Gabriel's Storm

by Sue Brown

  “It’s all right.” Sam caught Gabriel’s sceptical expression. “No, it really is. You saved me, and I’m alive.”

  Gabriel patted his shoulder. “You are, Sam from the storm. You’re alive. Let’s see if we can find more pirate treasure.”

  Sam let Gabriel haul him up onto the rocks to explore the myriad of pools. He had no idea if he’d done that before, but it didn’t matter. Gabriel pointed out the crabs and sea creatures scuttling away as they lifted rocks to find the hidden treasures underneath. He was remarkably knowledgeable about the plants and animals, and when Sam remarked on it, Gabriel flushed and confessed that exploring rock pools had been a guilty pleasure of his.

  “It’s been a long time since I made the effort,” Gabriel admitted, his gaze flickering out to sea as it always did when he thought about his family.

  “Thank you for sharing it with me,” Sam said, and Gabriel smiled at him.

  When the waves started to lick around the rocks, Gabriel suggested it was time to depart. “The tide comes in a lot quicker than you’d expect.”

  Sam followed Gabe back to his shoes at the base of the steps. He passed a small dinghy and frowned as he looked at the name, Sweet Jenny. “Is this yours?” It was a stupid question. Who else could it belong to?

  “Yes, although Toby and Damien use it occasionally.”

  “You went out in this to find me?”

  The dinghy was so small. In stormy weather and fierce waves, it must have been terrifying.

  “Don’t think about it,” Gabriel said.

  Sam nodded, but it preyed on his mind as he sat on the bottom step and brushed the sand off his feet. He grimaced at the gritty feel as he rolled his socks on.

  “I think I’m going to need another shower when we get home,” he said without thinking.

  Gabriel didn’t say anything, and Sam wondered if he should apologise, but Gabriel led the way up the steps, and he decided to let it go, cursing his wayward tongue with each gritty step towards the top.

  Chapter 9—Gabriel

  SAM LOOKED pale and drawn by the time he reached the top of the cliff. It took some prodding on Gabriel’s part to get Sam to admit his head was pounding.

  “Damn, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “We should have taken it easy today, especially after yesterday.”

  Sam shook his head. Then he winced, and the colour drained out of his face. “Remind me not to do that.”

  “Don’t do that,” Gabriel said.

  “Ha-ha, very funny.”

  “I thought so. Are you going to barf?”

  From Sam’s ashen face, he was going to be sick or pass out. Or both.

  “Ask me in a few minutes.”

  Sam swayed, and Gabriel put an arm around his waist.

  “Come on. You can lie down in the cottage and nap.”

  “For fuck’s sake. I’m twenty-three, not three. I don’t need a nap,” Sam muttered. Then he stopped and looked up at Gabriel. “I’m twenty-three.”

  Christ, he was a kid. Gabriel suddenly felt ancient. “Congratulations. You make me feel old. When’s your birthday?”

  “Uh… ask me another time.” Sam leaned against Gabriel. “Wow, I’m twenty-three.”

  “Another piece of the jigsaw falls into place.”

  “It’s a big jigsaw.”

  Gabriel heard the defeated tone in Sam’s voice. “Hey, a minute ago you were all excited because you remembered your age. Hang on to that.”

  “Okay.”

  It wasn’t cartwheels-across-the-floor joy. but Gabriel would take it. He helped Sam into the cottage and guided him to the sofa. “Do you want to sleep here or in the bedroom?”

  Sam snuggled into the corner of the sofa and closed his eyes. “Just leave me here.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Let’s take off your shoes.”

  If Sam heard him, he didn’t give any indication. Gabriel pulled off the shoes, grimacing at the pile of sand on his floor. Then he eased Sam’s legs up until he was lying on the sofa. Gabriel covered him with an afghan and left him to sleep.

  He stared at Sam for a long time, noting the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the faint lines of pain around his mouth and eyes. He should have been more careful with Sam. Toby would have his hide if he set back Sam’s recovery.

  Gabriel knew he should take the opportunity to work on his latest project for a couple of hours. He’d already lost a few days between the storm, Sam, and the landslip, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sleeping man, now on his side, hands tucked under his cheeks. Sam was beautiful, with strands of copper hair falling across his face and his creamy skin not so pale now he was asleep. Gabriel knew he was fast becoming ensnared by him.

  Too soon! Too soon!

  He couldn’t push away his fears. It had only been a year. It was too soon to be falling for anyone, let alone a kid like Sam.

  You need to contact the police and missing persons. The sooner he’s gone the better.

  Gabriel could get back to his life.

  And the soul-sucking loneliness of your existence.

  His damn mind needed to shut the hell up.

  Ready to get to his feet, Gabriel paused as Sam made a noise. Sam seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Maybe it had been a noise outside. Gabriel stood, and Sam cried out, one hand flying out.

  “Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.” His litany trailed off into a sob.

  Gabriel sat down next to him and captured Sam’s flailing arms in a loose grip. He’d learned by now that just calling him didn’t wake Sam up, and if he didn’t grasp Sam’s hands, he’d end up with a black eye or two.

  “Hey, Sam, you’re safe. It’s all right. You’re safe.”

  Sam tried to pull away from him, but Gabriel wouldn’t let go. “Don’t hurt me. Why do you want to hurt me? What did I do to deserve this?”

  “Who’s hurting you, Sam?”

  But Sam didn’t answer. He gave a heaving sigh, sobbed a couple of times, and fell back to sleep.

  Gabriel stayed by him, still holding his hands until he was sure Sam wasn’t going to wake again. Then he retreated to his desk to have time alone and recover his thoughts.

  WHEN GABRIEL came out of his room, he noticed two things. One, it was dark. Where had the day gone? Two, the cottage was filled with the aroma of something good cooking. Gabriel could smell red wine and herbs, meat and lots of garlic. That was the extent of his knowledge. For a moment it was as though he’d stepped back in time to before his world turned to shit. Dinner was cooking, the radio was on in the kitchen, he could hear singing, and the cottage felt like his home again. Gabriel bit down on his bottom lip. This was temporary, he told himself. No point getting used to it.

  He followed his nose to the kitchen to discover Sam, now dressed in a T-shirt Gabriel recognised as his, and Sam’s shorts, his long hair tied back in a scrunchy and muttering to himself as he read a cookbook. The counter top… looked like a disaster area with vegetable peelings and spilled herbs everywhere. Gabriel sighed. He got dinner. He’d have to suck it up and do the clearing up afterwards.

  “Reduce the sauce down. Reduce it to what?” Sam poked at the pan of bubbling liquid which spattered onto the hob and sizzled. “Isn’t it reduced already?”

  “You need to reduce the heat under the pan and let it simmer a while. The sauce gets thicker,” Gabriel said as he moved forward. He turned the knob to reduce the heat on the hob, stirred the sauce, and inhaled appreciatively. “This smells good.”

  Pasta bubbled away on the hob, and if it was a little sauce-splattered, it didn’t matter.

  “I can’t remember if I can cook or not,” Sam admitted. “So I used one of the recipe books on the shelf. Is that okay?” He bit his lip as though he were worried Gabriel was going to shout at him for using one of Jenny’s cookbooks.

  “More than okay,” Gabriel assured him. “I came out to see if you were awake and wanted dinner.”

  Sam reached into a cupboard and drew out a wineglass. They had been wed
ding presents from Jenny’s parents. But Sam couldn’t know that. He filled the glass with red wine and handed it to Gabriel. Then he picked up his own glass and clinked Gabriel’s.

  “Cheers. I hope I don’t poison you.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “I hope so too. Where did you get the wine?”

  “I went over to Toby’s to ask where I could buy wine at this time of night. Damien gave me a couple of bottles. Some went in the sauce, and I had a glass for courage.”

  Gabriel sipped at it, deciding not to tell Sam he’d put a hundred-pound bottle of wine in his sauce. He certainly wouldn’t tell Damien.

  “I appreciate the dinner. I hate cooking for myself.”

  “I have a feeling I don’t cook that much,” Sam admitted, indicating the war zone of the countertop.

  “It won’t take long to clear up,” Gabriel promised. Then he picked up a dishcloth by the sink. “I’ll do that while you man the sauce.”

  Sam took the cloth out of his hand. “You take the wine and cutlery into the room. I’ll clear up and serve dinner.”

  Gabriel did as he was told, taking a seat by the fire—Sam had got the fire started too—and sipped his very expensive glass of wine as he waited for dinner to be served. The wind had increased, and he could hear the occasional spatter of rain against the window panes, a contrast to the almost summery weather earlier in the day. He closed his eyes and let himself drift as he heard Sam singing 90s boy-band tunes in the kitchen.

  Sam emerged fifteen minutes later, carrying two large bowls of pasta and sauce which he placed on mats on the coffee table.

  Gabriel’s stomach rumbled in appreciation. “This looks amazing.”

  “Just got to get the garlic bread.”

  Sam vanished into the kitchen. There was a clang and a muffled curse.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriel asked cautiously.

  “I’m fine,” Sam snapped.

  Gabriel grinned and waited.

  “I hit my head on the open drawer.”

  “Has your memory returned?”

  “Ha-ha, fuck you, Pennant.” Sam returned with a plate of garlic bread and a red mark on his forehead. “I didn’t make the garlic bread.”

  As Gabriel knew he’d had a pack in the freezer, the explanation was unnecessary. He picked up one of the bowls and cautiously took a mouthful.

  “Damn, this is good.”

  More than good in fact.

  Sam eyed him sourly. “What did you expect? I can follow a recipe.”

  Gabriel had shovelled in another mouthful and took his time to swallow and chew before he answered. “I use the same recipe, and this is better than I make it.”

  Sam nodded, seemingly mollified at Gabriel’s compliment. “I liked cooking. I’m just not sure what to do.”

  “YouTube. There’s a tutorial for everything.”

  “Two problems with that idea. No computer. No phone.”

  “So what did you do?” Gabriel asked.

  “I called Damien,” Sam confessed with a blush. “I did all the hard work, though.”

  Gabriel held back his chuckle, wishing he’d been there to see the forceful and feisty Damien teach Sam how to cook. Damien had tried to tutor Jenny once. It had not ended well. Gabriel had learned swear words he never knew existed that day.

  They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, only breaking it when they both reached for a piece of garlic bread at the same time. Gabriel’s fingers brushed the back of Sam’s hand, and they looked up at each other.

  “Sorry.” Sam looked flustered. “Go on. It’s all yours.”

  “No, you take it,” Gabriel insisted.

  It was ridiculous. There were several pieces of garlic bread left on the plate.

  He handed Sam the piece, and their buttery fingers slid together. Sam gasped at the intimate touch.

  “Thank you.” Sam bit into the garlic bread, and a trickle of garlic butter smeared his lips.

  Gabriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sam’s mouth, glistening in the low light. Sam licked his lips, an action that went straight to Gabriel’s dick. He swallowed hard, looked down at his plate, and tried to focus on what he was supposed to be doing, which was not thinking about Sam’s mouth wrapped around his cock.

  The rattle of windows and the hard splash of rain were welcome distractions.

  Sam looked up, concern written on his face. “Do you think we’ll have another storm?”

  “I don’t know.” Gabriel sat stock still, shock seeping through him as he realised that, for the first time, he hadn’t spent the day watching the weather, watching the storm roll in, and checking the bay for anyone in distress.

  “Gabriel?”

  Sam’s soft query barely broke through the distress building in Gabriel’s head. He’d failed Jenny and Michael. Who else had he failed by not being there tonight?

  “Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

  Gabriel put down his bowl with a clatter onto the coffee table. He didn’t look at Sam, ashamed of his body’s reaction a few minutes before. “I need to go.”

  Sam sat up and placed his plate on the table. “Go where, Gabriel? Where do you need to go?”

  “Out. I need to look. To check. There might be someone in trouble.” Gabriel stood, brushing the crumbs from his jeans.

  “It’s dark and raining,” Sam said, getting to his feet too.

  He was between Gabriel and the door. He was in the way. Gabriel was bigger and stronger than Sam. He could force Sam out of the way if he had to. But he didn’t want to hurt him. He’d never want to hurt Sam.

  “I’ve got to go,” he repeated, hoping Sam would just get out of the way.

  Sam stayed where he was. “You want to go to the clifftop.”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to check the bay.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel snapped, his anger rising at the delay.

  “It’s pitch black outside. You won’t be able to see anything.”

  “I can see distress signals.” Gabriel pushed past Sam and headed to the door.

  “You’re going to stand on the edge of a cliff in total darkness during a howling gale.”

  “It won’t be the first time. I’ll take a torch.”

  He pulled out his thick waterproof jacket and sat down on the bench by the front door to pull on his boots.

  “I’m coming with you,” Sam said.

  That penetrated the fog in Gabriel’s mind. Sam, out there?

  “No way,” he said flatly.

  “Why not? If you’re going, I’m going. Two sets of eyes looking for trouble has got to be better than one.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s not a walk in the park. It’s howling rain and wind.”

  Sam folded his arms, his expression mutinous. “I can see what it’s like. I’m not blind.”

  Just then an enormous gust of wind seemed to rattle the cottage itself.

  Gabriel gathered his wits and tried a different tactic. “I’m used to it, Sam. I know the dangers. You’re still recovering from a concussion. If you slip and hurt your head, you could do more damage.” He finished lacing his boots and stood. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “You step one foot outside that door without me, and I’ll call Toby.”

  Gabriel stared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  He couldn’t believe it. Sam was threatening to sic Toby on him. From the stormy expression in his eyes, Gabriel could see it wasn’t an idle threat. Sam would be on the phone the second the door shut behind him. Fuck.

  “I’ve got to check, Sam,” he pleaded. “Just for a moment. I have to.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  Sam sat down on the bench and pulled on his boots. “Have you got a jacket?”

  Mutely, Gabriel handed him his other coat. It swamped Sam, but it was the only one he had.

  Sam shrugged it on and glared at Gabriel. “Let’s go.”

  Gabriel picked up his powerful flashlight, op
ened the front door, and received a spray of rain in the face. “Stay close to me,” he yelled over the noise of the storm.

  He pushed his way out into the night, and Sam followed, pausing to wrestle the front door closed. He’d been out in far worse, but he knew the cliffs like the back of his hand. He knew what he was doing. Now he had to look after Sam, who could be taken by a strong gust of wind. He reached back and grabbed Sam’s hand, and Sam held tight immediately.

  “I won’t let you go,” he bellowed, not sure if Sam could hear him or not.

  Sam tugged them to a stop and pulled Gabriel’s face down to his. “You’d better not.”

  Then he took Gabriel’s breath away by kissing him fiercely, cold lips on his. The kiss was brief, but Gabriel felt it lingering long after Sam pulled back.

  “Let’s get this madness over and done with,” Sam said.

  Gabriel led them out of the shelter of the cottage and into the night.

  Chapter 10—Sam

  HE WAS officially a fucking idiot. Sam had been trying to prevent Gabriel going out, not get dragged out into the hideous weather himself. Even ducks were hiding from the storm. He couldn’t believe his threat to call Toby hadn’t worked. That was his trump card.

  Rain pelted into his eyes, making it hard to see, and the wind seemed to whip his breath away. Sam was also trying to process the fact that he’d just kissed Gabriel. He licked his lips, tasting rain, salt, and Gabriel. He stuck his head down and pushed against the rain and wind, sheltering slightly against the larger bulk of Gabriel, who held his hand. The coat gave up any pretence of being waterproof after five minutes, and he was cold and wet and thoroughly miserable. When he got back into the cottage, he was going to take a long hot shower, climb into bed, and forget this day ever existed. And Gabriel. He was going to forget Gabriel ever existed too. The man was officially bonkers to come out in weather like this. Sam held tighter on to Gabriel’s hand. For protection against the wind. Not because he wanted to.

  Gabriel forged ahead, his torch showing a dim path ahead of them. He seemed to know where he was going, which made one of them. His hand was reassuringly tight around Sam’s.