Made to Order by Brigham Vaughn
TWENTY
The Sunday before Thanksgiving, the tavern was a hub of activity. Rachael had closed early to host a big dinner for friends and staff. Tables had been pushed together to create large family-style seating and stations had been set up where people could help themselves to drinks and appetizers. She’d also given out holiday bonuses that afternoon as a thank-you for all their hard work. She’d been generous, though she’d brushed it off when Tyler had told her as much.
“You all work so hard to make this place a success. The least I can do is give that back.”
The smells that had been coming from the kitchen all day were amazing and Tyler’s stomach rumbled happily as he took a seat across from Donovan, who smiled as he surveyed the table with a look of pride. The décor was simple, which was just as well because the table was laden with food.
Tyler knew most of the guests, including Rachael’s partners, Reeve and Grant, and Reeve’s parents. Jenna Wagner and her husband Karl. Tyler spotted the town mayor and her husband as well, along with some other faces he recognized from around town. He’d met a handful of new people too, some from the poly community, and some others from the kink one. Thankfully Jude was nowhere in sight.
The weeks since their encounter with him had been good. Tyler and Donovan had spent more nights together than apart. Oddly enough, clearing the air about Donovan’s ex had brought them closer. The only thing hanging over them was the fact that Tyler still hadn’t come out. God, he needed to just bite the bullet. Maybe one of these days when he went to his parents’ house he’d just blurt it out. Or maybe he should just shoot the guys a text letting them know. Then he wouldn’t have to see the shocked looks on their faces.
“Nice ink, man.”
Tyler looked up from the mashed potatoes he’d been spooning onto his plate to glance at the guy sitting next to him. “I’m sorry?”
“I said I like your ink.”
“Oh.” Tyler’s gaze drifted to the guy’s forearms, the swirling colors of his tattoos visible with his white shirt folded up to his elbows. “Thank you. I like yours too.”
“Where do you go?”
“Nick’s place. Here in town. Ink About It.”
“Me too. The name caught my eye, and I took a look at his work. It’s top notch. I’ve gotten a few pieces from him since.”
“It is top notch,” Tyler agreed. “I’ve been going to him for years. Long before he opened his own place.”
Tyler took a longer look at the guy. He was broad-shouldered with a rugged handsomeness. His warm blond hair was swept back, and he had a short, neat beard. Tyler’s fingers flexed, remembering the softness of Donovan’s red beard against his fingertips, brushing against his skin.
He swallowed and shot a glance at Donovan who was immersed in conversation with an older couple next to him.
“Jarod.”
“Hmm?” Tyler turned back to look at the guy.
He held out a hand. “Jarod Keener. Thought I should introduce myself.”
“Tyler Hewitt. I’m the bar manager here.”
“I’ve seen you when I’ve been in. Nice to meet you.”
The quick, firm handshake was friendly, and Tyler gave Jarod a curious glance as he reached for the bowl of roasted Brussels sprouts with orange and walnuts. He’d been sure he hated the vegetables until Donovan made him try them.
“How’d you get an invite?” Tyler asked. “Do you know Rachael?”
“She’s more or less my sister-in-law.”
“Oh?” Tyler shot him a quizzical glance, trying to figure out that one.
Jarod laughed. “It’s complicated.”
He had a hint of a southern drawl, and the pieces came together in Tyler’s mind. “You’re related to Grant?” Tyler guessed. He glanced over at one of Rachael’s partners. He could definitely see a resemblance and the Tennessee accent was a dead giveaway. Tyler had a vague memory of seeing them in the tavern together in the past.
“I am. We’re half-brothers. And while Grant, Rachael, and Reeve may not be legally married, they’re family, you know?”
“I get it,” Tyler said. Eddie wasn’t related to him by blood or marriage, but he was every bit as much family as Tyler’s sister. Maybe more when it came down to it. He loved Kourtney, but she wasn’t the one who’d been by Tyler’s side during the most difficult moments of his life. “You were at their commitment ceremony last year?” Tyler guessed.
He had a vague memory of seeing Jarod there now that he thought about it. Funny they’d never officially met until tonight.
“Yeah. I got there late because of work so I didn’t have a lot of time to meet people, but I was there.”
“I knew you looked familiar. What do you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m a mechanic. I opened Keener’s Auto Body a few years ago.”
“Oh, right.” Tyler usually went to the dealership to get his truck serviced but he’d have to keep Jarod’s place in mind. He’d heard great things about it. And, if he remembered right, there had been rumors about the guy who owned it being kinky. He snuck another glance at Jarod. Huh.
The rumor mill in small towns was one of the reasons Tyler dreaded the thought of coming out. The constant gossip and scrutiny made him uncomfortable. The thought of his parents’ neighbors speculating about his relationship with Donovan made Tyler cringe. But he knew how important being open was to Donovan. And it felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Jarod sat back and gestured to the man by his side. “And this is my boyfriend, Forrest.”
A tall, thin man with wavy brown hair shot a look at Jarod through his lashes. “Boyfriend?”
“You want me to call you somethin’ else?”
There was a little edge to Jarod’s voice that sounded a bit like Donovan when he was in Dom mode. Interesting.
“No, boyfriend is good.” The guy leaned in and smiled brightly at Tyler. “Forrest Patton. I do the accounting for the tavern.”
Tyler nodded and smiled back. “Nice to officially meet you, Forrest.”
“You too.”
Forrest returned his attention to his meal and Jarod glanced at Tyler’s arms again. “So, did Nick do all of your ink then?”
“Close to it,” Tyler said. “Though I got some pieces when I lived outside of Michigan.”
There had been a good place just outside of Fort Drum. Tyler, Eddie, Jackson, and Frenchie had all gotten matching tattoos with the crossed swords of the 10th Mountain Division logo. Hayes and Rafe had wussed out on them. It had been a fun night. Tyler smiled faintly as he took a bite of the stuffing with cranberries and mushrooms.
As they ate, Tyler and Jarod fell into easy conversation about tattoos, talking about Nick’s talent and what pieces they’d like to get next.
At one point, Forrest asked Jarod something, and he turned away for a few minutes, so Tyler smiled at Max who sat diagonally across from him, next to Donovan. “You didn’t bring your wife tonight?”
Rachael had invited the staff to bring a plus one but most of them had declined.
Max shook their head. “Nah. Della’s traveling for work.”
Max was nonbinary and married to a woman. Tyler wasn’t quite sure how they navigated all that, but it did kinda put things in perspective. It wasn’t like Tyler was the only person with a complicated personal life. There were a lot of people who figured out how to come out in all sorts of situations. If all these people he knew could do it, why couldn’t he?
Tyler glanced at Donovan to find his chair empty.
“He went to finish dessert,” Max said. “If you’re wondering.”
Tyler gave them a puzzled frown. “Donovan made dessert? I thought he usually left that to Laura?”
“He does.” Max gave him an odd look. “Said something about wanting to try new things. He made a pumpkin tart with a crème brulée topping.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that was a thing,” Tyler said.
Max shrugged. “He seemed weirdly determined to make it a thing. Laura made a few other desserts, but he was insistent he’d make that one.”
It wasn’t a coincidence that those were two of Tyler’s favorite desserts. Donovan was too deliberate to do that accidentally. Tyler smiled to himself.
After dinner, Rachael got up and made a nice speech about how well the tavern was doing and how she was grateful to all of them for everything they did in her life. Warmth settled in Tyler’s chest. He had a great job at an amazing place. Great friends. A great boss. And … a great guy. Maybe he needed to start being thankful for everything he had instead of worrying about how other people would feel about it.
Once they’d all clinked glasses, Donovan helped serve the pie. He saved Tyler’s piece for last.
“So, pumpkin crème brulée, huh?” Tyler said with a small smile.
“Two very popular desserts combined into one,” Donovan said as he handed Tyler a slice, their fingers brushing.
“I’m sure everyone will appreciate it.”
Donovan leaned in. “There’s only one person whose opinion really matters in this case.” He spoke quietly, but his words were a warm caress.
Tyler took a bite, his gaze never leaving Donovan’s, and he caught the hitch in Donovan’s breathing as he licked his fork clean.
There was a promise in his gaze, and Tyler’s belly tightened in anticipation of what they had planned for that night. Donovan had been teasing him with ideas for it for days.
When Donovan turned away, the rest of the world came into focus again. Tyler glanced around, wondering if anyone had seen their interaction. Grant gave him a smile and nodded as if he’d worked something out for himself. Tyler took another forkful of pie, the back of his neck heating. Maybe he should talk to someone like Grant. He’d understand what kind of position Tyler was in.
Tyler watched Donovan lift a drink to his lips, laughing and talking to Max and Laura, but Tyler would swear as he reached for a second slice of tart that he could feel Donovan there with him.
Showing him how much he cared.
It was past time for Tyler to prove to Donovan he felt the same.
* * *
“Oh.” Tyler stepped into Donovan’s office and froze at the sight of Donovan partially dressed. “Sorry. I didn’t realize …”
Donovan tugged on a T-shirt. “I had a run-in with some pie. Besides, you know I never mind you seeing me this way.”
He reached for his chef’s coat again, shrugging it on over the shirt.
Tyler gave him a quizzical look. “Aren’t you done cooking for the day?”
“Yes, but I’m trying to avoid getting anything else on me before the night is over.” Donovan buttoned the coat, still smiling at Tyler. He was off by one, and the sides hung unevenly.
“Here let me …” Tyler brushed Donovan’s hands away and unbuttoned the button Donovan had been fussing with, fixing it. “There.”
Donovan leaned in. “How service submissive of you.”
Tyler shook his head in mock annoyance. “You just can’t resist, can you?”
Donovan shrugged with an unrepentant little smirk. “Just trying to get you used to the idea. Like I said, I have plans for tonight. There’s lots and lots of training in your future.”
“Training, huh?” He settled his hand against Donovan’s chest.
“Mm-hmm. It’s time I really start putting you through your paces.”
Tyler swallowed hard. “Why does that scare me more than the thought of being back in Ranger School?”
The wicked light in Donovan’s eyes made Tyler’s blood heat. “Because it should.” He leaned in. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to serve me. I’ll even have you calling me ‘Sir.’”
Tyler crossed his arms across his chest. “Oh, I see what this is all about you. You just want the ego boost.”
Donovan let out a rumbling little laugh. “Oh, not even close. What I want is you on your knees, submissive and hungry for everything I’ll give you. I want you to know in your bones you belong to me.”
“Fuck.” That thought made Tyler’s blood heat.
“You’ll get there. Trust me.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Which do you want it to be?”
Tyler considered it. “I don’t know.”
“Both?”
“Yes, Sir. Is that what you want to hear?” Tyler snarked.
Donovan smirked at Tyler, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Why yes, it is. Nice of you to finally acknowledge my authority.”
Tyler made an outraged noise. “If you think for one minute—”
“I have things to attend to in the kitchen,” Donovan said, his lips turning up at the corners. “I’ll speak to you again when you’ve calmed down.”
Half-laughing, half-annoyed, Tyler opened his mouth to tell Donovan where he could shove it after that comment when Donovan pushed his way past him and out the door. He paused and Tyler saw a glimpse of Jarod in the hall. Tyler grimaced as he realized they’d been overheard.
“Feisty sub you’ve got there,” Jarod said, clearly amused.
Tyler felt his heart speed up as panic set in. Damn it, the guy clearly knew what he’d seen. He stared wide-eyed at Donovan, begging him to fix this.
“He’s not my submissive.” Donovan’s tone was cool.
Those words sent a strange wash of emotions over Tyler. Relief that Donovan was clearly trying to protect Tyler’s identity. Fear that it wouldn’t be enough. That Jarod would still know about their involvement. Then shame because it felt incredibly wrong to have Donovan dismiss him like that.
Donovan continued, an odd, uncomfortable expression crossing his face. “To be my submissive, you have to actually be submissive, and he’s not capable of that.”
“I’m not his fucking submissive. I’m not anyone’s submissive, damn it.” Tyler pushed past Donovan and Jarod with a scowl. The words had been instinctive, an attempt to hide the truth, but the moment they left his lips they felt wrong.
“My mistake. I apologize,” Jarod said.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Donovan said. He sounded distant. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Tyler strode away, a sick feeling of dread beginning to build inside him. Sure, he was in the closet, but Donovan didn’t have to imply he was incapable of submission. Unless … maybe he believed it. Maybe he was afraid Tyler would never get there.
His stomach sank.
Tyler turned the corner, his mind whirling. Donovan’s denial of him as a submissive had stung more than he’d expected it to. Donovan had never been intentionally cruel. Had he just done it to protect Tyler? Or did he mean it?
Tyler’s eyes stung and his chest felt tight, and he suddenly wondered where it had all gone wrong. They’d been flirting earlier, playfully teasing each other. But what if him denying who they were to each other was hurtful to Donovan? How long would he wait? Earlier, Tyler had been so sure he was ready to come out but given the opportunity, he’d panicked.
Tyler spotted two abandoned mugs of cider on the table and snatched them up, carrying them to the kitchen to dump in the sink. Trevor, the dishwasher, shot him a confused look, opening his mouth to say something, but Tyler plunked the dirty dishes down onto the stainless-steel counter nearby, then kept walking, out through the back door and into the parking lot behind the restaurant.
The night was cold, and his harsh breaths created clouds of fog as he jammed his hands in his pockets and wondered how much longer Donovan would be patient with him.
With a sick certainty, Tyler realized that if he hadn’t already created a rift between them that couldn’t be fixed, he needed to get his shit together fast or he would lose Donovan.
