Riptide (Sand Dollar Shoal Book 2) Page 4

  “Breakfast is almost ready.” Gregor rubbed his bald head over the ever-present red do-rag he wore in the kitchen. “Don’t talk about anything important until I get back with the food.” He narrowed his eyes at Presley.

  Pres almost asked if Gregor needed any help with breakfast, but screw him. He was the one going all Full Metal Jacket on poor Drake.

  When Gregor stepped back into the kitchen, the table lapsed into silence that was broken by Drake yelping and jumping into Presley’s lap.

  “What is it?” Not that Pres cared; he had a lap full of Drake.

  “Something wet touched my leg.” Drake raised his knees high enough that he could set his feet on the chair he’d been sitting in up until a minute ago.

  Pres snorted, wrapping his arms tighter around the gorgeous man in his lap. “Is that my Charlie girl?”

  The dog gave a soft woof and padded over to Pres. “There’s my pretty princess.” He unwillingly pulled a hand from Drake’s body to rub the dog’s ears. “Charlie, meet Drake. Drake, this is Charlie.”

  “What the ever-loving fuck! I thought I told you not to talk about anything important without me.” Gregor was holding two large platters of food. One was filled with fried eggs, the other with bacon and toasted English muffins.

  “All we did was introduce Drake to Charlie,” Landon said innocently.

  “All you did?” Gregor set the steaming platters down on the table. “The boy’s sitting in Presley’s lap like he paid for a dance.”

  Drake scrambled off of Presley and sat back down in his empty seat, not making eye contact with anyone.

  Presley couldn’t help noticing the instant change in Drake’s demeanor and shot Gregor a dirty look. For once in his life, his friend didn’t have an asshole comeback.

  “So, Drake, what’s your favorite breakfast?” Gregor picked up the platter filled with eggs and passed it over to Drake.

  Pres raised a questioning eyebrow at Gregor, wondering what in the hell he was up to.

  Drake served himself two eggs and passed the platter to Presley. “Pancakes were always my favorite, even though I didn’t have them a lot. There was this one time my foster mom…” Drake snapped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clacked together.

  “Pancakes are my favorite too.” Gregor smiled brightly, taking the egg platter from Presley. “I was thinking of having a topping bar where we’d serve fresh whipped cream, several types of syrup and berries, maybe even Bananas Foster.” Gregor cringed as if he hadn’t meant to say that last word.

  “What’s Bananas Foster?” Drake had grabbed two toasted English muffins and started building egg sandwiches with them. Taking the bacon platter from Landon, he added some strips to each sandwich.

  Feeling a bit more at ease, Pres grabbed the pitcher of what he knew was freshly squeezed orange juice and poured Drake a glass before pouring one for himself.

  “It’s cut up bananas that are cooked in brown sugar and butter. I’ll make it tomorrow for you. You’ll love it so much, you’ll sell your soul to the devil for one more bite.”

  “How come you never made that heaven on a plate for us?” Griff whined.

  “You were never the new guy, Griff.” Gregor winked at his friend and piled eggs on his plate.

  Gregor had a point. The four friends had all met each other on the first day of school. It warmed Presley’s heart that Gregor was trying to make Drake feel welcomed.

  “Are you gonna stay with Pres or move into one of the other cottages.” Noble asked, waggling his eyebrows at Drake.

  Drake shrugged. “Not sure if Presley would want to have me.”

  “Oh he wants to have you all right!” Gregor slapped his left hand against his mouth, as if to keep anything else from spilling out.

  Drake snorted and took a huge bite of his sandwich.

  Pres wished a giant hole would open up in the earth and swallow him up. If Gregor weren’t a highly trained Navy SEAL, he’d kick his ass here and now. Well, he’d try to anyway.

  “I guess that’s up to Presley.” Drake grinned at his host. “Just so long as he doesn’t order me to strip the second I get inside the cottage. Again…”

  The table erupted with cat-calls and hoots of laughter. Pres knew exactly what Drake was doing. He was giving as good as he was getting. Pres couldn’t help wishing he’d be on the getting end himself.

  XX

  Drake managed to make it through the rest of breakfast unscathed. After the guys had finished ragging on him, they’d moved on to Landon and the way he’d apparently run off earlier with some new idea for his book. Thank God no one had asked him if he’d read Landon’s first novel.

  What the hell did you say to that kind of a question when the author was sitting next to you? It was bad enough he’d made a slip about being in foster care, the last thing he needed was to add fuel to the fire by admitting he was dyslexic.

  Part of the reason he’d been so relaxed in his last job was that there wasn’t usually a lot of dialogue to read and learn due to the fact that his mouth was too full to talk. He’d always loved having books read to him, but it wasn’t as if he could have asked his “friends” back in LA to read him a story.

  Presley had asked to see him after breakfast in his office, so Drake had excused himself early and headed back to the cabin to change into something more suitable for his first day at work.

  It was strange being alone in the cabin. Drake had his own apartment for six of the seven years he’d been in California and had loved the solitude. For whatever reason though, he’d really liked being here with Presley last night. He’d felt safe and cared for like being in the house with Presley was where he was supposed to be.

  Which of course was ridiculous. A man like Presley would never be interested in a washed up whore like him. Drake shook his head and dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a retro Metallica concert tee he’d picked up on Ebay a few years back.

  The last thing he did before leaving the cottage was to grab his car keys. Noble said he knew a little about cars and wanted to take a look at his Chevy before they called a tow truck to bring the new car to a mechanic.

  He’d only known Presley’s friends for an hour and already he felt like he was home. For the first time in his life, he may have found a place where he belonged.

  When he strolled back into the dining room, Noble was still sitting at the dining room table, going over a stack of papers.

  “Oh, hey, Drake.”

  “Here are my keys. My car is the black Chevy Malibu parked near a really big tree about half a mile down the road.” Drake pointed in the general direction he thought the car was located.

  “I’m sure I won’t have any trouble finding it.” He stood up from the table. “Pres is gonna walk through the things we need done around here and when I’m finished with your car, we’ll get together. We’re due to get a huge shipment of area rugs, mattresses and bed frames today. I imagine we’ll be pretty busy laying down the carpets and building beds. Not to mention hauling those mattresses up three flights of stairs.”

  Drake nodded. “Thanks, Noble for taking a chance on me.”

  “Don’t thank me. Pres was the one who went to bat for you. Catch you later.”

  A warm feeling settled around Drake's heart knowing Presley had stuck up for him with his friends. The man knew almost as little about Drake as his friends did and Presley still made sure they hired him.

  When he got to Presley's office door, he took a deep breath and made sure his hair wasn't sticking up all over the place. Gathering his courage, Drake knocked on the door.

  "It's open!" Presley called out.

  "Hi!" Drake smiled. He loved the office instantly. It had a modest desk that didn't take up too much space. It was decorated with pictures of Presley and his friends at various important events in their lives. It was homey without feeling constricted.

  The only other office he'd been in before was Donovan Charles'. Drake was thankful he wasn't going to have to suck Presley's cock to get
this job.

  "Hey there!" Presley pushed back from his desk, giving Drake his full attention.

  Drake took a seat in one of the high-back chairs in front of Presley's desk. "I'm ready to get started."

  "I'll walk you around the hotel in a minute to show you where you'll find the tools you'll need, but before we do that, I want to talk about where you're going to stay." Presley leaned forward in his seat.

  He had a feeling Presley was going to bring up this topic. "I know I was kidding when I said it, but I'd like to stay in the cabin with you. I've got some savings left and I can give you some of that to pay for groceries."

  Presley shook his head. "There's no need for you to pay for anything."

  "Have you taken a good look at me?" Drake couldn't help notice the way Presley's blue eyes darkened at his question. "I'll eat you out of house and home in a week."

  "We eat dinner most nights up at the hotel. I think Gregor has some kind of pot roast planned for tonight. I just keep things around the house for snacks."

  "Then there are essentials like toothpaste and toilet paper. I can't live with you for free, Presley." Drake had some supplies in his suitcase, but they wouldn’t last more than a few days.

  Presley nodded."You can for the first week and we'll split everything else from there, deal?"

  "Deal. Do you mind having me staying with you?" Drake had been hesitant to ask, but he didn’t want to barge in and disrupt Presley’s lifestyle.

  Chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, Presley looked up at Drake. "I've lived alone since Griff and I graduated from grad school six years ago. It was nice having someone else in the house last night."

  Even though he was a grown man, it had been comforting to know Presley was just down the hall. "I felt the same way."

  Getting up from his desk, Presley walked around to the front and perched on the edge. "What are you running from, Drake?"

  Drake froze at the question. Presley's blue eyes were full of sincerity. He almost felt as if he could actually tell the other man what his reason had been for leaving California. Instead of spilling his guts, he shrugged. "I was sick of the California lifestyle and all those shallow people."

  Presley nodded, the look on his face saying he didn't buy Drake's reason for a second. "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the hotel."

  5

  Half an hour later, Pres was back in his office. Instead of sitting at his desk and getting back to the marketing plans he'd been working on when Drake interrupted him, he was staring at his new roommate while the other man worked to clean up the beach.

  It had been on the tip of his tongue to suggest Drake stay in the empty cabin next to his own, but the look in Drake's eyes made him change his mind. There were times when his new friend looked like he had all the confidence in the world. Then there were other times, when he looked like a lost little boy.

  Pres had no doubt being in foster care could do that to a person. Even though he'd grown up with his parents, there had been things they'd put him through that still affected his self-confidence. Like making him feel like the only thing he would ever be suited for was taking over their family business.

  Hound Dog Hooch had been their dream, not his. He'd spent so much of his life living their dream that he had no idea how to chase his own dreams now that he was free of their leash.

  The one thing he'd always known was that he wanted to find a nice man to settle down with, like Drake, and raise a family, but in his family, that might still be easier said than done.

  His parents had refused to believe Presley was gay, instead thinking that his Yankee friends had corrupted their little southern boy. No matter how many times he tried to broach the subject with them, they refused to listen to reason.

  Not that it mattered anyway. Why would a sex god like Drake even look twice at Presley? He wasn't a bad looking guy. Yeah, he had flaming red hair and freckles, but other lovers had always complimented his blue eyes. He kept in good shape by running four or five days a week, if the weather cooperated.

  Drake on the other hand was six and half feet tall with dark eyes and silky dark hair. His muscles were stacked like he spent hours in the gym. Presley had never been a gym rat.

  A man that was built like that wouldn't have any trouble holding Pres up against a wall and fucking his brains out.

  As if Drake could hear his thoughts, he looked up and seemingly into Presley's office window.

  "Christ, I'm losing my mind." Pres shook his head and sat back down at his desk. He wasn't going to get anything done spending the afternoon lusting out the window over his new roommate.

  What he should have done instead of asking Drake what he was running from, was to ask him what his favorite dessert was. He had no doubt Gregor could whip it up for him and it would be a good first step in building trust between them.

  It was painfully obvious that Drake was running from something. Pres had wondered if it had been a bad break-up or a job that went tits up. He'd been foolish to ask him about his reason for being here straight off the bat. Hell, they hadn't even known each other for a full day yet. There was no way Drake was going to bare his soul to a virtual stranger.

  If he wanted Drake to open up to him, he was going to have to open up in return. It was something he hadn't done in forever. He and the other guys had done it back in school but in the last ten years or so, he hadn't really dated anyone seriously enough to make himself that vulnerable.

  Maybe the best plan for tonight was to make popcorn and s'mores together over the fire pit and just see what happened from there. They could spend some time getting to know each other and enjoying the warm spring night.

  His parents had never done anything as pedestrian as going camping or having a camp fire. Noble’s father, Nick Killington, on the other hand was another matter. During school breaks, all of the guys would pile into Noble's shit-box Toyota and go home with him. Nick treated all of the boys like they were his own.

  Over Columbus Day weekend their freshman year at Andover, Nick had pulled out the camping gear and they'd pitched tents and roasted hotdogs in the Killingtons backyard. It had been the time of Presley's life. Maybe Drake would enjoy that kind of thing too?

  He was pretty certain he remembered how to build a fire. He could grab some blankets and they could head down to the beach. Maybe even do a little stargazing.

  Now that he had a plan, Pres was certain he'd be able to concentrate on work. Well, maybe after one more peek out the window at Drake's bulging muscles.

  XX

  Gregor's pot roast was the best thing Drake had ever tasted in his entire life. The meat was what the chef called "fork tender," which Drake guessed meant that he didn't need a knife to cut it.

  Almost as delicious as the meat were the potatoes and carrots that had cooked alongside the roast in the roasting pan. He’d mashed up the root vegetables on his plate and poured some of the gravy Gregor had made from the pan drippings over them.

  Gregor had served homemade rosemary bread rolls, which made Drake moan out loud. He'd eaten about six of the little rolls and Gregor had sent him home with the leftovers saying that he'd worked as hard as ten men and deserved all the rolls he could eat.

  At the end of the day,Drake had never been more tired and sore, in a good way, in his life. He'd spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the beach. Every now and then, he'd felt like someone was watching him, but that was just crazy. Presley had more important things to do than stare out the window at him.

  He'd loved every second of working outdoors in the May sunshine. The sound of the crashing waves was soothing and it felt good to work with his body in a way that didn't require him to be naked and lubed up.

  Just as he'd been throwing the last load of trash into the dumpster, Drake had seen the furniture truck pulling into the hotel parking lot. He'd been expecting to see a box truck, but was shocked when he saw that it was an eighteen wheeler.

  He and Noble had helped the delivery men unload the truck, stacking mat
tresses and boxes of broken down beds in the hotel dining room. After a quick lunch, they'd gotten down to it, hauling thirty-six area rugs into the guest rooms. After that they'd brought the bed frames and mattresses up.

  When Gregor shouted out that it was time for dinner, Drake had been about to drop from exhaustion. They still had ten beds to finish building, but Noble said they could get back to that in the morning.

  Now that his work day was over and his belly was full, Drake wanted to spend the rest of the night relaxing. Presley had ducked out of the dining room before dinner was over, while Drake had stayed to help with the dishes. Gregor had been thankful for the help.

  Drake knocked on the cabin door, momentarily forgetting he lived there now.

  “It’s open!” Presley yelled from somewhere inside.

  “Sorry, it’s just me. Didn’t mean to knock.”

  “Hey!” Presley was all smiles when he came out of the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind but I moved your suitcase into your room.”

  “I don’t mind at all, thanks. What’s all this?” Drake followed Presley into the kitchen where he saw a picnic basket and a thick blanket sitting on the table.

  “If you’re not too tired or don’t have other plans, I thought maybe we’d head down to the beach and build a fire. Then we can make popcorn and s’mores.”