Undercurrent (Sand Dollar Shoal Book 1)

by Pandora Pine

  Howling, Landon tried to pull away from Noble and his frigid hands.

  Charlie woofed from her food bowl and went back to wolfing down her breakfast at warp speed.

  "C-Cold," Landon chattered.

  "It's absolutely brutal out there." Noble grinned. "You're lucky I didn't put my hands on your bare back."

  Landon shivered, but not from his lover's cold hands. "Not having your hands on my body doesn't make me lucky." He kissed Noble before pulling away. He hadn't even started making the waffle batter yet.

  "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Wordsmith." Noble was all smiles.

  "The nicest? I'm sure I've said other things that are a lot nicer." Landon reached into the fridge for the milk. When he turned around, Noble had a puzzled look on his face. "What’s that look about?"

  "Just running through a mental list of all the nice things you've said to me since we met." Noble came up behind Landon, slipping his hands around his stomach. "What's the nicest thing I've ever said to you?"

  Landon snorted, cracking an egg into the bowl. Everything Noble said to him was the nicest thing he'd ever said. It was hard picking just one. "It was when you asked me to stay at the hotel with you."

  "Oh yeah? Why is that?" Noble nibbled Landon's ear.

  "I was a total mess, not to mention being a total stranger. In those first few moments after we met, you saw something in me that you trusted."

  "Oh you mean when you were shouting 'Be a tree! Be a tree!' when Charlie was chasing you down?"

  Landon laughed. He'd never forget the fear he'd felt when Charlie tore out of the hotel barking and charging toward him like she hadn't eaten in a month. It hadn't taken long for him to realize she was just excited to meet a new friend. "I can't believe I called her a hellhound."

  "I think she forgives you." Noble had worked his now warmer hands up under Landon's tee shirt. His fingers were trailing slowly up his lover's stomach."

  "Keep that up and we won't be eating breakfast." Landon turned in Noble's arms, pressing a kiss to his still-cold cheek. "Why don't you get the bacon out?"

  Noble's lips curled into a brief frown. "Good plan. I'd guess there's about six or seven inches of snow out there now and it's probably a good idea if we try to keep up with it." Giving Landon one last kiss, Noble headed toward the refrigerator to grab the bacon.

  “Why don’t we take turns with going out to shovel?”

  “That’s a good idea. No need for us both to be out in the storm. Maybe if we go out every ninety minutes or so?”

  Landon nodded as he measured out Bisquick for the batter. The last thing he wanted to do was to go out and battle Mother Nature with a shovel, but on the other hand, he wasn’t going to leave Noble to do all the work either.

  The sound of bacon sizzling brought Landon back to the present. Noble was laying out the bacon, slice by slice, on the hot top. “So, aside from snow clean up, what are your plans for the day?” Noble turned from the stove to look at Landon.

  “The weather report said that parts of the Cape have already lost power. I was thinking of working on Killer Instinct for a while. I’m just about to the climax of the story which means I’ve got about twenty-five percent of the book to go.”

  “You’re in the home stretch, Wordsmith.” Noble grinned, turning back to the bacon.

  Landon nodded. Now all he had to do was cross the finish line.

  XX

  Noble had stopped being able to feel his face about twenty minutes ago. He had cleared a path with the snow blower from the front door of the hotel to his truck. From there, he’d started clearing a path from the truck up the access road leading from the hotel and then finally to the street.

  He wasn't a meteorologist by any stretch of the imagination, but he was pretty certain the snow was falling at a rate of about three inches an hour. It had been about ninety minutes since the last time he'd come out to clear the snow and there was almost six inches of new snow coating the parking lot.

  After they'd finished the amazing breakfast Landon had cooked for them, he'd headed outside to battle the storm and start the clean up while Landon did the dishes. When he'd come back inside, half-frozen and totally numb, Landon had been hard at work on the book. He was so deep into the story, he hadn't even noticed that Noble had come back inside.

  An hour later when it was time to go out again, Noble hadn't had the heart to disturb him. The same held true an hour after that. Now, it was nearly 2:00pm and he felt like he'd been outside all day. Not that it was Landon's job to feed him, but he'd even had to make his own lunch, a crappy peanut butter sandwich he’d eaten standing up at the kitchen counter.

  Shutting off the snow blower, Noble parked it near the front door. As he headed back toward the hotel, he was pounding the toe of his boots against the snowy pavement, hoping to knock the caked snow in the treads of his boots out. He didn't want to have to clean up a mess in the entryway to boot.

  Feeling his mood darkening, he pushed into the hotel. For all of the work that he’d done so far today, he knew there was a lot more snow due to fall. If things kept up as they had all day, he’d be the only one cleaning it up.

  The blast of hot air that greeted him stung his face. When it was that cold outside, Noble guessed it was in the low twenties, you had to warm back up slowly, otherwise it hurt like a motherfucker. Noble grimaced as Charlie barked happily and started running toward him.

  Noble couldn't help but smile when the puppy greeted him with such enthusiasm. She acted like she thought she'd never see him again. There was no such welcome from Landon. Hell, his boyfriend hadn't even shouted out to him to make sure he was okay. Noble doubted Landon had even heard him come back inside.

  Peeling himself out of his soaking wet snow gear, he carried it with him to the empty chairs he'd set out by the fire. He hung his parka on the back of one chair and set his gloves and sodden socks on the next chair. Lastly, he set his nearly frozen jeans over the back of the third.

  As he warmed his hands near the fire, he could hear the rat-a-tat, rapid fire sound of Landon pounding away on the keyboard. His fingers were flying over the letters, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Landon's narrowed eyes were focused on the screen. Noble doubted the sound of a nuclear blast would interrupt Landon's flow.

  While Landon kept pounding away, Noble slipped into his flannel sleep pants and took a seat near the fire. Charlie, who'd stuck by his side since he'd come back in from outside trotted back over to Landon and draped herself around his slippered feet.

  "Traitor," Noble mumbled under his breath.

  "Motherfucker!" Landon shouted suddenly, slapping a hand down on his makeshift desk.

  Thank Jesus... Landon must have just noticed the time. Any second now, he'd get up from his desk and start putting on his cold weather gear.

  "Why the hell didn't I think of that before? Duh!" Landon shook his head and went back to pounding on the letters.

  Noble felt a fire ignite in his belly. He'd been back in the hotel for about twenty minutes now. He'd made noise when he'd come back inside, Charlie had barked and he sure as fuck hadn't been tip-toeing when he'd started hanging his coat and gloves in front of the fire. How the fuck hadn't Landon noticed he was here? Or that it was the middle of the afternoon. "Hey!'" Noble half-yelled from his spot near the fire.

  Landon startled like he'd just gotten the shock of his life. He turned around looking like he'd been lost in another world. He blinked at Noble for a few seconds before seeming to recognize him. "Hey handsome! Is it my turn yet?" Landon stood up and stretched, his bare belly coming in to view as his shirt rode up.

  "Your turn?" Noble shouted, his hands fisting at his sides, forcing himself to stay in his seat. "Your fucking turn was five fucking hours ago!"

  Landon looked confused. "What are you talking about? We just finished breakfast." He took a step toward Noble, who stood up at the same time, taking a menacing half-step forward.

  "It's nearly two fucking thirty, Wordsmith. Wh
at the hell is wrong with you? I've been busting my ass all day long trying to keep up with the snow. I'm frozen to the fucking bone and so tired I swear I could drop right here." Noble sucked in a deep breath to reload. "And look at you! Still in your fucking pajamas with my dog curled around your feet keeping you warm."

  "I-I" Landon shook his head, looking more confused than ever.

  "You fucking care more about your stupid words than you care about me! I could have frozen to death out there and you never would have known!" Noble was full-out shouting now. He couldn't remember being this angry ever, not even after Vincent died. "I've been in and out of the hotel six fucking times since breakfast and you never once stopped typing long enough to ask how I was or to make me a fucking peanut butter sandwich!"

  Dawning slowly bloomed in Landon's mossy eyes. "I didn't realize I was your fucking personal chef, Noble."

  "Chef? Personal chef?" Noble shouted, taking a half step toward Landon before seeming to think better of it. "I don't need a fucking chef! I need a fucking partner. There is no way in hell Vincent would have left me to do all of the heavy lifting by myself while he lounged around the house in his fucking pajamas!" Noble pinned Landon with his glare.

  "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not Vincent," Landon said sourly, wincing and taking a step back from Noble.

  "Oh, I've fucking noticed all right!" Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him? Noble needed to shut the fuck up now so that he didn't end up saying something he could never take back.

  "And I wasn't lounging around in my pajamas. I've been fucking working too. In case you've forgotten, I have a deadline to hit and a pissed off agent who doesn't give a fuck if it's snowing fucking kittens." Landon fisted his hands at his sides.

  Landon mentioning snow was the worst word he could have said. Noble felt his anger boil to a flashpoint again. "Who's fault is that, you lazy bastard? It sure as fuck isn't mine!” Spittle flew from Noble’s lips as he shouted at his boyfriend. Landon had been the one fucking around and not writing for the last few months. It wasn’t Noble’s fault he couldn’t get off his dead ass and onto his dying feet to write that fucking book.

  Landon's jaw set into a firm line, his eyes now burning gold with anger and something else Noble couldn't identify. "Who the fuck are you calling a lazy bastard? You're the one who spent the last two years of his life living at the bottom of a bottle, relying on your friends and family to support you!"

  "Fuck you, Wordsmith!" Noble roared, seeing red. That was a low fucking blow, even if Landon had a point.

  "Yeah, well, fuck you double!" Landon stomped toward his suitcase sitting in the corner of the dining room. He ripped off his pajama bottoms, forcing his legs into a pair of jeans before grabbing a blue flannel shirt. Not bothering to button it up, he shoved his feet into his boots and ripped his coat off the back of a nearby chair.

  "Where the fuck are you going?" As angry as Noble was at Landon right now, the last thing his stubborn boyfriend should be doing was driving.

  "As fucking far away from you as I can get!" Landon turned from Noble and flung himself out the back door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Charlie, who was still lying under Landon's desk howled like she was in physical pain.

  "Motherfucking, cocksucking, son of a fucking bitch!" Noble roared, his eyes falling on Landon's hat and gloves, still sitting on his desk.

  26

  Landon was so angry that it took a few minutes for the bone-chilling cold to set in. He dipped his hands into his pockets, but didn't find his gloves. He'd realized half-way out the door that he'd also forgotten his hat, but he was too damn pissed off to go back inside and get his things.

  What the fuck had gotten into Noble? All his stubborn boyfriend had to do was tell him that it was his turn to go outside to shovel and he would have gone. Why the hell was Noble so fucking angry?

  Walking around to the front of the hotel, the answer started dawning on Landon. Most of the parking lot had been cleared with the snow blower, as had the access road to the hotel, leaving them a way to get out if the storm got too bad for them to stay. He could even see that the entrance to main road had been cleared several times after the plows snowed them back in.

  Three huge mountains of snow, all taller than Landon, dotted the parking lot. He had a feeling those mounds wouldn’t be totally melted until May at the earliest.

  He shook his head. He’d really fucked up. Noble had needed his help and he hadn’t been there for him. He’d been lost in his work while Noble wore himself out working to keep them safe. What Landon had done hadn’t been intentional, but the damage was done, all the same.

  Was Noble right when he’d said words were more important to him than anything else? His ears burning with the cold, Landon pulled the hood of his red snow parka up, tightening the laces so it hugged his face.

  Landon turned back toward the hotel, staring up at the light, which he could barely make out. The snow was swirling fast and hard around the tower, aided by the howling wind. With conditions rapidly deteriorating, he should just go back inside and warm up.

  Walking briskly, he headed back toward the side of the hotel leading to the ocean. Even in its highly agitated state, the rhythm of the breaking waves was soothing. His mind turned back to Noble and his ugly accusations.

  Writing was the only thing in his life that Landon had ever been good at. He’d never been able to dribble a ball or play the trumpet or act or sing, but he could write. His words had been his shelter from his awful life at home and his sword when bullies would pounce. His words were all he had, until he’d met Noble.

  Being unable to do the one thing he was good at was like a dagger to the heart. All of those months he’d spent on Plum Island, alone, with none of his characters talking to him, was the worst time of his life. All he’d ever wanted to do was write for a living and his dream had come true when Killer Cure had been published.

  He’d been shocked a few months later when Frank called to tell him that the publisher wanted to offer him a contract to write a second book starring hero microbiologist Marcus Pike. There had even been a sizable five-figure advance that had come along with the contract.

  Heading down toward the water, Landon could see several wrecked lobster traps and buoys littering the beach. Not only was there going to be a lot of snow and ice cleanup after the storm, but there was going to be a lot of work to do on the beach as well.

  Landon’s thoughts turned back to Noble. Up until he met the man, he would have agreed that words were his life, but that had changed the minute they’d met. He’d compare his writer’s block to being stuck in a rainstorm: bleak, dark and seemingly endless. When he’d met Noble, it was like sun shining through the clouds. Everything changed for him in that moment. Not only had his writer’s block broken like a weakened dam, he’d also found the love of his life.

  He’d never thought love was in the cards for him, which had been the main reason he’d preferred friends with benefits arrangements. The truth of the matter was that he’d never thought he was worthy of someone else’s love. If his parents, who were supposed to love and support him unconditionally, could abandon him, why the fuck would anyone else want to stick around?

  Landon had changed his entire way of thinking in less than a month. His new friend had wanted to get to know him and Landon had surprised himself by opening up. What had surprised him more was Noble reciprocating. Landon sighed, whacking himself across the forehead with the flat of his hand. Noble had trusted him with all of his deepest, darkest secrets and in return, Landon had used them as a weapon.

  Tiny pinpricks of snow lashed across Landon’s nearly numb face, but he couldn’t go back inside yet. He was still too angry at Noble for using his secrets as a weapon against him, not to mention that his own guilt over the words he’d used against Noble was threatening to overwhelm him like a strong undercurrent.

  He knew he needed to go back inside and apologize to Noble. Hell, he’d wanted to run straight back inside the moment he
stepped into the blizzard and not because of the frigid, howling winds and driving snow. Landon loved Noble. It was as simple as that. The one promise he’d made to himself was that if he ever got lucky enough to find love, he’d never abandon it.

  Sighing, he took one last look at the raging surf before turning back toward the hotel. It was time to face the music. He’d beg, even plead, if that’s what it took to get Noble to listen to his apology. Hell, he’d even say the three little words that had been burning up his brain if it would save their relationship.

  Landon was a few steps away from the partially shoveled walkway leading to the back door of the hotel when something slammed into him hard from behind, knocking him off balance. The next thing he knew the ground was racing toward his face, then blackness.

  XX

  Noble was pacing around the hotel dining room, flexing and un-flexing his fists. The moment the door slammed behind Landon was one of the worst moments of his life. What the fuck had he been thinking coming at Landon like that? Worse, he’d called the man he loved lazy and told him to fuck off. Noble Killington: Master builder, dog person, rotten human being.

  In all the years they’d been together, he and Vincent had never fought like this. Hell, they’d barely fought at all, which was strange considering that they literally were together 24/7. They’d gotten up at the same time to go to work, had lunch together, came home together, worked out together, went to sleep together. They were practically the same person, which is why his relationship with Landon had been so exciting.