Riptide (Sand Dollar Shoal Book 2) Page 3

  “That’s affirmative.” Gregor shook his head. “He’s sex on legs with an ass that looks like it’s carved out of marble. Wait? How do you know that?”

  Presley waggled his eyebrows. “Hands off. He’s mine.” Slapping Gregor’s beefy shoulder, Presley jogged toward the beach, where he saw Noble and Landon, holding hands.

  “Hey, who’s the fine Zulu 5 Oscar?” Noble was all smiles.

  “Shit! You too? I hate that Navy bullshit.” Pres didn’t hate that Navy bullshit. He made a big deal of it just to get under Gregor’s skin. No one was prouder of him than Presley.

  Noble’s live-in boyfriend, Landon, laughed. “Charlie went absolutely ape-shit when he ran past our cottage. Our girl’s the best damn burglar alarm on the Cape. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Landon knelt down in front of their ten month old German shepherd and rubbed her silky ears. Charlie had been a gift, a bribe more like, to Noble, if he agreed to go to rehab for his drinking problem.

  “Landon agreed he could be my hall pass.” Noble waggled his eyebrows at Presley.

  “Fuck off, Noble! He’s mine. You didn’t see me coming on to Landon when he dropped into your lap like manna from heaven, did you?” Pres knew damn well that Noble only had eyes for Landon. It wasn’t like him to feel jealous like this, especially over a man that wasn’t his.

  “Hell no!” Noble laughed. “You were in sunny Tennessee when Landon got here ahead of a blizzard.”

  Pres snorted. Noble had a point. He was a building contractor by trade and had spent the frigid and snowy winter months at Sand Dollar Shoal bringing her up to code and renovating the hotel’s thirty-six guest rooms, the kitchen and common areas, along with the cottages they were living in. Pres, Gregor and Griffin had all come up at the beginning of April to start making plans for the menu and to work on the marketing strategies for the grand re-opening slated for Memorial Day weekend. “Yeah well, I saw him first. So hands off.”

  “Saw who first?” Griff’s deep voice asked from behind Presley.

  “Shit! Half the time I can’t get any of you out of bed to run with me and this morning you’re all here?” Presley fisted his hands on his hips.

  Griff smiled. “Let’s just say good news travels fast.”

  Noble laughed. “Yeah, it went from my cottage, to Griff and then to Gregor.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you hooked up?” Griff laughed.

  “I didn’t hook up.” He wished he had, but there was no need to throw gasoline on the already blazing gossip.

  “Wait! You spent the night with that sex god and you didn’t let him pound you into next week? The fuck, man?” Gregor looked offended.

  “You’re all class, Gregor.” Pres rolled his eyes. “He knocked on my door in the middle of the storm. He was soaking wet after his car died out on the main road. I got him out of his wet clothes, gave him a shower and dinner. He slept in the guest room.”

  “A total stranger knocked on your door on a dark and stormy night and you let him in?” Landon’s mouth was hanging open.

  “Yeah, really fucking stupid of me.” He didn’t have time to argue about his lack of common sense, Pres just wanted to find Drake.

  Landon shook his head. “No, it’s fucking brilliant. Must dash!” He took off for his cottage door at full speed.

  “What the hell just happened?” Pres looked around their little group, who were all shrugging except Noble who wore a look of pure adoration.

  “He’s been stuck on a way for the killer in his latest book to insinuate himself into the lives of his potential victims. I think you just gave him the answer.”

  “Wait! Landon sees me as a potential murder victim?” Presley couldn’t believe his ears. Landon Fairchild was a best-selling crime writer. His first novel, Killer Cure, featuring hero microbiologist, Marcus Pike, had skyrocketed him to the top of the New York Times list. His follow-up, Killer Instinct was poised to do the same in June when it was scheduled to be published.

  “Uh, hello? You invited a total stranger into your home. He could have been armed.” Griff folded his arms over his broad chest.

  “Yeah well, five minutes after he knocked on my door, he was standing in my living room in his boxers. Trust me, he wasn’t packing heat.”

  “Christ! It sure looked like he was when he jogged past my kitchen window.” Noble grinned.

  Presley felt himself blushing, remembering the way his eyes had been glued to Drake’s package. “Anyway,” Pres shook his head to clear it. “He’s moving out here from California for a fresh start. He’s got prior experience as a waiter and landscaper...” He was hoping Griff would see where he was headed with this line of thought.

  “Okay, so you invite a total stranger to spend the night with you and now you want to hire him to work for our hotel?” Griff’s words were calm, but Gregor could see the tension in his body.

  Griffin had bought Sand Dollar Shoal with the trust fund money his grandfather had left to him. It was his plan for each of his friends, over time, to buy in for a quarter share of the hotel. Pres would never be able to pay Griff back for saving him from working at his parents’ whiskey distillery back in Memphis. “We all know what it’s like to start over.” BINGO! That line was a home run and Pres knew it. It was hell trying to keep the budding smile off his face.

  “Christ,” Griff shook his head. “What kind of job did you have in mind for Drake?”

  Pres knew in that moment he’d won. “I thought he could take care of our beach and work on the landscaping, as well as doing other odd jobs that pop up.”

  Gregor snorted. “What? Like sucking your cock?”

  “Jesus Christ, Gregor.” The idea had merit, if only it weren’t illegal. “Please don’t talk like that in front of him. And why are you all giving me shit? Doesn’t anyone remember that a total stranger knocked on Landon’s door too?

  Noble rolled his eyes. “Actually I saw Landon walking on the beach and I was alone here. I wasn’t putting anyone else’s life at risk. Besides, I had Charlie to protect me, didn’t I princess?” Noble knelt down in front of dog to play kissy face.

  “It’s a world gone fucking mad. We’ve got a Navy SEAL who’s a trained medic, plus the cuddliest attack dog this side of the Mississippi, not to mention four other men who are pretty handy with their dukes.”

  “With our dukes?” Griff laughed. “JFC, Pres, have you even hit another man in your life?”

  Gregor burst out laughing.

  That’s not the point.” It was totally the point. Pres couldn’t explain how he knew, but he knew Drake was no danger to any of them, but he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  “Does this Zulu 5 Oscar have a name?” Gregor winked at Noble.

  “His name is Drake DeMelo.”

  Griff sighed, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Fine, he’s in, but if he murders us all in our sleep, I’m haunting your ginger ass for eternity.”

  “Deal!” Presley laughed. Drake was staying at Sand Dollar Shoal and that was all that mattered. If Drake killed them all in their sleep it’s not like Griff could make good on his threat.

  XX

  Drake stopped running and tried to catch his breath. It had been six months since the last time he’d worked out. He bent double, resting his hands on his knees.

  He was used to working out in the hermetically sealed gym that was on the lower floor of his condo back in California. The weather had been perfect for the seven years he'd lived out there, a lot of sun and very little rain. For the paradise that Southern California was, he was almost never outside enjoying it.

  Now that he was running on the soft sand beach, he'd wondered why the hell he'd never run on a beach before. The sound of the tide crashing on the beach was soothing. He could almost imagine the surf pounding his cares away.

  If he were being honest with himself, his cares were never really far away. Now that his HIV nightmare was behind him, he had to worry about making a living and making sure no one found out about his past.

&nbs
p; Making a living should be easy enough. It was spring on Cape Cod and he'd done enough research on his phone last night to know that the tourists would be descending on this place en masse on Memorial Day weekend. If things didn't work out at Sand Dollar Shoal, he was sure there were a ton of other restaurants that would need summer help. Being a year-round resident might even give him an advantage over some snot-nosed kids whose rich parents were only here for the summer.

  From his position on the beach, he had a perfect view of the hotel. It was three stories tall with what looked like floor to ceiling windows. The most interesting feature of the building was the lighthouse tower perched on the roof surrounded by a widow's walk.

  He would bet the hotel had a long storied history behind it. Maybe it was a pirate captain's house?

  Drake shrugged. He supposed the history of the hotel didn't matter so much at the moment as the future did. It looked like Presley and his friends were all systems go with getting the old girl ready for her grand re-opening.

  Drake grinned. He remembered his host mentioning a masquerade ball to open the hotel. He could imagine handsome men in tuxedos wearing masks to hide their identities until the un-masking. What he'd give for a beautiful man to dance with and un-mask later on.

  He’d never been one for relationships, but one of the things he’d decided while waiting in his self-imposed HIV purgatory was that if his results were negative, he was going to try to find the right man to spend his life loving.

  Sighing, he started running down the beach again. Drake knew love and marriage weren't in the cards for him. Who the fuck would want a used up porn star like him? He was really nothing more than a high-priced whore, selling his dick for a living.

  "Most whores don't have videos of their exploits," Drake muttered to the empty beach.

  Looking up, he saw Presley jogging toward him. Even though the other man was at least a hundred yards away, he knew it was his host. He could see his ginger hair shining in the sunshine. Drake had never been one for redheads, but there was something sweet about Presley. He'd never known anyone kind enough in his life to invite a total stranger into his house for a hot shower and a meal.

  "Hey, Drake!" Presley shouted when he was a bit closer.

  Raising a hand to wave, Drake slowed up to wait for Presley to catch up with him. It was obvious his host was looking for him and he'd rather be out on a desolate stretch of beach to hear what Presley had to say, rather than within earshot of his friends, who Drake could see standing together a way behind Presley.

  "What a gorgeous morning, huh?" Presley panted, when he caught up to Drake.

  "Sure is. There's no sign of last night's storm in the sky at all." Drake looked up into the clear blue sky, squinting at the bright morning sun.

  Presley nodded. "Not in the sky but definitely on the beach. I must have seen eight or nine lobster traps washed ashore.

  "I saw them too." Drake couldn't help staring at Presley. His strawberry blond hair was just long enough to ruffle in the breeze off the water. It looked soft as silk and he had the urge to reach out and touch it for himself.

  "I ran into the guys when I came out to run this morning."

  Drake laughed. "I had a feeling you would. I saw them peeking out through their curtains as I walked by heading toward the beach. Then at the last cottage, I heard a dog going absolutely bat-shit. Thank Christ it was in the house."

  It was Presley's turn to laugh. "Oh, that's just Charlie. The only thing you'd be in danger of with her is being licked to death."

  "Charlie's a girl?" Why would anyone give a girl dog a boy's name? Unless her name was Charlotte and why the hell would anyone name a dog that?

  "One of Gregor's old Navy buddies breeds German shepherds and he got a puppy for Noble. To keep track of the litter, he'd named them after the military alphabet, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and so on. Noble like the name and kept it when Gregor gave him the dog."

  "That's cool." Drake didn’t really know much about the military alphabet, but it seemed like a neat name for a dog.

  "Are you a dog person?"

  Drake shrugged. "I've never really been around them, but they're cool."

  Presley raised his eyebrow. "Do you think it would be cool to work here?"

  "Is that a question or an offer?" Drake’s stomach pitched like he was going down the slope of a roller coaster. Was Presley really offering him a job at Sand Dollar Shoal?

  "It's an offer. I told the guys about you and they agreed to hire you on." Presley was all smiles.

  Drake couldn't believe his ears. If he took the job he'd be able to work at this gorgeous place and get to know Presley. He didn't know which option was more appealing. "Wow, I can't believe it. It's like it was fate that my car died near here."

  "I didn't want to say it, but I thought so too. I'm just glad I fell asleep on the couch with my lights on. Usually I watch television in bed at night with the lights off."

  It really sounded like fate now. Or maybe it was his newly adopted positive thinking motto?

  "What do you say? Do you want to become a member of the Sand Dollar Shoal family?"

  More than anything... Drake took a deep breath, not wanting to look too eager. The one thing he'd wanted in his life was a family. Was this finally his shot at getting one? "I'm in."

  Presley's face lit up and he took half a step toward Drake before stopping himself. "Why don't we head back to the hotel? Gregor's making breakfast and they're all dying to meet you in person."

  "Rather than through high-powered binoculars?" Drake snorted, pointing to the glints of light up the beach.

  Presley laughed along with him.

  4

  By the time he and Drake had gotten back to the hotel, breakfast was in full swing. He could hear Queen's I Want It All blasting from the open kitchen windows and could smell bacon from the parking lot outside the hotel's main door.

  It had taken them awhile to get back since he'd been explaining to Drake what needed to be done on the beach after breakfast. He'd been tickled pink that Drake wanted to stay at the hotel. He tried to tell himself that it was the young man's gentle nature, but that was bullshit. It had more to do with his toned pecs and his tight ass.

  A powerful wave of attraction blasted through his body every time he was close to Drake. As they'd walked back down the beach, he'd had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and hold Drake's hand.

  "Are you ready to meet them all? They're quite a crowd."

  "If they're your friends, they can't be all bad." Despite the smile on his face, Drake sounded nervous.

  "They're gonna love you." Not able to help himself anymore, Pres reached out for Drake's hand, intending to give it a quick squeeze. A lightning bolt of attraction, stronger than anything he’d felt before shot through his veins and straight to his cock.

  Looking up at Drake, he could see the other man looked stunned, whether that had to do with Pres holding his hand or because he was dealing with his own thunderbolt of attraction, Presley didn't know.

  He wasn't sure he wanted to know. If Drake wasn't feeling the same kind of explosive attraction to him, it would kill him. "I'm starving. Let's eat." He pulled his hand away from Drake, shocked himself when the other man offered a bit of resistance before letting him go.

  "No, it was Scream where the killer was calling the house," Noble said, sounding pretty sure of himself.

  "No, it was I Know What You Did Last Summer." Griff shook his head.

  Landon held a hand up to interrupt. "No, that was the movie with the Gorton's fisherman with a meat hook."

  "Do I even want to know why you all are talking about grisly horror movies?" Presley walked into the main dining room. He could feel Drake standing close behind him.

  Griff smiled up at the men. "We were just trying to figure out how many movies were about killers that murdered people in their beds."

  Jesus Christ! Pres rolled his eyes. Obviously they were talking about Drake and the likelihood of them all ending up dead a
t his hands.

  "Actually, in all of those movies no one is murdered in their beds. That would be pretty anticlimactic. It's the chase that's usually more terrifying than the actual murder. The only time I can think of people being murdered in their beds was that sex scene in one of the Friday the Thirteenth movies and when Freddy Krueger killed Johnny Depp in his bed. Good riddance!" Drake laughed uneasily when no one joined him.

  "Great! He's a horror movie connoisseur to boot." Noble stood up from the table and walked over to Drake. "Noble Killington. It's a pleasure to meet the man Presley managed to get naked in thirty seconds flat."

  The table of men burst out laughing. Griff was laughing so hard, he was smacking his hand on the table.

  "Jesus Christ! You’re all a bunch of cavemen. I'm Landon Fairchild, Noble's boyfriend. You must be starving after that run."

  "Oh, so you were one of the guys with the high-powered binocs?" Drake grinned good-naturedly and shook Landon's hand.

  "No, that was me and Noble," Gregor said, walking out of the swinging kitchen door and wiping his hand on a dish towel. "Gregor Allen. You hurt Pres, I hurt you." He held out his hand.

  Drake looked a bit overwhelmed and a bit scared. "Good to know." He looked like he was ready to bolt.

  "Why don't we sit down?" Pres gave Gregor the hairy eyeball as he led Drake to the tables the men had pushed together. When the hotel opened, the dining room would be full of families having breakfast and planning their days of fun in the sun. Right now, the rest of the tables and chairs were pushed against the far wall so the guys had plenty of room to spread out.