by May Archer
He took the hand Mrs. Tyndall offered him. “Please, call me Cort, ma’am.” After a brief handshake, he stepped back and wrapped his arm around Cam in what he knew was a proprietary way. Cam might not know what to call him, but he wanted there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind that for right now, at least, Cam was his.
Mrs. Tyndall smiled at his display, and regarded him with a glint in her eye. “And you must call me Lydia. Camden is the only one who can’t seem to break the habit of calling me by my full name, even now that he’s an adult. Let me show you up to the house.” She pointed up the hill, to where a large, white stone mansion was just peeking out between a heavy stand of trees. “Camden, I know you always loved the beach walk. Or maybe you’d rather see the orange trees along the way?”
Cort didn’t want to head to the house immediately. If Damon was on this island - and Cort could sense that he was close by - he wouldn’t be up at the mansion. He was far more likely to have come onto the island as a pilot, a mechanic, or even perhaps a groundskeeper. He turned around and looked back towards the plane, which was being rolled behind the hangar. If he could go and scope out the hangar for just a minute…
Lydia misunderstood his action. She put a hand on his arm to catch his attention and said, “Don’t worry about a thing, dear. I’ll have Tom or one of the others bring your bags to the house for you.”
Cort couldn’t turn back or look around after that. Mrs. Tyndall led them onward, up the path through a lush stand of citrus trees. She pointed out the varieties of oranges, lemons, and limes growing in abundance on the island, and explained how her husband’s family had planted the first such trees here generations ago. She explained how the island used to be a great tourist destination, but her husband’s father had bought out all the resorts and demolished them.
Cort stayed a step behind Lydia and Cam as they walked up the path, and marveled at the way Cam was able to listen to her conversation and nod seriously when she talked of the positive environmental effects which came with the clean water initiatives, and her pride in her family. The whole concept of owning an island was like the punchline to a not-very-funny joke in the world Cort came from. It was almost incomprehensible to him that the man whose ass he’d owned just an hour ago, the man who’d given himself so freely to Cort, was able to listen and comment intelligently on the potential return on investment of island ownership.
As they walked through the hazy sunshine, Cort realized they had circled around to approach the house from the rear. The path went up an incline leading to an enormous terrace with a gorgeous view of the turquoise blue Caribbean water. It was unbelievable.
“Several of the others have already arrived. Bunny and Mickey, the Taylors, the Merenskys, the Blackwells, and the Victozas. Oh, and the Shaws.”
Cam paused in his walk. “Uncle Emmett and Aunt Lucy are already here?”
Lydia nodded. “Oh, yes. They arrived hours ago. Left DC after some hush-hush meetings Emmett can’t help talking about. Cain made it down, as well. And Arcadia, of course.” Lydia’s voice had turned faintly disapproving.
“What is Arcadia doing these days?” Cam wondered.
Lydia raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Working on her father’s re-election campaign,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “This afternoon at lunch, she regaled me with her new campaign slogan - Restore American Glory.”
Cam frowned. “Sounds like something Uncle Emmett would endorse,” he said with a sigh.
Cort snickered, and Cam turned to look at him. “What’s so funny?”
Cort waved a hand through the air. “Nothing, nothing.” At Lydia and Cam’s unamused stares, he expounded, “Fine. It’s just… Did nobody notice that Restore American Glory spells out RAG?”
Cam blinked and shook his head, but Lydia’s warm smile turned into a genuine grin as she turned to Cam. “I approve of him, Camden,” she said, then winked at Cort before she led them further on towards the house.
Several people were milling around on the patio - some admiring the view, others deep in conversation, all of them extremely overdressed, as far as Cort was concerned. The women all wore dresses, the men wore long pants and polo shirts, and Cort felt somewhat self-conscious of his own jeans and tee, until he recalled Cam himself was wearing an even scruffier outfit. Every person on the patio carried a drink in his or her hand like armor against tedious conversation. Socialites in the wild, he thought. I wonder if they hunt in packs.
“I’ll let you say your hellos and grab a drink,” Lydia said quietly. “But don’t feel like you need to stay for too long. You’ve only just arrived and I know you’ll want to rest yourselves. Dinner tonight will be informal, and don’t be afraid to ask someone to bring some light refreshments to your room if you’d rather not join us.”
Thank God. Cort couldn’t imagine staying a minute longer than he had to.
Cam shook his head. “Not necessary. I’m sure everyone has plenty to do already.”
“Nonsense!” she scolded. “You know Gerald and I always hire plenty of extra hands when we host these festivities.”
“And it’s smart thinking, too,” said a gruff voice behind them. “Labor on the islands is dirt cheap.”
Cort stiffened and turned to see Senator Shaw bearing down on them, drink in hand. His smiling blue eyes were fixed on Cam, his sandy hair damp with sweat. A tall, black-haired man wearing sunglasses followed in his wake. He was hot, if you went for the whole Terminator-look.
Cam smiled, and Cort wondered if the senator noticed how forced the expression was. Maybe he didn’t care.
It was strange how clearly he could read Cam after such a short time… and even stranger how protective he felt.
Still, when Senator Shaw winked and stuck out his meaty paw for Cam to shake, Cam didn’t hesitate.
“Uncle Emmett,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you, my boy, and you! It’s wonderful that you’ve managed to peel yourself away from Seaver Tech for the weekend. You might remember my assistant, Jack Peabody?” He lifted his free hand over his shoulder, indicating the tall man, whose grim expression didn’t change.
Before Cam could reply, Lydia gave Shaw a gimlet glare and interrupted. “Emmett Shaw, I’ll have you know I pay the locals the same rate that I pay the catering staff I brought over from the States. Island labor is dirt cheap. Do you ever listen to yourself? And don’t you dare launch into one of your campaign speeches. No politics this weekend.”
“Oh, alright,” Shaw sighed. He gave Cam an affable grin. “Lucy warned me of the same thing on the flight over. It’s an occupational hazard.” He took a sip of his drink and shot Cam another quick wink. Then he glanced at Cort and his smile dimmed somewhat. He held out his hand.
“I don’t know if we’ve met. Emmett Shaw.”
“Kendrick Cortland,” Cort said, taking his hand. The senator’s grip was damp, and a good deal firmer than necessary. The man held on for several beats, as though waiting for Cort to yield, and Jack seemed poised to intervene. Cort barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Next, they’d be whipping their dicks out to compare sizes.
“I’m sorry,” Cam said, jumping into the fray. “Cort, this is Senator Emmett Shaw, my honorary uncle, I guess you could say. Uncle Shaw, Cort is my date this weekend.” And to Cort’s shocked delight, Cam wrapped an arm around Cort’s waist as though daring the senator to comment.
Shaw’s eyes turned shrewd and his lips pursed as if the drink in his hand had suddenly turned sour. Cort bit back the urge to laugh.
“And what do you do, Mr. Cortland?” Shaw demanded.
Cort wrapped his own arm around Cam’s back, settling Cam against his side. “Oh, various things,” he hedged. He was fairly certain if he announced himself to be an FBI agent, the news would travel around this gathering faster than wildfire. Besides which, his status as an agent was tenuous at best just then. “Right now, I’m enjoying some time off.”
Shaw’s eyes turned a fraction colder. “And
how do you know Cam?”
Cort hesitated, unsure of what Cam might have told the Tyndalls while making arrangements for the trip, but Cam stepped in immediately. “Cort and I met at a charity function a while back,” he said smoothly.
Cort squeezed his waist in approval.
“Well, then we’ll have to get to know you,” Shaw said. His words were friendly enough, but his tone carried a distinct warning. “I’ll ask Lucy to have you over to the house for dinner sometime once we get back.” He glanced at Jack. “Make a note.”
Jack nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said in a faint drawl.
Cam nodded and Cort managed to smile politely.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Camden needs your blessing on his boyfriend,” she said dryly.
“What? That’s nonsense. I just want to know more about the young man Cam will be spending time with,” Shaw said, his cheeks turning red. “The boy is practically one of my own!”
Cort stifled a snort. Bullshit. Shaw was no father to Cam - he could tell Cam didn’t even like the guy. Maybe if Cam’s father was alive, Cam might care about his approval, but as far as Cort was concerned, he didn’t care what anyone else thought. Cam was his whether or not the blustering Senator condoned their relationship. Cort fought the sudden desire to kiss Cam right then and there, and wished for a moment he’d marked him up in the plane.
“Lydia Tyndall, what are you saying to make my husband blush?” A pretty, middle-aged redhead in a sleeveless white dress strolled up to Shaw’s side, along with a tall, teenage boy who looked miserably warm in a long-sleeved button-down shirt and khaki pants. The woman leaned forward to give Cam a kiss on the cheek. “Cam, sweetheart, so good to see you.”
“Your husband was about to ask Camden’s boyfriend his intentions,” Lydia said archly.
The redhead’s mouth gaped in surprise as she turned to Cort. “Boyfriend?” she repeated, looking back and forth from Cam to Cort. “Really?”
“I… well.” Cam stammered, straightening slightly at Cort’s side. “It’s… we’re…”
“Yes, boyfriend,” Cort said, his hand around Cam’s back tightening slightly until Cam was pressed against him again, right where he belonged. Cam glanced up at Cort in surprise, but then smiled and his own hand tightened on Cort’s waist.
“Kendrick Cortland,” he told the woman, holding out his hand to shake. “But call me Cort.”
The lady blinked, but held out her hand mechanically. “Lucy Shaw,” she said, as though surprised to hear herself speaking the words. She took her hand back quickly.
“And Cort, this is Cain Shaw. I guess he’d be my honorary… cousin?” Cam asked dubiously, as though he’d never really thought about that before.
Cort held out his hand to the younger man, who gripped it briefly, as though Cort was possibly contagious or on fire.
Lydia Tyndall rolled her eyes and shot Cort a look that said she was exasperated by the whole proceeding.
Cam cleared his throat. “Cain. Good to see you. You’re looking well.”
The boy blushed and nodded. He managed to squeak out, “Yeah, uh. You too.”
Cort realized belatedly that if the boy was the Shaws’ son, he wasn’t actually a teenager but was probably twenty-three or twenty-four. And quickly on the heels of that, he recalled Cam saying he and Cain had dated briefly, once upon a time. Honorary cousin, my eye. Cort couldn’t wait to give Cam shit for that later.
Cort’s gaze on Cain turned assessing.
Cain was undeniably handsome. With deep blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a straight nose, his perfect face was the kind often featured on magazine covers, but he looked at least a decade younger than he must have been, partly because he was an inch or two shorter than Cam and a little heavier. Maybe he was still carrying a layer of puppy fat, but there was also something in his eyes. He seemed startled and uncomfortable to find someone had noticed him, and his gaze darted back and forth from Cam to his mother and father, like he wasn’t sure how to behave.
“Are you still in school?” Cam asked.
“Uh, yeah. Second year law,” he confirmed. “Vanderbilt.”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember. Good for you,” Cam said. To Cort, he added, “The Shaws used to live up in Boston, but they moved south a few years ago.”
“Better quality of life,” Shaw informed them. “Gorgeous mountains, clean air.”
“And a senator who was planning his retirement at exactly the right time,” Lydia interjected.
“Lydia!” Lucy exclaimed repressively.
If not for the fact that the charged atmosphere had made his training kick in, Cort would have burst out laughing. Cam coughed and looked at the ground, while Cain became fascinated by the sight of his own shoes. Shaw merely arched a brow at Lydia, as if he expected no less from her.
“That is not the reason we moved,” Lucy explained to Cort with a trembling voice. “We wanted better opportunities for our children! Better schools and better influences.”
Though Cain’s gaze was still pointed downward, Cort saw a muscle in his jaw flex, like he was clenching it hard. Cort recalled Cam saying Cain would likely never be able to come out to his parents, and wondered whose bad influences he’d had in Boston.
Poor kid. He made a mental note to ask Cam about it later.
“And, uh, Cady?” Cam said, once again venturing into the awkward silence that descended.
“Oh, Arcadia!” Lucy Shaw said, her eyes lighting up. “She’s here, too. Probably already talking someone’s ear off about her father, securing some donations!”
Cam nodded. “That’s great,” he said.
“It is great,” Lucy enthused. “Oh, you and Cady used to have so much in common, Cam. Remember back when you two were an item?”
Cam’s fingers squeezed Cort’s hip. “Er…” he hedged. “It was a long, long time ago.”
“Yes, but some things never change!” Lucy said. Her smile was bright and hopeful. “Maybe she can save you a dance tomorrow night and you two can reminisce!”
Cort frowned. Cain glanced up at Cort, his eyes full of sardonic humor. Cort gave a tiny shake of his head. His annoyance dissipated under a wave of sympathy for Cain.
Growing up as he had, Cort couldn’t believe he’d ever look with sympathy at someone like Cain Shaw, who’d been raised in the lap of luxury. Cort had always wanted a family of his own, wished he had parents and siblings to look out for him, but now he had to amend that wish. He couldn’t imagine growing up in a family where you had to hide part of yourself to fit in with someone’s career ambitions or deluded ideals. When he’d come out to Craig Dempsey - an event precipitated by Craig catching him kissing his next-door-neighbor Ethan behind the garage one sweltering summer afternoon just after he’d turned seventeen - there had been no question about whether or not Craig accepted him (he hadn’t). There also hadn’t been any question as to whether Cort would hide his sexuality to please the Dempseys (not a chance in hell). For the first time, Cort felt as though maybe he’d had a certain amount of freedom in growing up that way. Money seemed to bring a shit ton of posturing.
“Excuse me, please. I’m really quite thirsty,” Cain gritted out, then squeezed between Cam and Lydia without saying another word and headed for the small bar set up on one side of the patio.
“I could use a drink, too.” Cort squeezed Cam’s shoulder. “Come with me?”
Cam nodded, but before they could turn around, an older woman on the far side of the patio squealed, “Cam! Oh, darling!” and made a bee-line for them.
Cam hesitated. “That’s Mary-Alice McMann, Drew’s mom,” he told Cort. “I need to…”
“I’ll bring you something,” Cort promised, trailing his fingers over the nape of Cam’s neck before he moved away, and loving the way the banked fire in Cam’s eyes instantly kindled into something hotter.
Cort moved through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances from the men and women he passed. At the bar, he ordered two beers. He could have used s
omething stronger, but he also wanted to keep his wits about him, just in case Damon made contact. His eyes circled the patio, paying careful attention to the men and women who were carrying drinks and setting up platters of fruit and snacks, but Damon wasn’t among them. He tamped down his impatience.
“So, you’re Cam’s boyfriend.” Cort turned his head to see Cain Shaw standing by the bar, his hand wrapped around a glass of brown liquid. Apparently, Cain had progressed right to the hard stuff.
“Yeah,” Cort said, and Cain nodded slowly.
“He tell you about, ah…” Cain cocked his head and shrugged.
“Yeah, a little. Long time ago, wasn’t it?”
“It was another life,” Cain said bleakly, giving Cort a sidelong glance.
Cort dug a bill out of his wallet and left it in the tip jar, then picked up the beers that the bartender set in front of him. “Well, you can rest assured, anything Cam told me isn’t something I’d share.”
Cain nodded again. “I figured. Cam is a good guy.” Cain’s voice was low and serious. “He’s never brought anyone to one of these before,” he said, raising his glass to encompass the patio and the low murmur of cultured conversation. “Not sure whether to be glad for him or sad for you.”
Cort chuckled. “I would’ve thought this stuff would be easier if you were born into it.”
“Hmm. You thought wrong,” Cain responded. He turned to look at the crowd and Lucy headed in their direction, practically dragging a pretty girl about Cain’s age. He sighed and tossed back the remainder of his drink. “I just remembered something I need to do.”
“I doubt she’ll ask, but I’ll say I haven’t seen you,” Cort promised.
Cain smiled. “I owe you one.”
Cort made his way through the crowd back to Cam, his shoulders tense in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d blended seamlessly with the crowd last Friday night, but here, as Cam’s boyfriend, everything was different. He hadn’t been putting on a facade, and kept forgetting he wasn’t here to mingle.
He wound his way through the crowd and saw Lydia was talking to the cool, elegant blonde Cam had identified as Mary-Alice McMann, while Cam stood nearby, speaking to the man Cort remembered from the other night as Drew McMann, Cam’s ex-boyfriend. Jealousy rippled through Cort’s chest.
