julian’s relationship being trivialized in such a derogatory way.

“Watch yourself…” Beckett warned.

“Pfft,” Randy scoffed as if Beckett was nothing more than an annoying gnat. “Calm yourself.” He tapped the side of his temple. “I meant happy and distracted. I have your back. Don’t worry.”

Beckett let that be enough of an explanation as he turned his gaze to the pasture in front of them, checking on Woofer, who ran at full speed back toward the house. He swore the dog had some Forrest Gump in his veins. How had Woofer ever made it as an indoor dog?

As he stared at Woofer, he took a breath and broke through another of his barriers to talk about a man in his life. “He’s the general manager of a restaurant and nightclub I belong to. His name is Julian, and he does it for me in every possible way.”