Sunrise Over Savannah E-Book

Scotty Cade

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

Seitenzahl: 329

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Thompson and Caroline Gray were living their dream until Caroline's untimely death just two years after they'd bought the Thundercloud Marina. When Caroline died, she left Thompson alone and emotionally disconnected—until Thompson's longtime friend and towboat owner Hank Charming tows Garner Holt, a recently retired psychiatrist, and his boat into the marina for repair. Thompson and Hank are both drawn to the sailboat captain, but for very different reasons. Since high school, Hank has secretly carried a torch for Thompson, even though Thompson remained committed to Caroline, even after her death. Hank is totally caught off guard when his initial attraction to Garner makes him realize this stranger might be the one to help him move on with his life. Thompson establishes a platonic friendship with Garner and starts to see the psychiatrist as his only lifeline to sanity. Life improves until Thompson sees Hank and Garner together, and old feelings Thompson thought were long buried begin to resurface. Garner quickly identifies the unresolved feelings between Hank and Thompson and decides to tap his professional skills and work behind the scenes to help Thompson and Hank see what has been right in front of them all along.

Leseprobe

Readers Love Scotty Cade

An Unconventional Courtship

“This is a very nice story with interesting characters… Sure, some of the romance may have been over the top at times but it was still fun to read.”

—On Top Down Under Book Reviews

“The author does a fabulous job of building the story and the sexual tension between Tristan and Webber. It may have taken them two years to come together but when the do it's absolutely beautiful and their chemistry together is combustible.”

—Guilty Indulgence

“An Unconventional Courtship is another entertaining release by Scotty Cade… These two are perfect for each other and sometimes, you just need a story that makes you happy to read. 

—Literary Nymphs

An Unconventional Union

“Cade’s novels are for the ‘grown and sexy’ set… An Unconventional Courtship was the first Scotty Cade book that I read, but it certainly was not to be my last. I truly enjoy this writer’s work.”

—Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books

“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 has once again 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

The Mystery of Ruby Lode

“This novel was just a cornucopia of wonderful elements that it is hard to know where to begin… Parts of this book will have you in tears so have the tissues handy as you will need them.”

—Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

“There are some difficult and painful things happening throughout the book, and I felt for all of the men in this story. I enjoyed spending time with them and am very glad I went along on their adventure.”

—Gay List Book Reviews

By SCOTTY CADE

NOVELS

LOVE SERIES

Bounty of Love

Foundation of Love

Treasure of Love

Wings of Love

Final Encore

The Mystery of Ruby Lode

Sunrise Over Savannah

An Unconventional Courtship

An Unconventional Union

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.

Sunrise Over Savannah

© 2014 Scotty Cade.

Cover Art

© 2014 Anne Cain.

[email protected]

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: 978-1-62798-652-6

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-653-3

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

February 2014

As always this book is dedicated to my husband, Kell. Your continued support means more than any words can acknowledge. I love you! And to our great friends and fellow boaters John and Pat Gercon and Norton Gerard and Stephen Locke, with whom we were traveling when the inspiration for this novel smacked me on the head. We love you all!

Chapter 1

THOMPSON GRAYstood at the end of the dock, both hands clutched tightly around his steaming cup of coffee in a feeble attempt to fend off the early morning November chill. The sun was just starting to peek above the barrier islands separating the Atlantic Ocean from the fast-moving tide of Savannah’s Intracoastal Waterway. Georgia’s glowing morning sky was filled with hues of red and orange, and the slightest hints of fuchsias and pinks seemingly arranged to announce the arrival of another beautiful fall day. But not for Thompson. “Four years,” he said to himself as he fought the tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

He gazed at the brilliant display and thought only of her. This peaceful ritual of coffee and sunrise was one he’d shared with his wife Caroline every morning after they’d bought the Thundercloud Marina just over six years ago. But this morning he stood alone, as he’d done daily for the last four years, to the day, since Caroline’s sudden death at the age of twenty-eight. He shivered against the chill and took another sip of his coffee, hoping the hot liquid might eventually warm his core, but knowing better. On this day, every year since her death, he couldn’t escape the icy chills and the impending sense of doom, the loneliness and anxiety, that filled his being.

He thought back to that dreadful day, as he’d done most mornings since her death. The brain aneurism that had taken Caroline from him had come out of the blue. She’d been perfectly healthy—or so they had thought—with no prior warning except a slight headache when she’d awakened that morning. As was always her way, she’d popped a couple of aspirin and never complained. She’d taken him by the hand and led him down the dock with the excitement of a child. It was her favorite time of day, but neither of them had realized this day was to be their last sunrise together. In a flash, life as he’d known it had changed forever.

They’d been assisting a captain as he docked his boat for the evening. She’d bent down to secure a line when Thompson heard a loud gasp. He’d looked up to see her grabbing her head with both hands and collapsing in the very spot where he was now standing. In his mind’s eye, he saw her unconscious body lying on the dock. He clearly remembered the fear and panic that had been in his voice as he desperately called her name. He saw himself scooping her limp body into his arms and felt the vibration of the dock under his feet as he ran, frantically yelling for someone to call 911.

By the time they’d arrived at the hospital, she was already dead. She’d never even regained consciousness.

Thompson tightened the grip on his coffee cup, fighting the memories of that wretched day. If the stabbing pain in his heart was any indication, he should be as dead as Caroline, but unfortunately, he’d been left alone to exist in his own nonexistence. He lost the fight against the impending tears and wondered briefly if he was crying for Caroline or for himself. With no clear answer, he allowed the tears to slide down his cheeks freely. He closed his eyes, and his legs started to tremble so badly he could no longer support his own weight. In an act of desperation, he dropped to his knees and slammed the coffee cup against the dock, causing it to shatter like the pieces of his broken heart.

THOMPSONANDCaroline had grown up just two doors apart, played together with the other kids around them, and, starting from the age of thirteen, had spent their summer vacations sitting on the dock watching the boats come and go at the Thundercloud Marina. They’d make up stories about where they were coming from, where they were headed to, and who owned them. Sometimes when it was really busy, they would help the owner by collecting trash from the boats or delivering newspapers in the morning. As soon as they were old enough, Thompson and Caroline had worked as dockhands, and that’s when their love for the marina life really began.

As their friendship progressed, they’d become inseparable, and the two of them would get to work just before daybreak, have coffee together while the sun peeked over the horizon, and start their day by casting off travelers—snowbirds, as they were commonly called—making their way south for the winter and then eventually north again for the summer.

They’d gone to Savannah State University together, married right after graduation, and purchased the marina with the help of Thompson’s grandfather.

Until Caroline’s untimely death, it seemed like they had the perfect life and were living their dreams. Then in one instant, everything changed. The morning after her death, he walked out to the dock and watched the sunrise alone for the first time and vowed to continue their morning ritual as long as he lived. It was where he felt closest to his wife. It was all he had left of her.

AFTERTHEmoments of grief and anger had temporarily passed, Thompson got to his feet. He wiped away the tears with his fingertips, looked around, and prayed no one had seen his breakdown. He was grateful when he remembered that his only dockhand had quit two days ago and most of the many snowbirds that filled the marina had not yet awakened. He walked to the office to get a broom and dustpan and headed back down to clean up his mess. As he swept the remains of his coffee mug, the mundane chore helped to calm him and he began to regain his composure. His mind again drifted back to that time. During her funeral, so many people had given him words of encouragement. “Time will heal your open wounds,” they’d all said. But the last four years hadn’t healed anything. His guilt about being the one still alive had done an excellent job of keeping him frozen in time. Today, he still felt as devastated as the day he’d lost her. Tears threatened to fall again as the emotions and harsh memories all came flooding back.

During the first year after she’d died, he’d turned his back on everyone. Friends tried to stay connected, but he didn’t want their sympathy. He just wanted to be left alone. Everyone had meant well, but he just couldn’t bear the “everything will be okay” speech day after day. It would never be okay. Time would not heal him. Nothing could heal him. Eventually, everyone had given up on him. He didn’t blame them. He was sure he’d have done the same thing if the situation had been reversed.

The one person who hadn’t given up on him had been his longtime best friend, Prince. His real name was Henry Charming. His family called him Hank, but ever since high school, because of his striking good looks and his last name, most of their friends had called him Prince Charming. They’d been best friends from childhood. More than best friends, actually. But things began to change when Thompson suddenly brought Caroline into the mix. Prince had slowly pulled away from him, but after Caroline died, he’d come back into Thompson’s life and tried to rescue him. He’d had spent the better part of two years trying to bring Thompson back from the darkness that had encompassed him. But a person can only do so much, and it had all come to a head early one morning.

Thompson remembered the day as if it were yesterday. Prince had been trying to convince him that this morning ritual was not helping him and that he needed to give it up. In his usual way, Thompson had ignored him and proceeded down the dock with Prince on his heels. By the time they’d reached the end of the dock, it had been obvious to Thompson that Prince’s patience had finally run out. At the top of his lungs, arms flailing, he’d again tried to convince Thompson he needed to let go of the past and try to start living his life. Prince had finally broken down in sobs when he’d told Thompson that although Caroline was dead, he was still alive and he was doing her memory an injustice by not living his life to the fullest.

Prince’s words weren’t anything Thompson hadn’t already known, but it was a harsh brush with reality to hear them out loud. He’d flinched internally but had kept his expression blank and had given no response. Eventually, Prince had dropped his head, turned, and walked away for what Thompson had instinctively known was the last time. On one level, he’d known Prince was his only lifeline, but on the other, he was grateful Prince had finally given up on him too. After all, he’d given up on himself.

THOMPSON’SMINDdrifted back to reality. Was Prince right? By holding on to this stupid ritual, am I holding on to the past and making everything worse?

“No,” he mumbled to himself. “I can’t. Caroline was my life and we were happy until…. This is my last connection to her. To not do this would be like erasing the one thing I have left of her. I can’t pretend this moment we shared every morning never existed. Like we never existed.”

But deep down he also knew that Prince had been right. After her death, he was still solidly stuck in place, sinking little by little with no visible way out. He realized for the first time that he wanted to get out. He wanted a life, but he had no idea how to go about it. Everyone still treated him like a ticking time bomb. He’d been so unreachable in the weeks, months, and even years that had followed her death that his friends no longer tried to approach him.

He poured the remnants of his coffee mug into the trashcan and started walking back up to the office. Caroline, I know I’m broken, but I have no idea how to fix myself.

Chapter 2

DOCTOR GARNERHolt stepped through the companionway of his fifty-five foot sailboat, AquaTherapy, carrying a hot cup of coffee and a plate containing a stale cinnamon bagel and what little cream cheese he could scrape out of the container. “Guess it’s time for a grocery stop,” he said to himself as he examined his breakfast. He balanced the plate and cup, trying not to spill either as he made his way onto the bow and took a seat. There was a gentle breeze blowing out of the east and the sun was now peeking just above the horizon. He looked up out of habit to check his rigging and was amazed how the impending sun was causing the lingering dew to glisten like little diamonds. He caught movement to his left and saw a very regal blue heron perched on an old log along the bank with its long beak hovering just above the water, waiting for breakfast to swim by.

His gaze was interrupted when he heard a splash and turned to see a pelican floating right off the starboard bow with its head tipped up and a lump wiggling as it went down its throat. “Damn, even the bird’s breakfast is fresher than mine,” Garner chuckled, taking a bite out of his bagel and chewing and chewing and chewing. After he swallowed, he inhaled the fresh air and sighed. Despite his breakfast, there was beauty in every direction, and he savored the simple moment. “I could never have seen this stuff from my office window at the hospital,” he mused.

For the last nine years before his early retirement, he’d been the head of psychiatrics for the Mount Sinai Medical Center. Back then he’d been a very career-driven man, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. In the beginning, the grueling schedule had been exhilarating, but over the years it had proven to be very detrimental to any sense of a personal life. His job had always come first, which didn’t leave much time for a healthy relationship, though in the beginning he’d tried to juggle both. One failed attempt after another had convinced him that he just wasn’t cut out for relationships, and eventually he stopped trying. Ultimately, the burnout he’d heard about started to descend on him, and the last two years had been a real struggle. One morning he looked in the mirror and realized he no longer recognized his own reflection. He had deep circles under his eyes. He was pale in color and looked much older than his thirty-six years. That morning, he’d decided enough was enough. In the weeks that followed, he’d resigned his position, sold his apartment and all of his belongings, and started to simplify his life. Growing up, he and his dad had been avid sailors. He’d always enjoyed the isolation and quiet pleasure it brought and had dreamed of sailing off into the sunset one day. The day he bought his shiny new Beneteau Oceanis was his “one day!” That had been almost six months ago, and as he made his way to points south, he’d not once regretted his decision to trade his hectic job for a life of exploration on the water.

GARNERLOOKEDaround again and mentally complimented himself. He’d made a great choice yesterday afternoon when he’d chosen to anchor in this very secluded cove just north of Savannah. He’d been on the water for a few months and recalled his journey, which had started in Manhattan. On his first day out, he’d followed the East River to Sandy Hook, New Jersey, spent a few days on the beaches of the Jersey shore, and then sailed the Atlantic Ocean to Cape May, where he entered Delaware Bay. From there, he’d made his way down to the Delaware River and through the manmade waterway connecting the Delaware River with the Chesapeake Bay called the C&D canal. He’d taken his time and enjoyed the many great anchorages along the Chesapeake, eventually ending up in Norfolk, Virginia, where he entered the Intracoastal Waterway, or the “Ditch,” as boat captains call it.

His plan would take him along this well-traveled waterway as far south as Biscayne Bay, where he would again venture out into the Atlantic Ocean and head for the Florida Keys. When he was tired of the Keys, he would head east to the Bahamas and eventually the Caribbean and the Virgin Islands.

Garner finished breakfast and rubbed his aching jaw. “I’ve got to get some groceries before my jaw gives out.”

He went down below, stowed his gear, secured the cabin, and headed topside again to raise the anchor and get his day started. He pressed and held the engine heater button for ten seconds, then pressed the starter. The Westerbeke diesel turned over several times, but it didn’t start. What the hell?She always starts immediately.

He gave it a few seconds and then tried again. Still nothing. “Damn,” he hissed. “This day is going downhill pretty fast.”

Garner glanced at the fuel gauge and mumbled to himself, “Half full.” He checked the other gauges. Engine temperature. “Good.” Oil pressure. “Good.” After verifying everything topside, he went down below and opened the engine compartment. He checked the oil and coolant, and both were well within the normal operating ranges on the dipsticks. Next he checked the fuel filter. It appeared to be clear. Lastly he inspected the water intake strainer to make sure it wasn’t clogged, and it was clear as well. He went topside again and gave it one more try. Nothing. The engine easily turned over so he knew it wasn’t the battery.

He put his hands on his hips and stared at the starter buttons, willing the damn things to work. It just doesn’t seem like the engine is getting any fuel.

“Fuck it,” he said as he went down below again and searched his boat files for his membership card. “That’s why I pay a yearly fee for a towing service.”

He unclipped his cell from his belt and dialed the number, requesting a tow to the nearest marina. He gave the guy his name, his boat’s name, and his GPS coordinates, then ended the call.

While he waited for the towboat, he checked his waterway guide and found the nearest marina was the Thundercloud Marina, about three miles north of his present location. He once again retrieved his cell phone and dialed the number from the waterway guide and waited. After several rings, someone answered.

“Thundercloud Marina, this is Thompson.”

“Good morning, Thompson, my name is Garner Holt. I’m anchored off the Intracoastal a few miles south of you, and I’m having some engine problems.”

“Sorry to hear that, Captain. How can I help?”

“I just requested a tow from BoatUS,” Garner shared. “The guy said he would be here in about an hour, and we’re approximately three miles south of you. Do you have a mechanic on site who can take a look?”

“Yes, sir, we do,” Thompson said. “What type engine?”

“A seventy-five horsepower Westerbeke diesel.”

“Got it,” Thompson said. “I’ll have someone standing by when you get here.”

“Thanks, man, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Garner ended the call. Nice telephone voice.

INAlittle under an hour, Garner spotted the towboat entering the anchorage. He acknowledged the boat’s arrival with a wave and went about his business setting lines and fenders, preparing his boat for towing. Garner watched as the towboat approached from the stern and pulled up along his port side.

When he got a look at the boat captain, his jaw dropped. He was gorgeous. His short jet-black hair reflected the sunlight and his piercing blue eyes held Garner’s gaze. He was shorter than Garner’s own five foot eleven inches, but built like a man who came by his physique naturally. Broad shoulders and a huge chest led down to a flat stomach and small waist.

“I hear someone needs rescuing,” the towboat captain joked.

Garner smiled and started to speak. Then his smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw the guy nonchalantly glance at the rainbow flag sticker on the stern of his boat. Just my luck. I’m in the backwoods of fucking Georgia when someone finally notices that damn sticker. I knew that thing would get me in trouble one day.

Garner took a few seconds to curse his “out and proud” best friend for adhering the sticker to his stern without his knowledge the morning he’d shoved off from New York. When he’d found it later that day, Garner had known exactly who’d put it there and had called his friend to give him a shitload of grief. The only response he’d received was “If you’re going to cruise around God knows where, at least people need to know you’re gay. How else are you gonna get laid?”

Garner was startled out of his thoughts by a strong voice. “If you need rescuing, I’m the only Prince Charming in sight,” the captain teased, looking around. He eventually stuck out his hand. “I’m Prince Henry Douglas Charming.”

You can rescue me any day was the first response that popped into Garner’s mind, but he thought better of it. “You’re it, huh?” Garner teased, accepting the outreached hand with a smile and returning the firm grip. “Garner Holt,” he said, offering the captain the bowline and then the stern.

“Ouch!” the man said with a wink. “I know I’m no Tom Cruise, but am I that bad on the eyes?”

Garner looked at the guy with apprehension. I do believe he’s flirting with me. “Uh, sorry; that really didn’t come out the way I’d planned.” Garner crossed his arms over his chest and gave the guy the onceover. “Prince Charming, huh?”

The towboat captain blushed a little, and Garner thought it was adorable.

“Okay, okay. You got me; I’m not really a prince. But… the Charming is real,” the captain stammered. “My friends call me Hank. Well, that’s not true either. Most of the guys I grew up with call me Prince. Get it—Prince Charming? But I prefer Hank.”

“I get it, and I’ll remember that, Hank,” Garner said as he attached two spring lines, one forward and one aft, and then looked back up at the captain.

“Ready to go?” Captain Charming asked.

Garner looked around and nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“You wanna hop over and ride with me?”

“Hell yeah!” Garner wanted to say, but he went with, “Sure, why not. I’ve been alone on this boat for quite a while. The company sounds nice.”

Hank flashed a huge smile in his direction and offered his hand.

Minutes later, side by side at the helm, they were carefully leaving the safety of the anchorage and slowly beginning their journey down the Intracoastal Waterway toward Savannah.

OUTTHEcorner of his eye, Garner watched as Hank skillfully captained the two boats down the waterway. Garner’s fifty-five-foot sailboat was much larger than the twenty-five-foot towboat, but Hank did it with a confidence and skill that made it look easy.

Every now and then Hank would glance back and forth between him and the waterway and smile sheepishly. They had said little since their humorous exchange of words earlier, and Garner was feeling a little uncomfortable. In the silence, his mind had time to ramble. Maybe he wasn’t flirting with me at all. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, and I’ve been alone too long and was just reading more into it.

“So,” Hank said, interrupting Garner’s thoughts. “AquaTherapy,huh? Do you get it or give it?”

Garner chuckled. “A little of both, I guess. I’m sure you know how it is being on the water. Everyone has a story.”

“Yep,” Hank answered with a knowing tone. “See and hear it every day.”

Hank looked like he was about to elaborate, then stopped and picked up his VHF radio. “One sec.”

He held the radio to his mouth and began making a security call. Garner looked up and saw a tug pushing a barge in their direction. He kept quiet and listened as Hank received passing instructions from the tug captain.

“Nice job,” Garner said after they had successfully maneuvered their boats past the tug and barge.

“Thanks.”

They went along in a comfortable silence for another few minutes before Garner spoke again. “So, Charming, huh?” was the first thing that came to his mind. So much for smooth talk.

Hank laughed. “Yeah. I use it a lot when I rescue people; it’s sort of a tense time for the boaters and it often breaks the ice. But I promise you I came by it naturally. It’s my given name.”

So he uses it on everyone to break the ice. Garner suddenly felt very foolish. He nodded and turned away to hide the embarrassment he was sure was clearly evident on his face. “I can see how that might put people at ease.”

Before Garner could actually put both feet in his mouth again, Hank broke the silence. “How long have you been on the water?”

Garner exhaled, a bit more comfortable with where the conversation was now going. He explained that he left New York harbor about twelve weeks ago. He recounted his travels and was surprised that Hank seemed genuinely interested and asked a lot of questions. He did his best to answer accurately, trying to remember one stop from another and the different anchorages.

“Do you have a final destination in mind?”

“Not a concrete one. I mean, I thought I’d head down to Key West and spend some time there. If I get bored, I’ll cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas and maybe end up in the Caribbean for the season. Since I retired, my time is my own.”

Hank whistled. “Sounds like a dream come true to me.”

“It kind of does, doesn’t it?” Garner agreed. “So what about you?”

Hank tossed him a coquettish glance. “Li’l ole me? What about me?”

“How did you end up captaining a towboat?”

“My story isn’t nearly as exciting as yours, but I’ll share it just the same.”

Garner leaned against the communication arc, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

“In my senior year in college, I worked for the guy who owned the local BoatUS, or Towboat US, as it was called then, and I found that I really enjoyed being on the water. About a year later, I opened a little boat store, nothing too big, just some small center console jobs, and I really enjoyed that too, but then I started missing being on the water. So when the BoatUS franchise became available, I bought it. That way I get the best of both worlds. I have a general manager who runs the boat store, which gives me the freedom to take off when I need to rescue damsels in distress or, in your case, stranded boaters.”

Garner smiled. “Sounds like a marriage made in heaven.”

“Whoa! Who said anything about marriage?” Hank said with a straight face. “We just met less than an hour ago.”

Garner felt the blood drain out of his face, but before he could say anything, Hank started laughing. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t pass the opportunity by. I’m only teasing.”

Garner released a breath and punched Hank on the arm. “I meant the two companies.”

“Ouch!” Hank said, rubbing his arm. “I knew what you meant. Look, I saw the rainbow flag on your boat. Does it mean what I think it means?”

Garner suddenly felt flushed. He’d never been in the closet, but unlike his best friend, he wasn’t the “in your face” or “out and proud” type. He took a deep breath and released it. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag. Yep, I’m a big ole homo.”

Hank’s smile was beaming. “Well thank God, I thought my gaydar was malfunctioning.”

Garner nudged Hank with an elbow. “You too?”

Hank smiled and nodded. “Guilty as charged.”

“Well, go figure,” Garner mumbled. “Who would’ve thunk it?”

Hank tilted his head to one side in a questioning gesture. “What do you mean? There are a lot of ’mos in the marshes of south Georgia.”

Garner laughed. “You know, I’ve heard of sightings, but I never thought I actually see a South Georgia ’mo up close.”

“So now that you have, what do you think?”

“Not bad. Not exactly what I expected, but not bad at all.”

Hank slapped Garner on the back and squeezed his shoulder. “Yankees! How’d they ever get in?” he drawled in a thick Southern accent.

Before Garner could come back with a witty reply, they rounded a turn and Garner saw the Thundercloud Marina. A man waved from the shore and started walking down the dock toward them. Garner watched and then gasped when he got a good look at the man. This stranger was one of the most handsome men Garner had ever seen. Even the gorgeous Hank looked like chopped liver, and Hank was clearly filet mignon.

“Hey, Thompson!” Hank shouted out as he inched the boats toward the dock. “Appreciate the personal service.”

The man smiled genuinely and Garner thought it must be the Fourth of July by the way his face lit up. “My pleasure, Prince.”

Garner raised a forefinger up to his jaw and slapped it closed as he stared on. Holy Jesus, what a good-looking man.

Chapter 3

GARNERVAGUELYheard someone calling his name. “Uh, Garner? Garner!”

Garner shook his head. “Yeah! What? Sorry!”

“If you don’t mind, would you hop to your boat and stand by to throw Thompson the bow line as soon as you’re within reach?”

“Will do,” Garner stammered as he climbed onto his boat.

While he waited for Hank to inch his boat alongside the dock, he was unable to turn away from the man awaiting their arrival. He looked to be about six feet two or three inches tall and about thirty years old. His dark-blond, shoulder-length hair was naturally sun-streaked and beautiful, but what got him were the man’s eyes. Even from a distance, Garner could see they were the color of sparkling emeralds. In the bright sunshine, they glimmered brilliantly when the man flashed his deeply dimpled smile. Because of his career choice, Garner had always been able to read people pretty well, and he thought he picked up on a great deal of sadness embedded behind those beautiful eyes despite the bright smile.

The man’s facial features, including those spectacular dimples, were fine and chiseled but not the least bit feminine. He was wearing a light-blue Thundercloud Marina T-shirt stretching tightly across his broad chest, and his low-rider jeans rode well on his hips, exposing just the waistband of his plaid boxers. And from what Garner could see through his clothing, the man appeared to be very well built.

Hank must have noticed Garner’s interest and gave him a knowing smile. “Down, boy. Thompson’s a real looker, isn’t he? But don’t get too excited; he’s unavailable.”

Garner nodded and silently cursed himself for being so transparent and allowing his libido to overrule his brain.

When he was in reach, he threw the man the bowline. After it was secure, the man walked down the dock and Garner tossed him the stern line as well. When the line was securely around the cleat, the man stood up and Garner’s eyes locked on his. They held each other’s gaze, and Garner felt like he was under some sort of spell as he stared deeply into the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. The close proximity allowed him to see specks of citrine sparkling from deep within, mesmerizing him and making it impossible to look away. But Garner didn’t appear to be alone in the intensity of his gaze; the stranger didn’t break the stare either.

Finally, the man shook his head and smiled. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Thompson Gray. You must be Garner.”

The two men again stared at each other silently. That requires an answer, you fool! Garner tried to recover. “Uh yeah, Garner. Garner Holt, that’s me.” Way to go, you idiot.

Thompson frowned. “Sorry you’re having engine problems. Hopefully we can get you fixed up and back on your way in no time.”

Garner thought about his verbal comeback. He really wanted to say, “No way, I’d rather stay right here and look into those eyes for the rest of my life,” but “Hope so” was all that came out.

Thompson looked up to a building on the shore, then back at Garner. “My diesel guy should be right down to take a look.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate that.”

The VHF radio attached to Thompson’s hip went off. “Excuse me,” he said as he unclipped it and brought it to his mouth. He walked to the other end of the dock as he answered the hail.

FROMHISboat, Garner’s gaze followed Thompson until he couldn’t see him anymore. He picked up movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Hank hopping on board. Then Hank slapped him lightly on the back. “Thanks for your help docking, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, glad I could do something.”

Garner instinctively glanced back in Thompson’s direction, and it obviously didn’t go unnoticed by Hank.

“He’s really striking, isn’t he?” Hank said, watching Thompson as well.

Garner blushed a little and nodded.

Hank chuckled. “It’s okay, I had such a crush on him when we were teenagers. And hell… everyone has that same reaction when they meet him for the first time.”

By the way Hank was following Thompson’s every move, Garner wasn’t so sure that he’d ever gotten over said crush, but he kept that tidbit to himself.

Garner attempted to relax a little. “Does he own the place?”

“Yeah, it’s his. He and his wife used to own it together, but she died. What is it? Three, no four years back now.”

“She must have been so young. What did she die from?”

“A brain aneurism.” Hank pointed to the corner of the dock right off the bow of Garner’s boat. “Right over there.”

Garner didn’t know Thompson, but felt an unusually strong wave of sadness for the guy. The therapist in him was kicking in. “Oh man. That sucks. And right here on the dock. How can he come to work and not relive that every day?”

Hank shook his head. “To be honest, I’m not sure he doesn’t relive it every day. He’s never really gotten over it. And such a great guy too, would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.”

Suddenly Garner was picturing Thompson with no shirt on and again silently cursed himself. For the love of Pete, stop it, Garner. He’s straight and a widower. Leave the poor guy alone.

Before Garner could say anything, an elderly guy with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth walked down the dock carrying a tool bag. “I hear someone’s having engine problems.”

Garner raised a hand. “That’d be me.”

The man took the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbed out the end on one of the pilings, and stuck it in his top pocket. “I’m Titus, but folks around here call me Bubba. What seems to be the problem?”

Garner threw both hands in the air. “Hell if I know. She turns over, has fuel, I checked the filters and the intake, but she just won’t start. The damn boat is brand new.”

The mechanic toed out of his boat shoes. “Permission to come aboard, Captain.”

Garner gave him a mock salute. “Permission granted. I’m Garner, by the way.”

The two men shook hands and Bubba headed down to the engine compartment. “Give me a couple of minutes to take a look, then give her a crank for me,” Bubba instructed over his shoulder.

“Just say the word, I’ll be standing by.”

When Garner was once again topside, he caught Hank staring at him with a huge smile on his face. “What?” Garner asked.

Hank took a few steps closer and whispered. “You’re every bit as handsome as Thompson.”

Garner felt the flush come on as the blood crept into his face. He chuckled nervously. “Seriously, man, when was the last time you had your eyes examined?”

Hank shook his head, but said nothing.

“Give it a crank,” Bubba yelled from down below.

Garner again pressed and held the engine heater button for ten seconds, then pressed the starter. The engine turned over as it had earlier, but it just wouldn’t start.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bubba yelled. “When did she come uncranked?”

“She ran fine yesterday and then just wouldn’t start this morning.”

A few minutes later he popped out of the engine room. “From what I can tell, everything looks okay. I’m gonna get my gear and do a compression check.”

“A compression check, what does that mean?” Garner questioned.

“Nothing good,” Bubba explained. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but this is my third compression problem on this model of Westerbeke diesels. Supposedly the manufacturer has fixed it now, but they identified the same problem on hulls one through eighty-seven. Do you happen to know the hull number on your boat?”