Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Note
About the Author
By E.J. Russell
Visit Dreamspinner Press
Copyright
Mystic Man
By E.J. Russell
When a series of personal crises prompt risk-averse research librarian Aaron Templeton to apply for a job on the other side of the country, nobody is more surprised than he is. He nearly runs home before the final interview except for one little problem: he has no home anymore. He put his condo on the market before he left California and it’s already sold. Only an encounter with free-spirited Connecticut native Cody Brown at the Mystic Seaport Museum staves off Aaron’s incipient panic attack.
Cody loves nothing better than introducing newcomers to the great features of his beloved home state, and when the newbie in question is a rumpled professorial type with the saddest blue eyes on the planet? Score! The attraction between the two men deepens as they explore Cody’s favorite spots, but when difficulties arise and Aaron’s insecurities threaten to overwhelm him, will Cody’s love be enough to keep him in Mystic?
States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.
For Jim, who—despite nearly thirty years in Oregon—is still a Connecticut Yankee at heart.
Acknowledgments
I’M SO grateful to Dreamspinner for giving me the chance to revisit Connecticut—at least fictionally! Huge thanks to Tricia Kristufek, Kelly, Lee, and Jason for another smooth and painless editing experience; to Brooke Albrecht for the gorgeous cover; and to the whole Dreamspinner team for making me feel so welcome.
Chapter ONE
THE OCEAN’S on the wrong side.
The sun, tipping toward the west, wasn’t aiming for the sea that lurked out of sight at the mouth of the Mystic River. That, more than anything—more than typing his scathing letter of resignation, more than his brief conversation with an openmouthed real estate agent, more than buying a last-minute, full-price ticket from LAX to Hartford—brought home to Aaron the enormity of what he’d done.
I’m on the other side of the country without a safety net—no friends, no home, no job.
Correction: no job yet. Fingers twitching, panic fizzing in his veins, Aaron fumbled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his calendar app. Tomorrow the entire afternoon was blocked out in comforting green. Interview and presentation at Hillview Academy.
He’d applied for the job of librarian-slash-history teacher on an impulse anyway, his sinuses burning from over an hour in rush-hour traffic on a day with yet another air quality advisory, frustrated with the latest mind-numbing research assignment in the ad agency’s poorly scanned, unindexed archives. When the school had scheduled his first phone interview, he’d assumed it was a fluke, so he hadn’t been nervous. That must have been why it went so well—I had nothing at stake then. The second interview—same thing.
When he got the call for the third interview, he’d been on his lunch hour, just leaving the food court at the mall. He was about to agree to meet with a local alumni committee when he’d spotted his ex in the jewelry store, cooing over wedding rings with his new boyfriend not two months after Wayne had walked out, claiming he wasn’t the marrying kind.
So Aaron blurted, “You needn’t go to the trouble. I’m relocating to Connecticut anyway. Leaving tomorrow, in fact, so I’d be happy to visit the campus and meet with the committee there.”
What the hell was I thinking? I’m never spontaneous. I always plan and plan again. Yet he’d let hurt and humiliation goad him into the first impulsive decision in his entire thirty-seven years, completely imploding his life.
He’d never even been out of Southern California before. Hell, in the sandwich shop where he’d stopped to buy lunch this afternoon, he’d stared at the chip rack for ten minutes, unable to find any recognizable brands. What made him think he could navigate an entirely new state where even the damn potato chips were strangers?
He blotted the perspiration off his upper lip. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a reset. The HR manager at the agency had always been nice to Aaron. Maybe he could talk her into forgetting about that unfortunate resignation letter. Hillview had told Aaron he was one of three final candidates—they’d have no problem filling the post.
That’s what he’d do. Cancel his interview. Text the real estate agent to take his condo off the market. Book yet another full-price ticket. Fly back to Southern California. With his boss away on his annual self-discovery retreat, chances were good that nobody but the HR manager would even know he’d been gone.
He cast a last wistful glance at the charming historic houses surrounding the Mystic Seaport Village green. He’d come this far. Maybe he could delay another few hours to tour the museum before returning to his hotel to pack.
No. He couldn’t put it off. If this put a serious dent in his savings with nothing whatsoever to show for it, that should teach him a lesson that he’d apparently forgotten: security is paramount. “Familiar” might be unexciting, but at least it was safe.
His phone vibrated in his hand, and when he checked the screen, the text from the real estate agent sent his stomach into free fall.
Great news! Three offers on the condo in the first day. All over the asking price, and no contingencies. We’ll be able to close even more quickly than you’d hoped.
No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. He’d set the price ridiculously high, even by Orange County standards, specifically to give himself a seller’s remorse emergency escape option. But if there were no contingencies, and the offers were over the asking price, he couldn’t pull out of the contract without a penalty—which his finances couldn’t support. His savings still hadn’t recovered from the condo down payment, and after further decimating them with two outrageously expensive airline tickets?
He dropped his arm to his side, fingers numb around his phone, alone in the crowd of laughing tourists. Jesus, I’m as reckless and foolhardy as my parents.
What am I going to do?
“PLEASE, UNCLE Cody. I want you to see my history report before I turn it in tomorrow.”
Kaya’s voice held that wheedling note that Cody could never resist. “I’ll try, but—”
“Daddy’s making tikka masala.”
Cody laughed as he made his way down the path from the Seaport’s Sailing Center. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“Because,” Cody’s sister cut in, obviously retrieving her phone from Kaya, “you should want to come for something besides the food.”
“It’s not like I never see you, Eliza. I live in your attic, for crying out loud.”
“Yes, you do, which is why it’s amazing that you manage to go ghost on us as much as you do.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “About that….”
“Cody.” Whereas some guys’ big sisters’ voices might rise to a shriek on a warning like that, Eliza’s voice dropped to a growl. “Seriously? You’re leaving again?”
“Um… yeah. I’ve got the money now to take that solo backpacking trip I was telling you about. As soon as I decide between Spain, Peru, or Bali, I’m ready to go.”
“Alone? To a foreign country?”
“Lots of people do it, Lize, it’s not that big a deal.”
Her sigh was clearly audible over the phone. It was probably audible from Hartford. “How long this time?”
�
�I don’t know. Four or five months, maybe? I want to be back in time for next year’s spring tourist season at the Seaport. Don’t worry. I’ll keep paying the rent on my apartment, you hardass slumlord.”
“I’m not worried about the rent, you doofus. We miss you when you’re gone. And besides….” Eliza’s voice broke, and Cody tightened his grip on the phone. His sister never got over-emotional unless….
“Are you…. God, Lize, are you pregnant?”
“Yes!” she wailed. “And you were gone on that stupid round-the-world sail when Kaya was born. You weren’t there when I got home from the hospital. You missed her first smile, her first word, her first step. And now you’re going to do the same with this baby.”
Cody dodged out of the flow of visitors and sat down on a bench. “It’s not a whole year, Lize. How far along are you?”
“Three months.”
“Then I should be home in plenty of time to welcome the new rug rat.”
“What about Kaya? You know she adores you.”
“She’ll be tied up with first grade stuff. Even last year, when she was in kindergarten, she was so focused on her homework—and Jesus, homework in kindergarten?”
“It was just alphabet and counting practice.”
“Well, Kaya treated it like the calculus AP exam. That girl knows how to focus. She won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“That’s what you think. And if you don’t show up tonight to see this project—”
“I should be able to. Don’t worry. But why do I have to see it especially? Aren’t you and Hiran supposed to award the official parental seal of approval?”
“She won’t show it to us because you’re the one who helped her with the research. She will miss you, Cody.”
Cody sighed, his gaze traveling across the green to the dock where a steady stream of tourists marched up the gangway onto the deck of the Charles W. Morgan. “I’ll miss her too. But I need to take this trip.”
“Why exactly? You claim to love Connecticut. Volunteering at the Seaport. Even working for Hiran when he can nail your feet to the floor under your computer. Why do you need to keep leaving?”
Cody stood again and joined the people strolling around the green. “I don’t know. Itchy feet, I guess.”
“Free-spirited is one thing, Cody. Commitment-avoidant is something else.”
“Hey. I’m committed. I volunteer here three days a week during the season. I’m at Mom and Dad’s every Sunday. Downstairs with you guys probably more than you want to see me. But—”
“You’re still looking for something.”
Cody shaded his eyes with his hand and peered up at the sky. “Maybe.” The angle of sunlight had slipped past that critical point—low enough to say “summer’s over” even if autumn hadn’t officially started yet. The change in seasons always filled Cody with an odd yearning that he’d never been able to identify.
He blamed Don Henley.
This time of year, post-Labor Day but before peak foliage season, “The Boys of Summer” always played on a loop on his internal playlist, with its melancholy reminiscence of times impossible to recapture, its vain search for someone no longer there.
Not that Cody had ever had someone to find—or lose, for that matter. But it made him want, as if his family, his beloved home, his life, was somehow missing a piece—although he had no idea what that piece might be. That’s why he took off on some kind of adventure every winter.
“Cody, did you hear what I said?”
“Sorry, Lize. Say again?”
“I said I don’t think you’re looking for a thing or even a place—you’re looking for a person.”
“I’ve got Mom and Dad. You, Hiran, and Kaya. George, even though he’s in Boston, but that’s close enough for me.” The last thing Cody needed was to have his perfect older brother around for comparison again. That had been enough of a pain growing up. Oh, you’re George Brown’s brother. We expect great things of you. He loved George—who wouldn’t? The guy was perfect. But being constantly compared to him and found inferior got tiring after a while. “I don’t need more persons.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Yes, but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, politely pretending that my big sister isn’t trying to interfere in my love life. And if the reason you want me to come over tonight is to introduce me to another random guy—”
“No, it’s not. I swear. It’s Kaya’s history report. She’s so proud of it she’s about to burst—goes around with it clutched to her chest as if we might try to sneak a peek.”
Cody wandered along the path, enjoying the day and the ambience of the Village, one of his favorite places in the world, which was one of the reasons—other than his family—he always came back, no matter how far or how long he roamed.
“Fine. I’ll be there, but you have to promise not to ride me again about signing on full-time with Hiran.”
“But if you’d only—”
“I mean it, Lize. I love you. I love Hiran. I love his company. But I’m not ready to be an eight-to-five code monkey. Not yet.”
“All right. But if—”
“Hold on.” Cody tuned out his sister’s continued squawks, because there was a man standing in front of the Cooperage—tall, lean, sandy haired, with the saddest blue eyes on the planet. He was looking around with a bewildered gaze, not as if he’d lost someone, but as if he was lost himself. “I’ve got to go, Lize. I’ll see you tonight. Promise.”
He hung up and tucked his phone away in his belt pouch as he approached the guy. Oh wow. He could never resist the bespectacled, professorial type, and this guy checked all Cody’s boxes. He was obviously older—another box: check! But also obviously needed assistance.
And that’s totally my specialty.
Cody glanced down at his outfit. He was wearing his Interpretation garb today—suede breeches, knee boots, linen shirt, and brocade waistcoat—so hopefully Mr. Sad Eyes would note the Mystic Seaport Volunteer badge and not think he was some random cosplay stalker.
“Hi.” Cody donned his best smile. “You look like you could use some help. What can I do for you?”
Chapter TWO
AARON WRENCHED his attention from all the cues that screamed he wasn’t in Kansas—or rather Southern California—anymore and focused on the man who’d just spoken.
The beautiful, smiling, young man. For a moment, Aaron was flattered that he’d attracted the attention of someone this appealing, but then he noted the period costume and the Mystic Seaport badge. He’s part of the experience. It’s his job to help clueless, panic-stricken tourists.
“I’m homeless,” he blurted, then winced. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” He backed up a step. “I’ll just be going now.”
The young man held up his hands, palms out. “No worries. I guess if you’ve already seen all the Seaport has to offer—”
“I… uh….” Aaron had barely arrived before he’d taken that nosedive into panic, but there was a reason he’d come here. He was a historian, after all, and this museum was the most popular tourist attraction in Connecticut. “Not exactly.”
“Oh. Are you waiting for the rest of your group?”
“I’m…. That is, I’m here alone.”
“Really?” The man’s smile was brighter than the sun on the water. “That’s awesome. I think traveling alone is—well, I’m not sure, because I’ve never done it. I’ve always been with a few other guys. But the alone thing is totally on my to-do list for this winter. That’s the way to meet people, right? To really get to know the culture?”
“I assumed that the reason for travel was to share experiences with the people you care about.” Aaron gazed at the water that was definitely not the Pacific Ocean. “Alone, sometimes all you get is culture shock and never meet anyone anyway.”
“Well, you’re meeting me, right?”
Aaron’s lips twitched. “You have a point.” He glanced at his phone, sighed, and put it in his ja
cket pocket. “I suddenly realized that I’m completely at sea here.”
“I guess you’re not from around here.” The man pointed toward the water. “Otherwise you’d know that to be at sea you’d have to sail down the river and out of the Sound.”
“A smartass, eh?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Are all Connecticutters…. Connecticutians…. Hell, what do I call a Connecticut native?”
“Cody.”
“A Cody?” Aaron’s tentative smile faltered. “That doesn’t track very well to ‘Connecticut.’”
“It’s my name, doofus.” The man’s—no Cody’s—tone held a buried laugh.
“‘Doofus’? I knew you had to be young. I didn’t realize you were actually twelve.”
“For your information, I’m twenty-six, but I have a six-year-old niece. I have to scale back my language around her, so it’s easier not to backslide if I’m consistent all the time.” Cody brushed his wavy hair away from his face. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” He stuck out his hand. “Cody. Cody Brown.”
Aaron shook the offered hand, keeping his face perfectly straight. “Aaron Doofus.”
Cody’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Of course not. Aaron Templeton.”
“Wow. Now that’s a serious name. You ought to be like a British MP or a reality star or a news anchor with a name like that.”
“That’s quite the range of possibilities, and not the obvious list for most people, especially those with young children.”
“Why—Oh.” Cody laughed, a bright, joyful noise that further soothed Aaron’s jangled nerves. “Got it. Charlotte’s Web. Don’t worry. You don’t look anything like a rat.”
“Thank you. Your… er… colorful name is interesting. I thought you looked—”
“Twelve. Yeah, I get it.”
“Yes, but besides that. Like Charlie White.”
“The figure skater?”
“Yes. It’s the hair.”
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