Undercurrent (Sand Dollar Shoal Book 1)

by Pandora Pine

  The last six days here had been really lonely for Noble, even with Charlie to keep him company. While he'd been in rehab, there had been people around constantly and Joe had been his roommate. Having Landon here today had been a nice change of pace for him.

  His father had cautioned him about being alone at Sand Dollar Shoal. Nobody was on the Cape this time of year, with most of the summer homes on the beach boarded up against the harsh New England winter. Nick had wanted Noble to wait until after New Year and then he would be able to come down here with him, but Noble had insisted he'd be okay alone.

  Mostly, Noble just wanted to see if he could stay sober on his own. He knew damn well he needed a sponsor and the support of his friends and group mates from rehab, but to be honest, he was sick of relying on other people. Aside from drinking, it was the only other thing he'd done since he buried his husband.

  "Smells good."

  Noble jumped a mile, squeaking out loud when Noble spoke from behind him.

  "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Landon snorted, running a hand through his dark, damp locks. Charlie was standing at Landon's side.

  "Some guard dog you are," Noble muttered turning back to the stove.

  "Poor puppy." Landon bent to rub the dog's soft ears. "Don't listen to your mean Daddy. Uncle Landon loves you."

  Charlie whined, as if she knew just how to jerk Noble's heartstrings and started licking out at Landon's hands.

  "Why don't you butter the toast? It just popped up." Noble frowned at Landon, moving toward Charlie who had turned on her doggie charm. "Daddy loves you, princess. Don't ever forget that."

  "How did she end up with the name Charlie? Is it short for Charlotte?" Landon dipped a plastic butter knife into the tub of margarine Noble had left on the counter.

  Grinning, Noble stood up, grabbing two red plastic bowls. "My friend Gregor has a SEAL buddy who breeds shepherd’s."

  "Seal buddy? What? You mean as in Navy SEAL?" Landon wore a puzzled grin matching the tone in his voice.

  "Yup. Gregor joined the Navy after September eleventh and completed SEAL training six months later. He served for ten years."

  "How does a Senator's son end up in the Navy?"

  "He didn't want his family's money. Wanted to make his own name." It had taken a while for Noble to understand why Gregor was so adamant about not wanting anything from his family. It wasn't until Noble had a chance to meet Gregor's powerful father and cowed mother that he finally understood. Senator Allen used the family finances to pull everyone's strings like a puppet master.

  "Good for him." Landon nodded, setting the last piece of toast on a plate. "So Charlie's name?"

  "Oh! Sorry." Noble shut off the gas burner under the pot. "Charlie's litter was the first Gregor's buddy had and he named the pups Alpha, Bravo-"

  "Charlie!" Landon laughed. "That's pretty clever."

  "Those names were just what he assigned to the pups so he could keep them straight until they were adopted. Most people give the dog their own name once they get them home."

  "Why did you keep her name?" Landon grabbed two Cokes out of the fridge and followed Noble into the hotel dining room.

  "When I got out of rehab," Noble stopped, not quite sure if he should tell the story.

  Landon took the same seat he sat in for lunch and grabbed the salt, seeming to be willing to wait for Noble to continue his thought.

  Noble sighed. What the hell? He wasn't going to know Landon after tomorrow anyway. What did it matter if he told this story? "After I got out of rehab, all I had left was my name. My money was gone, so was my reputation." Noble shrugged.

  "You didn't want to take Charlie's name away either since it was all she had."

  Noble nodded, dumping his Spaghetti O's onto his toast. "Charlie was Gregor's last ditch effort to get me into rehab. Told me the pup was mine if I went."

  "Jesus Christ," Landon mumbled, dipping a piece of toast into his bowl. "I mean, I know I eat too much, but I can't imagine..."

  "I could never imagine either. Before I lost Vincent, my husband, I never really drank. I'd have a beer after work once in a while or at a ball game, but nothing that would ever raise a red flag."

  Landon shivered in the warm room. "I've never been big on drinking either. It messes with my creativity."

  "Plus you're too much of a control freak."

  Landon's mouth dropped open like he was ready to argue that point, but instead he nodded good-naturedly. "I guess I am a control freak."

  Noble had shared enough for one night, but he was a control freak too.

  XX

  When he’d come downstairs after his shower, Landon had noticed a second mattress had been laid out in front of the stone fireplace. It was made up with fresh sheets and a fuzzy blue blanket. "Thanks for bringing an extra mattress downstairs for me."

  It hadn't been the most comfortable shower of his life. With there not being any heat upstairs in the guest rooms, he’d felt like a frozen fish stick when he'd stepped out from under the hot spray.

  "Sure. Thankfully, the last owners of the hotel had taken care of the mattresses and bedding. They were all sealed up in plastic."

  "How long has the hotel been out of business?" Landon hadn't had any time to do research online about the hotel. Why do the research when he could ask Noble? Talking to his host was surprisingly more fun than working on the computer.

  Yanking off his work boots with a sigh, Noble sat down on the edge of his mattress, which was only a foot apart from Landon's. "I think Griff said it's been over a year. I can't imagine how a prime piece of Cape Cod real estate sat in limbo for so long."

  "Guess it was meant to be." Landon grabbed his backpack, pulling out his notebook and settled onto his mattress. Crossing his legs, he set the notebook in front of him and yanked his lucky purple pen out of the notebook’s wire. Absently, he clicked the pen’s button, while he tried to gather his thoughts.

  Landon started out by recording his musings of the drive down to the Cape, describing the color of the sky and his impressions of Boston on a quiet winter Sunday.

  “How did you come up with the idea for Killer Cure?” Noble held up his Kindle with Landon’s book cover showing.

  Landon blushed. It was always a little weird for him when people he knew read his words. It was like the person could actually glimpse inside his soul. Landon shrugged. “Just popped into my head, I guess.”

  Noble sat up, setting his Kindle down in front of him. “Bullshit!”

  Landon snorted, looking over at the handsome man grinning at him. Sitting crossed-legged on his bunk like this reminded him of summer camp, with the close-quarter sleeping arrangements and a roaring fire. The only thing they were missing were marshmallows to roast.

  “Fine.” Landon raised an eyebrow. “I was driving home from the grocery store one night and heard a story on NPR about a microbiologist who had died in his lab.”

  Noble snorted. “I’ll let your listening to NPR slide for now. How did he die?”

  “Turns out he infected himself with the strain of Anthrax he’d been studying, but it started my mind whirling-”

  “Wait! No spoilers!” Noble held up his arms, his blue eyes glowing. “Don’t tell me what’s gonna happen. I want to read it for myself.”

  Landon couldn’t ever remember someone he knew being so anxious to read his book. His mother had barely glanced at the hard-back copy he’d given her before asking if he brought any whiskey with him. “Tell you what, I’ll finish the story of how I got the idea when you’ve finished the book. Deal?”

  Noble nodded wordlessly.

  Landon studied his host. Noble’s straw-colored hair glowed orange in the light of the fire. His black tee hugged his cut biceps and molded to his chest. Landon blinked, shaking his head. If he kept this up, he’d find himself over on Noble’s bunk nibbling the sweet spot behind his ear.

  “Do you really think this place can help you write your book?”

  “I can’t explain it any better than
to say it’s a feeling. Here.” Landon pointed to his stomach.

  Noble seemed to be studying Landon. He yawned, stretching his arms high over his head. “Do you mind if I shut the lights off?

  “Sure, I’m pretty tired myself.” While Noble went to turn the lights off, Landon scooted under the covers. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but he could have sworn Noble was going to ask him to stay at the hotel.

  Being a writer was the one thing he had dreamed of since he was a little boy. He was so close to losing his greatest dream and he knew he was in the right spot to stop that from happening. All he needed to do now was convince Noble to let him stay.

  5

  "How do you get up to the lighthouse tower and the widow's walk?" Landon was warming himself up in front of the fireplace. While Noble had been walking Charlie after they’d woken up, he’d made himself useful by shoveling the front and back steps of the hotel so Charlie and Noble would be able to go out for her walks without having to worry about slipping on the snow and ice. Landon had gone a step further and shoveled the concrete path running parallel to the ocean above the sand line.

  Landon had spent the better part of the afternoon sitting at one of the dining room tables he'd arranged in front of the large picture window looking out over the ocean with his open notebook in front of him turned to a blank page. Marcus Pike still wasn't talking.

  Other times when he’d struggled with writer’s block, it had helped to go back to basics and that’s where his battered notebook came in. He never went anywhere without a notebook in his backpack. He’d also gone so far as to stock every room in his cottage with pens and paper, including the bathroom. Not that he’d admit it to anyone, but he’d written most of the climax of Killer Cure longhand on the harvest gold toilet in the downstairs bathroom.

  "You want to go up and see it?" Noble grinned from his spot in front of the fire where he'd been carving a piece of driftwood.

  Landon nodded. "I always wanted to go up to the tower when I was kid, but my parents always told me the light keeper didn't want kids up there getting in the way and getting sticky fingerprints on the glass."

  Noble snorted. "That's such a crock of bullshit! That was probably just their way of putting you off so they wouldn't have to go up with you."

  Landon hadn't considered that his parents had been lying to him. But then again, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, they'd been lying to him his whole life.

  Not to mention the biggest whopper of them all, that his father would always be there for him. "You're probably right." Landon shrugged, pushing the thoughts of his deadbeat father out of his mind. Nothing would kill his muse quicker than thoughts of that man.

  "Let's go up. Grab your coat." Noble stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of one of the empty dining room chairs.

  Doing as Noble asked, Landon couldn't help but watch him shrug his broad shoulders into the arms of his coat. Part of the collar near his left ear was turned under. What Landon would give to pull it out and run his fingers along the base of Noble's neck to graze against the silky soft sunshine in his hair.

  Landon shook his head. He needed to stop thoughts like that now. It wouldn’t do him any good to get all hot and bothered about a man he was only going to know for one more day.

  Wait! Where the hell had that come from? For the last few years, all Landon had done was get hot and bothered over men he was only going to know for a short time. What was so different about Noble? It wasn't that he was an unattractive man, that was for damn sure.

  "What are you staring at?" Noble asked curiously.

  Shit, busted. Landon motioned to his own collar before pointing at Noble. "Your collar is tucked under."

  Shrugging, Noble worked his finger under the fold of fabric and pulled it out. "Better?" He offered Landon a devastating smile.

  "Fucking gorgeous," Landon muttered under his breath.

  "What was that?" Noble walked forward until he was standing an inch or so in front of Landon.

  Are you kidding me? Landon could feel the heat from Noble's body radiating against him and caught a whiff of his spicy aftershave. It took all of his willpower to keep his hands to himself. "F-Fucking cold," Landon stammered. "I said its fucking cold."

  Noble burst out laughing. "Come on, let's go up to the tower."

  Landon nodded, knowing that Noble didn't believe him and had heard exactly what he'd said before. Oh well, water under the bridge. Handsome men like Noble Killington knew they were handsome. They didn't need people like Landon telling them.

  Noble headed up the first flight of stairs, flipping on the overhead light.

  "Wow!" Landon stopped short at the base of the stairs.

  "Yeah, my ass is pretty hot in these jeans, huh?" Noble turned, offering Landon a saucy wink.

  "No, I was looking at the stairs.”

  "Hold on. You were looking at the stairs and not this gorgeous ass?" Noble rubbed his hands over the twin globes of flesh.

  Landon squatted down, running his hand over the back board of the first step. "In this travel magazine I read a few years ago, a hotel down in Florida, Sanibel Island, I think, had small seaside murals painted on each stair back. One step was a tide pool with sand dollars and starfish. Another had shore birds. It was gorgeous and these stairs would be perfect for that sort of motif."

  Noble was staring at Landon curiously. "Do you know how to paint?"

  Landon nodded, lost in thought over how he would design each board.

  "Really paint? Not like some Jackson Pollack splatter or the kind of finger painting a mom would stick on the fridge?"

  Laughing, Landon looked up at Noble. "I can really paint."

  "Hmm, sketch out some designs later." Noble turned and headed back up the stairs.

  Landon could feel his creative juices start flowing. He couldn't wait to show Noble how talented he was.

  XX

  "Here's where it gets tricky." Noble flipped on the light, illuminating the metal runged ladder leading to the trapdoor of the widow's walk. If he were honest with himself, the last two days had been tricky.

  From the moment he'd seen Landon Fairchild's cold-reddened face, he knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. No man since Vincent had stirred his interest and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off Landon, who was far from his usual type.

  Noble’s usual type was stacked and jacked, which Landon most definitely was not. The other man could stand to lose about twenty pounds and Landon looked like he never lifted weights or anything heavier than a stack of library books.

  Jesus fucking Christ! Was he really that shallow?

  Noble Killington: master builder, dog person, total asshole.

  Sighing, he ran a hand through his blond hair. Come snow drifts or a power outage, he was stuck with Landon until at least tomorrow with the way it was snowing. Would it be so bad to get to know a little bit about the other man?

  One thing he’d learned in rehab was that you could never have too many friends. His group mates from rehab lived all over the country and he kept in touch with all of them regularly with email and Skype. It might be nice to have a local friend. If Landon even was local. “Where are you from, Wordsmith?”

  Landon’s full lips quirked into a quick smile. “I live on Plum Island. It’s up near Newburyport.”

  Noble nodded. “I know it well. I grew up in Haverhill.”

  Landon reached the top of the landing, breathing a little heavily. “Before the divorce, my parents used to take me to Winnekenni Castle for their Haunted Halloween. It was a lot of fun.”

  “My dad used to take me too. Wouldn’t it be funny if…?” Noble trailed off shaking his head. There was no way possible he’d ever met Landon before today. He had an odd feeling he would have remembered meeting him, even if he were only ten years old.

  “I always used to dress as Casper the Friendly Ghost, with the plastic face mask.”

  “I was always a vampire.” Noble shook his head. “I’ll climb up first a
nd open the trap door. Are you gonna be okay to make the climb?”

  Landon looked up at the metal rungs secured into the wall and swallowed hard. He nodded, not making eye contact with Noble.

  “I’ll be waiting for you at the top.” Noble slapped a hand on Landon’s shoulder. That same earth-shattering attraction he’d felt earlier barreled through his entire body. What the fuck? He’d set his bare hand on the shoulder of Landon’s jacket. It’s not like he was touching bare skin.

  Noble shivered and it wasn’t from the cold. He’d bet hidden under that heavy coat and sweater, Landon had freckles, and lots of them. Taking a deep breath, Noble started the climb, quickly reaching the top and unlatching the trap door.

  He’d liked the idea of taking kids and other lighthouse fans up to see the tower. He’d mention that thought to Griff the next time they spoke.

  Damn Landon’s parents for not taking the time and effort to get him up here themselves. Noble threw open the door and pulled himself up through the hole. “Your turn!” He shouted down to Landon whose skin had gone pale.

  Landon climbed slow and steady, keeping his eyes locked with Noble’s.

  Jesus, he’s scared to death. That must have been why Landon wouldn’t look at him when he asked if Landon would be able to make the climb. He didn’t want Noble to see the fear in his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Landon. There’s only something wrong with letting your fear stop you.”