by Quinn Ward
Waves crashing along the shore and gulls flying overhead were the soundtrack to my morning run. Sometimes, I carried an old iPod with playlists to help me keep pace, but today, I just wanted to chill, find my place in the world, and relax before grand-opening week. I met one person walking back toward the parking lot, nodded, and kept jogging. When I glanced over my shoulder, I noticed that he was watching me. Probably knew where I was headed, since there was nothing this far out other than the mailbox, and worried I’d know it was he who left whatever the newest note happened to be. I understood the anxiety and made sure not to open the notebook on top of the stack.
Instead I pulled out one of the older notebooks. The edges of the cover had softened in the hands of writers and readers. The pages curled slightly, but the paper hadn’t yellowed at all yet. I flipped to a random page and read the words left by a stranger. From the jerky stops and starts of letters, I guessed the person was older or perhaps their health was failing. I did this often—closing my eyes, trying to imagine the writers sitting on the wooden bench at the top of the dune as they composed their notes to the universe.
My dearest Hazel,
It’s been three years today since you left this world, and not a day passes when I don’t wish you were still here. You’d be so proud of Martin’s boy. He will be graduating college come spring and marrying shortly after. And his bride is a lovely girl. She loves being in the kitchen almost as much as you…
The letter went on for three pages, Hazel’s widower recounting everything she’d missed since she passed. There were areas where the ink had been smeared by tears—his or a reader’s, I couldn’t be sure. The letter was signed with an S. Nothing more. Whoever S was, I could tell he’d been a lucky man to have a love like Hazel in his life. It was the type of love I dreamed of but would never find as long as I allowed myself to be chained to Sunset Beach. The only gay men I knew were married, and the ones I met were passing through. This wasn’t a town alive with gay culture.
I sat in the sand, my back propped against the mailbox post until the sun was fully above the horizon, reading notes filled with love, hope, promise, sadness, and every emotion in between.
I dusted off my backside and started walking to the inn.
Most of the work was completed at the inn, so I started cleaning the rooms the construction crew had signed off on when I got back from the beach. It wasn’t my job, but since we weren’t reopening for another week and James wasn’t here to boss me around, I was bored. I would have taken the weekend off to visit friends in South Carolina, but he’d ruined that with his request that I show the nephew around. Dane. I needed to work on saying his name without a hoity lift of my nose. For all I knew, he could be a Billy Badass, not that I was sure that’d be favorable. All I knew at this point was Dane had messed up my last chance to escape Sunset Beach until after Labor Day.
Shortly after noon I heard James’s car pull up in front of the entrance. He really needed to get in the habit of using the assigned parking stalls; otherwise I’d spend the first month of the busy season reminding him he couldn’t leave his car wherever he wanted. I busied myself behind the desk, tapping away at the keyboard, making sure we hadn’t overbooked for the coming month. That was another of James’s problems: he was so paranoid that someone would cancel and we’d have an empty room for a night that he tended to oversell. He didn’t understand, no matter how many times I’d explained it, that it did more harm to the success of the inn than having a room available for a walk-in guest who hadn’t planned on staying overnight.
I stiffened when voices announced someone entering the foyer. Where James’s voice grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his nephew’s echoed off the high ceilings, warming me from the inside. His accent was rough, typical of the Northeast, the timbre rich like aged oak. When I looked up, I was immediately grateful for the tall desk between us, because my dick was popping up to greet him. The man was James’s polar opposite. He was tall. I wouldn’t even guess at his height, but I’d be willing to bet he was nearly a foot taller than me. Then again, I could count on always being the short one in any group. His back was broad, framed by messy brown waves that hung just past his shoulders. If I closed my eyes, it’d be easy to imagine what the neatly groomed scruff on his cheeks and jaw would feel like abrading my skin. And his eyes… holy hell, those eyes were so light they were nearly translucent. Playing tour guide was going to be hell, but at least I’d have eye candy.
“Ahh, and there’s Brook,” James announced with feigned joy. I glanced up, biting back a snarky comment. I was annoyed about manning the desk when Dane was our only guest, irritated that I’d had to find alternate accommodations for four families so far due to James overbooking and I’d only verified the month of June, and suspicious of the drastic turn in my boss’s demeanor. “Brook, this is my nephew, Dane Montgomery. As I told you earlier, he’s going to be visiting for a few weeks.”
“Two,” Dane corrected him. “I have to be back in New York in two weeks.”
James schooled his features, but not quickly enough. I noted the upturned lip, as if he was disgusted by the reminder that his visitor wasn’t here to stay. The entire interaction felt forced. Off. Like they were strangers rather than kin. “Yes, well, let me show you to your room. I think you’ll be pleased with the view.”
“As long as there’s a bed and hot water, I don’t need a fancy view.”
Dammit, why did this guy already have to be breaking down the asshole image I’d built of him in my mind? He was supposed to be pretentious and high-maintenance, not down-to-earth, easy to please, and hotter than Hades in a heatwave.
“If you need anything, call the desk,” I told him before quickly turning back to the damage control I was doing, thanks to a completely inept boss. How had I not realized what he was doing sooner?
“I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thank you.” Dane gave a quick wave before following his uncle down the hall. Memorial Day couldn’t get here quick enough. At least then we’d be busy with guests and I wouldn’t have time to think about the gorgeous guest in room six.
3
Dane
I’ve spent my entire life wondering what it would be like to have family. Well, now I know. I’m out here on a trip with my brother and sister. God, it feels weird to write that. Almost as weird as walking up to someone and seeing myself in their features. People take family resemblances for granted. It’s an awesome feeling to realize that I was never really alone in the world. -M
Following a nap in what was undoubtedly one of the most comfortable hotel beds I’d ever slept in, I took my time preparing for dinner with James. Luckily he hadn’t been offended by my lack of formality, but I couldn’t bring myself to refer to him as my uncle, not when we’d only met a few hours ago.
Shortly after picking me up at the airport, he’d offered to take me to dinner this evening. I’d told him that wasn’t necessary, that I’d be happy with sandwiches in the hotel lobby, but he’d insisted he wanted to show me the town his family had called home almost as long as I’d been alive. I hadn’t asked what had prompted my grandparents to move states away while the egg donor was pregnant with me or how they could have abandoned their son and unborn grandchild. James had only been a teenager at the time, so I doubted he’d have any valuable information.
In time, I did plan to figure out a way to ask him why he’d suddenly reached out to his brother, who happened to be incarcerated. He knew where to find my dad, so he’d obviously heard about the case. Hell, everyone had heard about the case, it seemed. It would have been great if he or his parents had bothered to give a shit when everything was going down, not that I was bitter. Much.
Once the bathroom filled with steam, I stepped into the shower, impressed again. I considered myself to be a man of few needs, but I wished more hotels around the country were like this one. Whoever had spearheaded the ongoing renovations obviously knew how to keep guests returning year after year. Before long I’d be begging James to let m
e stay here forever because my place had nothing on this room overlooking the ocean.
I took extra care with my appearance, trimming my beard, combing some product through my hair. I lied to myself, saying it had nothing to do with the adorable front desk clerk who’d practically swallowed his tongue as he gave me the once-over. And he was most definitely checking me out. He’d be fun for a night or two, but I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t going to fuck and run on one of my uncle’s employees.
The alarm sounded on my phone at five fifty, signaling it was time to get to know my long-lost uncle. The lobby was empty when I approached. It was an eerie feeling, not seeing anyone in a place like this. I ignored the stab of disappointment when even the front desk was abandoned. I’d been hoping to see—
“Oh, hey.” I spun to see who belonged to the voice, smiling broadly when I noticed it was the clerk from earlier. Brock? Brooks? No, Brook. That’s what James had said this kid’s name was. “James called and said he’s running behind. If you’re hungry, he asked me to take you to Bomber’s and get some food in you.”
“I can wait,” I assured him. Brook’s gaze traveled the length of my body, a sultry smirk forming as our eyes met. Damn, this guy was gorgeous, even if he wasn’t my usual type. I wanted a man who felt substantial in my arms, someone I didn’t have to worry about breaking if I manhandled him a bit. I still wasn’t convinced he was legal, and I wasn’t into jailbait, so I bit back my suggestion as to how we could pass the time until James returned.
I wandered through the lobby, wondering what on earth had made James choose such dark colors. This was the beach, and while it might be cliché, whites and blues would have created far more ambiance than jewel tones better suited for a dimly lit cigar bar. I opened the french doors leading to a massive patio at the back of the building. When I closed my eyes, I could smell the salt in the air, hear every bird screeching, every wave rolling across the shore. I swayed gently, eyes still closed as I began to understand why Grady was such a fan of the beach.
“It’s a beautiful day.” My eyes shot open to find Brook standing less than a foot away from me, leaning against the rail. “This is my favorite time of year out here.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, mimicking his position.
Brook shrugged, his focus somewhere on the horizon. “A lot of the locals like spring because they can enjoy the water before the tourists descend, but to me, it’s about serenity. It’s cool enough to sit in the sand all day, watching the tide come in and go back out without burning to a crisp. After Memorial Day, I’ll start waking up early enough to get my run in before the first families start staking their territory for the day.”
“Not a fan of the crowds either?” I couldn’t imagine living in a place like this, so quiet part of the year, then exploding to life for a few months. New York was never quiet, but at least it was consistent. And as nice as the calm of the beach was, it was too quiet. Too slow-paced. From what I’d seen on our way into town, there wasn’t much to do here unless you were into watersports, and I wasn’t talking about the kinky kind.
“It’s not that so much as it’s hard to run along the beach when you’re not to trip over little kids playing in the sand, or worse, fall into a hole one of them dug and abandoned.” Brook winced, as if remembering a particularly painful incident.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but is it really a great place to live for a guy like you?” Shit, there was no other way to take that than offensive.
“What, you mean someone short and cute?” Brook smiled, causing his already high cheekbones to lift even higher. I had friends—acquaintances—in New York who’d kill to get their hands on that face. His eyes sparkled with pending mischief, his jaw soft without being feminine. He was dressed more casually than earlier, and the tank top beneath his open short-sleeved button-down drew my attention straight to his collarbones. Simply put, the guy was a walking wet dream. And still, quite possibly too young for me to even be thinking about.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant.” I laughed, bumping my arm against his shoulder.
“Oh, so you must mean the flaming gay thing.”
I coughed, taken by surprise by his deadpan delivery.
He shrugged again, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t lick my lips as I stared at the exposed skin at the base of his neck. He cleared his throat, warning me that I’d been caught. “It may not be the greatest place, but it’s not the worst either. Beach life is its own breed. People out here are laid-back for the most part, don’t give a damn what you do or who you do it with as long as everything’s legal.”
“But what do you do for fun? Where do you go when you want to get laid? It seems like the type of place where everyone knows everyone’s business.” I needed to shut the hell up before Brook told me to fuck myself. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
“Depends on why you were asking.”
“Knowledge is power,” I said, trying to keep the conversation from turning awkward. “If I’m going to be here for a while, it’d be cool to know where to go and where to avoid.”
Brook grinned, squeezing my biceps. He didn’t let go, but I was totally fine with his hand resting on my arm. “Don’t you worry, honey, I’ll show you all the hot spots. And after next weekend, the pickings will be ripe. All that tourist flesh looking for a quick release.”
Those words sounded wrong coming from such a sweet looking guy. Maybe he was a freak in the sheets, but it seemed more likely he was turning up the camp just for me. I didn’t want him thinking he needed to play a role. If I was stuck here for the next couple weeks and would likely be coming back to see my dad from time to time, I wanted to get to know the real Brook.
Okay, I had to know. “Are you even legal?”
Brook grunted in disgust, reaching into his back pocket. Rather than simply telling me his age, he handed me his driver’s license. It took a minute to find the birthdate, and when I did, I gaped, thinking this had to be a fake.
“No fucking way. If you’re twenty-eight, I’m the fucking pope.”
“Pleased to meet you, Your Excellency.” Brook bowed dramatically. “Yes, I look like I’m twelve. No, it’s not a fake ID. And I stick mostly to the local bars because it gets really old having to do this shit every time someone cards me.”
“I can’t fucking believe you’re older than me,” I muttered, combing my fingers through my hair. The wind picked up, causing me to dig in my pocket for a hair tie. Brook watched, mesmerized as I pulled my hair back into a sloppy bun.
My stomach growled. Loudly. Now that I knew Brook was legal, I was eager for him to take me to the steak house James had mentioned this morning. Maybe he could tell me a bit about my uncle so I didn’t feel like such a heel when he finally arrived. What kind of person has to ask a stranger to tell them about their family? Yeah, I’d have to tread lightly or things would get awkward, quick.
“Is that the giant’s dinner bell?” Brook teased, pushing back from the railing. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t get something to fill the hole.”
It felt natural to place my hand at the small of Brook’s back as we made our way inside. He stiffened, then relaxed into my touch. That was all the reassurance I needed that the interest here was mutual. I silently hoped whatever had delayed James would keep him from joining us because Brook would be much more enjoyable company. I was trying to reserve judgment, but James seemed stiff and unapproachable.
I waited out front while Brook locked the doors and set the alarm. He slid a pair of aviators over his eyes before stepping outside, proving he was far smarter than me. I wasn’t sure if it was the change in latitude or being so close to the water, but the sun seemed brighter in Sunset Beach. Of course, that could also be because there wasn’t a shield of smog hanging in the air.
Bomber’s was just a few blocks away, and Brook pointed out different businesses, a few of which weren’t yet open, still operating on winter hours. He practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he rambled on about an
old-fashioned candy shop that specialized in homemade fudge and taffy, immediately followed by his review of a donut shop that’d originally only had one location farther up the coast but opened a second in Sunset Beach last year. The building was nothing to write home about, but Brook swore their donuts were divine.
By the time we arrived at Bomber’s, I had a mental list running of all the ways I’d treat Brook if he was my guy. But that was ludicrous because he wasn’t. And I’d be going home soon, only returning to help Dad get settled down here if I didn’t get any funky vibes from James. He seemed like a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, but otherwise not a horrible person.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Brook prodded once we were seated at a small table in the corner. “James said you’re considering relocating down here?”
“Well, my dad is,” I told him. His smile faded. “I’m not sure I could ever live someplace so quaint. I’m used to the noise of the city, being able to stumble out of one club and immediately into the next, eventually finding my way back home to pass out and do it all over again.”
“Wow, sounds like a great life.” Brook rested his elbow on the table, propping his head in his hand. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever been away from Sunset Beach.
“It’s definitely got its advantages,” I agreed. “But I’ll admit, once we get Dad settled down here, I’ll make a point to visit from time to time. Well, when my schedule allows.”
“What do you do for a living?”
The waiter returned with our drinks, causing a lull in the conversation. I hoped maybe we could get away from talking about me because eventually Brook would start touching on topics I’d rather leave in the dark. Unfortunately, Brook was relentless.
He quirked an eyebrow, waving his hand in the air as he sipped some fruity-looking drink. “You were saying?”
