Val had texted Saint the address to the tavern this morning and told him to meet him there for a tour. Saint had no idea what to expect, but he was excited for Val. He walked up to the door and knocked.

  “Yeah?” Val called out from inside.

  Saint smiled. “It’s me, Chief.”

  A lock was unlatched, and the door opened. Saint almost swallowed his tongue. Man, had he called it or what? Val stood in a faded black Ramones T-shirt, well-worn jeans, and work boots.

  Saint snickered. “You got something in your hair.” He stepped in and ruffled Val’s hair, removing the drywall dust particles.

  “Yeah, that shit’s everywhere,” Val said. “Hope you’re not wearing any of your good clothes.”

  Saint closed the door behind him. “Nope.” He looked around. “Where’s Frank?”

  “I told him he could head out since you were on your way. Knowing him, he sat in his car on the side of the road and waited until he saw you.” Val shook his head in amusement. “Stubborn.”

  Like Val wouldn’t have done the same for Frank. “Wow. This place is bigger on the inside than it looks.”

  “It’s pretty spacious, but that’s because there’s nothing in it right now. Once the bar goes in, the stools, booths, tables, and chairs, it won’t look so big.” He turned to his left to a walled-off section with an open doorway. “That’s the kitchen.” Turning, he pointed to another smaller walled-off area. “Those are the bathrooms.” He turned and pointed. “That’s where my office is going to go.” He turned again. “That’s a wall.” Once more. “That’s another wall, and wait for it….” He turned to the front. “That’s also a wall. Thanks for joining me on this tour. If you’d like more information, you can visit our gift shop.”

  Saint snickered. “Ass.” He dumped his bag in the corner where there seemed to be less dust. There were drop cloths everywhere, along with several gallons of something. On one side, Val had set up a long workbench that had a toolbox and more supplies. He’d also brought a mini fridge that he’d plugged into the wall. “So, how long have you been working on this?”

  “I’ve worked on and off for three years.”

  “Must have been expensive as hell.”

  “Not really. This had been a donut place for decades. One day, one of the thermostats malfunctioned and a deep fryer started a fire. Thankfully, no one was inside at the time. The whole place went up in flames. We were able to save the structure, but the inside was a complete loss. The owner was an older gentleman, really sweet. Anyway, he didn’t have it in him to start over. He just wanted to retire and spend time with his grandkids.

  “When we were outside, he jokingly asked me if I was interested in buying a slightly singed building, and I said yes.” Val shrugged, the genuinely happy smile squeezing Saint’s heart. “I don’t know what made me say it, but once I had, it felt right. So, he sold it to me for far less than it was worth. I tried getting him to accept more, even in its state, but he patted my cheek and said, ‘It’s yours now. Make good memories.’”

  “That’s amazing. What a way to start your business, huh?”

  “Yeah. I spent a lot of weekends here. It took a long time to get it cleaned up. Luckily it was winter then, so we could get some good work in without getting baked. Some of the guys from the firehouse helped me. Then the time finally came when I could start. I tore down the curtain walls that weren’t needed and did the kitchen area and the bathrooms, but I had professionals come in to do the electrical installation, plumbing, and the floor since it’s a special cement flooring. AC was at the top of my list. You couldn’t even walk in here in the summer, much less work.”

  “So what comes next?” Saint asked, holding his arms out. “Use my body.”

  Val blinked at him before smiling and shaking his head. He motioned to the many gallons near the wall, several of which had a stack of sandpaper sheets. “I’ve already applied all the fiberglass mesh tape to the seams and the paper tape to the corners. Now it’s time to mud, sand, mud, sand, hot mud, and then the final sand.”

  “Okay. Just tell me where to start.”

  “Grab yourself a four-and-a-half-gallon tub and a putty knife.”

  With a little salute, Saint grabbed his supplies and picked a wall. He’d been about to start applying the first coat of drywall mud when someone knocked on the door.

  Saint put a hand up to stop Val from going to the door. “I got this.”

  “You think someone will try something here, of all places? There are security cameras all over. And it’s broad daylight.”

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  It wasn’t like the guy hadn’t managed to evade cameras before. The bomber hadn’t been afraid to plant a device in a busy hotel. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do something in the middle of the busy historic district? Especially after the note that was left on his truck.

  Saint left his putty knife on the tub’s lid, then quickly approached the door, standing to one side of it.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah? I hope that’s not how this establishment will greet its customers,” Fitz said through the door.

  Nice one, Mason. So much for being discreet.

  Saint opened the door and arched an eyebrow at Fitz, who stood in one of his many fluffy, oversized cashmere sweaters. It was like seventy degrees outside, but they were all used to it. The man ran cold. Well, his temperature did.

  No one was warmer than Fitz. His pout broke into a huge smile, and he threw his arms out. Saint had learned long ago that Fitz did that to give whoever was on the other end the choice of whether to walk into the hug, but who would turn down a hug from someone who genuinely looked so damned happy to see you? The answer was no one.

  “Hey, Fitz.” Saint walked into his arms and hugged him. He pulled back and smiled at Laz. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey, Saint.”

  Val came over to greet them, smiling wide. “Hey, fellas. What’s the occasion?”

  “Just checking in on Sailor Stud Muffin over here.”

  Saint let his head hang. “You’ve been talking to Ryden, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fitz slipped past him, and Laz followed, clearly amused. He had his camera bag with him.

  “You brought your camera?” Saint asked.

  “Yeah, I thought maybe Val might want to document his progress. Might be cool to have before and after pictures.”

  Val grinned wide. “That’s a great idea. You don’t mind?”

  “Of course not. I think it’ll be fun.”

  “Okay.”

  While Laz and Val walked off to take pictures, Fitz leaned into Saint, murmuring out of one corner of his mouth.

  “Where’s the package.”

  “I really hope you’re referring to the note for Jack.”

  Fitz laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. “Yes, obviously.”

  “You’d make a terrible spy,” Saint said with a chuckle as he walked over to his bag.

  “Please, I would look fierce in a catsuit. Emma Peel style.”

  “Yeah, I can see you rocking the sixties go-go boots.”

  “You know Emma Peel?”

  “My mom used to love that show.” Saint glanced at Val, making sure he was busy with Laz, before picking up his bag and taking out the folded note. He handed it to Fitz, who swiftly tucked it down the front of his sweater.

  “What are you wearing under there that you can hide that?”

  Fitz winked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Okay, Trouble.”

  “How’s Val doing?” Fitz asked, his expression becoming one of concern. “I heard about what happened at the club.”

  “Is there anything your boyfriend doesn’t tell you?”

  “He tries, but I can be pretty persuasive.”

  Poor Jack never stood a chance.

  “He says he’s okay. He was a little banged up, but nothing serious, thankfully. I’m so glad I got there when I did.” Saint hated to think about what could have happened had he not arrived in time. What he hated even more was the fact Val didn’t seem to think anything of it. Like he was used to it. What the hell was wrong with people?

  “And what about you?” Fitz asked softly. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m good. A little sore, but okay.”

  “And what of…?” He cast a not-so-subtle glance in Val’s direction.

  “What of what?”

  Fitz arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  “What?” Saint laughed. “We’re just friends.”

  “And that’s what you want?”

  Saint let out a sigh. “It’s what he wants, so….” He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing, right?”

  Fitz hummed. “If you say so, sweetie.”

  “Look, he doesn’t want to be my first, and I get that. I don’t want to screw things up between us.”

  “All done,” Laz announced, walking over with Val.

  “We’ll leave you to it then,” Fitz said. He kissed Saint’s cheek and hugged Val before he and Laz disappeared.

  Val cocked his head to one side; his lips quirked in amusement. “Well, that was…interesting.”

  “You get used to it. Let’s get back to work, and I’ll tell you about the week The Boyfriend Collective invaded my apartment.”

  “The what?”

  Oh, poor sweet Val. He had no idea what he’d just gotten himself into.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Maybe this hadn’t been a mistake after all.

  When Frank suggested that Saint help Val with the tavern, Val hadn’t known what to expect. Mainly he’d worried things might take an awkward turn, and they’d end up working in silence, straining their newfound friendship. That was most definitely not the case with Saint. Val couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much.

  Val wiped a tear from his eye. “Holy shit.”

  “I thought I was back in the middle of Hell Week! I started doing push-ups and expected a mouthful of sand.” Saint laughed and shook his head. “It took me a solid minute to realize I was on my bedroom floor, and the ocean sounds were coming from a Bluetooth speaker on my nightstand. When I realized it had been Leo—because let’s face it, who else could program my TV to shut itself off and my phone to start playing Spa Radio—I had to laugh.”

  “You were so high on meds. It must have scared the shit out of you.”

  “Um, yeah. That’s how I ended up on the floor.” Saint shook his head, amused. “I’ve also got enough fish-shaped snacks to get me through the year.” He motioned over to his bag in the corner. “Brought a bunch with me.”

  Coming from Leo, it was sweet. “Bet he doesn’t do that for everyone.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Saint said, his smile wide. “If you get snacks from Leo, it means he likes you. If you get more than one fish-shaped snack, it means you’re family. Never thought I’d be so moved by a pantry full of Swedish Fish and Goldfish crackers.”

  Val chuckled. He understood Saint’s need for camaraderie. Val had been a part of the same kind of fellowship when he’d been a firefighter and then the fire chief. The people you worked with weren’t just coworkers. They were family. You had to be able to trust one another because having someone’s back meant the difference between life and death.

  “You’re lucky to be a part of such a diverse and inclusive company,” Val said as he applied mud to a seam. “Not enough of those around.”

  “It must have been rough for you at work after you came out. How did they take it?”

  “Not well. It was pretty volatile at first. Some of the guys felt betrayed. I talked to them individually and told them I was the same guy I’d always been and that what I did outside the firehouse and with whom had nothing to do with how I did my job.”

  Val had done his best to remain calm and objective. To pretend it hadn’t hurt like hell when men who had been so close to him looked at him with disgust or disdain.

  “We’d been together a long time, and after a while, most of them came around. Even if some of them couldn’t accept I was gay, they agreed I was good at my job. The few who wanted nothing to do with me were transferred. I had a few incidents with a couple of the guys that turned into investigations. It was a mess.”

  “Holy shit, actual investigations?”

  “Yeah. And it wasn’t just the people I worked with who had issues. There were other incidents.”

  “Other incidents?”

  “Let’s see. There was the time some guy paid a couple of thugs to follow me.” Val snorted. “It happened to be the night Frank and four of his guys from the club were waiting for me. We were going to a bar for a few drinks. It didn’t turn out so well for the thugs, and they gave up the guy who hired them in a heartbeat. Then there was the guy who took a baseball bat to my truck. Another guy threw chocolate milk at me during a press conference, and at a charity event for children, a woman threw eggs at me. Like I said, it’s a long list.”

  “Unbelievable.” Saint shook his head. “Wait, do you think it could be one of them?” Saint asked. “Maybe the guy who sent those goons after you is the same one behind all this?”

  Val shook his head. “That was years ago. I think he’s working construction now or something.”

  “Maybe we should let Mason know, just in case.” Saint removed his phone from his pocket and called Mason.

  Val didn’t think it was necessary, but he wasn’t going to keep Saint from doing what he thought needed to be done. Security was his job, after all.

  “Hey, Mason….Yeah, good, thanks…. Listen, I was just talking to Val, and there were several incidents a few years ago around the time he came out. Could you have Jack look into it? See where those people are now and what they’ve been up to…. Great. Thanks.” He hung up and returned his phone to his pocket. “Worth a shot, right?”

  “You’re right. Thank you.”

  After a beat, Saint spoke again. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

  Val shrugged as he continued to apply mud to the wall. It didn’t hurt as much anymore. “I knew what coming out meant, but I couldn’t keep pretending to be something I wasn’t. The time that followed was the hardest of my career, but I refused to stand down, no matter the shitshow that came my way, and when things got really bad, and they wanted to force me out, I called Frank. By then, he’d already made a name for himself with Sapphire Sands and had one hell of a client list. He called in a few favors, and I got a team of fierce lawyers that wiped the floor with them.”

  “I heard about that. It was impressive.”

  “You know what else is impressive?” Val said as he took a step back to admire their work. “How much we got done today. I didn’t think we’d get as far as we have.” He smiled brightly at Saint. “We’ve done good.” Val removed his phone from his pocket and brought up his food delivery app. “I think it’s time for your first payment. What are you in the mood for? Pizza? Subs? Steak?”

  Saint let out a sigh. “So this is what it’s like to have a Sugar Daddy.”

  Val snorted out a laugh. “Don’t think my pension qualifies me for Sugar Daddy status.” He motioned around him. “Especially not with all the money I’ve poured into this place.”

  “What about Splenda Daddy?

  “What?” Val barked out a laugh. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Is it, though? I mean, you’ve been around Ace.”

  “You are absolutely right.” Val shook his head as he scrolled through their options. “I know he was a Green Beret, but it’s also Ace. How does he work executive protection when it requires so much standing still in silence?”

  “I guess that’s part of the mystery that is Ace,” Saint chuckled.

  “Hm, mystery? Is that what we’re calling it?”

  Saint laughed as he wiped his hands on one of the wet cloths, which was funny considering he had white smudges from the mud all over him.

  “So, what are you in the mood for?”

  “I’m good with anything. Probably something that would be easy to eat without a table.”

  “Duly noted. How about Philly cheesesteak subs? There’s an amazing place nearby that delivers.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Val put his order in on his phone, then handed it to Saint. “Their cookies are also insanely good. I always order one.”

  “Well, don’t mind if I do.”

  While Saint put in his order, Val cleaned up a little. The floor was covered in tarps to protect it from all dirt, dust, and grime. It might not look like much yet, but it had come a long way.

  “Here you go.” Saint walked to him and handed him his phone back. They washed up at the sink in the kitchen, and twenty minutes later, they had their food. They sat on the lids of the huge mud gallons. Not exactly the most comfortable, but Val was pretty sure they’d both faced far worse in their careers than uncomfortable seating.

  “So, Hell Week,” Val said before sipping his beer. “I’m guessing it’s called that for a reason.”

  “Oh yeah. The Navy isn’t spending money on SEAL operational training without knowing you’ve got what it takes, which means making it through Hell Week. It’s where the majority of candidates drop out. It’s brutal. Five and a half days of freezing your ass off in cold water with little to no sleep while performing under heavy physical and mental stress.” Saint shook his head.

  “Were you ever worried you wouldn’t make it?”

  Saint snorted. “All the time, especially in the beginning. It’s a shock to the system, and you have to ask yourself, ‘How badly do I want this?’ Because you think you know what it will be like, you hear stories, but experiencing it is a whole new level.” He took a sip of his beer and smiled. “Making it was one of the proudest moments of my life. I didn’t know what I could do until that week.”

  “You must have really wanted it.”

  Saint’s expression turned sinful. “I can be pretty relentless.”

  Val cleared his throat and sipped his beer, pretending he didn’t know what Saint meant. “This is better than I remembered,” he said, motioning to his sub. Good grief, he was such a dork. “Thanks again for helping me out.”