Chapter 1

Todd

Damn boat drinks like a deprived alcoholic on shore leave. I watch the old-fashioned counter on the marina gas pump flip rapidly over and over, slowing ever so slightly after it crests $5,000. And that’s just a top up. The gas gauge was sitting at about 3/4 when I decided it might be a good idea to fill the tank.

A few seagulls take to the air, screaming in outrage. I’d like to think it’s over gas prices and inefficient fuel consumption, but it probably has more to do with the salmon guts one of the line fishermen just tossed over the pier. A late-afternoon breeze blows in the salty tang of the water and creosote pilings mixing with the fuel fumes. It’s a smell that makes you feel alive even if it’s never going to be a billboard signature scent. I grimace wryly, thinking about the last image consultant that tried to talk me into being the face of some noxious chemical brew masquerading as cologne. That conversation lasted only as long as it took me to press the elevator button. I don’t miss that kind of shit, not even a little. When Unspeakable Noise gave up touring it got even easier for me to say no to all the side hustles.

But every time I think about selling Bianca, something comes up that makes me glad to have a fast and reliable way to travel over the water. An emergency trip for someone into Seattle or for the first time in what seems like forever, a really hot date with a woman I’d like to impress.

I could down-grade to something smaller, and a little more efficient, but I need a better handle on how I’d be using it first. So mostly I glare at Bianca’s graceful white curves, wish she wasn’t quite so needy, and hand my credit card over to Frank, the grizzled owner/manager of the bait shop and gas station.

The beautiful thing about Frank is that he doesn’t ask questions. Just runs my card and hands it back without a murmur or even making eye contact. If only I could believe his clamped lips would stay that way. Except that Frank and my Uncle Lou are best buds. They gossip like teenage girls when they think nobody can hear them. And their hearing is going fast, both of them, so there’s no getting it through their thick heads that what they can’t hear, the rest of the island can.

Which is why I waited until the last minute to top up the boat, and to ask Lilah out… which I still haven’t done yet. The clock on my phone says I’d better get a move on. She’ll be starting her close-up routine in about twenty minutes. I hope she’s not too pissed that I’m not giving her days of warning. I want to make this special for her and having the entire island whispering is not my idea of fun. So short notice, but I’ve got a table at the best restaurant in Seattle, one where celebrities are commonplace and the service is practically invisible.

I’ve gone as slowly as I possibly can with her because she’s not a quick fuck and I want to make it clear to her that I’m after so much more than that. Plus, I’ll flatten the first person who suggests she’s anything but precious. I haven’t even kissed her yet, which is downright shocking when you consider that she’s been starring in every single one of my x-rated fantasies for the last six months.

Never thought I’d find someone like Lilah here, not in a million years. It took me a few months just to accept that she wasn’t a figment of my imagination. I’d pretty much expected to live out my days as a grumpy bachelor, much like Uncle Lou, and definitely not making long-term plans with someone as young as Lilah.

The age difference still makes me nervous. Most of the women I’ve encountered in their twenties couldn’t spend more than a minute or two on an actual conversation. And definitely not on one unrelated to diets, clothes, or sex interspersed with whatever the vacuous word of their generation happens to be. Admittedly, most of the ones I’ve encountered were somehow associated with the entertainment industry and desperately hoping to be discovered. But in my jaded opinion, once a woman gets into her thirties, she goes one of two ways and it’s wise to know which way she’s headed before getting involved, even platonically.

Either she sinks back into the bitchy rules of high school and ratchets that up several notches or she finds the nerve to shed that shit completely and finally speaks her mind. That latter group has the women I prefer to spend time with, even if it’s only for one night of mutual pleasure.

But Lilah’s got an old soul, an incredibly sharp mind, and the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen on a woman of any age. I want her attention on me for more than twenty minutes a day over a cup of coffee. Coffee I never used to drink in the afternoons, but what the hell else am I going to find as a regular excuse to visit the owner of a coffee shop when she’s free to chat?

I need more of her. I need all of her. And I want her to want more of me. I’d also like to be close enough to grab that ass first thing in the morning and sink my aching cock into her tight pussy before I make her coffee. Just thinking about her lounging naked in my bed, her caramel hair mussed while she closes her eyes over those first few sips, has me getting hard. I glance around the main cabin of the boat and take a quick peek in the head and the lounge below, just to make sure everything looks presentable. I haven’t had Bianca out for more than an engine check in months, so it might be a little dusty, but everything looks fine.

Time to put her back in her berth for a few hours and finally make a move on my girl.

Lilah

It’s almost closing time. I nervously smooth the skirt of my bright yellow summer dress down with damp hands. It’s a little late in the season for this outfit, but it’s one of my favorites and I cling to the reminder of warmer weather for as long as possible. Even if it means shivering slightly when the wind picks up off the harbor.

I make those same hands start gathering up the little ceramic boxes for sugar packets so I can refill them at the counter, ready for tomorrow. Shortly after I arrived on the island, I tried to introduce actual sugar bowls with less refined turbinado sugar, but there was basically a rebellion. Nobody wanted sweetener that didn’t come from a little paper packet. Not in this town. And they all, to a man, woman, and child, want their drinks as sweet as they can get away with. I go through a lot of sugar packets.

My hips swivel instinctively to the classic rock on the radio playing softly over the sound system while I stuff new packets into the thick, white containers.

But I digress. It’s not sugar that has me anxiously looking out the plate-glass door towards the harbor. I saw Todd’s lanky form heading purposefully towards the marina almost an hour ago. I don’t know if that means he’s skipping his usual afternoon coffee or stopping in for that on his way home. He’s… I can’t quite figure out how to describe him. He’s got that thing, where you instantly stop and turn when he comes into a room and yet he does absolutely nothing to command that attention.

Todd’s more intellectual than brash. I wouldn’t call him shy, not at all, but he’s… I guess he’s got more confidence than anyone I’ve ever met, so it doesn’t have to bleed into arrogance. He just is, and he accepts everyone else as they come. He doesn’t go out of his way to smile. Usually his face is somewhat stern and expressionless, but his eyes always seem warm to me. And how can eyes be any temperature? Surely that’s just my imagination attempting to entertain me.

Although Todd is definitely hot. Did I mention that? He’s not brawny or skinny, but that perfect spot in between. And graceful like a panther when he moves. I think he likes me, just a little, in a personal way. But I’ve been wrong about that kind of thing before, so I’m no judge. Just every now and then, I get a little hint. A tiny quirk of his lips as if he can’t help being amused by me or the light touch of his fingers as he takes his coffee cup. Sometimes his gaze seems to linger on my lips, which always makes me feel like I ought to say something clever.

But I can’t come on to a customer. I mean, I don’t think I’ve got the nerve to come on to anyone really, not without a lot of positive encouragement from the come-on-ee. But I really don’t want to make the wrong assumption if all he’s truly here for is the coffee and a little conversation to break up his day.

Of course, there is the way he keeps trying to tip with hundred-dollar bills, but always in a way that he thinks I won’t catch him at it. I’ll turn my back and he’ll try to slip a bill down into the bottom of the tip jar by the register. But seriously, who else in this town has that kind of money? Particularly in the off-season.

He was some kind of producer in LA or something like that, but you’d never know it from how he acts. He’s completely down to earth except for those damn hundred-dollar tips. Whenever I try to confront him, he gives me one of those disdainful looks with a raised eyebrow that has me feeling like I’ve made up something for an excuse to talk to him. But there’s always a muted twinkle in his eyes that invites me to share the joke. I’m so confused I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

I know he’s quite a bit older than my twenty-six years, but I kind of like that. I think that’s part of why he seems so in control without being anal. That confidence again. A man my age would be pushing for a date, then pushing for sex on the first date. I don’t think Todd’s like that. I’m positive he’s not lacking in that department, but I suspect he may favor quality over quantity. Or I’m completely off base and he’s got a wife and six kids on the mainland and isn’t interested in me at all. Sigh.

Of course, just as that thought hits, I see him striding straight down the sidewalk towards the Embraceable Brew (my aunt came up with that name, so don’t blame me). I hurriedly duck back behind the counter and try to act like I wasn’t staring down the street looking for him. I can’t hold back my smile though when he opens the door or stop myself from saying a cheerful, “Hiya.”

His rich brown eyes smile at me, but his face stays serious. “Hey, Lilah. I’m not too late, am I?”

“You? Never. I’m just keeping busy with the flood of customers.” I mock roll my eyes around the empty cafe. “You want your usual?”

“Sure, why not?” He opens his mouth like he’s about to add to that short sentence and I wait, my brows raised, one hand on the espresso machine. But a moment later, his perfect lips close again and he sort of shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. So I turn back to make his simple drink. Todd is the one customer that doesn’t dump sugar or syrup in his drinks, so they’re relatively quick to make.

“You don’t need to keep tipping like that, you know,” I scold him without turning around. I can see him in the shiny reflection of the stainless steel — well enough to follow his movements.

He just smiles politely when I finally turn around to see why he’s being so quiet. I half-expected guilt but… yeah, guess that’s not an emotion he spends much time with.

I hand him his drink and shake my head firmly when he reaches for his wallet. “Not on your life. You’ve got about six thousand more of those coming before you’re allowed to pay. And that’s only if you knock off those ridiculous tips.”

He rolls his eyes at me while leaning against the counter. I go back to basically pretending to wrap up for the afternoon. My right hand is still tingling where his fingers brushed it when I handed him his cup. I frantically remind myself that this is just a spot of light amusement in his afternoon. The butterflies in my stomach are just my normal reaction to his charisma. It’s not a relationship or about to turn into one. It’s just a hot older guy getting coffee every single day. A drink that he absently sips while his eyes track my movements around the bright interior of the coffee shop.

I inherited the place from my aunt a year ago. She had it built in an extra modern Northwest style, with lots of glass and heavy wood beams. It’s beautiful and takes a cleaning crew of three people at least four hours to keep those windows sparkling every week. I think it was more of a hobby for Aunt Nina than a bottom-line business, so I kind of doubt she factored in things like cleaning costs when she was planning it.

I’m unusually antsy with nerves for some reason, more so than normal when Todd’s here. So when my least favorite song in the world comes on the radio, I grimace and bend down to hit the off switch. I can’t take the song about a green-eyed witch (everyone knows they wanted to say bitch, really) on top of everything else.

“Not a UN fan, huh?” Todd asks with amusement from the counter.

I blink as I stand up. What does the United Nations have to do with… oh, he means the band. “Um no? Not really. A little before my time, but I hate that song with a passion.” And I’m so not part of their in-crowd as to use the shortened version of the band’s name Unspeakable Noise, despite all their cutesy album names that start with the acronym.

Todd’s looking at me a little funny when I finally stand up straight and turn towards him. Oh no, does he like that one? It doesn’t seem like his kind of thing at all. “My bus driver in third grade played it on an endless loop. Said it kept everyone in line,” I explain and his eyes widen.

“Wow. I hadn’t heard it was used as torture on small children.”

I smile in response. “Totally was. But I’m sure those guys don’t care anymore. They must be ancient by now. Probably chasing nurses half their age around the retirement home trying to recapture their youth.” I absently wipe down the counter one more time, trying to figure out why I’m so nervous. This isn’t any different from any other Friday when Todd’s stopped in, or any other weekday, for that matter. In the off-season, I close the coffee shop on the weekends. There just isn’t enough local traffic to justify keeping it open. And not nearly enough on the weekdays either. One more thing to worry about.

When I come around to the part of the counter where Todd is, he’s frowning down at his phone. “Everything okay?” I ask, wondering why he suddenly seems even more closed off.

He looks up, his eyes softening slightly as they meet mine. “Yeah, just realized I need to cancel an appointment, and it took me a minute to find the right spot on the site. Don’t know why people can’t talk to each other anymore.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Okay, I don’t, not really. Having a phone surgically attached to me has been a normal part of my life since middle school. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s a good idea or that I don’t understand the culture shock of previous generations that came to it later in life (and who I blame for inventing the darn things in the first place.)

“Can I help you put up the chairs for the cleaners?” Todd asks casually, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

“Have I ever said no?” I tease him gently. It’s not that it’s all that much work, but I appreciate having company with such a mundane end of the day chore.

He starts upending chairs onto the tabletops, leaving the floor clear for the solid mopping Kristy and her crew will deliver in a few hours. Todd manages two chairs for every one I do, so it’s all done in no time. I live in the tiny apartment over the back that I can access through the small office at the rear of the shop. So when all the chairs are up, Todd walks me to the front door and exits, giving me an oddly searching glance as he steps over the threshold. But as always, he waits for me to lock the door behind him. He read me the riot act one time when I didn’t do it right away, saying that was the time frame when someone was most likely to expect me to be alone and defenseless. He’s right, but this is Embrace Island, winter population of about 5,000 souls. It’s not exactly the center of a crime wave.

But I had to acknowledge Todd’s point that drug addiction spared no part of the country, rural or city, and a junkie on the island had fewer opportunities for more benign crimes to acquire cash. I didn’t enjoy the reality check, but I appreciated that he was more worried about me than about being polite. It’s nice that he cares. I just wish he would show that caring in a more personal, just for me, possibly naked kind of way. I sigh as I shut off the lights and head to the back, double checking that door is locked too and head upstairs to my little haven. Alone, just like always.

Todd

The narrow street nearest the harbor is mostly dark now, only illuminated by two dim streetlights on either end. Winter is moving in fast, which means the sun’s gone down long before the extra-curricular school bus does its meander around the island while parents wait at the end of driveways with welcoming flashlights. When I first moved back to the island, I thought it was some kind of weird religious ritual until someone explained it to me. I think my version is more poetic, and it’s still hanging at the back of my mind for some future project.

I linger at the corner until I see Lilah’s light come on at the rear of the building. I don’t like her living down here all by herself. None of the other shops or businesses have residential units attached, so it’s pretty empty once things close. And at this time of the year, half the businesses don’t bother opening at all. They’ll hibernate like bears and come roaring back to life in mid-April.

Lilah prides herself on her independence. She still hasn’t told me everything about how she came to be running a coffeehouse on Embrace Island, but what little she has shared points to courageous through and through.

There’s nothing to be gained by standing out here like a stalker at this point. I need to take a step back, reassess, and figure out a new path to my goal. It’s a contemplative walk back up the hill to my monstrosity of a house. The fact that I’m living in it is beyond ironic and reminds me of how foolish I was in my youth. When I was about the same age Lilah is now, I admit to myself with an eye roll. But she’d never have something like that built. She’s too smart and has far too good taste. I couldn't care less that she isn’t a UN fan, or that she hates the single that put us on top of the charts for a solid year and paid for the silly house. It’s not a particularly great song. When we’re really feeling honest, every member of the band can admit it’s sappy, over the top, teenage shit. Shit that continues to sell really, really well.

But I hadn’t taken into account that she doesn’t know who I am, even without the tattoos. Most of the lifelong residents know, but they don’t talk about it. Either because they remember me from the two years my mom and I lived with my uncle when I was a little kid or they overhear him talking at the top of his lungs about God knows what I’ve given him most recently ‘wasting my damn fool money’ and don’t want to get dragged into that.

I also hadn’t anticipated that she’d consigned me to the geriatric age group. There isn’t too much in common between the public image of the band’s lead singer and me, except there’s no denying we share a birthday. So even though Lilah didn’t associate me with the rock star persona, and a lot of off-islanders don’t without the ink, she flat out told me I was too old for her. Ancient doesn’t exactly imply someone she’s willing to date. So maybe I’ve misread the signals and let my ego see something that isn’t there? Damn it, I hate feeling like a cliché.

Whatever I saw in her eyes and reflected in her warm smile couldn’t be what I thought it was. Probably time I got my eyes checked for glasses. Fuck it all. I need to take a bigger step back because the last thing I want to do is pressure her into something she’s not completely enthusiastic about. And I’m really not clear on how to start the conversation that clues her in as to who I am away from the island without sounding like an ass and scaring her off. And all before someone else does it for me.

I trudge up the steepest part of the hill in the pitch dark, navigating half by memory and half by peculiarly good night vision. I’m distracted enough, though, that I almost miss the big pothole that the town refuses to fill in. I catch myself just in time, make a mental note to call someone to fix it since nobody else is going to care enough, and finally unlock the side door of my ridiculously flashy mansion. Alone. Not exactly the homecoming I was hoping for.

Find out what happens next!

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