I tore away from the car. “You got to be kidding me.” I paced. “Where’s my dog?” Emotion choked my voice.
Under the circumstances, a police cruiser escorted us to the checkpoint Adam had relayed. Dillon refused treatment for his ballooning ankle. An icepack from an emergency kit in the cruiser replaced my makeshift one from McDonald’s, which we’d left in the back of the 4Runner. Elayn told us not to worry about the car. She’d take care of it. The rental was the last thing on my mind. She and another police officer left to find Mikey.
On the way to our drop-off point, we learned Mikey had a penchant for stealing. While they couldn’t yet prove he’d stolen our wallets, all signs pointed to his guilt. He’d been arrested before for shoplifting.
“Charm the ink off a newspaper,” the cop driving us said. “You’re lucky that’s all he got.”
My phone. Anxiety kicked in again. “My brokerage account.” I unlocked my phone with a trembling thumb for verification, fumbled through to my app, logged in, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the results. The VeriPay transaction presented as completed. For a moment, I’d feared Mikey might’ve hacked into it. My account was intact.
While I changed the app’s password for safety, Dillon yapped on the phone to the insurance company, again, and put them on alert for identity theft.
Chapter 20
Dillon
On the back of a snowmobile traversing a frozen lake, I hugged a black-suited man in front of me. Mikey’s schemes plagued my mind.
“Little shit,” I mumbled. Only my throbbing ankle took away the pain of the four hundred bucks stolen from my wallet. I had liked the kid.
The snowmobile skipped over a bump, and my foot ached. The ice pack shoved in my boot numbed the pain a tad, and the Tylenol Elayn gave me back at McDonald’s helped, but it still fucking hurt.
Evan, on the snowmobile to my right, made no eye contact with me. I knew he wasn’t really mad at me—stewing per usual. After all, how could I be at fault? Aside from me playing Bobby Orr. Evan’s mood under stress could frighten the Wicked Witch out of Oz, yet I didn’t blame him.
Another bump.
“Fuck.” I raised my leg. The elevation felt better until another thud. “Son of a…!”
The silent man I hugged sped up, leaving Evan and his driver in a wake of powdery snow.
We drove for over a mile, at dusk and in falling snow. Ahead of us rose a spit of land. Tall evergreens dotted the island, scores of cottages surrounded its edges, and piers frozen in ice jutted out into the lake. The island appeared as wide as a few Manhattan blocks with several smaller islets peppered about the area. The big island harbored a large structure, which I assumed to be the inn—based on Adam’s telling. Around it, several large homes were nestled high on the hill.
We slowed.
“I just want my dog.”
The side of mute man’s helmet spun my way as he slowed. “You say something.”
“No.” Just get me to this godforsaken island so I can get my dog and rest my foot.
We pulled up to an ice-locked pier. I wondered how I would get up the ladder that rose to the top.
Evan and his driver approached and parked behind us. Both snowmobiles’ engines continued their annoying sputter. The third one that’d left before us with the luggage was nowhere in sight.
My guy yelled something inaudible.
“What?”
He pointed to the ladder.
I stood on the frozen lake. “Yeah, I know.” My annoyance got the better of me. Ahead, the banks were dark and wooded over. The easiest way onto the island was to climb the rungs and get up onto the pier.
Evan came up alongside me. “I’ll go first,” he yelled over the engines. “You can take my hand and I’ll help you up.”
I don’t need it. “Thanks.”
Our drivers sped off as Evan climbed. Their hum trailed off in the distance.
“Finally. I can hear myself think.”
Evan stretched out a hand. “C’mon.” He knelt.
I stepped my good foot on the first rung, placed two hands on the top tier, and hoisted my weight up without his help. “Pull-ups come in handy,” I huffed.
Evan leaned on his haunches and watched me lift myself higher without using my bad foot. “Show-off.”
It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. One more rung. I hoisted.
“My hero.” Evan’s voice smacked of sarcasm.
Atop the pier, I rolled onto my back, then asked for Evan’s aid in standing. “My hero.” I pecked him on the cheek.
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not done being in a mood.”
I pinched his ass. “Will that help?”
He slapped my hand. “No.” A slight grin tugged the corners of his mouth.
“Now what?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Another barren landscape.” Smoke rose from the stone chimney of the inn on the hill. “Are we supposed to walk there?”
“You got to be kidding me.” Evan sighed.
It wasn’t that far away—in the height of summer, on a fun-filled 70-degree day. Yet on the outskirts of winter, during a snowstorm, and nursing a bad ankle, it seemed miles away. I took out my phone. “Let me call Adam and get someone down here. I’m a movie star, remember?”
“With that foot, they’ll probably can your ass.”
“I’ll be fine.” My phone flashed a voice mail. With the roar of the snowmobiles, I hadn’t heard it and retrieved the message. “Elayn,” I said to Evan as I listened. “They found our wallets.”
“That was quick. And Mikey?”
“Who gives a…yeah, they found him too.” I hung up and swiped through for Adam’s number and dialed. “Yo, Adam,” I said to his quick pickup. “We’re here.”
“It’s about fucking time, hot stuff.”
Evan traipsed ahead.
Chapter 21
Evan
Our footsteps crunched snow. Mine matched Dillon’s as he leaned on my shoulder. “We should get you a crutch.”
“You’re my crutch.”
“Ha-ha.” I trusted my husband. It didn’t matter if a Hollywood dude found him hot. I tapped Dill’s butt. I didn’t want my mood to come off as too serious. We’d overcome worse issues, like bladder cancer. “I’m sorry, Dill.” I kissed his cheek.
“He’s baaack,” he chided me about the return of my more pleasant mood
I wiped snow off his ass from his rolling around on the pier. “You’re a mess.” Hardly. He was so cute. “They will take one look at you and send you back to Massachusetts.”
The rev of a snowmobile blazing down the hill echoed our way. “Here they come,” Dillon said.
“They? Or just one?”
“I’m not sure.”
We waited by the sign to the Settlement Inn, like we’d been told, as the snowmobile grew louder.
After a time, a thin woman in a red jumpsuit, goggles, and wearing no helmet tore down the embankment.
“Just one.” I could see the inn atop the hill. “You go. It’s not that far for me.”
She parked beside us. “Adam said you needed a lift. One of ya hop on!” she yelled over the engine and rested the goggles on her forehead. “I can come back for the other.”
“I’ll walk!” I yelled. “Take him. He hurt his—”
“I’m fine!” Dillon winced as he got on.
She lowered her goggles. “You sure?”
I nodded.
“It’s not too far,” she said. “Just follow our tracks up the hill.”
As they left, Dillon turned and winked. I followed in their wake.
Funny thing about crises, their full impact doesn’t really hit until you have time to think about them. Like when I received the cancer diagnosis from my urologist, it didn’t sink in at first. I figured a smattering of blood in the urine happened to everyone now and again.
“Cancer.” The doctor’s raspy voice played over and over in my mind. I’d blocked it out when he’d said it in the offi
ce. Dillon held my hand and wept beside me. I barely flinched.
My mind wandered as I ascended the slope to the Settlement Inn. Why all the hardship lately? How much more suffering did we have to endure? “Why?”
When I finally accepted my cancer diagnosis, the fear froze in me like a sudden ice age and had only recently begun to recede. I could feel its stronghold slowly crack. But now… Car stolen. Wallets pilfered. A man after my husband? How much more could I take?
The crisp air cleared my head.
I’m the sort of person who believes we create circumstances through karma and thoughts coupled with action. Why did cancer strike me? Was I to blame on some weird cosmic level?
I walked farther.
The island’s stillness crept into me like my morning meditation—New Hampshire’s cold air kept at bay by my pulsating chakras. I let my breath, with its puff of evaporation, serve as my mantra, and with each exhalation I let go of things holding me back: concerns about money, Deet’s safety, jealousy over Dillon and Adam, even my cancer-free body and the fear of relapse.
By the time I reached the inn, serenity suffused me, and I welcomed it with a smile.
From the outside, the lodge appeared massive yet charming. White clapboards, black shutters, and six-over-six sashes adorned its exterior. A large wraparound porch was swept clear of snow, though traces still clumped along the stairs, no doubt from the broom by the door. The porch banked westward into the twilight.
A dark-haired man with a red-checked shirt, black logger boots, and a scruffy beard appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “Welcome to the world of make-believe.”
The warmth inside me was replaced by a bone-deep cold, like someone had thrown open the barn door. I held fast to my inner candle flame that flickered in the wake.
Chapter 22
Dillon
Our room at the Settlement Inn mirrored something out of one of those decorating shows on HTV that Evan watches. “Exquisite.” I lumbered farther in, glad to be out of the beehive of activity in the lobby downstairs. A slew of extras for the following day rendered the place chaotic.
Evan raced to the far edge of our room. He always checked out the bathrooms first, his test of an establishment’s quality. “Not too shabby.”
I hobbled over, noting the vibrant paintings decorating the room’s walls. Thickly brushed artwork hung in a mix of gilded frames. The walls, papered in a stunning plum-gray pattern, made for a subtle yet rich background.
When I reached the bath, large white marble tiles greeted me. The oversized space accommodated a walk-in shower that could fit three or four people. It had heated racks holding matching robes and, on the wall, a thermostat to control the temperature of the floors. Towels in neat rolls were nestled into open shelving in floor-to-ceiling mahogany cabinetry. “They spare no expense in the movie industry, huh?”
“I guess not.” Evan opened a cabinet loaded with all the accoutrements for a comfortable stay: mouthwash, shampoo, toothpaste, lotion, a blow-dryer, and more.
We moved back into the main room. A bank of mahogany built-ins, matching the one in the bathroom, housed an enormous curved-screen television. Near the room’s entrance were mirrors, a safe, a refrigerator, and a bar stocked with liquor, snacks, and other goods.
“Jesus.” I shut the fridge, traipsed back into the bed area, and found Evan lying on top of the duvet. I hitched an eyebrow. “Looking hot.”
He clicked a remote and the fireplace to his right lit. “Let me turn up the heat.” He chuckled and hit a few more buttons. The flame increased in size. “Take the chill out. I think I know where Deet’s going to sleep tonight.”
“Right in front of it.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Speaking of Deet….”
Evan scooted up on his elbows, legs circling me. “The guy who greeted me on the front porch told me they had Deet. They were finishing a scene and would drop him off in an hour or so.”
“Oh, great” I’d had a call into Adam about Deet’s whereabouts and was happy not to have to worry, especially since Ev had that edge in his eyes. I might get lucky.
Evan rose from the bed and made for our luggage. “The suitcases made it here before us.”
“Better than the airlines.” I lay down and pulled the pillow near. It cradled my neck. I kicked off my boots and winced from the pain.
“I’m going to shower,” Evan said.
I undid my pants. “Without me?”
He grinned.
Fucking in the shower, soaped and slippery, and with a bad ankle proved difficult, but I managed fine until the orgasm neared. We always came together; it’d been something we developed almost instantly when we first met, excited by each other’s arousal.
In the expansive shower, Evan held the grab handles. His heightened panting and moaning foretold the end of our session, and in our sudsy climax, he thrust his ass back into me, and I lost my balance. While coming, I landed against the shower door, which opened and we fell out onto the towel mat and heated floor.
“Holy shit,” Ev said.
We laughed. The pain in my foot hurt so bad I wanted to cry, but laughing stifled it.
“Are you all right?” Evan climbed on top of me and kissed my nose. The shower, still going, plumed steam.
“I love you.” I met his mouth.
“Love you too,” he muffled. His wet hair dripped in my eye.
“But you’re hurting me.” I grimaced. The weight of his leg on mine hurt.
“Sorry.” He pushed up. His flaccid cock hung down and tickled my still-hard one.
“You’re looking mighty fine, Mr. McCormick-Deiss,” I said.
He lowered and pushed up again and again, teasing my penis with his. “You think?”
I swallowed. “I can’t think.” My dick twitched. “You’re gonna get me going again.” Besides, the falling out of the shower stunted the joy in my orgasm and hadn’t quite sated me
He traced his nose along my face and sent that spark through me. I felt it in my groin, my feet, and my core.
I shuddered.
His dick stiffened against mine.
A muted bark filled the air.
“Deet!” We both shot up—Evan a little faster than me.
The barking was guttural. I hadn’t heard Detritus bark that deep since the time we picked him up at the boarders after returning from Key West. He’d been caged with other dogs for a while, so we attributed it to him developing new communication skills. It’d quickly vanished.
“Oh, Deet.” Evan shut the shower off, threw a robe at me, and wrapped another around himself. “De-tri-tus! My boy.”
On my knees, I dried myself with the robe and put it on.
Not surprisingly, Evan got to the room’s entrance before me and clicked it open. “Detri—”
I exited the bathroom, combing a hand through my wet hair. “Detritus?”
A man similarly dressed to Adam—red-checked shirt, snug jeans, and logger boots—looked down at the dog by his side. “Here he is.”
I shuffled forward, tying the robe shut. Deet didn’t lunge toward me per usual. “Detritus?”
Evan petted him, and Deet moseyed in. “He looks exhausted.” Evan knelt, met the dog at his face, and kissed his head. “Poor baby. Is all this movie stuff too much for you?” He turned. “He smells good.”
“Just got a bath,” the man said. “Have a good night.” He left.
Detritus moved to the fireplace and lay down.
I stepped over to him. “You okay, boy? You didn’t even come to say hi.” I dismissed his dissing me as exhaustion. “Take a nap, buddy. Tomorrow’s another—”
He growled and snapped at the air.
“Holy shit!” I fell back on my ass.
“That’s not Deet!” Evan yelled. “That’s not my dog.” He held a hand over his mouth.
The dog rose, shambled over to the sofa, and lifted his leg on it.
Chapter 23
Evan
When I got to the front desk, my anger had settled s
ome. Another lumberjack, this one named Javier, a strikingly handsome man of South American descent, met me there.
“What the fuck do mean you lost my dog?” I’d left Dillon in the room, resting his leg, and the beast holed up in the bathroom with one of Deet’s chewies.
“I didn’t say lost.” His Brooklyn accent stuttered. “There are a lot of dogs on the set that—”
“What!” My hands were on my hips.
“What I mean is….” Javier paused as if trying to find the right words. “Many dogs look like yours here.”
“How many damn look-alikes do they need?”
“Hot Dog is temperamental.”
“I’ll say.” I figured I had the lead canine in my room. “Does he piss on sofas and growl?”
Javier’s eyebrows rose. “As a matter of fact….”
“He’s in my room.” I flung a hand toward the winding staircase. “Have at him.”
“Hot Dog?” Javier’s eyes darted about. “He couldn’t.” He began to pace. “I checked the tags.” He ran to the stairs.
“What the…?” I huffed. “Does anyone around here know what’s going on?” I realized I still had on my robe. The stares of patrons sitting on cushy couches by the fireplace had me tug the tie around my waist and snap my lapels. I followed the man with a Brooklyn-accent and tight jeans.
Upstairs, Hot Dog barked and skipped his temperamental self down the hallway. His tail wagged, and he leaped at the biscuits Javier held in his hand.
“Good boy.” Javier fed him a treat.
“Good boy? He almost ripped my husband’s face off.”
A few yards away, Dillon popped his head out from the room.
Javier petted Hot Dog. “My apologies. We’ll get Deet to you right away.”
“No offense, Javier,” I said, “but we’ve been hearing that all afternoon. I’m concerned.”
“I understand.” He clipped a muzzle on the dog. “I assure you Detritus is fine. The stand-ins mixed them up.”
Building Us: A Gay Romantic Comedy and Adventure (Marketing Beef Gay Romance Book 2) Page 9
