When Salmon Loved Raven; Contemporary Gay Romance
Lake's Native American grandfather filled his heart with legends from the time he was a child, explaining that a story is a type of map—that tells you where you are or where you should be going.
But now Lake’s having trouble finding the right story to understand his growing attraction to Corbin, who's a mixture of eroticism and danger. How can Lake find his own happy ending? More
Lake didn’t exactly fit in while growing up. Mostly raised by his Native American grandparents, Lake had the red hair and coloring of his Irish mother. Being gay also hadn’t helped him ever make it to the cool kids’ table. His grandfather filled his head and heart with legends from the time he was a child, explaining that a story is a type of map—that tells you where you are or where you should be going.
But now that he’s a respected executive chef, he’s having trouble finding the right story to understand his growing attraction to Corbin, the new restaurant reviewer who seems to be a disturbing mixture of eroticism and danger. Lake discovers the stories of his own family can be so powerful he begins to repeat them with the predatory Corbin as legends, his father’s infidelity, and his current life blend together as he searches for his own happy ending.
“I’m honored to have you here,” Corbin heard behind him. He turned and froze for a moment, struck by the appearance of the man who was approaching them. He made a practice not to read the reviews others had written on a restaurant he hadn’t experienced. He wanted to see everything with fresh eyes, but he hadn’t been prepared for an executive chef who looked like someone who fell off the cover for a high-end gay porn magazine. The man was at least six feet, with wide shoulders and narrow hips, emphasized by the white apron. His long red hair was pulled back, emphasizing the sharpness of his cheekbones. His eyes were slightly slanted and pale gray. The eyelashes were obscenely long, and such a darker hue than his hair, Corbin wondered which might be dyed. He stared openly. If the red wasn’t provided by premium DNA, then Seattle had a world-class coloring salon hidden away somewhere. “My name is Lake. Welcome to the Salish Sea. I recognize you as Corbin, but I don’t yet know the name of your companion.”
“Stacy,” Corbin said softly, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.
Tracy opened up his mouth and shut it again. The fact Corbin had told him he’d only hit him back at the office was not really a guarantee he was safe. He kept watching Corbin, who was acting like his girlfriend when they went to see her favorite band. Or like his little brother when he saw a chocolate cake. It was some sort of primal hunger. He kept watching Corbin watching the man in the white apron. There was something else—a sense of possession. He looked back at the man who continued to speak. The more he looked, the better he understood Corbin’s attraction. If he were gay, his own tongue would be hanging out. All male, but some sort of odd feminine energy. Tracy had grown up with guys his own age declaring that they were gender or sexually fluid, but this was the first time he really understood what that was supposed to mean. Tracy realized being sexually fluid could be an option with the man in the apron.
“How do you know who I am?” Corbin was starting to pull himself back together, blinking his eyes as if trying to clear his head.
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