Sultry Sunset

by Mary Calmes

She asked me like I should have known, and by all rights, I shouldn’t have, but I did because I had sisters. All three of them were older, and I’d spent my entire childhood with them in every nook and cranny of my life, prying and oversharing, dragging me places, dressing me, smothering me with love and devotion. That had made coming out a nonevent in my house, and yes, I knew about times of the month. My sisters had informed my life. They explained the birds and the bees and sat with me, all three of them, when I told my parents I was gay. And they hugged my parents, just as hard as I did, when Mom and Dad said, yes, fine, whatever, gay was great, as long as I was happy, and did I know about protection? God. Of course I knew—I had sisters.

  “Hutch?”

  “Sorry,” I said softly, feeling suddenly sentimental. “I need to call my family.”

  “Right now?”

  “No, not right now.”

  “So, then, will you come with me?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Of course.”

  We went down an aisle I was truthfully never on, and I grabbed what I thought was best. She had questions and I answered, and then I sent her off to the bathroom while I waited at one of the tables in the café. Benny sat politely beside me, tail thwapping the floor, happy to see everyone walking by.

  My employees started wandering over one by one, and I greeted them, smiled, laughed, and finally my assistant manager, Mike Rojas, came swaggering up and flopped down in front of me, giving me the blinding grin he’d just started showing off lately.

  When I first hired him a year ago, he was quiet, reserved, and sullen. He’d lost his wife in a car accident two years before while he was out of town on business. He never got to say good-bye. It haunted him, and he left his job as a day trader in San Francisco, sold his home in Pacific Heights, packed up his life, and drove around from place to place—crisscrossing the United States—and finally ended up in Florida. I met him when he was sitting on the back deck of Blue Days. I’d gone to take my friend Takeo, who owned that particular bed-and-breakfast, a case of snail egg caviar he’d ordered from me. Takeo shoved me out the back door to the patio and told me his newest guest needed a job.

  Mike was stunning, drop-dead gorgeous, but that wasn’t what I noticed first—instead it was the pain etched on every part of his face.

  “Hi,” I blurted.

  He scowled.

  “I’m in need of an assistant manager at my grocery store, and Takeo seems to think that you want to stay here in Mangrove. Any experience in retail?”

  I could tell he was going to thank me and say no, but I crossed my arms at that exact moment and squinted, waiting.

  “I don’t want to waste your time,” he said softly.

  “Then don’t,” I said flatly. “Just tell me what you can do.”

  He had to think.

  “Is there anything?”

  “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly, his voice cracking.

  “Start at the beginning.”

  So he did.

  And I sat.

  We talked the afternoon away. Takeo fed us, and I had no idea why, but every time I said he didn’t have to, he hushed me, patted my shoulder, and left.

  “He’s a weird guy,” Mike—never Michael, because that was who he’d been to his wife—said, watching Takeo retreat into the house. “I feel like he’s trying to read my mind.”

  “He probably is,” I agreed, “and has. He tries to take care of everyone.”

  “My wife, Janey, was just like that.”

  He went on and told me his whole life story. He needed to tell it and I wanted to hear it. About midnight, when Dwyer, Takeo’s husband, came out to tell us he was taking the help to bed and that we had to be quiet and get our own damn coffee from then on—Takeo had never brought out any alcohol—I turned and offered Mike a job.

  He promptly accepted. A week later, I offered him my guesthouse until he found a place to live, and after a year, he was still there.

  “Seriously? Are you listening at all?”

  Returning sharply to the present, I looked into the mahogany-brown eyes that had just recently started to sparkle and shine. I loved watching women, the same ones who had been looking at the man for the past year without really seeing him, suddenly swivel around and stare. The trudging walk had become a fluid, rolling stride; there were dimples under the beard that had been shaved off; and his smile was simply traffic-stopping. His laugh was infectious, a deep, rumbling thing, and more than anything, he spread warmth from one end of the store to the other. Every person adored him and I was thrilled, because that meant I had more time to work on my new project to supervise the renovations on the community center. It was my baby, my gift to Mangrove, and now that the store had Mike, I could really focus my energy on that gift.

  “Yes,” I teased as he petted Benny. “I am absolutely paying attention.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Your builder,” he said with so much annoyance that I had to work really hard not to laugh, “had the mayor’s car towed this morning.”

  I scoffed. “I’m sorry?”

  His sigh was long and pained. “You know how he insists on parking that boat he drives in front of the gate where the construction crew goes in and out?”

  It was also where all the deliveries of building supplies were made. “I do, yes.”

  “Well, this morning Leya had enough and she had the car towed.”

  “Wait. The tow-truck operator—”

  “Alicia Davis,” he interrupted me.

  “—yeah, Alicia, she moved his car?”

  “Yep.”

  “But she works for him.”

  “No, she—”

  “I mean, for the city, so technically, she works for the mayor.”

  “Not anymore,” he informed me. “Now she works under Farley.”

  Farley Porter, our chief of police. “But he also reports to the mayor.”

  “No,” he corrected me. “By the new town charter, Farley reports to the town council now. The chief of police and the new fire chief, who just got hired, both report to the city council.”

  “When was this decided?”

  “Last night at the town meeting,” he answered, yawning. “We were going to walk over there together after dinner, but you got that call you didn’t want to tell me about.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I grimaced.

  “Oh, now you have to tell me.”

  Leaning forward, I dropped my voice to a whisper. “The new lawyer, Britton Lassiter, he invited me out for a drink.”

  Mike squinted at me. “Wait. I thought I saw him with a woman.”

  “You did.”

  “But he’s gay.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wasn’t he married before, too?”

  I nodded.

  “So he got a divorce… why?”

  “Because he’s gay.”

  “Wait—”

  “Just forget it,” I directed, raking my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of my face. I needed a haircut fairly soon. “It’ll give you a headache.”

  “No, let me get this straight.” Mike reached out and took hold of my wrist so I couldn’t sit back. “He divorced his wife because he was gay and then got a new girlfriend who he just broke up with because—still gay.”

  “She was his beard with his parents.”

  “And did she know she was a beard or did she think it was real?”

  “Real.”

  “Okay.” Mike grinned, his thumb sliding back and forth over the underside of my wrist. “So what now? Does he plan to date more women here or is he going to come clean with his folks and be out and proud?”

  “I think since he’s so far away from them now that he can be what he wants.”

  “Good,” he murmured, letting go of my hand only to slide his chair over close. “So what were you two doing that you couldn’t make it to the town-hall meeting?”

  I wasn’t sure I understood the insinuation until I saw his li
fted brows.

  “What?”

  “Were you sleeping with him?”

  “How is that your business?”

  “Because I live with you,” he said tersely.

  “Does a 700-square-foot guesthouse on my property count as us living together?”

  “It does, yes.”

  “We just talked,” I assured him. “He has a lot to work out.”

  “And did you explain that town-hall meetings are mandatory for business owners?”

  “Miranda told him that he didn’t have to attend since she was going.”

  “Ah.”

  “I think it would be weird since she always sits with Coz and Kelly, and since Kelly and Britton slept together—”

  “Oh? When was this?”

  “Ten years or so ago.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “So Kelly slept with Britton Lassiter ten years ago.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, so did Britton not know he was gay then?”

  “He was confused.”

  “I see.” Mike nodded. “And you know all this from your talk with Britton last night.”

  “Yes.”

  We were silent a moment.

  “So did you bail on me thinking you were going to get laid?”

  “I did, yes,” I replied honestly.

  He chuckled. “Well, I understand.”

  “You’re my best friend. You have to understand!” I said flatly. “It’s not a question.”

  “So,” he prodded.

  I groaned.

  “Was there screwing?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Yeah. No.”

  “Why not?”

  I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed my annoyance.

  “Where’s the explanation? He’s your type.”

  “My what?”

  “Your type,” he repeated. “Tall, handsome, that’s your thing. He’s not as muscular as I normally see you drool over, but he’ll do.”

  “Drool over?”

  “It’s better than saying spring wood over.”

  I shook my head.

  “So what? How come you’re not making it with Britton Lassiter?”

  There was friendship, and there was oversharing. In the course of talking to the lawyer, I understood very quickly that Britton Lassiter wanted—needed—to bottom, and since I shared his desire, us being lovers was not workable.

  “Just—it’s not in the cards.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “Keep your secrets, but you need to tell me who the cute kid belongs to.”

  “My new next-door neighbor, the new fire chief’s daughter.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What is?”

  “She’s black.”

  This was new. “And? Why does this matter?”

  He shrugged. “No reason. I just never thought they’d hire a black man to do that job.”

  “What?” I glowered at him. “What did you just say?”

  “Oh, give me a break,” he said dismissively. “I don’t see color any more than you do.”

  “Then what’s with the whole ‘she’s black’ comment?”

  “All I’m saying is that the town council is made up of elderly uptight white people, so I wouldn’t have thought that a man who wasn’t would have a shot.”

  I shook my head at him.

  “What?”

  “Just because you’re from San Francisco does not give you the right to look down on us.”

  He snorted. “Oh yeah, right, like this town should be on a poster for cultural diversity.”

  I opened my mouth to argue.

  “And just because you have one of everything here does not make this a United Colors of Benetton ad.”

  I gave up. “You’re hopeless.”

  He was chuckling when Ivy joined us, looking the best she had all morning.

  “So are you hungry now? Because by now Benny and I are usually eating.”

  “Yes, please,” she said, beaming at me.

  “This is my assistant manager, Mike,” I said, making the introductions.

  It was funny to watch her turn and notice him and nearly swallow her tongue. Clearly, she was smitten. Not that I didn’t get it, the man was definitely worthy of drool.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to her.

  She took it quickly, her gaze steady on him at first and then taking the tour, missing nothing from his wide shoulders to his muscular athletic build, to his warm copper-colored eyes. She whispered something under her breath as she released his hand, and we both watched him walk away.

  “Hey.”

  She turned slowly from looking after him, finally dragging her gaze back to me.

  “Did you say yummy?”

  Her gasp made me laugh, and she desperately tried to convince me that I was hearing things. It was already the best morning I’d had in a long time.

  Chapter Two

  I BOUGHT Ivy one of our many recyclable shopping bags—there were no plastic ones anywhere in my store and every container was made of biodegradable material. We had a huge variety of them and we found one she loved. More importantly, no one had any idea what the bag held.

  We had breakfast burritos and freshly squeezed orange juice, and then I walked her back to Cuppa Joe, where she had an iced peppermint mocha and I had a cappuccino. When I took her into Wick and Wand, she was thrilled to meet the owner, Sophia D’Amato, who was putting out a Help Needed sign.

  “Oh honey,” Sophia sighed, taking hold of Ivy’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I lost my mom when I was about your age too.”

  I never, ever, wondered anymore how Sophia knew things. I had stopped trying to figure it out years ago. She loaded Ivy up with hand-poured all-natural soy candles that had roots and herbs in them, gave her a bottle of different essential oils, and lastly offered a peppermint one that had a completely different label than the others.

  “What does that do?” I asked.

  “That’s for bugs,” she explained, chuckling. “Kelly told me to order that, and he was right. It’s been a steady seller.”

  Kelly Seaton was a landscaper—gardener, actually—who was now in a relationship with Cosimo Renaldi, one of the two police officers in town. I’d known they were together before anyone else because I had been there the night their friendship combusted and became so much more. And even though Coz and I had been on a date that night, once he saw his best friend and they finally talked, I had become just a memory. I really should have been more upset, but as much as I lusted after Coz, in truth I was not certain that he’d ever have believed me when I told him that him having lost his right arm in an attack while in the military did not diminish my desire for him.

  I was sure some men saw Coz’s missing limb as a detractor from his beauty, but all one had to do was take inventory of the whole of him, the shoulders and long legs, and the powerful, muscular body, and the lack of an arm would be found of no consideration. But the only person Coz ever really believed about anything was Kelly Seaton, so it made perfect sense that they were now living together in Kelly’s Craftsman bungalow.

  “What do you do with the peppermint oil?” I asked Sophia.

  “You put some in a spray bottle, add water, and then just go around the doors and windows of your house. Spiders hate it and so do mice.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded, smiling at me. “Kelly told me, and he’s right, it works.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “So that one is for the house,” she explained to Ivy. “The rest are for your mind and body. And if you get cramps, you let me know.”

  Ivy flicked her gaze to me and because I was smiling, she did as well.

  “Some women never get them. Maybe you dodged the bullet.”

  Ivy nodded.

  “So,” Sophia said softly, looking between us. “I need you both to keep an eye out for someone who needs a
job, all right?”

  We agreed.

  “And Hutch, be nice to her father.”

  “Of course.”

  She gave me a look.

  “What?”

  “Just—he’s been through a lot. The whole family has. Don’t judge.”

  “When do I judge?”

  I got a second look, and then she went to help some other customer pick out a scrying crystal.

  “That store is awesome and I love Sophia,” Ivy told me once we were out on the sidewalk. “I so want to work there when I get old enough.”

  “I think that’s a great plan.”

  “Can we walk over to the high school so I can see it?”

  “Sure, but first I have to go by the construction site for the community center and look in on my construction manager. It sounds like she might need me.”

  “That sounds like fun,” she said excitedly. “Can I wear one of those hard hats?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But maybe—oh wait, that’s my dad.” I chuckled as I took the hemp bag full of goodies she’d been given by the nicest Wiccan I knew so she could pull her phone out of her pocket.

  I was interested to hear what she was going to tell him. From what I knew already, she was logical and smart and had a way with words. But somehow, when she spilled it all to her dad over the phone, he didn’t get that at all. She reminded me of me and my first boyfriend, of all things. All our interactions had always been made to sound worse than they really were so that Dad could figure out a way to ride to my rescue. It was like she was suddenly Little Girl Lost and needed her daddy to save her.

  I whacked her shoulder to get her attention.

  “Owww,” she whined.

  “Gimme the phone.”

  “What?”

  “Gimme the phone. You’re gonna give him a heart attack.”

  Once her iPhone was in my hand and I was about to say hello, the growl tore through me. “Are you insane? What if he’s a psychopath! I’m calling the police.”

  I coughed. “There are only three policemen in town, and I’m friends with all of them.”

  “Who the hell is this?”

  “Hutch Crowley, the psycho.”

  “Mr. Crowley?”

  “Yes.”

  “How dare you take my daughter anywhere without informing me first!”

  “What was I supposed to do, Mr. Dodd, leave her on the back steps of your home crying her eyes out?”