Chasing the Horizon E-Book

Scotty Cade

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 330

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Sequel to Sunrise Over Savannah Needing a lifestyle change, Garner Holt, an uptight workaholic psychologist, buys a sailboat and trades in his prestigious job in New York City for a life on the water. After engine failure and six weeks in Savannah, Georgia for repair, he arrives in Key West, Florida early one morning and encounters a half-dressed hooligan walking along the docks of the marina. Garner immediately thinks this barefoot and shirtless man with a shaved head, multiple tattoos, and piercings in every orifice is going to rob him. He prepares for the worst. Instead, the stranger passes Garner by and climbs on a boat two slips down. With the threat of danger gone, Garner is surprisingly intrigued. Hawken Bristol is used to being on the receiving end of stereotypes. He sees the fear on the stranger's face, recognizes the rigidity in his stance, but is too tired from his wild night of partying to engage the frightened stranger. A few cat and mouse encounters around town lead to an uncanny attraction. However, after Garner helps Hawken dock his boat in a windstorm, sparks start to fly. But this new liaison brings up old baggage that threatens to derail everything they have going.

Leseprobe

Readers Love SCOTTY CADE

Sunrise Over Savannah

“…this is a beautiful story. Well written, deep characters, lots of drama, especially toward the end.”

—Love Bytes Same Sex Romance Reviews

“This was a very emotionally charged book, and I simply loved all of the men Mr. Cade put in this story.”

—The Novel Approach

The Mystery of Ruby Lode

“My attention was grabbed from the first page to the last. I give this a book 5 sweet peas, 5 stars, and a 2 thumbs up rating.”

—Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books

“The storyline and plot are brilliant.”

—MM Good Book Reviews

Unconventional Courtship andUnconventional Union

“Taken as a whole, both Unconventional Courtship andUnconventional Union make for a highly enjoyable read.”

—Hearts on Fire

“Beautifully written with characters that live and breathe off of the written page, An Unconventional Union is one of my favorite books I’ve read this year. Mr. Cade … gave this reader several hours of pure reading enjoyment, and I can’t wait to see what he has in store for us!”

—Top 2 Bottom Reviews

By SCOTTY CADE

Final Encore

The Mystery of Ruby Lode

Sunrise Over Savannah

Chasing the Horizon

An Unconventional Courtship

An Unconventional Union

LOVE SERIES

Bounty of Love

Foundation of Love

Treasure of Love

Wings of Love

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SWSuite 2, PMB# 279Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chasing the Horizon

© 2014 Scotty Cade.

Cover Art

© 2014

Reese Dante.

http://www.reesedante.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63216-001-0

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-002-7

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

June 2014

As always to my husband, Kell. He is the most understanding, supportive, and unselfish person I know and sacrifices many things to allow me to follow my dream. At the risk of sounding gay as a goose, in the famous words of Barbra Streisand, “Oh my man, I love him so.”

I would also like to thank my dear friends Hawken Morrison and Justin Lavigne, upon whom two of the characters in this book are based. Hawken is a handsome, sweet, and gentle man who can scare the hell out of you if you don’t know him. Justin is our good-looking pocket gay and made sure that I referenced his “pools of honey” colored eyes. I love you both.

Chapter 1

GARNER HOLT stood behind the helm of his Beneteau Oceanis 55, a moderate wind blowing through his shoulder-length, sun-streaked brown hair. AquaTherapy, as he’d so aptly named her, was heading south toward Key West, cutting through the clear azure waters of the Hawk Channel, just off the south Florida coastline. AquaTherapy’s sails were tuned perfectly to the southwest winds, and she was cruising along at a brisk six and a half knots, heeling a comfortable eighteen degrees.

The closer Garner got to his destination, the lighter his heart felt and the better his mood became. He turned his head upward as the warm mid-December afternoon sun blanketed him with her glorious rays. He inhaled deeply, and his lungs filled with crisp, salty sea air.

God, I love the feeling of freedom when I’m on the water.

With seeming inevitability, though, that thought caused Garner’s mind to drift back to a time when things weren’t so simple, and freedom was the last thing he felt. The lightheartedness waned, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d spent so many years chasing his tail instead of chasing the horizon. He knew it was partly hereditary. Both of his parents had been overachievers. His mother—now retired and living on Long Island—had been a world-renowned pediatrician. His father, who’d died at age sixty-seven, had been a very successful commercial mortgage broker, who had worked night and day. The one pleasure he’d indulged was his love for sailing, which he’d passed along to his only son. Garner’s own insecurities probably accounted for the rest of it. That and a need to make his ambitious parents proud.

As AquaTherapy made her way down the coast, the old familiar feelings of anxiety and inadequacy snuck back in. When he’d gone off to college, he’d been almost obsessed with his education. He’d put everything on the back burner, including his love for sailing and his family and friends. His only goal was to succeed. And as luck would have it, his sacrifice and commitment hadn’t gone unrecognized. He’d graduated at the top of his class and was immediately hired by Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York City. After only four years, his Ivy League education, strong work ethic, and unmatched dedication earned him the title Head of Psychiatry, the youngest doctor ever to hold that coveted position. But as with all positions of power, it wasn’t without its drawbacks and its costs.

Garner cringed when he thought back to the grueling schedule that had left him absolutely no time for a personal life. That, combined with his extremely independent personality meant any sort of relationship was a disaster waiting to happen. He’d tried a few times, but after his last boyfriend told him where to shove his job, he’d given up and decided it wasn’t worth the headache—or the heartache.

By the end of his eighth year at Mount Sinai, his career had definitely been on track, but the pressure and stress were finally starting to take their toll. He’d barely survived that year and went into his ninth battling severe burnout and exhaustion.

Garner felt the stab of a residual sadness when he recalled that February morning when he didn’t get out of bed. That morning had stretched. For two weeks. He’d been so overcome with neglected depression and exhaustion he’d simply shut down. The minute he was on his feet again, he’d started the process of early retirement.

A smile quickly replaced the sadness as he remembered how free he’d felt when he‘d sold everything, bought AquaTherapy, and set out to find new winds to fill his sails.

Joy, freedom, and a sense of finally being in control of his own destiny had overtaken him when he’d pulled out of New York harbor and rounded the point at Sandy Hook, New Jersey. He’d felt as free as he did right this very moment. After spending an incredible couple of months on the water, taking his time meandering along the eastern seaboard, exploring the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays, and picking up the Intracoastal Waterway in Norfolk, VA, Garner had finally started to discover who he really was and not who he’d forced himself to be.

“You and I are a good team,” he said out loud, patting AquaTherapy’s hull. “Except for that little delay in Savannah, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, it’s been smooth sailing for the both of us.”

Picturing Hank and Thompson’s handsome faces, Garner smiled. He’d been temporarily derailed when his engine failed in Savannah, Georgia, and he’d had to be rescued by a very handsome BoatUS Captain named Hank Charming. He was towed to the Thundercloud Marina, where the marina mechanic uncovered a manufacturer’s error that couldn’t be repaired. His boat required a new engine, and that came with a six-week lag time.

After the initial shock of being stranded for six weeks wore off, Garner tried to figure out what he was going to do to keep himself entertained. Luckily, he didn’t have to wonder too long. The day before he’d been towed in, the owner of the marina, Thompson Gray, had lost his dockhand and was in dire need of a replacement. Following a brief meeting, Thompson offered him the job, and he gladly accepted.

After working with Thompson during the day and dating Hank Charming at night, Garner realized the guys had a very strong emotional connection to one another. He soon learned they shared a very complicated past, an even shakier present, and little or no chance for a future. They interacted on a daily basis when needed, but their past was clouded with misconceptions and untruths that were slowly eating away at both of them. In the end, with Garner’s help, Hank and Thompson were able to find their way back to one another and were now happier and stronger than ever.

Garner suddenly realized he missed his new friends. While acting as their unofficial therapist, he had become very close to them both, and that had surprised him. Much to his astonishment, he’d left Savannah with mixed emotions and a heavy heart. He’d never planned to stay—he had a horizon to chase—but that didn’t make leaving them any easier. On the morning he’d pulled out of the marina, they’d all promised to stay in touch, but Garner knew only too well that life sometimes gets in the way of the best intentions.

Garner sighed and looked up at the powder blue sky. “And here I am. Sailing along with no complications. Just the way I like it.”

WITHAQUATHERAPY now cruising along on autopilot, Garner put all these old feelings out of his mind and focused on what was ahead of him. He stretched out in the cockpit and basked in the Florida sunshine anticipating the future. He listened to the latest NOAA weather report on his VHF radio; the weather was going to be clear and picture perfect for the last couple of days of his journey. Suddenly very eager to get to Key West, he decided to sail straight through the night and make it to his destination by tomorrow morning.

“Just one more day,” he said to the ever-present dolphins dancing alongside his boat. “We’re almost home free, boys and girls.”

WHEREHAS the day gone? Garner sipped a glass of Sancerre, watching the spectacular sun hover above the western horizon. The yellows, oranges, and magentas were all blending into one magnificent blur that danced on the water, and then slowly sank into the abyss.

After dusk, with his GPS and radar set to alert him to any imminent danger, Garner sailed through the night, the bright moonlight shimmering like diamonds as it reflected off the deep, sapphire-colored water. He dozed every now and then, tweaked his sails as needed, but mostly gazed at the billowy blue velvet sky against the distant lights of the Florida coastline.

When the morning sun peeked above the horizon, Garner smiled and thought of Hank and Thompson back in Georgia, probably watching the same sun rising over Savannah. He kissed his index finger, held it up in the air, and wished them a heartfelt good morning.

By seven thirty, Garner was almost giddy. He was only five miles away from Key West, so he radioed ahead and received his docking instructions from the harbormaster. With sails furled and AquaTherapy motoring along at five knots, he pulled into the Conch Harbor Marina, sporting a smile as broad as the dawn.

Following instructions, he pulled along a T-head pier and, with the help of a dockhand, secured his boat and connected the water and electricity.

By eight thirty, Garner had traded the fleece, blue jeans, and boat shoes he’d worn overnight for shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes. He was on the dock barefoot, rinsing the dried salt off his boat, when he saw someone walking down the dock in his direction. As the stranger got closer, Garner could see that the man’s head was shaved and he was wearing low-hanging black jeans, but no shirt or shoes. His skull, as well as every other part of his exposed body, including his feet, was covered in brightly colored tattoos.

As the man continued toward him, Garner could see that he appeared to be pierced in every visible orifice, sporting a stainless-steel nose ring, a loop in his left eyebrow, studs up and down both of his ears, and a bar with balls on either end in his bottom lip. Garner did his best not to stare, but he couldn’t help it; the man reminded him of a pierced and tattooed Mr. Clean.

Looking farther down, Garner saw that the stranger’s nipples were pierced, as was his bellybutton. A chill ran the length of Garner’s spine, and he shuddered when he thought about what else might be pierced that he couldn’t see. And just to push the entire look over the edge, the man wore silver-dollar-sized solid black discs in his stretched earlobes.

Garner started to feel uneasy, and his heart rate began to increase. He quickly looked for any other boaters milling around the dock who might offer a little support if he needed it, but there was no one to be seen.

His next thought was of some sort of weapon. Garner doubted he could hose the guy to death—should the need present itself—but anything else he could possibly use for a weapon was aboard AquaTherapy.

When the guy was about ten feet from him, Garner’s felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins at breakneck speed. He didn’t make eye contact but tightened his grip on the hose and held his breath. Shit! He’s coming right at me. Calm down, you sissy. You lived in New York City for how long?

Garner spread his feet apart and moved the hose to his left hand, fisting his right. I might go down, but not without a fight. Just four feet away. Three Feet. Two feet. One foot.

When Garner could finally see the figure in his peripheral vision, the scary dude lowered his head and walked right past him.

Garner exhaled with relief and willed himself to calm down. He nonchalantly turned his head and followed the stranger with his eyes, but the guy kept on walking until he reached a fishing boat named ReelCrazy three slips down and hopped aboard. Appropriate name!

Chapter 2

HAWKEN “HAWK” Bristol slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to bring something, anything, into focus. Where in the fuck am I? He turned his head to scan the room and felt a stabbing pain that started at the base of his neck and quickly consumed his entire skull. Shit, that hurts!

He instinctively licked his dry lips and decided he would kill someone for a glass of cool water to quench his cotton mouth. And man do I have to pee. But before he could think about any of that, he had to figure out where he was.

While trying to scan the room without moving his aching head, Hawk gingerly reached up and turned on the lamp beside the strange bed. He instantly froze when someone—or something—stirred next to him. He turned his head carefully and blinked a few more times, attempting to bring the object into focus. As his vision slowly cleared, he saw a man lying on his back, naked except for a leather harness, and covered in someone’s dried come.

Fuck, Hawk! What did you do this time?

He studied the burly figure intently, struggling to jog his memory, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing concrete came to mind. After a while he thought he vaguely remembered the man’s face but certainly didn’t know his name or how in the fuck they’d ended up here. Wherever the hell here was.

He gently laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to recall the events of the night before. Stopped for a quick drink on the way home. He remembered that much. So far so good, Hawk—nothing wrong with that. Then he remembered some nice older bear of a man buying him a tequila shooter. That’s when all the trouble started. Holy shit! Slowly, the events of the night started to unfold.

Hawk squeezed his eyes tighter against the vivid memories, but they forced their way in anyway. TheJa¨germeister. Stripping on the bar. And… oh hell no! The back-of-the-bar blowjob came rushing back to him. Oh crap, Hawk. You did it again!

No longer able to ignore his overflowing bladder, Hawk sluggishly sat up in the bed to begin a search for a bathroom, doing his best not to wake the man lying next to him. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced at an unexpected stab of pain. Fuck! My ass hurts.

Once upright and relatively steady, he checked around for his clothes. Clothing was strewn everywhere, including a leather jockstrap and leather chaps hanging from a curtain rod. Those aren’t mine.

Hawk finally spotted his red T-shirt on the floor next to a chair with an empty bottle of lube and a box of condoms sitting on the arm. That’s why my ass hurts. He quietly crossed the room, picked up the red T-shirt, and silently cursed when half of it remained on the floor. He reluctantly dropped the piece of cotton, shaking his head in disgust as he flashed back to the shirt being ripped off him.

Appalled at himself, Hawk looked around for anything else he might recognize. He spotted a familiar black, silver-studded belt on a pair of black jeans hanging on a doorknob across the room. Mine! He tiptoed over to get his pants and was relieved when he glimpsed a bathroom through the half-open door. Hawk lifted his jeans off the knob, silently slipped in, and closed the door behind him. He checked his pockets for his keys, wallet, and cell phone and was relieved when they were all there. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes.

Almost there, Hawk. All you have to do is get out of here without waking the guy.

Carrying his jeans, Hawk crossed the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. He looked down and was horrified to see he was still wearing a condom, complete with last night’s sperm deposit filling the tip. Round two? I sure hope I gave as good as I got. Then he panicked when he realized he hadn’t seen a condom on the mystery dude.

Fuck, Hawk! Did you let him fuck you bareback?

He slipped the latex off and was relieved when he saw a used condom in the trash can next to the toilet. Hoping it was from last night, he added his and quietly relieved himself. He debated on whether to flush or not and decided against it, still hoping to make an escape without the morning-after rituals. He drank from the faucet and splashed his face, taking a few extra seconds to wipe his now unsheathed penis and dry off. He dropped the towel on the floor and slowly opened the bathroom door. He peeked into the bedroom—Still out cold, thank you, Bear God—and scanned the room for his underwear, boots, and socks. The rest of his clothes were nowhere to be found, and Hawk cursed under his breath. Those were my favorite fucking boots.

He stooped down to look under the bed, and suddenly the harnessed lump in the bed started to stir. Fuck the boots! He made a split-second decision and bolted for the door.

Naked as the day he was born, Hawk ran down a set of stairs, taking them two at a time as if he were a small child. His pants were flapping behind him, and his belt buckle was rattling loud enough to wake the dead. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs just long enough to put his jeans on and look for an exit. Spotting the way out, he looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one between him and freedom.

With renewed energy, Hawk burst out of the door and squinted against the morning sunshine. He immediately started scanning the area to try and get his bearings and saw the prominent sign over his head: La Te Da. He whistled. Way to go, Hawk. At least you weren’t slumming. He’d spent the night at one of Duval Street’s most upscale inns.

Then he quietly cursed under his breath when he remembered La Te Da was on the opposite end of Duval Street from where he lived.

People stared openly as Hawk took the walk of shame, hobbling down Duval Street barefoot, hung over, and in desperate need of coffee. Of course, he knew they had no way of knowing he’d woken up with a total stranger, still wearing a used condom. Or that he couldn’t find his underwear or his favorite boots. He figured they were staring for the same reason most people starred at him: because he was a big, scary guy with a shaved head, piercings in every visible orifice, and covered in tattoos.

Hawk mostly tuned out the gawking morning tourists, though. He was too hung over to care as he walked toward the marina at the end of Duval where his boat, which also happened to be his home, was docked.

His head was still throbbing when, six blocks later, he stepped into the Urban Spoon Coffee Shop and saw his best friend, Justin Morrison, behind the counter.

“Whoa!” the barista said when Hawk walked up to the counter. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He lowered his voice. “You look like shit.”

Justin stepped out from behind the counter with his hands on his hips. Then he raised one finger to his chin and gave Hawk the once-over. “You know the policy, dipshit. No shirt. No shoes. No service.”

“Fuck you, Justin, just give me my usual.”

Hawk’s best friend smiled coyly and sauntered back behind the counter. “Coffee’s on the house if you give me a little blow-by-blow, so to speak, of your conquest last night. You know, just a little something to get me through my lifelong dry spell.”

Hawk didn’t answer. He stood tall, simply glaring at Justin.

“Oh come on, Hawk, please?” Justin yelled over the whirling coffee grinder. “At least give me a hint.”

Hawk felt his blood pressure rising, but he kept his cool. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t be doing the same thing if the shoe, or lack thereof, was on the other foot.

Justin put a cup of coffee on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. “Did your date involve strip poker?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Hawk snapped, taking a sip of the hot liquid and scowling from the burn.

Justin scrunched his face and gave him a disappointed look. “Because you lost your shoes and your shirt, idiot.”

Oh, I get it! Hawk had to smile a little at that one.

“So are you gonna tell me?” Justin asked again.

Starting to get annoyed, Hawk leaned over the counter and whispered, “I can’t tell you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I don’t fucking remember.”

“Oh, Hawk, again?” Justin questioned. “You were so out of it you don’t remember anything? Or did you black out completely?”

“Don’t know. Don’t remember much,” Hawk said. “But I know something happened because I still had a full condom on when I woke up, and my ass hurts like hell.”

“OMG,” Justin said, throwing his head back in laughter.

“Keep it down.” Hawk looked around furtively. “Do you have to make sure everyone knows my business?”

“Honey,” Justin said, holding up his index finger. “My mamma used to always say if you don’t want folks to know you did something, don’t do it.”

“Fine!” Hawk slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter, took his coffee, and headed for the door.

Before he slammed it behind him, Hawk heard Justin yell, “Coffee’s on the house, but I’ll keep this as a tip. Call me later.”

Another six blocks and Hawk’s feet were getting sore from walking on the pavement barefoot, so he hailed a pedicab to take him the rest of the way.

By the time they reached the marina, Hawk’s skin was damp, his palms clammy, and he was starting to tremble all over. It took every bit of concentration he could muster to pay the young man who’d just pedaled him almost all the way down Duval Street, without hurling.

He climbed out of the pedicab on shaky legs and gingerly made his way into the marina and down toward the piers. When he was halfway down his dock, he spotted a new sailboat a few slips up from his. He squinted against the morning sun, trying to read the name.

AquaRemedy? No, that’s not right. Aqua… something. Therapy? Yeah, Therapy. AquaTherapy.

Busy trying to read the name of the boat, he almost missed the guy with the hose in his hand, rinsing it off. Even from a distance, Hawk could see the guy was good-looking and well built, but his body language and the way he moved said nothing but “uptight.” He was so stiff, it almost looked as if someone had forced a huge dildo up his ass and ordered him to hold it in without touching it. The closer Hawk got, the stiffer the guy got.

At that point, all Hawk wanted to do was get to his boat and lie down before he either passed out or blew chunks all over the dock, but as he approached, the stranger was watching him with a look on his face that struck Hawk as odd. He brushed it off, not in the mood to deal with anyone, dropped his head as he walked by without acknowledging the guy, and went straight to his boat. He somehow made it as far as his bed before he collapsed.

HAWKOPENED his eyes and sat bolt upright. What the hell? Something was vibrating against his thigh and making a muffled sound. Cell phone, you idiot. He sighed and rubbed his temples to try to alleviate the dull ache behind his eyes. The phone stopped ringing, and Hawk lay back down. He glanced at the clock—6:42—and then the porthole. It was dark outside. Is it evening or morning? Did I sleep through the night? Before he could decide, the phone went off again. He straightened his leg and fished the damn thing out of his pocket.

“What?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear.

“I thought I asked you to call me later,” Justin quipped.

Hawk sighed. “What’s up, Justin?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked pretty rough when you stopped by here this morning.”

So it was evening and not morning. “I’m fine, thanks.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Hawk groaned. “Really. I promise, I’m fine.”

“Hawken, you know I worry about you. You can’t keep up this pace.”

“Come on, not now, Justin.”

“When, then?” Justin snapped.

“Never would be a good time for me.”

“That’s pretty doable since the only time I ever see you is when you’re running away from a trick or you need a caffeine fix… or a combination of both.”

Hawk opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Justin added, “You’re my best friend, Hawk, and I can see you’re on a collision course for something really bad. I can just feel it.”

Hawk sighed in surrender. He knew he’d been on a merry-go-round of sex and alcohol for the last few years, but what the fuck? A collision course for something bad? He dismissed the statement without a second thought. He was just having some no strings attached fun.

“Look, Justin. You’re right, I have been neglecting you, and I’m sorry for that,” Hawk offered. “I promise I’ll do better, but you’ve got to give me a break, okay? You’re not going to change me, so please stop trying.”

More silence.

“’Kay,” Justin eventually replied, sounding defeated and worried.

Hawk knew Justin worried about him, and it touched him, but his life was his to live as he saw fit, and no one was going to tell him otherwise.

“Listen,” Hawk said. “First thing tomorrow morning, I have to take the boat over to the fuel dock for a fill-up and get it ready for a fishing charter, but as soon as I’m done, I’ll come by the coffee shop and we can grab a bite to eat together. How about that?”

Before Justin could answer, Hawk added, “And I promise I won’t stand you up this time.”

Justin huffed into the phone. “The jury is still out on that one.”

Hawk hated hearing the disappointment in his friend’s voice, because somewhere deep down, he knew he deserved it.

Justin’s voice chimed in again, perkier this time. “But I have a better idea.”

Here it comes. Hawk took a deep breath, dreading what might come next. “And what is that?”

“You can go with me to see the Divine Miss Richfield at the Crystal Room Cabaret tonight. She’s only here for one night, and I really want to see her.”

Relieved that it wasn’t anything to do with the way he’d been living his life on the edge or a way to save him from himself, Hawk exhaled but didn’t give in too easily. “You know I hate drag shows.”

Justin huffed again. “Oh come on, it’s one night—a few hours, really. And it would be fun to just hang out like we used to do. You know, before you took to self-medicating your emotional issues, gallivanting with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, and ignoring me.”

Hawk exhaled but didn’t say anything. The guilt train is pulling into the station. All aboard! “Okay, fine,” he conceded. “But I’ll meet you there.”

“Yay! You won’t regret this,” Justin screeched into the phone. “You’ll love her. I saw her in P-Town last year, and she’s really hilarious.”

Hawk sniffed. “I’ll go, but don’t expect me to like it. In fact, I think I’m regretting it already.”

“The show starts at ten thirty sharp, so please be there no later than ten fifteen,” Justin said, and then the line went dead.

Hawk dropped the phone on the bed beside him and rolled over to stare at the wall. He thought back to Justin’s warning. “Am I on a collision course for something bad?” he mumbled. After mulling that over in his head for a few minutes, he came to his own conclusion. “No more than usual! But I am on a collision course for a shower and some food.” He rose to his feet and made a beeline for the head.

Chapter 3

“YOU’REALMOSTa blond now, Holt,” Garner mumbled as he glanced at his wavy, shoulder-length locks in the mirror. His hair was now way more blond than brown from all the sunny days he’d spent on the docks at the marina in Savannah, not to mention his days at sea. But he also realized he was only going to get blonder the longer he stayed in Key West and chuckled when he thought about the blond jokes that Hank and Thompson would certainly bestow upon him.

He leaned into the mirror as he applied moisturizer to his evenly tanned and mostly unwrinkled skin, mentally patting himself on the back for remembering to apply sunscreen on a regular basis.

He took a step back from the mirror, studied his slender face and strong jawline, and frowned. God. I may not have many wrinkles, but the older I get, the more I look like Dad. He felt the familiar wave of sadness and guilt that normally washed over him when he thought about his father, but over the years he’d learned to keep them at bay. Mostly.

He forced the feelings back down as he scanned his naked body in the mirror and felt a little bit of pride. “Not bad for thirty-six,” he said. “At least the old physique hasn’t turned on me yet.” He followed his broad shoulders and muscular chest down to his small waist, flat stomach, and naturally strong legs. “I guess all those years at the gym really paid off.”

He’d spent almost nine years behind a desk, and during that time, he’d been obsessed with the gym, so afraid he was going to get fat and flabby.

He stepped out of the head and stood in front of his open closet door. He folded his arms across his chest and patted his bare foot. It’s your first night in Key West, Holt, and you only get one chance to make a first impression, so what’s it going to be?

Deciding he wanted to fit in, he settled on a pair of comfortable, well-broken-in jeans that rode low on his hips and a neon green Nautica T-shirt. He stood in front of his full-length mirror. I guess this will have to do.

It was still a little early, so Garner decided to have a drink before he ventured out for his first night on the town. He opened a bottle of chardonnay, poured himself a glass, and climbed the companionway stairs to the cockpit. He settled in front of the steering wheel, kicked his shoes off, and propped his feet up.

It was a beautiful evening. Mild in temperature and with only a hint of the spectacular sunset coloring the western sky. Garner took a sip of his wine, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, soaking in the last warm rays. At the sound of footsteps on the dock, Garner’s curiosity got the best of him, and he opened one eye to see who was approaching. He raised his head and sat up straight when he saw Mr. Clean casually making his way down the dock. As the stranger approached, Garner began to feel very silly. The guy didn’t look nearly as scary as he had this morning and not the least bit intimidating. Yes, he was still bizarre looking, but as he got closer, Garner could see that he was dressed in form-fitting blue jeans, a tight gray turtleneck, and black high-top tennis shoes.

Normal, everyday attire, he thought. No spiked leather vest and pants with chains leading to his wallet. No shit kicker boots either. Just ordinary clothing.

When he reached the stern of AquaTherapy, it appeared as if he was going to stop. Garner’s heart skipped a beat in anticipation. But their eyes locked, and Garner held the stranger’s gaze. After a few seconds, the stranger simply nodded, flashed a smile, and kept going.

Garner nodded back and followed the stranger’s movements down the dock.

What struck Garner as odd was the stranger’s familiar, hollow stare. His crystal blue-gray eyes produced the same effect Garner had experienced when he’d gazed into Thompson Gray’s emerald eyes for the first time. The flecks of gold and the depth of green in Thompson’s eyes had had a major impact on Garner back in Savannah, but despite the rich color, they too had been hollow, almost devoid of any emotion.

After the man disappeared through the marina gate, Garner continued to stare as if he could still see him. He was startled out of his thoughts by his cell phone ringing. He unclipped the phone from his belt and, without looking, slid his finger across the bottom of the phone and put it to his ear.

“Hello.”

“Glad to hear you’re still alive,” the voice on the other end of the line said.

“Thompson?” Garner said, breaking out of his trance and smiling into the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”

Thompson chuckled. “Do I dare ask why?”

“Probably not,” Garner replied.

“Oh geez,” Thompson said. “You’re right. I probably don’t want to know.”

“How the hell are you guys? Hank okay?”

“We’re great. Missing you, though.”

“I miss you guys too,” Garner said with sincerity.

“Where are you?” Thompson asked.

“Just got to Key West this morning.”

“That’s great,” Thompson said. “Now that you’ve arrived, if you’re going to stay put for a while, Hank and I would like to try and figure out a time when we can both get away so we can come see you. If you still want us to, that is?”

“Hell yeah,” Garner replied. “I can’t wait to see you guys.”

“Hold on, let me put you on speaker,” Thompson said. “Hank wants to say hi.”

A few seconds later, Garner heard Hank’s voice. He sounded so happy it brought a smile to Garner’s face. “Hey, Gar, how’s sunny Key West?”

“So far so good,” Garner replied.

“Oh come on, is that all you have?” Hank teased.

“Give me a break. I just got here, and I’m a slow starter.”

“Who are you trying to fool?” Hank asked. “I remember the day we first met. Slow starter, my ass.”

Garner chuckled. “Okay. Guilty as charged.”

Thompson cleared his throat. “Hey, guys? I’m listening. For Pete’s sake, the last thing I want to hear about is how you two flirted with one another the first day you met.”

Garner heard Thompson huff like he’d been elbowed in the ribcage, followed by a muffled “Ouch.”

“Okay, fine,” Hank said over the speaker. “But at least tell us about the trip?”

Garner filled them both in on the details of his voyage, and before he knew it, they were saying their good-byes with promises of seeing each other very soon.

Garner stood and shoved his phone into his pocket just as the last remnants of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind only hues of orange and yellow filling the western sky. He stared at the colorful display for a few minutes, downed the last of his wine, and took the empty glass down below. He checked himself in the mirror one last time. “As good as it’s gonna get,” he whispered to himself before grabbing his keys and heading topside again to begin his first night in Key West.

As he walked along the dock, Garner recognized a new bounce in his step and realized he was looking forward to being with people again. Being on the water alone had been one of the best mind-clearing practices he’d ever experienced, and this particular leg of his trip had given him plenty of time to reflect on Hank and Thompson and the part he’d played in helping them. But as a psychiatrist, he also knew how important human contact was to the spirit. Mr. Clean’s bizarre mug popped back into his mind again, and he chuckled. Well, some human contact, that is.

Shaking his head to scatter the image of shaved heads, tattoos, and piercings, he tried to focus on what he wanted for dinner. “A real dinner?” he said to himself, feeling excited about his evening.