Off Plan

by May Archer

  “Crash-landed?” We both snorted and stared at each other, giddy with adrenaline and relief and love.

  I bit my lip. “I wrecked your car.”

  He huffed out a startled laugh. “You did. I’m going to be very annoyed about that.”

  “Are you?”

  “Definitely.” He dropped a kiss on my nose. “As soon as I stop being really fucking grateful you’re okay.” He kissed me deeply, then pulled back. “Okay, done.” He pretended to move off me, but I locked my arms and legs around his back to hold him exactly where he was.

  “Are you guys having sex in the rain right now?” Beale demanded, reminding me that we weren’t alone.

  “Beale, stop perving on the idiots! Crawl over here and check this out!” Rafe yelled. “What’s that by the front wheel—”

  Fenn and I ignored both of them.

  “Gloria’s in the hospital,” I told him. “She’s gonna be fine, but your uncle’s staying—”

  “I know,” he cut me off. “Beale gave Rafe the rundown when he called to say you’d been in an accident. I have never been so scared in my entire life.”

  “Me neither.” My hands tightened on the back of his neck. “It was fucking dark, and I was so scared… and then you called my name and being grumpy at me.” I licked my lips, tasting the rain and Fenn. “That’s how I knew it was really you.”

  Fenn snorted. “Giving me shit in the middle of the street, in a tropical downpour? Really?”

  I nodded. “Always. That’s how you know it’s really me.”

  Fenn braced on his forearms and leaned over me. “I love you, Mason Bloom. I don’t care if you wanna live here or New York or… wherever. I just wanna live with you. With no walls between us.”

  It was probably the sappiest thing Fenn Reardon had ever said or ever would say. And sometime when we weren’t lying in the road in a tropical downpour, I was going to tease him about it mercilessly. But in that moment, all I wanted was to kiss him, so I lifted my neck and did just that. “I love you, too. And I don’t think I knew what that meant before. Which is why we’re staying on Whispering Key.”

  “Yeah?” Fenn grinned broadly, then pressed his smiling lips to mine, the taste and texture and hard reality of him reminding me that beauty could be found in the weirdest, wettest places.

  “Fenn! Holy fucking shitballs. Fenn! Stop kissing your boyfriend in the fucking monsoon and come see this!” Beale called.

  “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed,” Fenn said mildly, ignoring his cousin. “Unless you think you need a hospital?”

  I shook my head, knowing I was going to be sore the next day no matter what, but that I needed rest more than a hospital. Rest, and… “I really need to be with you,” I admitted. Letting him hold me and ground me in the safety I only ever felt with him.

  “Handy, Loafers. Because that’s exactly what I need, too.” He kissed me again, with his forearms under my shoulders and his fingers supporting my head.

  I sighed.

  “For the love of Jacob Godfrey’s ghost! Fenn and Mason! Stop dry humping… uh? Wet humping? Whatever. Get your asses over here!”

  I darted a glance toward the edge of the sinkhole and shuddered. Yeah, I had zero desire to crawl back over there. But Fenn was already levering himself off me and offering me both of his hands to help pull me up.

  Once I was on my feet, though, he didn’t drag me toward the hellmouth; he pulled me into his arms like he was as reluctant to let go as I was, and he kissed me again. I could get very, very used to this.

  I was thankful I was alive to get used to this.

  “Shower,” I mumbled. “Beer. Bed.”

  “Baby, you have seriously good plans—”

  “Jesus Christ!” Beale yelled. “There’s a fucking box in this hole, boys! A very old, very heavy box. Are you hearing me? Blink once for yes, twice for no!”

  But Fenn and I just stared at each other without blinking at all.

  “You need me to spell it out? I’m pretty sure this means Mason just crashed your Charger into the Whispering Key treasure, Fenn!” Beale yelled. “So stop your canoodling and come fucking see it.”

  “There is no way,” Fenn said, shaking his head slowly. “Not possible. In what universe would a person have a car accident and find a treasure people have hunted for centuries?”

  As it turned out, the answer to that question was… this one.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fenn

  Two mornings later, I stepped out the back door of the Goodmans’ house into somewhat-organized chaos. The sun was shining, the ground was boggy, and the air was thick with humidity. Young Rafe and Beale were manning a chain saw—never a good idea—to hack a storm-downed tree into tiny pieces for yard cleanup. Beale’s cat, Marjorie, whose delusions of being a pit bull grew more and more pronounced each day, stood on the porch steps hissing at the noise. Big Rafe manned the barbecue smoker just out of sight, sending giant white plumes wafting across the covered patio where an enormous picnic table covered in a red-and-white-checked cloth stood ready and waiting for food. Gage waved at the smoke from his spot on the porch stairs, where he chatted with Mason, who was sprawled across the lounge chair I’d threatened to strap him to if he attempted to move.

  Just a typical family Sunday, right?

  Except it hadn’t really been typical for any of us up to now. Not even a little. There was a feeling of happiness and anticipation hanging in the air, along with the smoke and the humidity. A sense of camaraderie. I feeling that we were… I dunno. Actually family.

  A lot of the happy buzz had to do with the contents of the safe in the floor of Uncle Rafe’s bunker—a wooden chest banded with iron containing several gold bars, gold coins, pouches filled with gold dust, and a pair of gold rings, one inscribed with the initials JG, the other RG, like the original owners wanted to be extra sure we knew just who it had belonged to.

  But I think even more of it had to do with how close we’d come to losing Gloria (who was still in the hospital, but feeling fit enough to video chat with Gage and walk him through her pineapple bread recipe) and Mason (who was bruised to hell and back but was, in his professional opinion, “Perfectly fine, for fuck’s sake, Fenn, but if we don’t have makeup sex soon, I won’t be responsible for my actions”). There was something to be said for remembering that no matter how much we pissed each other off—and we did—we really loved one another, too.

  “Hey,” I said, approaching Mason’s lounge chair. I ruffled Gage’s hair and pushed at his head when he muttered, “Dick.”

  To Mason, I said, “You relaxing, baby?”

  Mason pushed his sunglasses up through his wavy, dark hair and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Clearly, yes. I had no idea you had this relaxation kink. I offered to help Beale and Rafe with the tree, and Beale threatened to sit on me if I tried, which is counterproductive to my bruised ribs healing, FYI.”

  “Yeah, but the threat worked, didn’t it. You’re still lying here?” I braced my hands on the arms of his chair and leaned down to give him a long, thorough kiss.

  “I feel if you want me lying down, there are better ways to accomplish it, that’s all I’m saying,” Mason whispered against my mouth when I pulled back. “That’s all I keep saying.”

  I grinned and knocked his feet out of the way so I could sit on the end of his lounger.

  “Fine,” I agreed. “Fine. If that’s really what you want to do… you’ve convinced me.”

  “Wait, really?” His green eyes were so damn beautiful. “Because I could fake being tired right now and we could be up in my room in minutes, and I could do that thing where—”

  “You know I can hear you, right?” Gage demanded. “My young, impressionable ears are bleeding.”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “If you really want to, let’s go. In fact! Hey, why don’t we all go?”

  Mason’s eyes widened and his lip curled. “All?”

  “Yeah, the whole family! Might be crowded, but I t
hink they’d love to watch.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t think Uncle Rafe and the boys would enjoy season two of Dr. Who? That was what you were suggesting, right? No? Otherwise, I don’t—”

  Mason grabbed my shirt, and I laughed out loud as he drew me toward him.

  Someone really had to tell the man his “threatening” face was so not threatening, but that person was not going to be me.

  “I hate you,” he said.

  “Too late,” I sang. “You already told me you loved me. No take-backsies.”

  “I said it after a traumatic incident! That shit doesn’t count.”

  “You said it after a traumatic incident, so it counts more.”

  “I should have taken a cab from the airport that first day,” he groaned.

  I leaned over him and looked seriously into those eyes I loved, eyes I never wanted to go a single day without seeing. “No, baby, you shouldn’t have.”

  His green eyes went soft on mine. He put his hand on my jaw and leaned up to kiss the corner of my mouth. “No,” he said seriously. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have.”

  “Aaand still hearing you!” Gage interrupted. “Come on, guys, give me a break. I haven’t gotten laid in months, and the tension between you is so thick I could cut it.”

  “It’s my ferrymones,” I said solemnly. “They make me irresistible.”

  Mason laughed, my favorite sound ever, and Gage shook his head. “You guys are so weird.”

  Young Rafe and Beale wandered over and sat down on chairs under the patio cover.

  “Who’s weird? Fenn?” Rafe said. “This is not new information, little brother. And poor Mason has a coordinating aura.”

  “A compatible aura,” Beale corrected, rolling his eyes. “Coordinating is for paint chips. And you know, the funniest thing about you is that your aura is—”

  Rafe held up a hand. “None of my business. I let you worry about my aura, Beale.”

  “Hey, Dad!” Gage called. “Are you done burning the steaks yet? This is fun and whatever, but I have plans tonight, so I’ve gotta get back to campus, and we haven’t talked about the treasure at all except when that reporter knocked on the door and you yelled ‘No comment’ through the peephole.”

  Big Rafe leaned around the side of the house and scowled. “Gage Spence Goodman, you can’t head off island yet. The Pass is still an unholy mess, with all those work crews all over the place.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said patiently. “I’m the one who drove here and had to park my car more than half a mile up the road, remember? And lemme just tell you, walking around the crater brought me past the Original Homestead, which totally gave me the heebie-jeebies.” He leaned closer to Mason. “Ghosts, you know?”

  Mason snorted… but held me tighter anyway. I suppressed a smile.

  “Ergo, if you go back to campus, the reporters will hound you,” Big Rafe warned.

  Gage shook his head. “Nope. Not a soul knows who I am there. It’s you guys I feel bad for, especially Fenn and Mason. The second y’all alerted the state about the treasure, you became sitting ducks, and once they heard about Mason’s near miss? Story’s total clickbait.”

  Big Rafe came and took a seat next to the picnic table. I waited for him to say something about this being exactly what he’d hoped for—good publicity for the island! Instead he gave Mason a stern look.

  “Mason, you’d best tell me if it gets to be too much, you hear? If they want an official statement, you direct them to the mayor’s office. And that goes for you, too, Fenn.”

  Huh.

  But Mason nodded, taking it all in stride. “I will. I haven’t gotten a single call yet.” He shook me gently. “Though this might be partly because someone hid my phone yesterday and didn’t give it back until this morning.”

  “You needed the rest,” I said. And more than that, I’d needed him. We’d spent the day mostly alone, dozing in bed for long hours, calling to check on Gloria, taking a short walk on the beach, soaking in the idea that the two of us were a package deal now, talking about places we wanted to travel, debating the dog Mason wanted to adopt… and absolutely not doing more than kissing, because I refused to even contemplate hurting him by being too enthusiastic. “It’s what your doctor would prescribe, if your doctor wasn’t you.”

  Mason snorted and admitted, “You’re not entirely wrong,” which was as close to an endorsement as I was going to get.

  “Cancel your plans,” Big Rafe said again, eyeing his youngest. “Stay here. Spend time with the family.”

  “Can’t. Got tickets to a concert.” Gage shrugged apologetically.

  “Yeah? Who’s playing?” Young Rafe demanded.

  Gage shrugged again and got very busy toying with his watch band. “Nobody you’d know.”

  “Ohhh, I do believe our Gage-let has a date,” Beale said with a smile. “It’s not so much about the music as it is about the hot guy waiting for him if you catch my drift, Rafe. How’s my intuition, little brother?”

  “Nonexistent.” Gage cleared his throat. “So. As I was saying. Small matter of a treasure?”

  Big Rafe shrugged, clearly subdued, and Mason poked me, as if to say this was not the Rafe Goodman he knew.

  I knew that was what he meant because I was thinking it, too.

  “I’m assuming you four guys are going to split it since you were all there when it was found?” Gage continued. “That’s fair. But I expect one of you assholes to get me a decent car, okay?”

  Rafe snorted. “Yeah, right. Not buying my brother some bougie vehicle just to help him get laid. When Jayd Rollins comes to the island this summer, you can drive him around just fine in your Civic, and then tell whichever asshole you date next that if your car was good enough for the likes of Jayd, it’s plenty good enough for them.”

  “I’m not driving Jayd around! He’s your ex-brother-in-law.” Gage blushed, all out of proportion to his brother’s teasing. “And no one said anything about bougie, Rafael. First, because I don’t use the word bougie, and second because I’m not talking about buying me a Vanquish or what-the-fuck-ever. I’m just saying, you guys finding a multimillion-dollar treasure justifies a slight upgrade from my 1982 Civic, okay? I’d like a car where I don’t have to actually crank the windows down.” He pushed his shaggy, sun-shot hair away from his brown eyes and mimed turning a window crank.

  “Hey! As a person who happens to drive a car with windows that need to be cranked…” I stopped, remembered, and winced.

  Mason sat forward so he could wrap strong arms around me from behind and prop his chin on my shoulder. “Moment of silence,” he whispered. “May the Charger rest in peace.”

  “Actually.” I twisted slightly to look at him. “About that. I think I know what I want to do with any treasure money that comes my way.” I twisted my lips up into a hopeful smile and waited for him to catch on.

  It took 2.4 seconds for Mason to get it, but when he did, his face broke out in the happiest smile I’d ever seen on him yet… and just to say, his post-orgasm smile wasn’t exactly low-voltage. “A car restoration shop,” he said triumphantly. “Hell, yes.”

  “And it’s fitting that my baby should be my first patient, right?”

  “Absolutely.” But Mason’s smile dimmed to a frown, and he bit his lip. “You know, not to be Debbie Downer here, but this way-smart guy I know once told me that step one after finding the treasure is figuring out who owns it.” He darted a look from me to Big Rafe. “And the best you could do would be to get a portion of the money as a reward?”

  I shrugged, totally unconcerned. “It’ll be enough for a down payment. And then I thought I could talk to the mayor of Whispering Key about getting a small-business loan for the rest.”

  Big Rafe looked up, startled, and his eyes narrowed on me. “You serious? You wanna open a garage?”

  I nodded slowly. “I really do.”

  “Yeah?” His smile dawned slowly. “So you’re staying, then? The both of you?�
�

  Mason’s arms tightened around me. “Yeah. I’m waiving my probationary period. You guys are stuck with me. And you’ll have to tell Aaron Smith to look elsewhere.”

  I squeezed his knee, more than happy with this idea.

  Big Rafe nodded. “Good,” he whispered, quietly pleased. “That’s real good. I’ll make sure you get what you need, Fenn.”

  And, look, not that I wasn’t glad that he was glad, but… I’d sort of expected something more.

  “Uncle Rafe, is there an issue with the treasure?” I demanded. “Because if there’s some legal question where, like, the state might own it all because it was under a road or some shit, just tell us now.”

  Big Rafe shook his head, looking pained. He clenched and unclenched his hands. “It’s not that,” he said. “Treasure’s yours. Ours. The whole thing.”

  Five sets of eyes stared at one another and then at Big Rafe, but Beale was the one who finally demanded, “How’s that possible?”

  “You remember I told you boys I was making investments? That’s why Goodmen Outfitters went under and money was tight?”

  “Yeah,” Young Rafe said, dryly. “You were investing in treasure hunts. Salvage operations. We figured that out.”

  Big Rafe shook his head. “You figured wrong. I’ve been investing in the land around the island while property values were low.”

  Mason gasped just slightly, and I frowned over my shoulder at him, not understanding. His grip on my waist tightened.

  “You’ve been buying land?” Gage clarified. “That was your plan all along?”

  “Hell, no. At first, I was trying to help folks who needed the money to start over somewhere else. But a good plan means adapting along the way, right?” He looked over my shoulder at Mason and gave him a half-smile. “These days, I figure… this is my legacy. Jacob and Resolute wanted the island to be for the Goodmans and the Godfreys.” He shrugged. “So I bought up what I could and put it in trust for my boys.” His brown eyes came to rest on me. “All four of my boys, since being a Goodman’s about more than a name.”