Let It Beatle Box Set - 7 Gay Romance Stories

by J. D. Walker

  I went to the front door and opened it. “Come inside when you’re ready,” I called, and watched him jerk around to face me. What on earth had made him so jumpy? I left him there and went back to the kitchen to make us some breakfast.

  While scrambled eggs were cooking, I brewed another pot of coffee. A few minutes later, I heard heavy footsteps approaching. “I left my boots by the door,” he said. “Figured you wouldn’t want that much dirt on your clean floor.”

  “Appreciate it,” I replied and set a plate on the table next to a steaming cup of coffee. “Bathroom’s down the hall behind you, first door on the right. You can clean up a bit if you’d like to.” He nodded and disappeared.

  When he returned, some of the grime from the road had been washed away from his face, and a little water dripped from his beard. He stood there staring at me before I realized he was waiting for me to tell him to sit. “That plate’s yours. Have a seat.”

  He murmured a “thank you” and sat at the table. “Name’s Murphy Vickers.”

  “Austin Murray,” I replied and served myself some food before joining him. Once I started to eat, he did, too. Someone had taught him manners a long time ago.

  We finished our meal in silence. I watched Murphy from time to time as he ate. He didn’t scarf down his food, simply forked measured portions into his mouth and chewed slowly, as if to make the food last longer.

  “You interested in that shower?” I asked after drinking some coffee.

  “You mentioned work I could do?”

  “I did, but I asked about a shower.”

  “Do I stink?” he retorted.

  “No.”

  “So that work you mentioned? Were you just blowing smoke or does it exist?”

  I stared at him. Murphy didn’t seem interested in niceties or small talk. Okay, then. “I have jobs at my bookstore and here. The bookstore needs the most attention right now, though. Are you good with tools, afraid of heights or anything?”

  Murphy relaxed once he realized I wasn’t jerking him around. “I’ve done many things. I can handle it.”

  “Great. The pay’s a hundred bucks if you can get the work I need done by the end of the day. The store opens at noon and closes at six today. I don’t usually leave until around eight, however. I need work done on the roof and to replace a door, fix some shelving in the inventory room, you get the idea.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t expect that much, but I appreciate it. Can I get started now?” He rose and placed his plate and mug in the sink.

  “Sure. You can follow my truck.” I took a couple bottles of water out of the refrigerator and handed them to him. “I’ll bring you a sandwich or something later.”

  He nodded his thanks and headed outside. I watched him sit on the top step of the deck at the front of the house and put his boots back on. I grabbed my keys and locked the door behind me before heading out, with Murphy close behind.

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, I’d shown Murphy what I’d like done and unlocked the storage room behind the store with all the necessary tools and supplies he’d need. He’d pulled a well-worn stocking cap over his hair and now wore old, thick gloves instead of the leather ones from earlier.

  “Do you have a cell phone?” I asked.

  “Prepaid.”

  I dug in my wallet and handed him a business card. “My mobile’s on there. Call me if something comes up before I get here at ten-thirty. Or send a text. Don’t expect anything will, but you never know.”

  He nodded, removed his leather jacket, and started sorting materials. Murphy wore an old Henley and a thermal shirt with his jeans. He was as big as I’d thought, muscles everywhere. It had been a long time since I’d looked at a man in that way. And I preferred them on the large size, too. But he was bigger than that, and it did something to me. He was damaged goods, though.

  “Later,” I said before walking to my truck. I felt his eyes on my back but didn’t turn around. There would be time to explore my world-weary temporary employee soon enough.

  After I got back home, I did the dishes, took a quick shower, and cleaned up the spare bedroom that hadn’t been occupied, except by the occasional guest, since I’d bought the place. If Murphy decided to stay around for a day or two, he’d need a place to sleep at night.

  Before leaving for the store, I stood next to my truck and stared at the roiling ocean. What if Murphy was that something I’d been missing? Wouldn’t it be a hoot if a biker from out of nowhere defined my future? I shook my head and chuckled as I got into the truck.

  Sometimes life just threw things at you, and the only way to survive was to ride the waves.

  * * * *

  When I arrived at the store, Murphy was on the roof repairing the hole that had been covered by tarp for a few months now. I simply hadn’t had the time to fix it. I waved at him, but he didn’t acknowledge me.

  I parked in the back and went around the front of the store where some of my employees were waiting, moving from leg to leg in the cold.

  “Morning, boss,” Maury Landrum said as he smiled and shivered in his jacket. He’d been working for me for some months now and was a quick learner and very reliable. He would make a great store manager in a few years.

  “Morning,” I replied, nodding to Shirley, whose eyes twinkled above gloved hands she was using to warm her face, same as Trent and Bill. Once inside, we all went to warm up with coffee in the staff room.

  “I hate the cold,” Shirley said as she always did when winter came around, like clockwork.

  “It’s not so bad,” Maury replied as he unwound the green woolen scarf from his neck and took off his jacket.

  “You’re only saying that because you get to cuddle up to Tory every night,” Bill cut in and dodged a wadded-up napkin thrown by Maury. Yup, he was referring to the same Tory who owned the motel. Maury had mooned over that man for years before they finally got together last Thanksgiving.

  “Jealous much?” Maury shot back, and they were off.

  I left them all to their friendly bickering as I grabbed my coffee—decaf this time—and headed out front. Usually things were slow at the store in January but picked up a little around Valentine’s Day.

  I could hear Murphy hammering away on the roof as I checked my customer list to see who would be coming in to pick up their orders. I put a reminder on my phone to go over to the diner and get Murphy something for lunch.

  When it was time to let in the customers, I unlocked the front door and turned the sign to “Open.” A few of my regulars who always stopped by the store no matter the weather greeted me heartily and went on their search for the perfect book. Among the customers today were Maury’s sister Sheila, her boyfriend Leonard, and the triplets.

  Hugs were demanded by the little ones before they went screaming and running toward the reading/play area, where Maury was restocking and preparing for a reading hour at two o’clock. I shook my head at the energy they had. It made me tired just watching them.

  “Kids needed to get out of the house?” I asked.

  “Yup. They were bored,” Leonard replied. “Who’s the guy patching up the roof?” he asked while keeping an eye on Sheila and the kids.

  “He was passing through, needed some work, and I had a few odd jobs to get done.”

  He scratched his cheek. “Something about him is familiar, though the facial hair doesn’t make it easy. His build and hair color remind me of a guy I knew in the army—Vickers was his name.” Leonard had just gotten out of the army himself last year. My heart pounded. Could it be Murphy?

  “He was older than most of the men in our unit,” Leonard continued, “and a pretty standup guy. Tough as nails. Not much of a talker, though. Anyway, one of our guys was caught in an explosion right in front of him, and pieces of his body landed everywhere. I think it did something to his mind, seeing that. He was never the same afterward. Some of the shrapnel from the blast messed up one side of his face, too. He didn’t re-enlist after the end of his
tour and we lost touch. All my letters came back.”

  Leonard shook his head and walked over to help his girlfriend with the kids.

  If he was talking about the same Murphy Vickers who had just arrived in town, it would explain a lot about the man’s skittish behavior, how closed off he seemed from the world and people in general. Maybe he still lived in the past. That kind of experience would definitely change a man, make him disillusioned with life. I didn’t have much time to think about this because a customer came up to me with a question.

  Half an hour later, my phone beeped to remind me about Murphy’s lunch. I called Bill to take over for a bit while I went to get some food.

  * * * *

  By eight o’clock that evening, Murphy had finished the work I asked him to do. Night had fallen and with it had come a brisk wind. A storm was brewing, I was sure of it. Aside from when I’d given him lunch, I’d seen Murphy only once or twice when he’d come inside the store to use the bathroom.

  “Ready to go?” I asked as I locked the back door to the building.

  Murphy nodded once and hopped onto his bike. I got into my truck and led the way home. Once we were both inside the house, I said, “Washer and dryer are next to the bathroom you used this morning. Feel free to do laundry if you want. Why don’t you take a shower? You’ve probably seen the towels above the toilet.”

  “Thanks,” was all he said before grabbing his saddlebags and walking in his socks down the hall.

  I left him to it and thought about what to make as a meal for us. I’d defrosted some beef patties when I got up this morning, so maybe we’d have burgers, fries, baked beans and a salad. Simple enough.

  As I prepared our dinner, I wondered whether or not to ask Murphy about his past. Would he even let me get that far? I heard the heavy footsteps of my guest returning to the kitchen.

  “I’m doing a load of laundry,” he said. “I also cleaned your tub and the floor ‘cause I left a mess behind.”

  I turned to thank him and froze. Murphy’s well-built frame was now encased in a rumpled long-sleeved T-shirt and faded jeans that had seen better days. He was barefoot. He’d shaved his facial hair and the scar on his face was now completely visible. It ran from his right eye down to the corner of his mouth, with jagged edges. His hair hung wet and loose around his shoulders.

  Since I hadn’t said anything, he added, “I had my own razor, in case you’re wondering. Only thing I used was your water, soap and a towel. Anything I can help with?”

  I snapped out of my daze and tried not to blush like a sixteen-year-old boy. “Uh, no. I’ve got it handled, thanks.” I turned to stir the beans and gather my thoughts.

  Jesus, I hadn’t expected anything like this, and the way my dick was rising spoke of things that weren’t happening any time soon, if ever. This was a man hurting and in need of more than sex, though he definitely inspired it and he wasn’t even aware of it. I needed to keep my head in the game and ignore my crotch.

  “Money’s in the envelope on the table.” I gestured with my chin toward it.

  He grabbed the packet with a murmured “thanks” and stuck it in a jeans pocket.

  “Not gonna count it?” I asked.

  “No.” He sat in the chair without prompting this time. Perhaps he was more comfortable in my company now.

  “You did good work today and I really appreciate it. Are you in a hurry to be some place? I have more stuff you could do, if you’re interested.” I didn’t want to investigate why I wanted him to stick around. I simply felt for the lonely, closed-off man before me and wanted to do whatever I could to help, even if it didn’t last long.

  He didn’t answer me for a while and stared at the table. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why not?” I took the buns I’d been warming out of the oven and placed them next to the salad on the table, along with the patties, fries, and beans. “Grab us some plates, please? The cabinet next to the fridge.”

  He did as I asked and sat.

  I gathered utensils, salad dressing and other condiments, as well as two beers, and placed everything before us. There were cloth napkins, too.

  Once we were seated, I said, “I need work done, and you seem to need something to do and a place to relax for a day or two while you slow down.”

  “I ain’t a fuckin’ charity case,” Murphy snapped, then pressed his lips tightly together. I waited. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s been…Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve been through a lot over the years, and it can be hard to trust people.” No kidding.

  “That’s a damn shame, but I meant what I said. All I’m offering is a couple days of work and a non-judgmental space for a little bit. Take it or leave it. Now eat up. Food’s getting cold.”

  I dug into my meal with gusto, and Murphy did the same after contemplating me for a minute or two. Perhaps kindness just for the hell of it was a foreign notion to him. If he wanted to talk about it, I would be a willing ear. He seemed to hold a lot inside.

  It was almost ten by the time we finished our meal and cleaned up. “I have to be at the store by eight-thirty in the morning, so I’ll show you what needs to be done around the house before I leave.” I took a spare key off my key ring and handed it over. “Use this to lock up if you need to go into town for whatever reason. I may be crazy to trust you, but if you steal anything from me, I figure it’s on your head. But I don’t get that vibe from you.”

  He searched my face in disbelief. “You sure about this? I could just take off and never come back.”

  “You could. It would be my loss. But I think there’s more to you than the gruff drifter you portray to the world. If ever you want to share your story, I’ll listen. Your room’s on the left side at the end of the hall. Mine’s on the right.”

  “Good night, Austin, and thank you.” He gave me an undecipherable look before heading toward his bedroom. I watched him walk away, that long heavy stride echoing on the wooden floors as he moved along. I was attracted to, and a little leery of, my houseguest, for better or worse.

  * * * *

  As was my habit, I woke up at five-thirty the next morning. There was another bathroom next to my bedroom so I used that one to clean up and prepare for my walk on the beach. I dressed in warm clothing and left quietly through the front door.

  Murphy’s bike was still out front next to my truck, and I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or something else at the sight. Once I’d gone to bed last night, I’d kept an ear out for Murphy, but he hadn’t made a sound.

  I crossed the road and trotted down the old wooden steps to start my stroll west toward the Misty View Motel. It was overcast, gray, and cold. The wind had picked up since yesterday, which meant rain soon. Before long, I was surprised to see the tall, massive frame of Murphy Vickers trudging along in the distance.

  From time to time he would stop, bend over, and pick something up from the sand. Was he a beachcomber, too? I kept my pace to his so as not to impose upon his solitude. When he turned around and started walking toward me, I was soon close enough to see the surprise on his face.

  The first thing he said, “Are you following me?” Paranoid much?

  I sighed internally. “Nope. When you saw me out here yesterday, I was doing my usual routine. I walk out here as often as I can. Clears my head, and it’s beautiful.”

  He grunted and walked on, leaving me to continue on my way. Surly bastard. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person. I kept on going and sat in my usual spot to relax and stare out at the water. How on earth would I be able to get through Murphy’s walls? They were so frickin’ thick. I shouldn’t care, but…

  I shook my head and just breathed for a while before walking back. I waved at Tory as he ran by me and thought about what I’d make for breakfast. Murphy didn’t seem to be picky, so that was good.

  When I arrived at home, I took off the boots I wore exclusively on the beach and placed them on the deck next to Murphy’s before heading inside. The smell of frying bacon and
eggs assailed my nostrils and I headed to the kitchen, only to pause on the threshold in shock.

  “You’re making breakfast?” I asked incredulously.

  He shrugged. “Least I could do. Aside from working odd jobs, I can cook. That’ll help me earn my keep while I’m here. I can help with laundry and ironing, if you like, as well as clean the house.” Visions of Murphy in a French maid’s outfit were ruthlessly shoved aside. For later. Much, much later.

  All I could say was, “Thanks. I’ll make coffee.” Which I did, and set two mugs on the table minutes later.

  Murphy moved around my kitchen like he belonged there. He seemed eager to be useful, and I couldn’t fault the man for that. Over a breakfast of cheese and bacon omelets, I explained what needed to be done.

  “The deck in the back needs some work. The weather is turning, though, so you might not be able to do anything outside today. But I have a big shed out there that has its own generator. You can cut the wood that I’ve already stacked in there, and do measurements in preparation for a dry day.” Interesting how I was already thinking he’d be staying longer than a few days. “Ever worked with a saw?”

  He drank some coffee. “Yup.”

  When he didn’t add anything more, I said, “Everything you need should be in there. Help yourself to food and whatever you need while I’m at work. Do what you can and hopefully we’ll have a decent day tomorrow to do more.”

  “I’ll do the dishes. I’m sure you have to get ready for work.”

  “Okay.” I sipped my coffee as I watched Murphy stand and clean up the kitchen. Without facial hair, he seemed vulnerable, perhaps even approachable. But he only had to open his mouth for you to realize your error in judgment.

  * * * *

  Rain fell throughout the day, and a light fog settled in on the coastline. Customers were few at the bookstore, but on the upside, I got a lot of paperwork done. By the time I returned home that night, the rain had stopped.

  I found Murphy in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a meatloaf. “When you said you could cook, did you mean you’ve worked in a restaurant or something?”