A Totally Bound Publication
Flibbertigibbet
ISBN # 978-1-78430-055-5
©Copyright Willa Okati 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2014
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form,
whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of
the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound
Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs
and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator
of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road,
Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This
story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
Willa Okati
Is Donovan ready to leave routine behind and take a chance on a flirtatious flibbertigibbet?
Donovan thought he had his life all planned out. He knew where he was headed, and how
he’d get there. Might not have been the most exciting life, but it was safe. Sensible. Practical.
Just what he wanted.
That was before his house burned down in a freak accident. Now, Donovan’s life is all about
crash space on a friend’s houseboat and entertaining the antics of his new neighbour and
marina maintenance man Leaf. If Leaf ever takes anything seriously in his life, he shows no
signs of it. He’s loquacious, outrageous, and not even a little shy. Absolutely not the kind of
man Donovan had thought he’d fall for before he tipped head over heels for the
flibbertigibbet’s offbeat charm.
When it comes down to a choice between sensible and scandalous, is Donovan really ready
to leave routine behind and take the plunge into deep water?
Dedication
For S.J.B., who gives good advice.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Colgate: Colgate-Palmolive Company
iPod: Apple, Inc
Spidey sense: Marvel Comics
Clorox: The Clorox Company
Panic at the Disco: Panic at the Disco
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud: William Wordsworth
Good Ship Lollipop: Bright Eyes, Fox Film
Red Bull: Red Bull GmbH
Birkenstocks: Birkenstock Orthopädie GmbH & Co. KG
Pollyanna: Eleanor H. Porter
“You had me at hello”: Jerry Maguire, TriStar Pictures
Fred Flintstone: Hanna-Barbera
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
6
Chapter One
Donovan didn’t know what he’d expected from the marina, but this wasn’t it.
“You can’t get there from here?” He hitched the carrying strap of a bulging Army
surplus duffel higher on his shoulder and took two steps back from the edge of the dock to
better eye the Water Taxi sign above his head. At five foot three inches, Donovan was all too
accustomed to seeing the world at odd angles. “Seriously?”
The taxi driver laughed, hearty and easy. “You could try to swim, if you like,” he
suggested.
Donovan couldn’t make out much detail on the man, hidden as he was by the shadows
from his ball cap and the taxi’s canopy. Is it called a canopy, or something more nautical?
“It’s only about thirty yards, and the water’s right at sixty degrees. Nice and
refreshing.”
Honestly, he made it sound almost tempting. Slogging his duffel five blocks from the
nearest car park on an unseasonably warm day had left Donovan sticky with sweat. Short-
cropped wisps of hair stuck to his forehead and temples.
On the other hand, the distinct possibility of drowning.
The taxi driver cracked a broad, white grin at Donovan. Surely he had more teeth than
the average man. Either that or a second job as a walking Colgate advertisement. Good thing
he did stand in the shadows—otherwise, he might have put someone’s eye out with that
gleam. “Five bucks, one way.”
Donovan winced as he reached for his wallet. He might have five dollars in there if he
searched every card slot for forgotten laundry money. “Highway robbery, isn’t it?”
“Waterway robbery, more like,” the driver said with a carefree shrug. He winked at
Donovan. Leaf, said the name tag pinned crookedly to the left side of his sleeveless muscle
shirt, just over the marina’s logo. “Tell you what, though. I’m headed back over there
anyway. I could give you a lift instead of a fare this once. Our secret.”
Who would I tell? Donovan wanted to ask, but didn’t. Better to shut up and say thank
you. These days, he had to count every penny and squeeze each dollar until it squeaked. He
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7
picked up the knapsack he’d rested at his feet as a counterweight for his larger duffel and
stepped carefully across the eight inches or so of open water between dock and taxi. He
wasn’t at his best when it came to deep water. “Appreciate it. I’ll pay you double some other
time.”
“Not a problem.” Leaf swung the taxi’s half-door shut and took off his ball cap to wave
it in front of his face. He’d had a tumble of black curls hidden under there, offsetting
surprisingly severe eyebrows and cheekbones the likes of which Donovan’s female friends
would have cheerfully killed for.
Sweet Lord have mercy. Donovan mentally bit his fist. All that and full lips, too, as well as
a pointed chin and a sharp arrow of a nose that Leaf lifted to sniff the air.
“D’you smell smoke?”
And there went the bubble, bursting open with a tiny, disappointed pip! that reminded
Donovan of why he was there in the first place.
“I smell of smoke,” Donovan said. “House burned down a few weeks ago. I still haven’t
got it out of the stuff I salvaged.”
“Ooh.” Leaf whistled and threw Donovan a grimace of sympathy. “Tough break.”
“Yeah, well…” Donovan shrugged uncomfortably. “I lived. Can’t ask for much more
than that, can I?”
“I don’t know. I think you could ask for a hell of a lot more. Like your house not
burning down in the first place, for one.” Leaf waved backward at the taxi’s three rows of
utilitarian plastic bucket seats. “Sit anywhere you like. It’s not as if I’m full up. Or you could
stand right where you are—I promise I won’t let you tip overboard—and pass the time of
day.”
Wait. What? “Are you flirting with me?” Donovan asked, taken wrong-footed. “Me?”
Leaf’s white smile widened further still, which Donovan would previously have
thought an impossibility. It should have looked odd, or a bit like a lean timber wolf who’d
just spotted a particularly tasty morsel wandering by, but it didn’t. “Why not you? You seem
like an interesting sort. I can always spot the ones with good stories to tell. I’ve got an eye for
it. Also, sorry if you think it was, but the way you’re looking at me isn’t exactly subtle.”
Oh hell. Yes, he’d been looking, but not looking. Absolutely not looking. On purpose.
Much.
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
8
See, here was the thing—while thirty years old might be a bit early for a mid-life crisis
and a profound need to reassess his priorities, from where Donovan stood—over the ashes of
his former home—it might be none too early to take a step back and try to wrestle out a
measure of control over his life.
To be master of my destiny and captain of my fate. Or is it the other way around?
Whichever. The quote didn’t matter. Intent, on the other hand, did, despite the loud
wail from a small and unhappy piece of Donovan’s lizard brain. He would almost certainly
hate himself for this later, but… “Are you going to drop-kick me off the boat if I say I’d better
not? It’s just that it’s a bad time right now, and—”
Leaf laughed, a bright and happy sound, stopping Donovan in his verbal tracks. In his
experience, that wasn’t at all the usual sort of response to rejection. “Calm down. If you’re
not interested, you’re not interested. Though now I really am curious about your story. I’ll
probably get it out of you if you stick around for a while. Are you?”
Donovan had the oddest feeling that he’d missed something there. He cleared his
throat. “I’m staying on my friend Eve’s boat until the claims agents get through with their
business.”
“So, a few years?”
“If they have their way? Yes.”
“Tsk. Damn the establishment, anyway.” Leaf finished motoring the putt-putting water
taxi into place at the end of the marina’s dock. He tied it off with good strong ropes, then
hopped out quick as a wink to offer Donovan a hand up. “When you want to head back, just
give me a shout. If I’m not here, I’ll come when I’m called.”
Weird guy, Donovan thought. Weird, weird guy.
Cute, though.
Eve waited for Donovan near the far end of the long floating dock. She waved
cheerfully to him, beckoning him on with one hand while she jiggled a lump of sleeping baby
strapped to her chest with the other. Donovan waved back to indicate that he’d be there as
soon as possible. Which, on a dock like this, wasn’t very soon at all. While logic told him the
dock had to be as sturdy and secure as an armoured car, his legs refused to believe the
information coming from his brain.
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9
Again, Donovan hadn’t known what to expect—he hadn’t been able to make it to the
housewarming party Eve and her then fiancé Tanner had thrown when they’d bought their
live-aboard boat—but reality did not match his imaginings. Sturdiness aside, the dock was
plenty wide, with room enough for at least two or three people to walk abreast, but
surprisingly cluttered on either side with neat coils of line, potted plants, folded deckchairs,
and the occasional charcoal grill.
Still, surprisingly…nice. The deck’s boards were a homey shade of honeyed pine, and
spotlessly clean. Houseboats bobbed companionably side by side in the gentle ebb and flow
of the tide. The potted plants were fragrantly green and floral, bright red geraniums and
dappled violets and even a few sunflowers.
He’d lived in apartments far less welcoming. If overall drier.
Eve greeted Donovan in her customary style, wrapping one arm around his neck and
dragging him down into a firm hug. Yes, down. She only stood four feet eleven in flat shoes.
Which might or might not have been the reason they’d struck up a friendship in the first
place, way back when. Vertically challenged solidarity, oorah! “There you are, finally,” she said
as she squished him. “I’d started to wonder if you’d got lost.”
Donovan took care not to squash the contents of the baby carrier, peacefully snoring
away. Looked like the little man had inherited his father’s calm, nearly somnolescent
personality. Good for him. And for Tanner too, probably. “Got a later start than I’d wanted.
The insurance adjuster called and took up nearly half an hour arguing the fine print on my
policy.”
“Any luck?”
Donovan wrinkled his nose. “Luck, in a conversation with an insurance company?”
“Good point.” Eve patted Donovan’s back. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you
want. And don’t you dare ask me again about rent, understood?”
Understood, yes. Accepted, no. It wasn’t that Donovan didn’t appreciate crash space
while the insurance company decided on the eventual fate of his living situation. God, did he
appreciate it. But before this whole fiasco, Donovan knew Eve and Tanner had started
making noises about selling the boat to help bolster their post-kid budget. They’d need the
money, and now. As soon as someone took pity and cut him a cheque, he’d pay them back.
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
10
“Just down here, Donovan.” Eve guided his steps. “This one. The Knotty Boy. Don’t
laugh.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Donovan said, almost virtuously, and almost believably. He
hoped. To distract himself from what looked—to him—like a miniature trailer with floaty
bits, he shot a curious look back over his shoulder. Leaf had tucked his curls back up in his
cap and set to work with what looked like a power washer, blasting away at the deck.
“Question first, actually. I just met the strangest guy driving the water taxi—”
Eve dimpled. “Let me guess. Leaf?”
“Unless he stole someone else’s name tag.”
“Six feet or so of utter gorgeous?”
“That’d be the one. No, stop that, stay there.” Donovan hopped, crabwise and
awkward, over the slight rise and fall of the boat’s side and attempted to steady it while he
helped Eve step down. “Careful. I don’t want to think of what Tanner would do to me if I let
you and Junior go for a swim. Does he even know you’re here?”
“Yes, he knows, and ugh, you’re as bad as him. I’ve been sailing since I was younger
than this one.” Eve tugged her son’s tiny knit hat further down to shade his eyes, and let hers
twinkle at Donovan. “So. Leaf, hmm?”
“Leaf, hmm,” Donovan said, bland as porridge. “Seems like an…interesting sort of
guy.”
“Isn’t he just? Still, I don’t know too much about him,” Eve said as she led the way
across the deck. “Just that he took the maintenance man position a few months ago, and he’s
very, very pretty.” She frowned in deliberation. “I’m not sure he’s got a lot on the ball,
though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well…” Eve crinkled her button nose. “He’s sort of flighty, isn’t he? Like he never
quite grew up. Like he chose not to. Which is okay when you’re just starting out, sure, but I
get the feeling he’d be happy to bop around without a care for the rest of his life.”
Donovan had no trouble believing her. He watched Leaf coil up the power washer and
remove his cap to pat his forehead with the bandana that had been tied around his neck.
Finished with that, he stretched those long arms towards the crystal sky and arched his back.
“Damn,” Donovan said under his breath.
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11
“Ooh.” Eve absently covered the little man’s eyes with one hand as she drew up short.
“If I wolf-whistled, do you think he’d hear me?”
“Probably. And what are you doing, ogling? You’re a married woman.”
“Please. Tanner ogles Leaf,” Eve said in blithe dismissal. “Who wouldn’t? Even if Leaf’s
a little flaky, you’ve got to admit he’s a beautiful, beautiful man.”
Isn’t he just? And weirdly nice. And apparently very good with his hands. And not
burdened with near-sightedness or astigmatism. He must have sensed Donovan staring, but
even now it didn’t seem to bother him. Rather, he waved and grinned at Donovan across the
distance.
Flighty? That’d be one word for it, Donovan supposed…
“Donovan?”
While Donovan was distracted, Eve had opened a sliding door that led into the heart of
the boat and stepped inside. She peeked her head back out and giggled at Donovan as if
reading every last one of his dirty, dirty thoughts. Marriage and motherhood hadn’t exactly
changed her.
“I think I have a deckchair if you’d like to watch the show. On the other hand, if we
take too long the little man might wake up, and he wakes up hungry. Which means I’d have
to feed him, and…”
Donovan scrambled inside on the double, Eve’s girlish laughter following him all the
way.
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
12
Chapter Two
Half an hour later, Donovan had the keys to the Knotty Boy in hand, and the whole of
the boat to himself. The baby had not woken, for which they could all count themselves truly
grateful.
He turned in a slow semicircle one way then the other, taking it in. This is your life. At
least until the insurance adjusters cut him a cheque and he could afford to rent a new place.
He wouldn’t be able to buy a new house. He’d have to save for years to give home
ownership another try.
You could ask for a lot more than that. Leaf’s voice echoed in Donovan’s memory.
Donovan frowned, trying to push it aside but with little effect. He honestly didn’t think he
asked for too much out of life. A place to hang his hat. A nice bed to sleep in. A good job. Not
too much at all, he’d say, but lately it seemed somehow that if a thing could go wrong, it did.
Gleefully. With abandon.
At least he’d had time off from work coming to him, carefully accrued only to be
wasted in lavish handfuls now. Which was fine, Donovan told himself. He’d rebel. Fuck the
police, and look out world, here I come.
Grand statement made, he waited for the world to acknowledge the bravery of his
gesture.
Crickets.
It figured, really.
God, good thing he was short, wasn’t it? If Donovan stretched his arms out to their full
length, he could very nearly touch both walls in the U-shaped kitchen. No, wait. Galley. Was it
called a galley on a houseboat, or did that only apply in open water? Donovan had no idea
how Tanner, a full foot taller than his wife, managed down here. Probably had to hunch over
and walk sideways. A man as even-tempered as Tanner might make a go of it. Fifteen
minutes of that and Donovan would have started muttering about the bells, the bells!
A bell set no less than three feet from his ear pealed a joyous squeal. Donovan almost
touched the ceiling at the apex of his startled jolt upward. “Jesus Christ!”
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13
“Sorry, no. Though I’m flattered.” Leaf leaned around the side of the open deck door,
his laughing mug alight with amusement. “Eve told me you’re staying here for a while. Good
for you. It’s amazing, this place. Brought you this.” He waved a bushy red and green thing at
Donovan.
Donovan was still trying to tuck his heart firmly back in his chest behind his ribs where
it belonged. “What?” he wheezed.
“Housewarming gift.” Leaf stopped using the potted plant as a pompom long enough
to let Donovan see for himself. Geranium petals fluttered and drifted down to the deck. “Mr.
Tecks down the way lets me use his greenhouse to get them started out of season. Nice,
aren’t they?”
They were, actually. Donovan didn’t know if he’d ever seen a geranium so lush or
fragrant this far out of season. Even with the collateral damage from enthusiasm, there were
enough petals left to sink his nose into and breathe deeply. “You didn’t have to do that,” he
said, because of course that was a perfectly acceptable thank you. Sometimes he wondered if
he’d be better off just using sign language.
Leaf didn’t seem to mind. “Looks like there’s space on the windowsill if you want to
put it there,” he said cheerfully, letting himself in. Three steps took him to the window above
the sink, where he’d nudged aside half of Eve’s trinkets and bric-a-brac to make space before
asking, “If that’s all right?”
It didn’t matter now, Donovan supposed, and nothing was broken. “Yeah, go ahead. Do
you want some coffee?” One thing Eve, he and Tanner all had in common was a deep
appreciation for good quality Joe. Donovan had to bend at an odd, chiropractic-unfriendly
angle to dig in the freezer, but it was worth the effort to find a bag of not too old Blue
Mountain beans nestled inside. Heaven.
“Sure, yeah,” Leaf said. “You can even give me decaf if you want. Most people ask if I
wouldn’t rather. Is that light bulb burned out?”
“What?” Donovan paused in his search for an outlet to plug the kettle into for the sake
of watching Leaf scramble, great clunking boots and all, to clamber on top of the neatly set
dinette table then unscrew a light fixture and poke around in its guts. “Careful!”
“Not much fun in that, but all right.” Leaf clicked his tongue. “Answer me this—how
many maintenance men does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
14
“No idea,” Donovan said. “How many?”
“One, if the newbie will grab him a box of spares.” Leaf winked at him. Good God, the
things he could do with a wink. Some men couldn’t get that much come-hither packed into
the verbal offer of a blow job, free of charge. “Most people keep them in that little cabinet
above the vent fan. Would you mind?”
“Only if you promise to not break your neck monkeying around up there. Seriously.”
“I’ll do my best, darlin’.”
No one had called Donovan darling since he was an appropriate age to match his height.
He shook his head, amazed, as he handed up the box of bulbs. “I don’t think I have decaf, or
I’d be tempted.”
Leaf chortled as if that were actually funny. Strange, strange guy. “So, I warned you I’d
ask. I think I warned you. Did I? Anyway, I can tell you’re into me. As I, might I add, think I
could get into you. So what’s holding you back?”
Donovan needed a second to parse through that stream of consciousness. He gave up
somewhere around the third sentence fragment. “Come again?”
“Haven’t come the first time, gorgeous, but I’d be willing to remedy that if you were.”
He chuckled and wrinkled his nose when Donovan cringed. “Yeah, sorry. That sounded a lot
smoother in my head. Let me try again. You’re not looking for love right now. Why’s that?”
Why indeed? Donovan thought blankly. “I’m just not. That should be enough answer for
anyone.”
“Yeah, but… I mean, take me out of the equation. It’s not right for someone to just lock
themselves away from the world. Is that what you’re trying to do here?”
Donovan clamped his teeth tightly together. He shook his head.
“Huh,” Leaf said. “So that brings me back to my original question. Why?”
“I need a retreat. A chance to get my head on straight,” Donovan said. He hadn’t meant
to. He’d intended something sharper and better phrased, but Leaf had a way of fingering his
buttons that made their circuits misfire. “I can’t do that if I’m playing shipboard romance. Do
you see what I mean?”
“Sort of.” Leaf furrowed his forehead. Bless him, he did seem to be putting in the effort.
He leaned at a slightly dangerous angle to study Donovan more intently. “I guess I just don’t
see the sense in it. Privacy to lick your wounds and all, that I can understand, but it seems to
Willa Okati
15
me like mostly what happens when people are alone is they overthink all the things that are
actually pretty simple.”
Donovan’s head hurt after that little speech. “It really isn’t that simple at all.”
“You’d be surprised. I see a lot of life, working behind the scenes as I do. When people
don’t notice you, you hear the most astounding things.”
“Like people don’t notice you first thing, as pretty as you are.”
Leaf’s grin blazed. “So you think I’m pretty. Good to know.”
Donovan would have bet half his insurance payment that his face burned brighter—and
certainly hotter—than Leaf’s smile. “Pretty goofy, maybe. Coffee coming up,” he muttered,
turning aside. He located what he guessed to be an appropriate plug for the percolator and
slid prongs into the socket.
Miiistaaake.
A snap, a crackle and a pop—as well as a shower of sparks—flew from the outlet.
Donovan yelped, covering his face just in time to catch the sparks on his knuckles, not his
nose.
“Whoa!” Leaf, abruptly there with one leap from tabletop down to deck, wrapped his
hand in a dishcloth and tweaked the coffeemaker’s plug out of the wall. He laughed. “That
was nearly bad, wasn’t it?”
Donovan stood rooted to the spot, staring. His hand stung from the few sparks that’d
landed on his knuckles. “What. The. Hell?”
“You overloaded the circuit,” Leaf said with another of his signature devil-may-care
shrugs. He licked his thumb and tested the slightly scorched outlet, which couldn’t have
been safe. Fairly or unfairly, he did not electrocute himself. “Good thing I was here. Could
have got nasty otherwise.”
“I could have set the boat on fire?”
“It happens.” Leaf wadded the dishcloth into a ball and sent it sailing across the kitchen
into a hamper. “Sorry. I had dirt on my hands and didn’t notice.”
“I could have set the boat on fire,” Donovan repeated numbly.
“Well, yeah. Most of the Knotty Boy is fiberglass, from the looks of it, but there’s plenty
of wood and— Oh. Oh, hell.” Leaf blanched beneath his tan. “God, but I’ve got a knack for
putting my foot in my mouth. I am so sorry, you have no idea.”
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
16
A six-foot-tall man shrivelling in a heap of embarrassment should not have been
adorable. Especially now. Donovan firmly stamped on the thought and shoved it aside and
was not, repeat, not moved to the urge to apologise a few dozen times for invoking horror
and shame in those wide brown eyes. Leaf could have given puppies lessons, but if Donovan
couldn’t stand fast on this, what chance did he have of getting his life straightened out?
“Leaf, look…” he started, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re nice, all right? And
gorgeous.”
“And feeling as if I’m being damned with faint praise,” Leaf said, eyebrows drawing
together in a perplexed point.
“Well, you’re not very good at taking a hint, are you?” Donovan regretted the words
the moment he’d spoken them, but once they were out, there was no taking them back.
“Look, any other time, any other place, and I’d… But right now, I’m just not interested,” he
said lamely into the silence. “And you were the one singing out the ‘live and let live’
philosophy in the water taxi.”
“Huh.” Leaf let out a short, percussive breath. He looked more annoyed than hurt now,
which was something at least. Easier to put one’s foot down if one had a reason to. “In other
words, ‘Thanks for the flowers and the household help, now off you go, and don’t let the
door hit you where the Good Lord split you’?”
“I wouldn’t have put it that way,” Donovan said, stung. The Good Lord had done
damned good work with Leaf. It’d be a shame to cause an ass like his any careless damage.
“I’m only trying to be nice, Donovan, not jump your bones in the middle of the salon.”
Probably—almost certainly—true, and being reminded of it hardly helped pour oil on
troubled waters. “I meant it when I said this was a bad time. It hasn’t got any better in the
fifteen minutes since I told you so.” Donovan had to wriggle his shoulders to shake off the
uncomfortable creeping feeling that he ought to have added a bah, humbug on the end of that
speech for the sake of literary symmetry. “You mind taking yourself off before I end up
digging the hole any deeper? Because I warn you, I will.”
“Somehow, I don’t doubt it,” Leaf said. “You seem like the type.”
“You can’t say you weren’t warned,” Donovan said, suddenly almost too tired to stay
on his feet. Forget the coffee. All he wanted now was a hot shower, if such a thing was
possible onboard, and a nap. Shake the day off and wake up with a mental reset. “I just…”
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“Donovan, you don’t have to keep explaining, I’m not going to break down and cry,”
Leaf said, giving him a you’re adorable sort of look. He’d shrugged off his mild pique so easily
that Donovan had to wonder if the man was pulling his leg. Hard to tell. “I’m a big boy, and
really, I’m not as thin-skinned as all that.”
Maybe not, Donovan thought as Leaf reached over to give him a friendly knuckle in the
shoulder. “If you’re sure.”
“Sure as sure can be.”
How sure was that, exactly? Donovan wondered. He had a feeling that once again, he’d
missed something he’d regret the missing of later.
“No hard feelings, angel face, honest,” Leaf said. “But watch what you plug in where,
would you?” He brushed crumbs of dirt neatly off the dinette table and cast them off through
the open sliding door. “If you need any help, the marina phone is this white one mounted
right here. I’m on call all weekend. See you around, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Donovan said, watching Leaf amble out of the cabin, off the boat, and up onto
the dock.
He almost called Leaf back, then. Almost.
He didn’t. Leaf might be beautiful, and tempting, and bizarrely very sweet, but the last
thing Donovan needed was a crazy gypsy bobbing around in his life. He had a plan, and by
God he’d stick to it or die trying.
Or rupture something from the overload of sexual frustration. Also a possibility.
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
18
Chapter Three
The night was a time for reflection. For weighing the day in the balance and, if one was
lucky, turning over and cuddling into the arms of Morpheus without a care in the world.
Or, in Donovan’s case, staring at the ceiling of a friend’s houseboat at two a.m. as he
had done since he’d woken up to take a piss around midnight and barked his shin trying to
find his way back to the strange V-shaped bed in the bow.
Donovan blew out a long breath and reached up to tap curiously at the low ceiling of
the berth. Boats moved. Strange as it might seem, he hadn’t considered that. And while he
could see himself getting used to the slow, rocking movement eventually, at the moment it
reminded him of being young and vulnerable.
As opposed to thirty years old and horny enough to pop his seams. And, really?
Enhanced appetites were natural enough after escaping a life and death situation. However,
Donovan had moved past the point of a realistic excuse for growing a fine crop of hair on his
palms, and into the realms of psychological priapism.
Donovan punched his pillow, growled, then flopped over to starfish out on his belly.
He’d taken this time off work with the intention of getting his head on straight again, and by
God, that was what he’d do.
Hopefully. Sooner rather than later. Eventually.
Donovan scratched his forearm just above the tiny red mark left by a flying spark. Fuck
it. Fine. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon. Might as well go up on deck and
breathe the clean, fresh air. With any luck, he might even fall overboard. Sixty-degree water
sounded just about right for cooling his overheated blood.
* * * *
Eve kept aloe plants on the dockside bit of her houseboat. At least Donovan thought
they were aloe. Steadying himself on the edge of the boat, he pinched a bit off one fat, juicy
stem and rubbed the drop of fluid it released between his fingers. Not exactly helpful in
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addressing the need to get busy with life-affirming activity, but on the other hand, absolutely
lovely on the sore sting where sparks had landed.
He splayed his fingers wide to assess the damage. Either it’d help, or he’d just given
himself ricin poisoning. What next? he asked himself, exasperated.
Apparently, humming.
Two a.m., when all the neighbours Donovan had steadfastly ignored during their
comings and goings in the after-work hours were tucked up sound asleep—who decided it
was the perfect time for a spot of deck maintenance? Donovan shook his head, marvelling at
the sight of Leaf trundling contentedly down the line of boats. He’d plugged himself into an
iPod turned up so loud that Donovan could hear the throaty thud of a serious bass line.
He cocked an eyebrow, grinned, and waved at Donovan.
Now, after an awkward encounter such as they’d shared earlier in the day, anyone else
Donovan could have named would have drawn the line right there. Waved, smiled, nodded,
proved to karma that they were a nice person, and moved on. Not so Leaf. He popped his
earbuds out and draped the cord around his neck. “I figured you’d be a night owl.”
Donovan started to correct him, then stopped. He hadn’t been a witching-hour
gadabout since college… But that hadn’t been by choice. Early to bed and early to rise was a
habit all too easy to fall into. Sensible and practical.
Standing on the dock of the bay, he had the uncomfortable thought that it might also be
boring as hell.
“Mind if I sit?” Leaf dropped carelessly, casually down to sit on the edge of the pier
with his feet dangling over the water. He patted his pockets and made a small noise of
triumph as he pulled out a crumpled half-packet of cigarettes.
“Seriously?” Donovan asked.
“Long day,” Leaf said. “Come on, Donovan. You can’t spend the rest of your life
flinching every time you see an open flame.”
Donovan felt suddenly a lot less awful about his earlier rudeness.
Leaf didn’t notice. “Oh. Wait, sorry. Do you mind because of health reasons? I’ll put
them away if that’s the problem.”
Donovan gave up. Leaf had a point, and they were out in the open. “Just don’t set
yourself on fire.”
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“I’ll do my best, darlin’.” Leaf lit a bent cigarette with such apparent enjoyment, closing
his eyes and breathing out misty curls of smoke, that it made Donovan’s fingers itch for a hit.
And he’d never smoked once in his life. “God, that’s better.” He reached down to pull off his
shoes and toss them behind himself on the dock. “Now I can think. If you’re not a night owl
regularly, what’s got you up and wandering around here in the wee small hours?”
Donovan could have answered that. Leaf seemed like the sort of man who wouldn’t ask
if he didn’t actually care.
“Better not to get into it,” Donovan said in an attempt to swerve. “I’m sick of hearing it,
and I’m the one living it.”
Leaf snorted an undignified sort of laugh. “Fair enough. I’m guessing it’s got to do with
your house burning down and all, though?”
“Didn’t you just say ‘fair enough’?”
“‘Fair enough’, indicating I wouldn’t make you talk about it.” Leaf used his cigarette as a
teacher would a pointer, drawing arcs like dancing fireflies through the night air. “But I’m a
curious kind of guy, and I sort of have trouble knowing when to leave well enough alone.”
“You don’t say.”
“But I do say.” Leaf’s grin shone white in the moonlight. “Mostly I just go ahead and
keep talking. People either get pissed with me, or they open up. No skin off my nose either
way.”
Donovan thought Leaf meant that, too. He’d never met anyone quite like Leaf before.
Leaf savoured a long drag on his cigarette, inspiring in Donovan a keen awareness of a
vital difference between them—Leaf made pensive look good. “Must turn your world upside
down and inside out when the place where you were supposed to be safe goes up in a puff of
smoke. I can’t imagine it, but your face when you blew that circuit earlier, Jesus. It looked for
a second like your heart might have stopped. I could have kicked myself around the block for
that.” He blew a stream of smoke away from Donovan. “What was it like, getting out?
Awful?”
“Awful?” Donovan looked down, oddly mesmerised by the play of light over beads of
water on the high arches of Leaf’s nimble feet. “Awful’s one word for it, yeah.”
Leaf watched him through the smoke. “What are the other words?”
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Donovan rubbed at his forehead. “Mostly four-letter. The worst bit is the way your
mind goes blank. You’re reduced to your most basic self. The bit of you that wants to survive,
and doesn’t give a fuck how that happens as long as it does happen.”
Leaf’s cigarette smouldered, forgotten. “Hell, Donovan.”
“No kidding.” Donovan sat up straight and tried to roll the weight off his shoulders.
“So I’m a little sensitive about fire. You follow that better now?”
“Just a bit, yeah.” Leaf whistled. He shed his sombre mien far more easily, retaining just
enough to make Donovan wish he was smiling instead. “You’re a tough bastard, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” Donovan said in all honesty.
“So says you. Mind if I come on board? My feet are freezing now.” Leaf raised his knees
and lifted himself with his arms in an odd sort of seated push-up. Donovan saw what he
meant to do—throw himself onboard with one push—and saw exactly what would happen
one second too late to stop Leaf.
Splash.
Leaf broke the surface of the water hooting with laughter. “Oh my fuck, that’s cold!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Donovan draped himself over the gunwale,
regardless of any poky bits that might jab him in the stomach, and made a grab for Leaf’s
arm. Leaf came willingly, clinging like a limpet. Between Donovan’s sturdy bracing on the
deck and Leaf’s long limbs, they managed to swing him onto the deck. Donovan was nearly
as wet as Leaf by the time Leaf thumped down on terra comparatively firma. “You could
have drowned.”
“Not likely,” Leaf scoffed. “I know how to swim. And I bet I don’t smell like smoke
now.”
“You didn’t do that on purpose—”
“Nah. Just a happy coincidence.” Leaf shook water out of his hair, spraying Donovan
with cold droplets. “Oops. Got a towel?”
Sometimes, the wisest move was to roll with the crazy. Donovan fetched Leaf a towel.
The only one he could find had been left to sun-dry who knew how long ago on a deckchair,
but it didn’t smell bad. If Leaf minded the scratchiness of the terry he gave no indication. He
scrubbed the towel over his sopping-wet curls until they stood up in a crazed halo on top
and dripped water down his neck in the back.
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“That explains the testiness, anyway. I’d have a hell of a chip on my shoulder, too, if I’d
gone through all that,” he said in between passes of the towel. “I’d probably have punted
myself off the deck before, if I’d known all the details.”
“Not enough leverage. You’re too tall. And you went and did it for me in the end,
anyway.”
“Bonus,” Leaf said cheerfully. Nothing squashed him for long, did it? “At least now I
understand better why you say you’re not looking.”
“And I’m not. I’m really not.” Even now, Donovan wasn’t. He might go so far as to say
that he liked Leaf more than a little now that he’d blown off some steam. If pressed to it, he
could even say that he wanted to see what that clever, crazy mouth was like when it came to
kissing and being kissed.
If compelled to be honest, he would admit that want wasn’t quite a strong enough
word. He craved Leaf like a hit of pure oxygen. His hands itched, wanting to caress Leaf’s
clear, smooth, dark-ivory skin.
Donovan restrained himself. Barely. “I’m pretty sure I’ll regret this when I look back on
it in ten years’ time, but…”
But. The all-important but. Donovan had to take the long view, and Leaf wasn’t the kind
of guy who’d help anyone get their head on straight.
“No hard feelings,” Donovan said. “All right?”
“Hmm,” Leaf said, unhelpful but once again impressively pretty in his thoughtfulness.
He sat with his back against the side of the boat and stretched his legs out before him. He
crossed his arms behind his head and leaned into the interlaced cradle of his fingers.
Donovan waited for it. Whatever notions were tumbling around in that mad, curly
head, he’d bet they were worth a bit of patience. At the very least they’d be interesting.
“Right,” Leaf said at last. “Here’s the thing. You’re not looking for any complications.”
“Correct,” Donovan said.
“Which is fine. Understandable.” Leaf patted his pockets absently before—Donovan
assumed—remembering that his cigarettes were soaking wet. Odd, that. He hadn’t seemed
inclined to chain-smoke earlier. Undaunted, he grinned at Donovan. “But could you do with
another friend?”
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Donovan took his time to chew that over. Quite possibly the very last thing he’d
expected. “Depends. Are you thinking of introducing me to someone, or are you offering
yourself?”
“I was thinking about my trusted business associate the Prince of Peoria. Myself, dozy.”
“I can honestly say that’s not an approach anyone’s ever taken with me before.”
“What, calling you dozy?” Leaf dodged Donovan’s half-hearted swipe at him. “I’ll take
that as a yes, by the way.”
Donovan propped his chin on his hand. “Wouldn’t stop you if it was a no, would it?”
“Probably not,” Leaf said. He resettled himself into a more comfortable-looking
position, though Donovan knew from experience that there was no world in which
comfortable and wet denim could possibly coexist. “But it’s not a no, is it?”
“It’s not a no.” Donovan shook his head. “All right, then. Friends. Do you want to shake
on it, or are you going somewhere else with this?”
“Somewhere a little different, yeah.” In a display of rather more agility than the
aforementioned wet denim ought to have allowed him, Leaf swung his legs around and got
himself on all fours. Given the small amount of open deck space, the end result had him
popping up bare inches away from Donovan’s face. “Hello.”
How about that? He didn’t smell like smoke now. Not enough to notice.
“What are you doing?” Donovan asked, surprised-soft.
“Being a good friend,” Leaf said, and kissed him.
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Chapter Four
Leaf’s lips were soft and smooth and tasted of the last remnants of cherry lip balm. He
didn’t push for more than a slow, easy brush of their mouths, though he lingered there until
Donovan’s lips moved almost of their own accord, returning the whisper of pressure. “There.
That’s better already,” he said. “Now get some sleep. I promise the world will look better in
the morning.”
“If I don’t fall off the boat and drown during the middle of the night.”
“Negative little bastard, aren’t you?” Leaf asked, almost—and peculiarly—fondly. He
lifted his hand to cup Donovan’s cheek. “Lighten up a little, man. Stop slapping your own
hand away before you’ve even reached for the cookie.”
Donovan snorted. “You do have a way with words.”
“It’s a gift.” Leaf touched one more kiss to his forehead. “Get some sleep.”
* * * *
Sleep, he’d said? Not likely.
Donovan checked the time on the galley clock. Or that had been the intention. The clock
had numbers, but the hands were broken. It still worked—he could hear ticking clockwork in
its mechanical guts—but how one was meant to figure out what time it might be remained a
mystery even after a good long stare.
Therefore, Eve could hardly blame Donovan for an eleventh-hour phone call. Or dawn,
as the case might be. Approaching dawn. Approaching dawn fairly quickly, actually—he
might as well stay up, now, and get started with his day.
And give Eve a call. Donovan studied the coffeemaker dubiously as he dialled and
cradled the phone between ear and shoulder. He unplugged everything else he could safely
detach from the relevant power source, crossed his fingers and prayed.
Nothing caught on fire. So far, so good.
“What’s wrong?” Eve said when she picked up.
“Does something have to be wrong for me to give you a call?”
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“Not usually, but my Spidey senses have been tingling. Hold on just a second? The
boys are asleep, and I don’t want to wake them.”
Donovan heard rustling fabric noises as Eve picked her way out of bed. Donovan
politely pretended not to hear the smooching sound that accompanied her whispering to
Tanner to get some more sleep. Partly out of manners, and partly because he could still feel
the ghost of Leaf’s kiss.
The coffeemaker growled at Donovan. He hastily tweaked the plug out of its socket.
“I’m here,” Eve said. “Let’s try this again, Donovan. Maybe nothing’s wrong, but
something’s going on. You wouldn’t call me at this time otherwise. You’d still be asleep.”
Donovan…hesitated. Listening to Eve and to Tanner reminded him of what he’d come
out here meaning to do. What he’d wanted, somewhere down the line. Something like what
they shared. Something grown-up and sweet and affectionate. Leaf managed ‘sweet’ just
fine, and he didn’t do badly at ‘affectionate’ in his own tweaked way, but ‘grown-up’?
Unfortunately, no.
“Nothing that isn’t better for having spoken to you,” Donovan said. A shameless stroke
to the ego never failed to help in the soothing of savage beasts. Eve, about as savage as a
bunny rabbit, cooed with pleased appreciation.
Well done.
So of course, he followed that up by blurting, “Is that Leaf guy an actual human being
or an alien or is he just nuts?”
Eve’s laughter bubbled across the distance like sweet mocha into a carafe.
* * * *
So, that’d gone well. What were you thinking? No, really. After a two-hour nap and a more
or less successful negotiation between the galley and the gods, Donovan winced at his nerve.
Even if Eve didn’t mind, what kind of asshole called a new mother up at the crack of dawn?
Shame on him.
Even if she’d thought it was hysterically funny.
Well, he could try to make it up to Eve. Odds were she’d just laugh at him some more,
but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Donovan planted his feet carefully and steadily on the
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listing deck boards and set his mind to the task. How to Be a Good Houseguest in Five Steps or
Less.
No idea.
Come on, dozy, think of something… Aha! What were the odds that it’d been weeks since
someone had given the boat a proper airing? Probably high and holding.
Donovan scratched the back of his head. Cleaning had never been a particular speciality
of his, though he’d learned, and fast, after moving into a house. Trouble was, most of what
he knew didn’t seem to apply. Need to mow the lawn? Great. Find the mower. Turn it on.
Ride. Repeat as necessary. But here—well, was he supposed to power-wash the deck, or just
sweep and call it good?
Clorox wipes, he decided. No one could go too far wrong with Clorox wipes.
Maybe.
He’d got halfway through swabbing the deckchairs when Leaf made his appearance.
Honestly, Donovan was only surprised that he hadn’t come around sooner. He might not be
the most mature, but he could be relied upon. “You’re a hard man to discourage, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Leaf loped onto the Knotty Boy as if he belonged there, swung
one of the deckchairs around backward, and plopped down, casual as could be. He slid his
wraparound sunglasses up to nest in his mop of black curls. Donovan wondered if he’d need
scissors to extricate them later. “But today, my motives are wholly innocent.”
“Are they really?” Donovan asked, dubious.
“Absolutely. Figured I’d stop by and welcome you to the marina.”
The urge towards amusement made itself known. Strange how that seemed to happen
so often around Leaf. Like his constant cheerfulness was on a mission to go viral. Put it under
a microscope, and all the little germ cells would have smiley faces. “You already did that,”
Donovan pointed out.
“True,” Leaf said, undeterred. “But I don’t think I made a very good job of it. Anyway,
I’ve been keeping an eye out for you this morning—”
“Watching me?” Donovan stopped his scrubbing. There wasn’t exactly room to retreat
on the deck of the boat, but if he could have, he’d have been tempted. “You mean like
stalking. You’ve been stalking me?”
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Leaf laughed, a bright bubble of mirth. “Calm down, Panic at the Disco. I mean like
keeping an eye out, as in, what they pay me for.” He plucked at his name tag in illustration of
his point.
Donovan’s cheeks burned. “Of course. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. I’d be wary, myself, if I didn’t know me so well. Where was I?
Oh, yes. I’ve maybe been keeping a little closer of an eye on you than on most.” Leaf held his
thumb and forefinger a quarter-inch apart. “Just a bit.”
Donovan had the urge to readjust Leaf’s thumb and forefinger to their fullest stretch
apart. “And?”
“And, well.” Leaf cocked his head. “You don’t really know what you’re doing, do
you?” He carried on speaking over Donovan’s huff of indignation. “For example, this.
Wiping down the deck with chemicals when there’s an actual lake directly outside your
door.”
“I had been thinking I didn’t want to get the grime into the water,” Donovan grumbled.
“All of it’s grime that came from the water, you dope. Here.” Leaf stood in one easy
stretch and took the folding chair from Donovan. His movements were as oddly gentle as his
speech was rough. “Draw a bucket of water from the lake, add a little dish soap—I’ve got
some ‘green’ stuff I can loan you—and then wipe them with a clean cloth. Much easier. After
that, I can show you a few other tricks.”
Donovan bit at the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t ask for help,” he said, uncomfortable
and not knowing why. “I can do it myself.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need help. And I’m glad to give it, so where’s the
problem?” Leaf tipped his curly head to one side and smiled more gently than usual. Almost
fondly. “If you’d like, I can let you do it wrong first. Maybe you’ll surprise me. You seem like
the sort of guy who’s got hidden depths. They might be so deep not even you know about
them, but hey.”
Donovan sighed. Really, he might as well give in now. Arguing with Leaf made as
much sense as swimming upstream with the stubborn expectation that the current would
change in the swimmer’s favour. And he did need the help, so… “Can I reserve the right to
say ‘I told you so’ when you get frustrated with me? Because it will happen.”
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“I’ll take my chances.” Leaf patted—nay, thumped—him companionably on the back.
“Do you know how to coil a rope? No? Time for your first lesson, then. Otherwise you’ll
walk back to the galley to tuck away your tub of bleach wipes, trip over one of these, and
take a dive into the drink. Then I’ll have to scoop you out with a net. Which I don’t mind, but
I think you’re below the legal weight limit and I’d have to argue with Fish and Wildlife over
whether or not I could keep you anyway.”
“For the love of…” Donovan gave in to the laughter he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“You really and truly are the most ridiculous man ever.” And so help me God, I think I like it.
Leaf’s grin grew bright and wide as a cloudless dawn. “Aren’t I, though? I don’t mind.
Not when that’s a much better look on you than a scowl.” He crouched to take up a loose
spill of rope. “So why do you look so sour half the time, anyway? Life can’t be that bad.”
“Can’t it?” Donovan knelt next to Leaf and picked up a rope, trying to copy Leaf’s neat,
economical twists of the wrist. “And you already know the answer to that question. I told
you the other night. My entire life went tits up in less than twenty-four hours. If that doesn’t
give a man just cause for a gloomy mood, I don’t know what would.”
“Maybe.” Leaf pursed his lips. “But you’ve got a good thing going here. What’s wrong
with appreciating the silver lining?”
“I’d appreciate it more if drowning wasn’t a real possibility.”
“You’re not afraid of deep water, are you? You are. Jesus.” Leaf didn’t seem
judgmental. Not exactly. More sympathetic, and that was almost too odd for Donovan to
deal with. “That’s awful. I’d probably go around like a thundercloud, too.”
“I’m not angry. More…frustrated. And I’m not afraid. Just…” Donovan hunched his
shoulders, embarrassed despite Leaf’s kindness. “All right, yes, I’m afraid. I know it’s
ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I didn’t ask for it.”
“No, no, I get that.” Leaf rubbed thoughtfully at his scruff. “You don’t also have a fear
of solid ground, do you? If you do, then the next logical item on the list is a fear of breathing,
and that’s a little harder to come back from than most.”
Donovan dealt Leaf a long, flat we are not amused sort of stare.
Leaf tilted his head back and laughed.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Donovan fibbed.
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“Ah, come on. I’m at least a little bit funny. You’re still here, after all, and you haven’t
yet given in to the urge to tip me over the railing as punishment for all my sass. My cheek
and spunk.”
Donovan choked on air. Leaf really howled, then. What must it be like to find life that
endlessly entertaining? Had to be better than forever seeing the glasses as all half empty, but
Donovan couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“It’s not even having to stay on a boat that’s the problem,” Donovan said, searching for
some way to phrase himself in a way that would both make sense and be truthful. “It’s not
knowing what happens next. No matter what, there won’t be enough money from my
homeowner’s insurance to buy a new place now that the housing market’s on an upswing.”
“Whoever imagined that would happen?” Leaf asked. “Sorry. I’m listening.” He did
seem to be. He’d gone serious for once, his severe eyebrows drawn together in concentration
and empathy. “I have to say that for someone who’s got a mild phobia about deep water,
you’re really not doing too badly. You’re still here, after all, out on deck without a life jacket.
Give it a few more weeks, and I doubt it’ll cross your mind. And if you can overcome that,
what’s to say you can’t do anything you want? So why worry about it in the meantime?”
“Because it’s driving me insane,” Donovan said. He stood, frustrated. “The happy-go-
lucky routine looks fantastic from the outside, Leaf, but not everyone is made to live that
way. I’m not. Maybe it works for you, but it isn’t for me. I need the structure. A structure.
Some kind of foundation.”
“Okay,” Leaf said, squinting up at him. “And you assume I don’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you were thinking, though.” Leaf shrugged one shoulder and carried on
coiling rope. “I do know what goes through people’s minds when they look at me. Rootless,
witless, wandering happy and lonely as a cloud.”
“Is that from a poem?” Donovan had the uneasy feeling that the conversation was
turning on him. More, that he deserved it.
“Partially, yes. Surprisingly enough, I do read. Quite a lot. Mostly poets.”
There was no possible way for Donovan to respond to that without confirming every
last thing Leaf had just said. He crossed his arms and fought the urge to fidget.
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30
“But though I may be a ditzy vagabond, that’s okay, because hot damn am I pretty.”
Leaf’s lips tightened briefly as he finished the rope. Donovan doubted the coil had looked so
neat or tight when it’d come off the factory floor. “And that’s okay. Human nature is what it
is.”
What Leaf said might be true, but that didn’t make it right. “I’m still sorry,” Donovan
said into the silence a moment later. “For what it’s worth. And I don’t think you’re ditzy.”
Leaf treated Donovan to a contemplative gaze. “It’s worth a bit and some change,” he
said after the pause. The reappearance of his smile came as a relief. “Don’t look so scared,
Donovan. I’m not going to bite you. I figured we’d need to get this out of the way sooner or
later, and now it’s done.”
Donovan bit his cheek, nodded, and bowed his head to his work. He tested the strength
of Leaf’s knot, impressed by the tightness. The man knew what he was doing.
Leaf tidied the coils away. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Go on. Ask. I give
you permission.”
Donovan groaned. “Only because it’ll send me completely around the bend if I don’t.
Do you deliberately play the ‘weird’ card because you’re pretty?”
“I might. It makes for a decent asshole filter.” Leaf waited a beat. His lips twitched.
“Your mind went there. Go on. Admit it. It went there like lightning.”
“Nope,” Donovan said. “I will not admit it.”
Leaf tilted his head back and laughed. “Thought so. And look, I’ve been thinking about
the rest of it. Hell, Donovan. I’m not saying you can’t or shouldn’t worry about what
happens next. You do have a good reason. What I am saying is that until you figure out
where you’re headed, life in the meantime doesn’t have to be bad, or lesser than. You can
enjoy yourself. It’s allowed. No matter whether you stick to what you know you like, or
decide to try something a little more offbeat. It’s all good, Donovan. Life is still good.”
Donovan…honestly hadn’t looked at it that way before. He stared down at his feet. “If
I’d known you were this insightful, I might have tipped you off the dock before you opened
your mouth.”
“You’ll come around,” Leaf said with easy confidence. “Hmm. Now that’s an
interesting expression. I could guess, but I’d rather ask. What’s going on in that head of
yours?”
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“Honestly, half the time when I’m talking to you, I feel as if I should be offended by
something. And then you turn right around and make me want to wrap you up in a fuzzy
blanket. I don’t know which. I don’t understand you.”
Leaf’s nose crinkled when he turned fond. “Nobody does. Don’t worry about it.” He
tucked a wayward lock of hair behind his ear, then did the same for Donovan, smoothing the
rogue curls down with a gentle firmness Donovan imagined they would find hard to
disobey. If they were sentient and had a choice in the matter.
Leaf stood very, very close now. Near enough to block out the fading light of the
afternoon. Donovan licked his lips. Don’t listen to your body. It has no idea what’s good for it.
Like that would work.
He tried all the same. “I’m really not looking for anyone, Leaf. Even someone as sweet
as you. If I were, then maybe…”
“So you keep saying,” Leaf mused. He lifted Donovan’s chin, his touch light and firm
and warm all at the same time. “Yet you’re still here.”
Donovan held his tongue.
“Look,” Leaf said, gentle again. As if he understood far more than seemed likely at first
glance. “If you ever tell me no, and truly mean it, then I will leave you alone. Not that it’d be
easy—I’ve gone and got attached to you—but I will let you go, if you really want me to get
gone.”
He waited for a beat. Donovan tried to speak, and couldn’t.
“Exactly,” Leaf murmured. “I can help, Donovan. If you let me. Will you?”
FLIBBERTIGIBBET
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Chapter Five
“I don’t know.” Donovan didn’t give in. Not yet. “Why me? You could get anyone, and
I do mean anyone, just by flashing them that smile. Don’t tell me you don’t know it, because I
won’t believe you.”
Leaf made a dismissive noise.
“No, tell me. I’m the curious one poking sharp sticks where they’re not wanted now,
but that’s only fair.”
“You’re interesting. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Donovan asked after Leaf let that hang. “That can’t be all.”
“Why not?” Leaf scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “Maybe I could go find a fuck, if ‘just
a fuck’ was all I wanted. But where’s the fun in that?”
“You’d rather have something you had to work for?”
“Wouldn’t you? If you didn’t, we’d have been naked last night, not having this
conversation now.”
Fair point.
“Besides, I like most people until they give me reason not to,” Leaf added.
Donovan frowned. “You mean unless they give you reason not to?”
“I meant what I said,” Leaf replied. “It’s not rocket science, Donovan. It’s stress relief.
God knows I could use some, myself. I like you. You make me laugh. If you want, I’ll do all
the work, but you’ll feel better afterward. Promise. And if you don’t, well, then I’ll know not
to try it with you again.”
There came a time when a man had to make up his mind. Even if he had no idea what
he wanted, he still had to choose. God, had it been a long time. Donovan
needed…something. He could try this. Just try. Donovan blew out a long breath, and nodded
once.
“Good man,” Leaf murmured, bending to kiss Donovan. “Like that, for starters. Then
one more…and another…and one for luck.”
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For luck? That was one way to put it. Give the man a mission and permission, and he
didn’t waste time. Donovan had considered himself prepared, more or less, but he hadn’t
had a clue. The best he could manage was to hold on for dear life, and the best he could hope
for was to come out on the other side with all his bits intact.
Maybe his reaction was down to the dry spell rather than Leaf’s peculiar brand of
alchemy. Donovan hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said it’d been a long time. He felt like a kid
in a candy store. Too much to touch, to taste, to stroke. Donovan barely knew where to start.
Leaf licked his mouth open, hot and sleek and bracing, as energizing as standing just
near enough a hurricane to be battered by the winds. He gripped Donovan’s forearms with
tough working man’s hands and kneaded the sore muscles warm and loose, but not satisfied
with that, he didn’t stop until he’d—somehow—managed to coax Donovan’s leg up and
around his.
“Height,” Donovan said in warm puffs of air against Leaf’s lips, stopping himself
before he could finish climbing the man like a tree. He dug his heel into the back of Leaf’s
calf. “Too tall.”
“Can’t help the way God made me,” Leaf said. His mouth was red and wet, the Cupid’s
bow ridiculously exaggerated when it’d been well and truly kissed, and tempting enough to
compel still more kisses out of Donovan. “Berth?”
“What?”
Leaf laughed. “Bedroom, you landlubber.” He cupped Donovan’s ass and massaged a
double handful, not so incidentally—Donovan suspected—pulling their bodies closer still. If
their heights were equally matched, they could have locked their groins together and that
would have been fucking fabulous. As it was, his floating ribs protested the indignity of
being humped as though an overly friendly Labrador was after him. “Height difference,
yeah, I see what you mean. Berth. Shall we?”
Donovan hesitated. Moving the action to a bedroom, if only for the sake of getting a
chance to grind properly against Leaf. A very good idea. On the other hand, as far as he
knew, his godson had been conceived on that bed.
“Thinking again.” Leaf flicked finger and thumb against Donovan’s forehead. “Don’t
come unspooled, gorgeous. I bet we manage just fine right here.”
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“Whoa!” Donovan hadn’t thought about the downsides of the alternative. He wrestled
his arms free of Leaf and flat-palmed his chest. “Out here? It’s the middle of the day and God
knows who’s watching.”
“I always figured peeping Toms either get their reward or their punishment from what
they happen to see,” Leaf said. “Don’t worry. I picked my time. All your neighbours are off
at their jobs around now, and even if they weren’t, the gunwales are high enough for
privacy.”
“Says you.” Donovan peeked left and right. As far as he could tell, Leaf had the right of
it and they were alone, but…
Actually, he’d always sort of wanted to try a little something-something out in the
open. His body put in its vote of accord—which Leaf, it must be said, did not fail to notice.
“There we go. Much better. Trust me, darlin’. I’ll take care of you.”
He would, too. Donovan knew he could be sure of that. He might regret giving in, but
he’d regret holding back even more. Might as well have a good memory to go along with the
hindsight. “If anyone notices—”
“They won’t.” Leaf’s voice had gone smoky, dark, smooth. “Besides, do you honestly
think no one else has ever had a little tête-à-tête on their boat? Give me some credit,
Donovan.”
Donovan couldn’t argue that one. More to the point, he didn’t want to anymore. He
surrendered his objections and let Leaf swarm him. Stronger than Donovan by far, he carried
Donovan along for the ride without dropping him when he went to his knees, and spread
him out like a feast on the bare deck boards. Donovan spared a moment to send up a shout of
thanks for double-sanded high-quality varnish before Leaf kissed the thoughts clear out of
his head. Or he reached up and pulled Leaf back down to him. He wasn’t entirely sure
which, but he figured it didn’t matter.
Floating cities weren’t quiet. Creaks and squeaks from boats bobbing up and down had
nearly driven Donovan crazy while trying to sleep before. Leaf drowned them out handily
with soft, quick breaths in Donovan’s ear. Donovan threaded his fingers through that wild,
crazed tangle of dark curls and cradled Leaf’s skull in his palms, holding him tight.
“See?” Leaf murmured, long past the point of their kisses growing messy, Donovan’s
lips tingling-numb. “Better already.”
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Donovan poked him in the side. “Better naked.”
“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” Leaf said, but bless him, he didn’t waste time
then either. He knelt up to eel his way out of polo and jeans, casting both carelessly aside
behind him. Still on his knees, he cocked an eyebrow down at Donovan. “Now there’s a new
kind of face.”
“Ngh,” Donovan replied, otherwise dumbstruck. Rico suave. He didn’t care. If Leaf had
looked good enough to eat with all those lovely lean muscles covered…
Leaf grinned. “Like what you see?”
“Not even a little,” Donovan said, giving himself away in the next second by making
grabby hands at Leaf. “Christ, would you get down here—”
“Oh, how he changes his tune.” Leaf pretended to cluck in dismay, but not for long.
Though heedless of his own nudity and the fat cock bobbing heavy between his legs, he
didn’t try to strip Donovan equally bare. He pushed Donovan’s tee up beneath his collarbone
and bent his head to seize one nipple, standing up from cold and excitement, and took it into
his mouth and sucked. He laughed around Donovan’s strangled gasp and stifled shout.
“Have to remember that.” He rubbed the mouth-wetted nub with one rough thumb while he
kissed and sucked a trail down to Donovan’s navel and laved it with his tongue.
Holy…
Donovan had always thought there was a natural sort of etiquette to even unexpected
sexual encounters. But then again, Leaf more or less lived with the sole purpose of
subverting norms. Without asking—though to be fair, he hardly had to when Donovan
couldn’t stop himself rocking his hips up—he used his teeth to undo the drawstring
fastening of Donovan’s loose track pants, coaxed them down his thighs, and took Donovan
into his mouth in one great swallow. Then, even distracted as he was, Donovan felt the
change in pressure that came with Leaf sliding his own fingers into his mouth as well.
Oh, fuck. Was he—?
He was. He was, indeed. Clever, wet fingers slipped beneath Donovan’s balls, heavy
and aching, and nudged between his cheeks. He circled the opening, a good firm touch, not
sliding in but not too damn far off the mark. Donovan arched his back and craned his neck,
trying to see.
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“Another time,” Leaf said between deep swallows of air when he pulled off for one
agonising moment. “Want to, though. Want me to?”
“Gnarr,” Donovan said in reply. “Whatever you want. Something. Anything.”
“Not picky. I like that.” Leaf nuzzled his hip. “Sweet and spicy. I’ve been thinking
about that ass ever since you stepped foot in the marina.”
Surprisingly filthy, or perhaps refreshingly direct. Donovan wasn’t sure, but filthy was
as filthy does. “I might have had a thought or two about your mouth.”
Leaf chortled. “Oh, have you, now? And what did you think this mouth might do?”
Donovan growled and pushed Leaf’s head down. Which was, apparently, a polite
enough request in Leaf-speak. His wide mouth was made for this. A fortuitous gift of chance
and circumstance. And, given the small happy noises he made, the man got off on sucking
cock. Donovan pressed his palms over his eyes and breathed in ragged pants while Leaf held
his hips down and fucked his own mouth.
“We’ll have to work on your stamina,” he said when he drew off next. “That’s all right
this time.” He lavished quick, nipping kisses over the arch of Donovan’s hip bones, and
pumped Donovan’s spit-wet shaft with good, hard strokes. “Feel close. What if I was to…?”
He nudged just the tip of one finger inside Donovan, and yes, that was it. Goodnight,
Vienna. Leaf slipped up quick as a bolt of lightning to swallow the noise Donovan made as he
shot. Deft and nimble in his movements, he caught the creamy stripes across his knuckles,
finishing Donovan off with skill and grace. He let Donovan wrap orgasm-awkward arms
around him, and groaned as he reached for himself.
Hang on a minute, though. Donovan hadn’t ever made a habit of being a selfish lover, and
he wouldn’t start now. It’d help if he could remember how to make his limbs work, but
beggars couldn’t be choosers. Leaf seemed to appreciate his fumbling, anyway. His cock slid
unbearably hot and beautifully hard through the mess Donovan had made, his hips working
as fast and flexibly as a swimmer diving deep. He butted his face against Donovan’s
shoulder and shuddered when he streaked his way across the finish line.
Donovan buried both hands again in Leaf’s hair and brought the man’s face to his. The
last kiss was barely a kiss at all, their mouths bumping and brushing clumsily together, but
all the same it made Donovan shiver with the last of the aftershocks. His heart thundered in
his ears, and he could barely get enough air in to keep body and soul together, and he felt as
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if he’d left the pull of gravity somewhere in there. Dazed, he tilted his head back to get a look
at Leaf.
Off in the distance, perhaps three boats away, someone shouted, “Finally! Jesus…”
Donovan jack-knifed up, hands flying in a vague and utterly vain attempt to cover
himself. He thought it likely that he would have combusted with embarrassment if Leaf
hadn’t collapsed atop him. Though he hooted with laughter, he did make a decent blanket to
hide away any naughty bits. Of course, that meant his own naughty bits were on display,
so…
He socked Leaf hard on the biceps. “You said nobody was around!”
“There wasn’t when we started.” Leaf grinned down at Donovan, utterly pleased with
himself. “You look loads more relaxed now. Job well done.”
Donovan covered his face and groaned.
Leaf clicked his tongue and pulled Donovan’s hands away. “Stop that. Don’t undo all
my hard work. Just enjoy, Donovan. What’s wrong with that? Just enjoying?”
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Chapter Six
Donovan woke to a bright, birdlike rat-a-tat on the Knotty Boy’s hull not long after the
sun rose. Or possibly long after the sun rose. He had trouble telling before coffee. Either way,
Eve had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. The only wonder was that she hadn’t come
sooner.
Just in case, though… He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and swayed in place.
Nope. Not opening my eyes yet. “Eve?”
“The one and only,” she called back as she slid open the deck door. “I did tell you I’d
bring some groceries, didn’t I?”
“Not that I remember.” Donovan winced as he stood upright. If he didn’t know any
better, he’d have sworn he had a hangover. A sex hangover? That was a new one. Then
again, beer rarely did it for him the way Leaf seemed to. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t. I wanted to. Come and lend a hand.”
Donovan padded barefoot and squinting out of the berth towards the galley and poked
his head in. “Coffee? If you love me?”
“Already brewing,” she said, pointing a loaf of bread at the percolator. Donovan
moaned and breathed deep of the fragrance beginning to drift from its blessed, gurgling
guts. “I figured you might have some trouble learning how to manage an inverter system,
so— What happened to you?”
Donovan froze. He hadn’t looked at himself in a mirror since yesterday. Perhaps he
should have. The best marks always did show up the day after. “Vivid dreams?” he tried.
Eve clapped her hands to her mouth, but she couldn’t stifle the giggles. “Donovan, you
look like you’ve been fighting with a wildcat!” She dropped into a heavy lean on the kitchen
sink to hold herself up. Leaf’s geranium, no worse for two nights’ wear, shook in silent
accompaniment and loosed a soft patter of petals.
Donovan glared dourly at the plant. Et tu, Brute?
“Sorry,” Eve said, not at all convincingly, still pressing her fingertips to her mouth.
“Honest. Very sorry.” She tilted her head sideways to study him, her mirth softening. “You
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don’t have to tell me the details, Donovan. I’m just glad to see some colour in your cheeks
again. But if it was Leaf, then Tanner owes me twenty bucks.”
Donovan dropped his head onto his crossed arms. “You were betting on this?” he
asked, muffled.
Eve leant forward to tousle his hair. “After the way you reacted to him the other night?
You almost sound surprised.” She tickled his ear. “And yet you also sound as if it’s a bad
thing.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Donovan sat up. If he couldn’t drown himself in coffee, then by
God he’d enjoy his cup while it was still hot. “I don’t do one-night stands. And getting
involved with someone, well…” He sighed. “It’s everything I came out here to get away
from. You know that as well as I do.”
Eve wrinkled her nose. “But if it’s doing you some good…”
“Not in the long run. I don’t see how it could, anyway.”
“Not everything has to be about the long run.”
“But I do. That’s who I am.” Donovan frowned at Eve, who’d dropped to peek under
the table. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for my sandals. The pair I got a couple of years ago, do you remember?”
Donovan kept a straight face. Just barely.
Eve rolled her eyes and swatted him lightly. “You’re more invested in your wardrobe
than I am in mine,” she scolded him. “Have you seen any random sandals down here?”
“No, sorry.” God, but that coffee was amazing. Guilt plucked at Donovan’s heart. “I can
help you look. Anywhere else they might be?”
“Possibly at the bottom of the lake. I don’t remember when I saw them last,” Eve said.
“They might be on the roof deck.”
Donovan blinked. “The what, now?”
“Up there.” Eve pointed. “There’s a ladder. Would you mind going to look while I poke
around below decks?”
The idea of climbing so high over the water made Donovan’s stomach flip, but it’d have
been churlish to say no. “Can do. Give me five minutes.”
“Take ten, if you like.”
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As promised, Donovan found a set of rungs from the lower deck to the top of the boat.
They looked fragile, but didn’t budge or squeak as he scaled them. Very, very carefully
scaled them.
At the top, he stopped for a three-sixty view, and whistled. How about that? He
wouldn’t have had any idea about this if he hadn’t been all but led there by the hand.
Though he’d bet Leaf would have made sure he learned sooner or later.
And as if summoned… Think of the devil, and he shall appear.
Leaf’s music announced him before the man himself meandered into sight. He wore a
blue-print bandana instead of a ball cap, dark wraparound sunglasses, and a crisp, freshly
washed marina shirt in deep charcoal. He’d cranked the volume on his iPod up far past
eleven and moved with the beat, unselfconsciously swaying his hips and nodding his head.
From where Donovan sat, he’d swear that never had a man armed with a sharp-pointed stick
and a long-handled rubbish bin enjoyed his work more.
His grin was as dazzling as ever as he waved up at Donovan. “I spy, with my little eye,
something that begins with ‘D’. Morning, gorgeous.” Leaf didn’t bother to ask permission
before swinging himself onto the side of the boat. Unlike a normal person, he used windows
for handholds to haul himself up to Donovan’s vantage point. “Coming aboard!”
“What are you doing?” Donovan dropped the sandals in his hurry to lean over the edge
and grab Leaf’s arm. “Are you trying to break your neck?”
Leaf laughed at Donovan as he finished his climb. “Please. It’s barely as tall as a high-
dive, and I know how to swim.”
“Yes. And the deck, which you would land on instead of the water, is very, very hard.”
Leaf lowered his sunglasses to peer over the rims. He made a huh noise, as if the risk
truly hadn’t occurred to him.
Which it likely hadn’t. Donovan pressed a hand over his chest. He’d start to wear a
pattern of grooves over his ribs if he kept spending time with Leaf. “Don’t do that again, all
right?”
Leaf shrugged. “If you’d rather I didn’t, sure. No skin off my nose.” He propped
himself cheekily up with his ass on the narrow rail and beamed at Donovan. “By the way, if
my boss comes around looking for whoever violated the noise ordinances yesterday, I never
told you about them.”
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“You didn’t tell me about them,” Donovan said, slightly blank. “Not a thing.”
“Didn’t I? Excellent. It won’t even be a lie.” Leaf swung one foot like a kid. “Cheer up,
grouchy. Life isn’t that bad. And speaking of noise ordinances, I was thinking it’s about time
you got to know your neighbours.”
Donovan winced and hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. “Must we?”
“We really must.” Leaf cocked his head to one side. “Did Eve remember to tell you
about the monthly marina get-togethers?”
“No, but she has a new baby. I’m counting myself lucky she remembered to tell me
which key was for the door, and which was for the engine.”
“Which you are not to touch at any cost, am I right?”
“Not on pain of life or death. She knows me well.”
“Shame. Knotty Boy’s a nice boat. We could have motored out one day and gone
fishing.”
“You can do that with a houseboat?”
“It floats, and it drives,” Leaf said. “Dig out a fishing pole and some bait, and what
more do you need?” He took off his kerchief and shook his curls free. Ringlets bounced
around his cheeks, driving Donovan to impromptu mental comparisons with the Good Ship
Lollipop. Except Shirley Temple had never been this much of a brat.
Or this cute.
Leaf yawned and stretched, back arching in a lazy bow. Donovan might have seen it
before, but his mouth still went dry as he watched. Though whether that was from terror at
the certainty that Leaf would fall or lust for the way Leaf’s tee rode up over his hard, tanned
stomach, he couldn’t have said. “Anyway. Where was I?” he asked.
“No idea,” Donovan said. It wasn’t even a lie. Ahaha. “Wait. Monthly marina get-
togethers?”
“Right!” Leaf clapped his hands. “They couldn’t think of a third ‘m’ that didn’t sound
like it belonged in a porn flick or a horror movie. It’s a good time, though. Everyone gets
their grills out and loads their coolers up. I’m supposed to string icicle lights and some of
those awesome Japanese party lanterns today. Don’t let me forget.”
“I’m your personal organizer now?”
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“God, that’d be nice. I could use one.” Leaf retied his kerchief with neat, precise knots.
“They’re brighter than you’d think, especially reflecting off the water. You’ll be glad of the
extra light when you’re promenading the pier with me tonight.”
Donovan frowned. “I never said I’d go.”
“Because I didn’t ask. You’re going.”
“Uh-huh.” Donovan pursed his lips. “Just for the sake of argument, why?”
Leaf looked at Donovan as if Donovan were too cute for words. “There’s forty boats
tied up off this pier, angel face. Even if you wanted to stay inside and sulk—I mean, cogitate
on life and all its mysteries—how much of that do you actually think you’d get done with
forty families in party mode outside your front door?” He winked. “The rules about noise
don’t apply during MMGTs.”
Incorrigible. Adorable. All sorts of other words that ended in ‘ble’. And a temptation
best nipped in the bud right now. “Leaf…” Donovan started.
“Hmm?”
“Yesterday was…” Donovan had had time to think out how best to put this. He’d
readied a speech. Funny how the words melted away in Leaf’s presence. Far too easy to let
go and hang loose around the man. He had a way of melting troubles like lemon drops in a
stiff rain. “Yesterday was good. Okay? Great stress relief. But it can’t happen again. You do
get that, right?”
Leaf’s smile widened. “I hear you.”
Right. No way it’d be that easy. “You do?”
“Sure. You made yourself plenty clear. If someone should happen to be confused about
what’s going on here, it’s not me.” Leaf hopped off the railing. He started to throw a leg over
the side of the boat, visibly course-corrected, then made for the proper ladder instead,
chattering all the while. “MMGT tonight. I’ll see you at…eight o’clock? Eight should work.
Late enough for the smell off the grills to get your taste buds revved up, but not so late
there’s nothing left but quinoa burgers and those weird bargain-basement hot dogs. You
know the kind?” He made a yuck face. “Bright pink on the outside and kind of grey in the
middle.”
“Appetising.”
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“If you get there early enough, someone’s sure to have fresh salmon steaks, which are
absolutely mouthwatering.” Leaf patted his stomach and hummed contentedly. “Eight
o’clock. Don’t forget!”
As if I could. Donovan watched Leaf drop to the deck and bound away. The man was a
walking advertisement for the power of Red Bull and Powerball lottery-winning genetics.
Everything that wiser, cooler heads warned against. Leaf was the illicit thrill of a stolen first
beer, and the adrenaline rush from skydiving. He was raves and keggers and deciding to hop
in an old van for a drive across country ‘just because’. Gorgeous. Amazing. Fun.
So very, very wrong for the long haul. Wasn’t he?
Maybe. It got harder and harder to be sure.
Donovan made his careful way back down the ladder. He might have done a smoother
job if he hadn’t carried Eve’s sandals in one hand, but he reckoned he’d still get six out of ten
from the Russian judge for his dismount. “Found them, if these are the ones you were talking
about.”
Eve looked up from where she’d been poking curiously about in the folded laundry
hamper. He’d got ambitious after Leaf had wandered off the day before. And he might have
needed to burn off a little nervous energy. Or more than a little. He’d decided he’d wash the
curtains. All of them. A surprising number for a boat, actually. He’d swept and vacuumed
while waiting for the sun to work its magic on the clothes lines. Then he’d got bored and
decided to trim back the potted plants on the foredeck.
“I don’t think Knotty’s been this spic and span since we bought it, and I’ve had a
cleaning lady come in once a month,” Eve said, stretching to white-glove-test the top of the
bare blinds for dust. Her pert little eyebrows rose in surprise when her finger came away
dust-free. “Donovan, you didn’t have to do all this.”
“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,” he paraphrased as he tossed the sandals to her in an
easy overhand arc. “It’s the only pair I found up there.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” Eve tucked the Birkenstocks under her arm. She looked far too
innocent to be up to any good. “I couldn’t help but overhear bits and pieces of what sounded
like a very interesting conversation going on up there…”
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Damn. He’d forgotten she’d be down here with eyes and ears open. Might as well take
his punishment, then. “Nor could you avoid the sight of Himself vaulting on board like he
was out to conquer the Spanish main?”
“Or that.” Eve perched on the edge of one couch arm. “I was mostly teasing before,
Donovan, but he seems to have taken a real interest in you.”
“You could say that.” Donovan rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a unique soul, that’s
for sure. Always up to something. He mentioned a marina meet-and-greet tonight. Is that an
actual thing?”
She made a disappointed noise. “That’s tonight? Darn it. I’d meant to make the next
one, since I’ve missed the last three. The midsummer ones are best—everyone’s sunburned
and they do jet-ski races—but this time of year isn’t bad either. Lots of fishing stories and
potluck covered dishes and someone usually brings this gorgeous microbrewery ale. To die
for.”
An actual thing, then. Huh! The way Leaf had described the festivities and how Eve had
reacted to the idea of them inspired mental images of something more 1950s than 2010s.
Norman Rockwell on a boat. Donovan sat next to Eve. “No kidding?”
“I can’t stay tonight,” Eve said, her tiny mouth still pursed in a disappointed moue.
“The little man’s due for a round of immunizations. I’d say we’d try to come back around,
but I have a decent idea we won’t go anywhere but straight back home after that.”
“Poor guy. No one likes needles.”
“Could be worse.” She crinkled her nose at him. “Things could always be worse. I’ll
count my blessings that they’re not. And be glad adults don’t have to go through quite so
many updates as babies. Can you imagine?”
Donovan could, in fact. Needles didn’t bother him as much as Eve, but like everyone
else, he dreaded flu season every year. The logical side of his brain understood the sense
behind getting vaccinated, but his lizard brain stubbornly argued for taking its chance with
the virus. Every year he argued with himself, and every year he finally decided that having a
sore arm for a couple of days beat huddling on a couch alone and miserable.
He could just imagine Leaf’s brand of caretaking if a friend of his got sick. Leaf would
no doubt tease without mercy, but would also attach himself as firmly as a barnacle. He’d
poke his head in every hour on the hour with a thermometer, a fresh box of tissues, and a
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rambling discourse on Louis Pasteur. He’d meander off to the supermarket with a request to
buy orange juice and chicken soup, but come back with pomegranate and mulligatawny.
He’d look sheepish when the error was pointed out, then rebound and insist it’d do them a
world’s worth of good from the novelty alone. And he’d be right.
And he’d never, ever stop caring.
“Are you all right?” Eve asked, sitting up straighter. “You’re looking paler than you
should after spending days out on the water.”
“Me? Fine,” Donovan lied. “Is Leaf the sort of guy who usually laughs a lot?”
Eve frowned at the non sequitur, but bless her heart, took his question seriously. “Not
usually,” she said after a moment’s thought. “That’s odd, now I think about it. He’s always
good-natured, but I don’t often hear him let go with an actual laugh. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Is it me? Do I make him laugh?
Eve wasn’t fooled. Not even a bit. “It’s all right to like him,” she said, far too gently.
“And you do like Leaf, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. A hell of a lot. It doesn’t matter, though,” Donovan said, exasperated.
“No matter what I think I might want, that doesn’t change how it’s absolutely the wrong
time for me to start anything new.”
“Maybe.” Eve propped her chin on her hand. “But you know, I don’t think there ever is
actually a right time to start with anyone. Is there?”
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Chapter Seven
By seven o’ clock, Donovan had almost decided not to go to the marina gathering.
Sounded like more of an aquatic family type of affair, and he was only an interloper. Not
staying long. No sense in making friends if they’d drift out of his life in a couple of weeks.
Not the friendliest outlook on life, but the most realistic.
By seven fifteen, he’d started to doubt himself. Someone had set up not far away with a
guitar, and he could hear the low hum of pleasant chatter along with the easy, measured
pace of a half-dozen residents ambling to and from their boats. Donovan had never known
neighbours to do that. They locked their doors on the way out and hurried to work, then
scurried home and locked themselves in. Not so, here.
And by holy sweet hell, did the first burger that landed on the grill smell good.
By seven thirty, Donovan was in the shower, wrestling with temperature controls,
giving up, and coming out the fine raw pink of a half-boiled lobster. At least he was a clean
lobster.
Seven forty-five, and he’d almost changed his mind again. He made garlic bread all the
same, and by the grace of some small god, neither burned the bread nor torched the boat. He
didn’t even blow a fuse.
Leaf turned up at seven fifty-eight.
He didn’t announce himself with bell or buzzer, or knock. Just popped his head around
the open sliding door, lowered the sunglasses he’d chosen to wear for some reason that
undoubtedly made sense to him, and whistled. “You scrub up nice, don’t you?”
Did he? Maybe Leaf liked lobsters. Donovan shrugged off the compliment, and with it
the odd urge to blush and shuffle his feet. “I scrub up. That’s about it.”
Leaf leaned against the wall of the boat, his perpetual amusement showing as a twinkle
in the eye as he shook his head. “You have no idea at all, do you?”
Donovan frowned at Leaf. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’ll keep, Cinderella. Cinderfella. Is this your coat? Well, it would be. It’s too big for
Eve, and too small for Tanner.” Leaf shook out a light, navy blue windbreaker Donovan had
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unearthed and hung up to air. Still smelt a bit of smoke, though not too badly. Before
Donovan knew what he meant to do, Leaf had draped the garment over his shoulders. “I
would say your carriage awaits, but it’s foot traffic only tonight. Do feet count as carriages?”
Donovan cast a dubious look at Leaf’s size twelves. “Possibly so, yes.”
“Fantastic.” Leaf put his arm around Donovan’s shoulders without a please or thank
you and shepherded him towards the dock side of the boat.
“I never said I’d go,” Donovan pointed out, trying—and failing—to drag his feet.
Leaf knuckle-rubbed the top of Donovan’s head. “You’re adorable.”
Well, at least now Donovan knew for sure he was thinking it, and—
Whoa.
Donovan stopped awkwardly between one step and the next, lips parting with surprise.
While he’d been busy dithering and dilly-dallying inside Eve’s boat, the pier had undergone
a transformation. “Did you do all this?”
“Most of it, yeah.” Leaf loitered, content, at Donovan’s side. He had yet to remove his
arm. Donovan would object, but the man put off as much body heat as a glowing coal, and
the wind off the lake cut at him with its sharp night-time chill. “You like?”
“Are you kidding?” Leaf must have spent hours on the job. Humming, blasting his
music and dancing in place, maybe, but he’d strung icicle lights from boat to boat, and hung
Japanese lanterns at absolutely mathematically precise intervals. The decks looked clean
enough to eat his dinner off, not a scrap of trash or a crumb of potted plant dirt in sight. The
plants themselves were pulled forward, greenery and colour softening the line between boats
and boards, giving the impression of a garden on the water. “It’s amazing.”
Leaf beamed.
Donovan’s stomach chose that moment to let out a rumbling roar. He covered his face
with his hands. Kill me now.
“What, are you embarrassed by that?” Leaf tweaked Donovan’s ear and nudged him
forward. “Come on, silly. It’s only natural. I know the best chefs in the marina. Also, open
your eyes before you take a tumble off the pier. I went swimming for you once already.” He
swung Donovan around and to a stop. “Aha! Hello, Amy. Knew I smelt a little piece of
heaven.”
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“Leaf, hi!” Donovan blinked his eyes open in time to see a woman swing the cover of
her grill closed. The smell coming from inside made his mouth water, and the woman herself
caught his interest. She stood a few inches taller than Donovan—well, who didn’t?—and
looked comfortably sunburned, content with her ten or so pounds of pleasant plumpness.
Flyaway curls escaped her simple topknot ponytail. “I bet Jack you’d be around. Swordfish
steaks, not salmon.”
“God, but you’re good to me.” Leaf engulfed her with his free arm, dragging her into a
cheerful hug. “And squishy-soft. And you smell nice. How do you manage that after fishing
all day?”
She swatted him. “Trade secret. Who’s your date?”
Donovan cut in before Leaf could introduce him and held out his contribution to the
feast. “Hi. I am bread,” he said, and promptly wanted to knee himself in the nuts. He
thumped Leaf with the heel end of the loaf when Leaf guffawed, and though Amy tried to be
polite, her lips twitched like a cat’s whiskers.
“I’ve taken him under my wing,” Leaf said. “You can see he needs it.”
Oh God. “I’m only here for a couple of weeks,” Donovan butted in. “Looking for a new
place to stay, and Eve was kind enough to let me camp out on her boat.”
“Ahh.” Understanding kindled in Amy’s face. She wiped one sooty hand on her hip
and held it out to him. “You know, if you’re looking for a new place to live, you could do a
lot worse than the marina.”
“Ehh…” Donovan said. “Not sure about that.”
Amy didn’t give up. Maybe it was something in the water. “For a lot of people, it’s their
dream.”
“Not mine,” Donovan said, as kindly as he could. Never a good idea to pop someone
else’s bubble—besides, from the looks of her, she did love a life on the water. “I doubt I could
afford a boat for the long term. Or that I wouldn’t capsize it in a day or two. I may yet.”
“They’re harder than you think to sink.” Leaf bumped his hip companionably against
Donovan’s. “If you took a few weeks to learn, you’d be a master sailor, and who doesn’t love
a sailor?”
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Amy coughed. “I should go find Jack,” she said, glancing from Leaf to Donovan and
back again. “See you around, okay?” Her mouth quirked up at the corners despite her best
efforts as she turned. At least she made the effort not to giggle at him.
Donovan craned his neck around to frown at Leaf. “I’m not sure what all that was
about, but it sounded like a sales pitch.”
Leaf hummed a little too innocently. “Did it?”
“Nice try, Leaf. Just because I’m minutely more comfortable with the boat now doesn’t
mean I’m planning to buy. I couldn’t afford to buy one of my own even if I wanted to.”
“You could take over the payments from Eve,” Leaf said, undaunted at being caught
out. “I doubt it’d be much more or less a month than rent on an apartment, and it’s already
furnished. Savings galore.” He unwound his arm.
Donovan missed the heat of him straight away.
“Hang tight here for a minute. I just saw Val drag out a cooler and I’d bet my left nut
it’s homemade honey porter. You’ve never tasted anything better, I promise. And it’s barely
alcoholic, no need to worry for your virtue.”
If Donovan had learned one thing at college, it was that ‘homemade’ and ‘barely
alcoholic’ were mutually exclusive. “Not worried.” He could hold his liquor. “Bring it on.”
“Careful, darlin’, or I’ll take that as a challenge. Back in two shakes.” Leaf patted
Donovan’s shoulder before loping off, easy and careless, humming to himself. Donovan
watched him go with the mildly bemused amazement characteristic of any encounter with
Leaf. What had he said that was funny this time?
Strange, strange man. Adorably weird, and positively addictive. If he let himself fall,
Donovan knew he could tumble head over heels for that one. But if he did—
“Damn it!” A thump, a bump and a crash made Donovan flinch. Clanking followed, and
as a grace note, a round tin of canned tuna fish bounced over to land on the tip of Donovan’s
shoe.
Donovan studied the can for a moment. There was some kind of metaphor for his life in
there, though he couldn’t put his finger on just what.
Glad he hadn’t got a drink in his hand yet, he twisted about to look. Ouch. Behind him,
a man had lost the bottom out of a brown paper bag stuffed beyond its capacity. Been there,
done that, and it was never fun. “Need a hand?”
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“Would you mind?” the man asked after one quick glance up. He waved off someone
else who’d started to join them. “I’m Jack.”
“Amy’s Jack?”
Jack chuckled. “She’d say so. You’re new around here, aren’t you?”
“Temporarily,” Donovan said. “Staying on Eve’s boat.”
“Right, right. I remember hearing about that,” Jack said. And, apparently, was content
to leave it there.
Huh. He seemed an ordinary sort on the surface, but beneath the topmost layer,
Donovan detected an air of quiet authority. The sort of man who’d be more used to taking
charge than needing help.
Yet not too proud to accept it when needed.
Donovan ignored the part of his thoughts that hinted that he could pick up a metaphor
there, too, and knelt to help gather scattered canned goods. Mostly tuna. He frowned at one
tin and held it up in silent question.
“I didn’t catch anything today, but I promised Amy I’d make a salad. What can you do,
huh?” Jack crumpled the paper bag and held his arms out in a cradle carry. “Mind loading
me up? Heavy ones first, then the lighter stuff.”
“Spoken like a man who’s done time in retail,” Donovan remarked.
“When I was a teenager. It’s been a while, but some things I guess you never forget.
Was that you I saw with Leaf yesterday?”
Donovan fumbled a juice can. Heat flooded his cheeks, and not from shame in
butterfingers. “Er… Saw me when with Leaf?”
“The day before yesterday, actually. After he brought you over on the water taxi, I
think? Not sure what time that was.”
Whew. “I’d only just got here.”
“I could tell. You looked a little overwhelmed. Still do, to be honest, but it’s getting
better. Is this your first time in a community marina?”
“First time on a boat, period, since I was a kid.”
“Big adjustment. I hope Leaf didn’t bowl you over. He’s a good handyman and he
means well, but…” Jack whistled. “He can be a lot to deal with when your plate’s already
full.”
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“And?” Donovan’s hackles prickled at the wary note in Jack’s voice. He stacked a jar of
maraschino cherries atop the load of tuna cans. “They’re not exactly the norm, sure, but I like
his ways.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up. “If you say so. Did you see where he went, by the way? I need
to check with him about the wiring on these lights.”
“Not sure. He said something about a woman named Val and homemade porter?”
“Val?” Jack frowned. “Or did he say Vail?”
Come to think of it, Donovan wasn’t sure. “Does it make a difference?”
“Not to me it doesn’t, but Vail’s not a woman. He is a terrible flirt, though. Might want
to keep an eye on your date.”
“He’s not my—” Donovan stopped himself. “Wait, what? Where?”
Jack nodded down the length of the dock. “Down at the Salty Dog.”
Once Donovan had spotted them, he wondered how he’d missed it before. And why
the hell he’d assumed that Vail was a woman. How many women did he knew who brewed
their own porter? Well, Eve would if she ever took an interest.
Never mind that. Far from a woman, Vail stood a couple of inches taller than Leaf and
boasted a shadow of thick, dark stubble, a barrel chest with muscled shoulders that strained
the seams of his neat, striped sweater, and a devil-may-care, piratical cockiness that made
Leaf look like a blushing maiden.
It did occur to Donovan, as he set his shoulders and ploughed through the spectators
and merry-makers on the pier, that this wasn’t the best way to go about convincing Leaf that
he wasn’t looking for more than a friend, but he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried.
Leaf lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Donovan coming. “There you are. Sorry, I
got distracted chatting with Vail.” And yes, it was Vail. Donovan heard the extra vowel this
time. “You’ve got to try this.” He twisted the cap off a frosty-cold bottle and pressed it on
Donovan. “Tell me that’s not like angels having orgasms in your mouth.”
Donovan choked on his first sip. Beside Leaf, Vail roared with laughter. He slapped
Donovan’s back with a hearty thump that nearly knocked him two steps forward. “Better get
used to that kind of thing if you’re going to stick around,” he advised. “Leaf, Lord love him,
was born without any kind of filter.”
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“So I’ve noticed,” Donovan said. Once he’d caught his breath, he found that the porter
was, actually, fucking fantastic. “That is nice,” Donovan said after the second sip went down
much more smoothly. “You make this?”
“Me and my brewery,” Vail said, with another friendly pat that had enough velocity to
topple a small tree. “So you’re Donovan, hmm? I thought you’d be taller. Leaf didn’t shut his
yapper about you for half a second before you came wandering up, and a good thing, too.
He’d have drunk his way through the whole cooler if I’d got curious enough to hunt you
down myself.”
“He exaggerates.” Leaf poked Vail in the ear, then bent to take three more bottles from
Vail’s cooler. “Payment for the hurt feelings.”
Vail shook his head, rolled his eyes, and mussed up Leaf’s hair. “Lord love you indeed.
Go on, both of you. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you get to clean up the mess.”
Donovan couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Don’t giggle too much,” Leaf said in his ear. “Or I’ll make you come and help me.”
He elbowed Leaf in the side. “You could try to make me.”
“And succeed, too.” Leaf draped his arm across the top of Donovan’s shoulders, where
it seemed to fit in the strangest, most comfortable way. “Come on. I promised to lead you to
the best chefs, and I’m a man of my word.”
“You’re a man of something, all right,” Donovan said.
“Absolutely, darlin’, and don’t you forget it.”
* * * *
Donovan sipped slowly at his second bottle of porter, spinning it out as long as
possible. He couldn’t help but compare this place to his old neighbourhood. There, social
awkwardness was the order of the day and a healthy dollop of distancing the rule, not the
exception. Somewhere along the way, he’d become like that too.
Why didn’t I notice it happening? Donovan necked his bottle and muffled a tiny fizz burp
behind one fist. He had to hand that much to Leaf—the man knew his alcohol. Gorgeous
stuff. He might be the tiniest bit tipsy—might be—but not enough to impair his judgement.
Just enough to give the world a warmer sort of glow.
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“Good thing you got along with Jack,” Leaf remarked.
“Why’s that?”
“He owns the marina. Didn’t I say? He must have liked you, too. Not a word did I hear
about noise ordinances.” Tighter and cosier, Leaf wound his one-armed hug. “You look a
million miles away. Penny for your thoughts?”
“I’m not sure they’re worth that much.”
“I’ve got a pair of bolt cutters. I’ll scissor a penny in half later. Or if you’d like, I’ll pay
double and reserve a future thought.”
“You are so odd.”
“Yeah, I know.” Leaf winked. “Go on, then. Half a penny for your thoughts. I can drop
as low as a quarter-penny if you insist, but after that, it’s more cost-effective to go for the
five-dollar notions. You can laugh. It’s not you who’ll be paying through the nose.” He lifted
Donovan’s chin. “You are gorgeous, though. Well worth it.”
Ah. Donovan hesitated. “You’d said you were okay with what happened last night not
happening again,” he said, crossing his arms and attempting—without much success—to
frown.
“Not exactly.” Leaf cradled Donovan’s face in his rough, impossibly nimble hands, and
grinned down at him, his lips soft-looking and sweetly curved. “I said I heard you. To wit—I
understood where you were coming from.”
Right. Donovan figured he really shouldn’t have been surprised by that. He knew better
than to want this, but he couldn’t help it. He liked Leaf. “And where do you think I’m going?”
“Three guesses, darlin’,” Leaf said.
Donovan saw the kiss coming this time. He chose not to avoid it. Nor anything else.
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Chapter Eight
“This way. Watch your step, now.”
Somehow, Donovan hadn’t imagined Leaf owning a boat. He wasn’t sure what he’d
envisioned, but men like Leaf were never born of mortal men and women. They were the
sparkling fireworks of the gods, and therefore sprang fully formed from the fallout of
lightning strikes to glitter factories. Picturing him in any domestic situation just didn’t sit
right.
Imagining him in a houseboat several degrees nicer and lusher than Eve’s sent
Donovan’s brain into a sideways spin.
Leaf flicked him gently between his eyebrows. “Don’t look so concussed. It’s not mine.
I’m housesitting for a lady professor who only spends summers here. ‘A house should be
lived in,’ she says.” His fond mimicry of an upper-class alto was uncannily spot on. “Don’t
get her started about shrink-wrapping boats for the winter.”
“They do that?”
“They do indeed. Stinks to high heaven and it takes ages to get the smell out.”
Donovan eyed a pair of sneakers Leaf had used to prop a window open. “Uh-huh.”
“I’ll tidy the place up before she moves back in. Until then, I’ll enjoy it. As she would no
doubt prefer.”
“If she knew what you get up to, you mean,” Donovan said, though he could see the
sense in Leaf’s attitude. As well as quite a lot of gleam in Leaf’s eye. “I take it you have a few
ideas about messes you’d like to make.”
“Spot on,” Leaf said happily, crowding Donovan against the bulkhead wall. “Hello,
angel face.”
“You don’t have to gild the lily, Leaf. You win.”
“Mm-hmm,” Leaf purred, happy as a kitten face deep in milk. “And aren’t you glad I
did?”
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Yeah, that’s the thing. He really was glad. When in Rome… He wound his arms around
Leaf’s neck and stood on his tiptoes to steal the first kiss before Leaf could. “Hello, yourself.
Don’t get too cocky, now.”
“Can’t really help it around you, darlin’.” Leaf nuzzled under Donovan’s chin as he
tipped their bodies closer. “Case in point.”
Donovan snorted. “Not at all full of yourself, are you?”
“Not really. You could be full of me, if you like.”
“Such a charmer.”
“I prefer to think of myself as refreshingly direct,” Leaf said.
He probably did, and he wasn’t wrong. He smelt so good this close. Donovan slid his
cold hands around Leaf and tucked them in the man’s back pockets. If he happened to grab a
nice double palmful at the same time—purely coincidental. Or not. He doubted Leaf would
have minded. Indeed, he made a pleased, purring sound, and the hardness between his legs
nudged Donovan more firmly still.
Donovan pressed his nose to Leaf’s chest and breathed deep of the smell of soap, salt
water and man.
Leaf burst into the most unmanly giggles ever to come from someone with that much
chest hair. He swatted at Donovan, light as falling leaves. “Stop, stop! God, that tickles.”
Which left Donovan with only one logical response. He pursed his lips and blew a
raspberry between Leaf’s nipples. Worth it, even when Leaf retaliated by hurtling himself
forward and taking Donovan along for the ride, down onto the Professor’s well-appointed
bed. Donovan landed on his back with Leaf crouched four-square over him, pleased as rum
punch.
When he kissed Donovan, Donovan closed his eyes, wrapped his arms and legs tight
around Leaf, and let the madman carry him away.
“Now that’s better,” Leaf murmured. He helped Donovan peel off his jeans and cast
them aside. A little overenthusiastic, he knocked over the free-standing lamp. Darkness
enveloped them as the plug came free from its socket, and blanketed them in thick, soft
shadow. Unbothered as ever, Leaf stroked Donovan’s cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“Lord help. What am I going to do with you, handsome?”
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Donovan tested the give of Leaf’s jeans. Loose enough to slide down without a great
deal of fuss. Perfect. “You tell me.”
“I’d rather show you.” Leaf wrestled with his polo, pulling it up and off. “Tch. This is
why you go with the shirts that button. Remind me of that next time, would you?”
A day or so ago, Donovan might have asked And what makes you think there’s going to be
a next time? To be fair, back then he’d truly believed he had more willpower than this. Funny
how Leaf seemed to have a knack for melting the best of intentions, like frost under the first
morning light.
Now, he dug his fingers into Leaf’s ribs as mild payback. “Would it do a single bit of
good?”
“Probably not.” Leaf twirled the polo over his head and let it fly away. “I like what I
like, and I’m loyal to the bone.”
“I’m sure.”
“You doubt me? Ah now, I’m crushed.” Leaf turned them about—the man must have
extra bones, or missing vertebrae, to be as agile as he was—and finished with Donovan atop
him, straddling his bare hips. “Can’t help noticing you still have your shirt on. You might
want to do something about that.”
“Might I?” Donovan asked, more or less rhetorically. He leant back and let Leaf ease the
light sweater off him. “‘What are you going to do with me?’, he asks. What am I going to do
with you?”
“Whatever you like.” Leaf stroked Donovan’s thighs and the flat of his stomach, above
and around the straining reach of his cock. “I have a few ideas. Not as much willpower as
ideas, I admit. So, it’s up to you. What do you want, Donovan, hmm? Want to teach me a
lesson? I know you’ve been thinking it. Everyone does.” He sat up, strong enough to carry
Donovan with him and cradle him in his lap, and clever enough to take them both in hand
and stroke.
“Ah, fuck,” Donovan gasped, dropping his head back. “That works. That’ll work fine.”
Leaf chortled. “Fine? Is that all, just ‘fine’? Angel face, ‘fine’ isn’t nearly as good as I
want.” His mouth moved, hot and wet, along the angle of Donovan’s jaw, and for all his light
words, his voice had dipped as deep as the bottom of a bourbon cask. His hands, rough with
calluses, seemed to draw sparks to every last nerve ending in Donovan’s skin, setting him
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alight with crackling kinetic energy. “The things I want to do with you, gorgeous, you’ve no
idea.”
Donovan found, in some hidden depth of his soul, the strength and wherewithal to take
Leaf in hand and give him a good sturdy stroke. Even if he couldn’t keep going for long with
Leaf’s lips and fingers on him, he could enjoy the absolute hell out of Leaf’s sharp indrawn
breath of pleasure, and the elegant arch of his back. “I think I have some idea.”
“You might at that,” Leaf said. He bit, lightly, at the shell of Donovan’s ear. “Want to
see if you’re guessing right or wrong?”
He didn’t wait for an answer—not that he needed to—before flipping them yet again.
Thank God the professor had a queen-sized mattress, or they’d have corkscrewed clear off
the bed by now. This last tumble put him face down, but beneath Leaf again. Leaf was so
much larger than him, Donovan wasn’t sure an onlooker would have been able to tell he was
under there.
Until, that was, Leaf wriggled farther down the bed. Donovan’s only hint of what Leaf
had in mind came with two warm, sturdy hands on his hips, and two thumbs on the cleft of
his ass. “What are you—? Oh my God.” He drove his head into the softness of the mattress.
“Leaf, fuck!”
Leaf blew cool air over the warmth where his mouth had been. “Never been rimmed
before, darlin’?”
Actually, no. Donovan didn’t know anyone who enjoyed that outside of porn. Possibly,
he conceded, he’d never known the right people. He didn’t admit to it, but he had a sneaking
suspicion that Leaf guessed. His chuckle darkened appreciatively as he laved Donovan with
his lips and his tongue, and held Donovan open, exposed, when he needed to breathe. “Look
at you. God, but you’re lovely. Good enough to eat.”
Donovan groaned. He should have known Leaf was the sort of man who’d pun during
sex. In response, Leaf only cackled and slapped his hip.
“Look at you, so open and so wet,” Leaf murmured. He nudged Donovan’s stomach
patiently until Donovan took the hint and drew his knees beneath him, hips canting high.
His ears perked at the distinctive crinkling noise of a condom wrapper. Hallelujah. Good
enough to eat, Leaf had said. Good enough to fuck?
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God, but he hoped so. He couldn’t take much more of this tension, delicious as it might
be, without exploding. He’d grow too large for his skin if Leaf kept up his teasing. He
whined low in his throat, angling his hips as best as he could. Come on. Now that I want you to
take a hint, you don’t?
“Ah-ah-ah.” Leaf caressed Donovan’s hips, kind but firm, his touch almost too hot to
bear. “Not unless you ask me for it when you’re not this wound up. When you ask me, I
want you to mean it before we even get started. Not because you’re ready to pop.”
Donovan gripped a handful of his own hair and tugged in frustration. “And whose
fault is that?”
“Mine,” Leaf admitted cheerfully. “So I’d best make it up to you.”
“You might want to.” Donovan knelt up enough to crane his neck and look over his
shoulder at Leaf. The sight of him, tousled and slick with sweat, made his stomach cramp
with the need to come. He lingered longer than he’d meant to, caught. Mesmerised. “I don’t
understand you at all.”
“You and everybody else.” Leaf tickled the back of Donovan’s neck, then deftly turned
him facing down again. “Fucking, no. But I could do this.” He nestled his cock inside the
crease of Donovan’s ass, if not inside Donovan himself, and stroked. “What do you say?”
Don’t you dare stop, was what Donovan wanted to say. He couldn’t speak. He could only
clutch Leaf tight and not let go.
“Good answer,” Leaf said against Donovan’s ear. “Hang on, darlin’. No holding back
now.”
He wasn’t joking. Leaf held Donovan hard in place, hands at his hips, the gorgeous
length of that long, dark cock sliding through his saliva-slick crease. His stubble scraped
Donovan’s back. If he could have, Donovan bet Leaf would have bitten his nape as an animal
would, marking his claim. He’d have let Leaf do it, too. How he managed to make
everything Donovan usually held out for seem so unimportant—
No, that wasn’t quite right. What Leaf did was more than that. He took reality and gave
it a good shake. Reset margins and hot buttons, and romped as joyously as a puppy in the
ground he’d chosen. Impossible. Maddening. Frustrating. Wonderful.
Donovan braced his knees to keep the channel tight, to encourage Leaf to get a hand
under him. And when Leaf took hold of his dick, clever and rough and just…right…
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“Oh yes,” Leaf said, over and over again, catching Donovan’s spunk as it spilled. “Fuck,
but that’s good. Ah, Donovan. Donovan.” He did bite Donovan at the last, not hard enough to
break the skin but certainly hard enough to give Donovan something to remember him by.
“God. Donovan. God.”
Donovan couldn’t reply. Wouldn’t have known what to say even if he could have put
words together. As it was, he could only lie there, spots of colour dancing in his field of
vision from gritting his teeth to keep the shouts inside, and from squeezing his eyes too
tightly shut. He rolled over, groping for a better hold on Leaf, and gathered the big goof in a
pile of shaking limbs and slick-wet curls that clung to his cheeks. He nudged Leaf’s hip.
“What are you trying to do?” he asked, low and quiet against Leaf’s cheek. “Kill me, or
kill you?”
“Can’t think of a better way to go,” Leaf said. He eased Donovan down with hands that
trembled like the fluttering of soft wings, and dropped a kiss at the centre join of Donovan’s
collarbones. “Can you?”
No, Donovan thought. He really couldn’t.
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Chapter Nine
Well, if he was going to break all the rules, at least he’d chosen a comfortable place for
anarchy. It’s the little things. Donovan hummed with appreciation as he sank nose-deep in
memory foam mattress padding and goose down pillows.
Leaf had flopped onto his back, hands loosely locked behind his head, eyes closed and a
deeply pleased tilt to his lips. “Not bad, hmm?”
“Pfft,” Donovan replied, muffled by the all-encompassing soft squishiness of the
pillows. Better to follow Leaf’s example, he thought, and wriggled about in a way that
reminded him of a turtle who’d been flipped wrong way up. Leaf laughed, low and amused,
as he put out one long arm to help Donovan flip. He’d almost got used to being tossed
around. A few more revolutions and he’d have to admit that he liked it.
Be my pancake turner. Didn’t exactly have a ring to it, but Donovan had the oddest
feeling there was more sincere sentiment in Leaf’s lazy assist than in any Valentine’s card.
He bounced his palms on the bed, testing its give. Like warm caramel. “How do you
manage to get up in the mornings?”
“I’ve never been much of a one for lying around,” Leaf said peaceably.
“Understatement of the year,” Donovan said after a moment’s thought. “And the award
goes to…”
Leaf poked him in the ribs. “Shut it, you.” He yawned. “I will admit it’s awfully nice on
the colder nights. I can’t stand sleeping in the chill. More often than not, I’ll wake up to find
I’ve wrapped myself in the blankets like a human burrito.”
Donovan could picture that. Very clearly. A tuft of uncontrollable curls at one end, and
two bare feet poking out the other side. He frowned and picked at a tiny, loose thread in the
duvet. “I always kick the covers off, even if I’m freezing.”
“Yeah, that’d be like you.”
“Wouldn’t it just?”
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Leaf flipped far more easily than Donovan to lie on his stomach. Curls bobbed against
his forehead. God, he was such a mess. Donovan wanted to kiss him again. “Tell me
something, Donovan. What are you so afraid of?”
Okay, unexpected. “Come again?”
“You’re terrified. And not just of fire and deep water.” Leaf rested his chin on his
crossed arms. “Or at least, that’s how it looks from here.”
“And how does it look from there, Mr. Insight?” Donovan’s temper prickled. Swear to
God, he wondered if Leaf was psychologically incapable of letting anything go. If he walked
past an entire puppy-pile of hibernating bears, he wouldn’t be able to resist poking them
with a stick.
Then he’d make friends with the lot, harness them up to a dog sled, and go in search of
an adventure. And come back with a fortune in gold.
“It’s the most fun watching you go off on a rant inside your head,” Leaf remarked. He
tweaked Donovan’s ear for good measure. “Who needs cable TV?”
“Very funny.” Donovan swatted Leaf’s pesky claws away. “And I’m not afraid of
anything. I’m not.”
Leaf snorted. “The hell you’re not. You know, just because one bad thing happens once,
that doesn’t mean everything else to come in your life is automatically condemned to suck,
so watch out.”
Donovan sat up, indignant. First Eve, and now Leaf? “That’s not how I think.”
“Isn’t it?” Leaf watched Donovan move, but made no attempt to stop him. Funny how
that drew Donovan to a halt when any attempt to grab or pull would have sent him bolting.
The man had fine instincts when he thought to use them. “Do you know how lucky you are,
having a friend who’s willing to let you camp out in her houseboat, for Pete’s sake? Most
folks would be fortunate if someone was kind enough to give them couch space.”
Donovan fidgeted. All right, that much was true. The bit about the boat, and Eve’s
kindness. But that didn’t mean he’d deliberately set out to not enjoy life.
Did it?
Leaf let the silence go on for a count of one, one two, one two three, before he sighed
and sat up. “All I’m saying is, life isn’t as bad as you seem to think, Donovan. Give it a
chance.” He changed moods so easily, shaking off one and donning another like hats falling
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off a rack. “Come on. We’ll see if we can find enough clothes to make ourselves decent, and
I’ll walk you home.”
“No need.” Donovan’s head ached. The worst part was knowing that Leaf might sound
a little Pollyanna-ish, but at the heart of it he wasn’t wrong. Probably. Which meant that
Donovan was—and had been—possibly not right about…everything. “I need to clear my
mind or I’ll never sleep.”
Leaf conceded without putting up a fight. “As long as you don’t wander off the dock in
the dark. I’ll keep a watch out for the lights in your boat.”
“Eve’s boat.”
“You say potato.” Leaf swung his long legs off the bed and hooked his discarded jeans
with one foot. The flex and play of muscles in his bare back made Donovan’s mouth go dry.
God, but the man was beautiful, wasn’t he? “I don’t mind. I like looking up at the stars.”
“Right,” Donovan said, absently, struck by a thought. A thing he hadn’t quite registered
before. Leaf’s pockets were all empty. No wallet, but that wasn’t surprising. What did raise
an eyebrow was the lack of cigarettes or lighter. In Donovan’s experience, anyone who still
smoked these days was usually hard-core enough about their habit to always, always carry.
And there were no ashtrays inside the Professor’s boat. Nor did it smell of smoke.
“Something up?” Leaf zipped his jeans without looking and, as Donovan might have
expected, despite donning them commando, he didn’t catch or snag so much as a hair. It
wasn’t as if he didn’t fill out the crotch of those jeans very nicely, either. “You’re giving me
the strangest look.”
“Let me see your hands,” Donovan demanded. He made a grab for them and narrowed
his eyes at Leaf’s smooth, clear skin, unstained by any hint of habitual cigarette-holding.
“You don’t actually smoke, do you?”
Leaf laughed. That, Donovan had expected. He wouldn’t be Leaf if he didn’t laugh. The
unexpected bit was the twinkle of approval in Leaf’s eye, and the warmth that bloomed in
response in Donovan’s chest. “I honestly reckoned it’d take you longer to clue in. Good job.”
Donovan’s head clunked and thunked like an old motor trying to turn over on a cold
morning. “The hell, Leaf? Was that your way of trying to desensitize me to the smell of
smoke?”
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“Well? Tea and sympathy didn’t do the job. I figured I might as well try something else,
and it worked, didn’t it?” Leaf slid his arms into his flannel shirt, let it hang open
unbuttoned, and bent to tip Donovan’s chin up with a dreadfully gentle touch. “You didn’t
react a bit to all those barbecue grills going tonight. See? Things can change, Donovan. And
for the better. Even if the method’s a little mad.”
“You…” Donovan was, momentarily, almost speechless. “My God. You bastard.”
Leaf’s eyebrows shot up. “Say again?”
“You bastard.” Donovan could have cheerfully pushed him off the dock if they were
outside. As it was, he had to satisfy himself with a not at all playful punch on the arm. “I
don’t know in what universe you might think that’s an okay sort of thing to do, but for
fucking sure it isn’t this one.”
Leaf rubbed at his arm. His eyes were wider than usual, not at all sleepy. “Donovan, I
didn’t mean—” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I was
trying to help.”
“Help. Right.” Donovan ground his palm against his face. “Swear to God…”
“Donovan.” Leaf couldn’t, or wouldn’t, leave well enough alone. He reached for
Donovan. “I care about you. All right? I do. I like spending time with you. You make me
laugh, and you look so sad all the time that I wanted to make you laugh, too. I thought you’d
think it was funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“I can see that.” Leaf didn’t let Donovan repulse him. His hand was warm and rough
on Donovan’s. “I get a lot of things wrong,” he said after a minute’s pause. His forehead was
furrowed, and his shoulders hunched. “I didn’t know I’d got this so very wrong. I’m sorry.”
He was. Donovan could hear it in every note and nuance of his voice. He might have
displayed his abject unhappiness more if he’d been an orphaned bunny shivering on a
doorstep, but that was debatable. Such a strange man. On top of the world, or at the bottom
of the sea. Donovan didn’t need someone so volatile in his life.
And yet he had him. Now the problem was figuring out what to do with him.
Donovan exhaled, trying to work the tensions out. He didn’t have much luck. Probably
wouldn’t, without some time to decompress. “I should go,” he said. “Strike that. I am going.
Let me out.”
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Leaf’s shoulders tightened. He nodded once, small and unhappy. Donovan almost—
almost—relented then. Almost told him everything will be okay. Just let me process this. He
didn’t. Better not to say anything he’d regret later.
He let himself out, without another word from Leaf.
Donovan stalked home—to Eve’s boat—in silence, hands tucked in his pockets and
head down. The party had wound down while he’d been on the Professor’s boat with Leaf.
Long since wound down, by the looks of things. The grills were cool enough to touch their
closed lids, and though the smell of charcoal lingered, every crumb of food had long been
cleared away.
The trash bins bulged, overflowing with cups and plates and empty briquette bags. Leaf
would have a hell of a job clearing all that up tomorrow. Donovan doubted very much
whether Leaf would mind in the least. He’d plug in his headphones, shimmy his hips, and
get on with the job.
Donovan wished he had the knack of that trick. Maybe Leaf would teach him.
The only person Donovan saw still out and about was Jack, busy lugging a garbage bag
that strained at the seams to prop up next to the over-full bins. He lifted his chin at Donovan,
and offered a rueful smile. “I always feel guilty after a gathering’s over. Like I should write a
note of apology to the landfill or something.”
His comment startled a chuckle out of Donovan. “I’m pretty sure that would just get
you some funny looks.”
“Probably so.” Jack tied off the bag and chafed his arms to ease the muscles. “I should
have made the time to talk to you before, but it looks like you’re fitting in just fine on your
own.”
Donovan bit back the automatic No, I’m not because it wasn’t even a little true. Not
anymore. “You think?”
“I do.” Jack studied him narrowly, then seemed to come to an inner decision that
satisfied the man. “If you do decide to buy or lease your friend’s boat, just let me know. We’ll
be glad to have you here.”
He patted Donovan’s shoulder companionably as he walked past. Donovan bit his lip
as he watched Jack go.
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He’d like to get to know Jack better. And Amy. And hell, even Vail. And he’d like to
prove Leaf wrong—or right, as the case might be. Looking down the pier, he could see the
lights shining warm and welcoming on Leaf’s boat, and Leaf on the stern, keeping an eye on
Donovan as promised. Seeing him home in the spiritual sense, if not the physical.
What if he could? What if he did? It could happen. It wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t
anything at all like what he’d thought he wanted, and yet… What if? Donovan wondered,
looking up at the sky and its sprinkling of stars like chips of diamond strewn across the
darkest of velvet.
What if?
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Chapter Ten
The world had set ideas about what love looked like. Donovan as much as, or more
than, anyone. He hoped that excused him from too much blame for not recognising it when
Cupid landed a bitch-slap to his face.
Donovan only stopped walking when the tips of his sneakers touched the boundary
line dividing sidewalk from crabgrass. The ground was almost unnervingly steady. He’d
grown to expect the rocking of the tides, and his legs wobbled without the rise and fall
beneath his feet. He slipped the pair of sunglasses he’d bought at a gas station into his pocket
and shaded his eyes with his hand instead, squinting at the wreck of the house he’d sunk all
his hopes and dreams into.
Strange, really.
The first time he’d seen the place, he’d nearly tripped over his own feet. Not that it was
a mansion, or even a young man’s ideal. Two bedrooms, one and a half baths, paved drive, a
fenced backyard with a few scrawny fruit trees, and as much privacy as he could shake a
stick at. If good fences made good neighbours, the folks who lived here seemed bound and
determined to be the best neighbours in the history of the world. He’d lived there for over a
year, but he still got a suspicious stink-eye glare from the crotchety old gent who lived next
door as the man levered himself into his car.
They’d never actually spoken, Donovan realised. He had no idea what the man’s name
was.
He’d been content with that life. Liked it. Been heartbroken when he’d had to leave.
Stranger still, and strange again. When Donovan looked at the house now, he felt…
Not at all what he’d expected to feel. Relief that he hadn’t gone up in smoke. Gladness
in survival. Willingness to move on. A decided lack of inclination to beat his breast or cover
his head with sackcloth and ashes.
It was only a house, after all. Not his life, nor his future. Donovan shook his head in
wonder. Who would have thought it? Not he.
At least, not before Leaf.
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Huh! How about that?
Thank God for patient, cheerful lunatics who turned the world topsy-turvy for the fun
of it and resurrected life from the ashes for an encore. Even if their method was utter,
infuriating, brilliant madness… Well, it worked, didn’t it?
Donovan smiled. Even when the elderly gent scowled at him, he didn’t stop smiling.
Nay, grinning. Beaming. Lighter than he’d been in years. He even tossed the old codger a
salute as cheery as Leaf’s. Felt good, too.
Because it is good. Dusting his hands off, Donovan turned on his heel without a word, or
another glance, and headed back towards the bus that’d take him back to the marina. Back
home.
* * * *
As a first hint that things might not go as smoothly as Donovan might have hoped,
Amy was behind the wheel of the water taxi when it pulled up to the street-side boarding
dock. Jack had driven him out earlier that morning. He’d imagined that Leaf would be
manning the wheel this afternoon.
Strange, but not enough to raise any red flags. Even in a community that took pride in
cleaning up after themselves, a party like the one at the marina last night would need a good
morning’s worth of work setting everything to rights. Donovan figured Leaf would be busy
unwinding lights and dragging heavy potted plants back where they belonged.
No big deal. He hadn’t expected Leaf to wait panting for him at the edge of the dock.
Amy gave him the oddest look as she killed the engine. As if she wanted to say
something, but bit her tongue to stop the words coming out. Donovan might have asked why
if he hadn’t spotted Leaf at the far end, shirt off and plastic rake in hand, sifting through the
water. To what purpose, Donovan had no idea. Snagging stray bits of rubbish before they
could float away, perhaps?
He turned, meaning to query Amy, but she’d already flipped open a logbook and
unleashed a scowl slightly fiercer than appropriate at its pages.
Okay, odd. Still, no problem. He’d just go to the source. Donovan shouldered the canvas
bag of oddments he’d bought in town and loped down to Leaf at the pier’s end. Leaf didn’t
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seem to hear him coming, caught up as he was in wielding the hell out of his rake. Donovan
slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and peered at the water. “What’s all this?” he
asked, and Leaf—
Leaf made no reply.
Okay… Very odd.
Leaf scooped up a forkful of tangled water weeds and deposited them on the dock with
a wet splat, and without a word. Leaf, ignoring him? He’d have sworn that was a guaranteed
never-happen. Confused, Donovan nudged him in the ribs. “Leaf?”
“Jesus wept!” Leaf yelped. He startled forward, only just catching himself before he
tipped into the drink. Hand at his chest, he whirled on Donovan—and stopped. “What are
you doing here?”
“Scaring you out of a year’s growth?” Donovan might have been a bit hard-pressed to
control the tempo of his pulse, too, after a reaction like Leaf’s. “You’re acting as if you’re
surprised to see me. Did someone tell you I died? Were you dragging the water for my body?
Which is about the only valid reason I can think of for raking a lake.”
He had expected Leaf to laugh. Perhaps to swat him companionably on the arm. Leaf
did neither, but narrowed his dark eyes at Donovan in a manner that left Donovan
uncomfortably wondering if he should check for scorch marks. “If you don’t clear out the
water weeds that get shredded by boat propellers, they make a hell of a mess. It’s an actual
job. I know what I’m doing. I’m pretty, not stupid. Got it?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all. Sorry.” Donovan fought the urge to hunch his
shoulders in embarrassment. “Why are you surprised to see me, though?”
Leaf took a half-step back. “Because you’d… Last night, you said you were going, and
you told me to ‘let you out’. I woke up this morning, and you’d left.”
“Points to you for noticing,” Donovan said slowly. Uneasiness crept up his spine.
Somehow, without his noticing, he’d been dropped into a conversational minefield and
ordered to tiptoe. “I’m not seeing how this is a problem.”
“You’d left,” Leaf said, still peculiarly blank. Almost stunned. “Jack said you’d taken off
like a bat out of hell this morning. That you were waiting at the dock long before the taxi
showed up. That you couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
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Donovan had the uncomfortable sensation that Leaf was circling around a point he
really, really should see clearly by now, but hadn’t yet pinpointed. “I wanted to go back to
my old house. I—”
“Shit.” Leaf dropped his rake and stalked away.
Seriously, what the hell?
Leaf moved fast, but Donovan jogged after him. He felt like a raindrop chasing a storm,
and was certain he looked like an idiot, but pride gave way in the face of confusion. An
uncoordinated jump brought him high enough to tag the back of Leaf’s head with a light
slap.
“Ow!”
“That didn’t hurt, you baby.” Donovan ducked in front of Leaf and planted his feet.
“Now. Do you want to tell me just what’s going on, or do you really want me to guess? I can
guarantee that won’t work out well for either of us. And if I’m going to stay here—”
“Wait, what?”
“What?” Donovan wondered if he had water in his ears. “Wait, what, what?”
Leaf had stopped blinking. “You’re staying here?” he repeated, as if the words were not
in recognisable English. “You’re staying?”
“What, did you think I was going?”
“Yes!”
Donovan gripped his hair and tugged. “Why would you think that?”
Leaf waved his hands in slashing arcs. “Jack! Boat! You, gone!”
“For the morning! I wanted to say goodbye to the old place, and while I was there I
signed some of the insurance paperwork. Which, by the way, is going to be tied up in
nitpicking litigation for half of forever, so no, I’m not going anywhere any time soon. You
really believed I’d just take off without saying anything?”
Leaf pointed wordlessly at the water taxi. His dark expression was a storm in
miniature.
“And you couldn’t have just asked me this?”
“I tried that last night. I’ve been trying to ask since we met!”
Okay, fair point. Donovan shut his mouth.
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“And see, stupid me, I thought at first—after Jack patted me on the back and said,
‘Better luck next time’—that no, surely he wouldn’t do that, because no matter how hard you
seem to try for it sometimes, you’re not actually a bastard. So I went and knocked on the
doors, again, and no one answered.” Leaf huffed out a breath. “What was I supposed to
think, Donovan?”
Leaf looked disappointed, Donovan realised. Saddened. Seeing that made something
inside Donovan twist unhappily. Sorrow was a look that didn’t belong on Leaf. The man had
been made to smile, always, and Donovan’s hands itched to fix this somehow.
He opened his mouth instead. “I left all my stuff there. Wasn’t that enough of a clue?”
“How so? You’re the same size as Eve, or near enough, and you don’t get that good of a
look through portholes.” Leaf’s shoulders slumped. “I figured you’d gone. That you really
meant it when you told me you couldn’t do this. That I’d blown it. Again. I do that. It’s all
right to go after what you want when it’s a job or a trip or a pet catfish—”
“You have a pet catfish?” Donovan blurted. He stopped himself. “Never mind that.
Leaf, stop. Okay? Just stop.” He planted his heels as firmly as he could in Leaf’s path. “I
wasn’t leaving for good. Just leaving for the morning.”
“Last night, when you said you couldn’t be with me…” Leaf wasn’t listening. He’d
withdrawn behind a façade that mimicked his usual cheerful nature. Only, Donovan could
tell the difference, and this fake smile seemed as hollow as an empty shell. “It’s not like you
didn’t tell me time and again. I’ve only got myself to blame. If you play with fire you’re
going to get your fingers burned, and it’s no use fussing at the matches. You’d think I’d have
learned by now, but I never do.” He produced an awful, humourless grin. “Sorry about all of
that. No harm, no foul, all right?”
Donovan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Leaf…” he started, slowly at first, then
picking up speed as he went along. “I went to town because I needed to get my head on
straight. No, stop, I know exactly what you’re thinking right now and you’re wrong. All
right? Absolutely wrong. I went back to the lot where the burned-out shell of my house, the
house I thought was all I ever wanted, still sits, and do you know what I felt? Nothing.
Almost nothing. I’m still pissed about the insurance adjusters, but never mind that.”
Leaf’s eyebrows slowly drew together in a puzzled frown. Still a frown, but enough of a
step in the right direction that Donovan drew a deep breath and ploughed forward.
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“See, I don’t want to grow old and die alone,” Donovan said, and promptly wanted to
slap himself on the ear. “That didn’t come out the way I meant. I meant… Damn it. Let me
start over?”
Leaf looked less than certain about Donovan’s sanity, but he hadn’t walked away yet.
Yet being the key word. Donovan spoke faster, his words tumbling over the top of one
another. “I’d lost hope. I’d lost interest. I kept on putting one foot in front of the other
because that’s what you do, but I’d put everything except breathing and sleeping on hold
until I got back to where I thought I should be. I thought that was the only thing that’d make
me happy. And then,” he said, taking another breath. “There was you. You never knock
when you can barge in. You never whistle when you can sing at the top of your lungs. You
never wait, you never overthink, and you never talk yourself out of going for what you want.
Until now, and it doesn’t suit you, so stop it.”
The frown lines in Leaf’s forehead were etched heavily enough now that they begged to
be smoothed out, but Donovan imagined he saw a slowly dawning light in the depths of
those warm brown eyes.
“Okay…” Leaf started, drawling each word. “I didn’t actually understand most of
that—you sounded like a cartoon mouse on uppers when you started to run out of breath—
but you’re saying… What, now?”
“I’m saying I’m an inch away from pushing you off the dock after all, you big, adorable
idiot,” Donovan said with care for his enunciation. “All the thinking in the world doesn’t
help, so I’m done with it. Viva la marina. Viva la you. What I’m trying to tell you is I want to
be with you. I want to live like you do. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I want to be
happy. And I want to make you happy. That’s it. That’s all.”
Not a bad Hero Speech, if Donovan said so himself. Of course, in the movies a Hero
Speech usually resulted in teary eyes and declarations of ‘You had me at hello’. Not in the
love interest biting his lip and hanging back.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Donovan said at last, out of ideas and out of
options. He spread his hands with the palms turned up in surrender. “But I want to try. If
you’ll still have me.”
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“I got that part,” Leaf said, still the slightest bit wary. Donovan didn’t understand until
Leaf spoke again, and Leaf’s hesitation became crystal clear. “I don’t want you to want me
because I’m the best of a bad situation. Not as a last resort.”
Donovan snorted. He couldn’t help it. “You, a last resort? Please. You’re the Bermuda
vacation with a side trip to Belize and you know it.”
There. Finally. Leaf tipped his head back and laughed. Donovan huffed, just for the sake
of appearances, and pretended to patiently wait for Leaf to finish.
Or not. He wrapped his arm around Leaf’s waist instead, all the better to feel him shake
with mirth, and to soak up the warmth of his sunbaked skin. “That’s an improvement,” he
said, lifting his chin.
“It’s a start,” Leaf said. “It’ll do. If you smile for me.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Donovan said. His lips quirked into upward curves
almost of their own accord anyway—he didn’t even have to try. “By the way, I hope you’re
horribly embarrassed about making assumptions.”
“Crawling with mortification, darlin’,” Leaf said, fully himself again.
Whew.
When he bent his head to kiss Donovan he tasted of sunshine. “We could be fantastic,
Donovan. You and me. If we try.”
“I know,” Donovan said. “I do.”
“You’ll stay, then? Really?”
Donovan took his time answering that, because it was an answer that mattered. He took
Leaf’s hand and laced their fingers together, pressing palm to palm, and while he couldn’t
quite look Leaf in the eye thanks to a sudden bashfulness, he held onto Leaf and didn’t let go.
“I’ll stay. And we’ll see what happens next.”
“Good enough for me.” Leaf kissed him again, thoughtful and slow, his lips soft and
the tip of his tongue teasing Donovan’s. This close, Donovan had a front-row view of the
sparkle in Leaf’s eye. “‘Course, I know what I’d like to happen now.”
Donovan shook his head, amused. “Why did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because you’re as smart as you are pretty.” Leaf cradled the nape of Donovan’s neck
and looked down at him with something like a mix of pride and pleasure, and unaccustomed
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shyness and joy. And pure devilry. Couldn’t forget that one. “Race you there? Winner gets to
top.”
Donovan laughed. Life with Leaf would never, ever be boring, would it? And it would
sometimes be almost unbearably sweet. Worth all the tradeoffs for this kind of reward.
So for Leaf, he smiled. And for the fun of it, he slipped out of the taller man’s loose
embrace to bolt ahead, making tracks for the Knotty Boy. “You think so? Catch me if you
can!”
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Chapter Eleven
Donovan made it inside the boat first and dived through the open sliding door. Very
nice, but Leaf arrested his progress just inside the door, catching him around the waist from
behind and lifting him off the floor for a breathless second of Fred Flintstone-type air
pedalling.
He laughed in Donovan’s ear, wicked and boyish at the same time. “Call it a draw?”
“Not on your life,” Donovan shot back—to which Leaf responded, as Donovan had
hoped, by tackling him end over end, corkscrewing them both onto the bed. Good. Leaf
hamstrung by fate was not something Donovan ever wanted to see again, please and thank
you. Far better to go with the tide and let the madness carry them both away, because
honestly? Madness not only trumped reality, but left it far behind, floundering like a beached
fish in its wake.
He wasn’t naïve enough to imagine nothing but smooth sailing from now until happily
ever after, but with a man like Leaf it wasn’t hard to imagine coming as close as possible to
the ideal.
To that end, when Donovan allowed Leaf to pitch him onto the bed, he wriggled about
so that they landed with Leaf on his back, and Donovan on top. Technically in control. Leaf,
it had to be said, didn’t mind at all. He growled like a happy lion as he stretched full-length
and settled underneath Donovan.
Donovan wasn’t complaining, either. Not when he had Leaf’s sturdy chest beneath him.
Leaf’s hard cock pressing up against his stomach. God, so good. Leaf…
Leaf’s dark shadow of stubble rasped Donovan’s cheeks when Leaf took him by the
nape and drew him close enough to kiss, and kiss again, his lips somehow firm and lush at
the same time. “You have no idea how handsome you are,” Leaf murmured when he had to
steal a breath. “Someone should have carried you away and locked you up before now.”
“I’d like to see them try.”
“Hmm.” Leaf cradled Donovan’s face in his hands. “Would you stop me from trying?”
“I could,” Donovan said. “But I won’t. Quit talking. Kiss me again.”
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“Is that what you want?” Leaf arched an eyebrow. “Or is this what you want?” He took
Donovan by the waist and turned them, twisting somehow, bringing himself out on top with
Donovan pinned down.
“What is your issue with making sex a full-contact sport?” Donovan asked, thumping
Leaf on the shoulder.
“You love it.” Leaf’s mouth left Donovan’s and moved down, stubble leaving prickly
heat wherever he lavished a kiss or three. He lifted the hem of Donovan’s shirt and nosed
underneath, pushing the body-warmed cotton up and up again until he’d nearly tucked it
under Donovan’s chin, then splayed his hands wide across Donovan’s chest.
Donovan sucked in a sharp breath when fingernails grazed his nipples. He got half a
peek at the abrupt, avaricious gleam in Leaf’s eyes before the man bent his head to—
Sharp teeth closed gently around his nipple and bit. Donovan shouted in surprise and
not a little pleasure, but the sound escaped him before he could decide that the noise
ordinances could go hang for one night. He jerked his hips, pushing up. Leaf caught them,
holding their bodies close together.
“Do you feel that?” he asked, the playful lilt in his voice gone deep and velvety. He
moved Donovan’s hand between them, turning him so when he stopped it was cupping his
full erection. “That’s all you. In case you were wondering.”
Donovan snorted. “Such a charmer.”
“Aren’t I just?”
“You are, and you know it.” Donovan couldn’t get a good grip on Leaf. He lay at the
wrong angle, making him awkward as he tried to stroke Leaf’s length. Maybe if Leaf’s jeans
weren’t in the way—
“Careful,” Leaf said, arching up. “I’ll do it.” He grimaced as he worked a hand between
them, his knuckles brushing Donovan’s erection. Leave it to Leaf. He’d arranged it somehow
so that when his cock eased free it fell into the cup of Donovan’s palm.
“If you didn’t insist on being hung like a horse…” Donovan muttered, words muffled
by Leaf’s kiss—until Leaf broke away to laugh. He tried to undo his trousers, and firmly
pushed Leaf’s hand away when he attempted to help. Leaf’s untamed hair fell down around
his face, cloaking everything in shadow, keeping Donovan from seeing him clearly—if he’d
been able to decide where to look in the first place. He wanted to see it all. Everything.
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76
Donovan gave up on the zipper, too much for his shaky coordination, and thanked
small mercies that his jeans were loose enough to slide down his hips. He’d forgotten about
his underwear, a new pair of black boxer briefs, but Leaf eased those down.
“The best of both worlds,” Leaf said, shimmying his hips to free himself of his own
entanglements. “Practical and surprising. That’s you all over.”
Donovan had to kiss him for that, and luckily, he was right there to be kissed. Leaf’s
hand closed around his cock and squeezed. He bit down harder than he’d meant to, no doubt
bruising Leaf’s lip, and canted his hips higher, seeking more of the touch.
Leaf hummed appreciatively as he rubbed the nerve-rich head with the pad of his
thumb. “Gorgeous boy. If I had one of these, I’d strut around like the cock of the walk.”
“You do have one of these,” Donovan said. He pushed into Leaf’s hand. “Take
advantage of it.”
“Cheeky.” Leaf nuzzled behind Donovan’s ear. “God, but you knock me off my feet.
Take care not to stop.” He moved his hips, lining them up together. He reached between
them and gathered both their cocks into his hand, and squeezed.
No one was stopping anything now.
Donovan strained up, seeking Leaf’s mouth. The stretch hurt his neck, but it was worth
it for the relief when Leaf pressed him down, body flat and hard against him, and ravaged
him with something more than a kiss and less than an assault. Something between the two,
something that staked a claim.
“Donovan,” Leaf warned. Donovan could hear the last of his resolve in the raggedness
of his tone. Leaf’s cock jerked between them, heavy and sticky. “Christ, Donovan. You said
you wanted to have me? Might want to hurry.”
“Have you, yes. Be in you? No. Not this time, anyway.” He guided Leaf’s hand down,
down, down, behind his heavy sac. He closed his eyes and drew in a lusty breath. “Starting
to get the idea?”
Leaf’s broad white smile widened. “For real?”
“It’s not for pretend.” Donovan hooked one knee around the back of Leaf’s legs. “Going
once… Going twice…”
“I’d rather come than go.” Leaf slapped Donovan’s hip with a playful flick of the wrist.
“Got supplies? Good. Keep that warm for me, darlin’, and I’ll take care of you.”
Willa Okati
77
Donovan snorted. “As long as you hurry,” he said, though he would have waited there
as long as need be, watching Leaf’s hands shake with the hurry to get a condom on. Ah,
romance.
Yes, romance. It’s Leaf. That’s all that matters.
Leaf dropped to his knees and crawled up Donovan, bracing himself on his arms. He
kissed Donovan’s cheeks, his chin and his lips, lingering and slow, licking his way into
Donovan’s mouth. He’d reduced Donovan to whimpers and shudders before he let Donovan
breathe properly again. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Donovan raised his thigh, letting Leaf rock against it, his cock sliding hot and
hard between them. “Don’t I feel sure? Come on, big man. Show me what you’ve got if
you’re up for it. Or I can walk you through it, if you need help.”
Leaf’s eyes twinkled with wanton mischief. “That’s fighting talk.”
“Then bring it on.” Donovan arched his back as Leaf slicked his fingers with lubricant
and pressed low. “Right there… Oh God yes. Another. I won’t break. Deeper, God yes,
deeper… Fuck.”
“Very pretty,” Leaf said with a lavish hum, working fingers deep inside. “Good?”
“God.” Donovan ground his teeth and tightened his hold on Leaf. “Come on.”
Leaf lifted Donovan’s legs to brace both around his hips and moved between them,
pressing him open. “Donovan,” he said on a long, shuddering exhale. “Now?”
Donovan wasn’t sure how he had the coordination, but he reached between them and
guided Leaf. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Ahh…” He let go and arched back. “Like that. More.”
Leaf took Donovan’s mouth in a kiss as he bottomed out, then crushed his forehead to
Donovan’s, strung in a tight bow over, around, and in him. To have Leaf inside was to bask
in the glow of a dark burn, a flare of pleasure like biting into a smoky pepper.
“Donovan…” Leaf said, a thin thread of sound. “Donovan.”
Donovan arched his back, letting himself make all the noise he wanted. Encouragement.
Appreciation. Demands for more. When the burn faded, Leaf’s girth still stretched him wide
and hungry. Bring it. Donovan wanted all that Leaf could give.
Rain pattered on the window. Light drops, the first of the season’s turning. Donovan
closed his eyes. He’d rather listen to the rough rasp of Leaf’s breathing and to the slick
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78
sounds of their bodies. His balls were tight, teased full, and his cock kissed his belly, wet and
heavy, twitching with the need for more.
“Your hand,” he muttered between kisses. “Don’t hold back. Use your hand—”
Leaf did, strung out on the fine edge though he might be. His hair hung over his eyes,
and a rosy flush spread from forehead to chest. Fucked-out and gorgeous with it, but he rose
to the challenge. Of course he did. Leaf always would.
It wouldn’t take much. It didn’t take much. Donovan let fly with a shout he would have
bitten back when Leaf’s hand wrapped around him and took hold.
“Like that. More,” Donovan said, his arm around Leaf’s waist to keep him moving.
Dazed, he looked up into the deep, endless blue.
I could very well fall in love with you. In fact, I’m sure I will. How about that? Weird,
wonderful Leaf. Don’t ever change. Love you, indeed—especially when you’re hitting that spot—
Donovan’s toes curled into knots as he threw his head back, his mouth open, shouting.
He clenched and loosed around Leaf’s cock, squeezing him without mercy as he sprayed his
chest and belly with spunk.
“Oh, fuck,” Leaf gasped. Donovan couldn’t help him. All Donovan could manage was
not letting go until Leaf came with a cry and a beautiful, almost crane-like bow of his spine.
Beautiful. So beautiful. Donovan stared at him through hazy eyes. And I almost missed out
on this?
Leaf dropped to rest his head on Donovan’s chest, muttering things that made no sense
but didn’t need to. Donovan splayed his hand wide on Leaf’s sweat-slicked back, holding
him tight as he could.
Never shall I hesitate again. Carpe diem, all the way.
He nudged Leaf with the tip of his forefinger, frankly just about all he could move at
the moment. “I should tell you,” he started, almost shy. They were more spice than sugar,
but Leaf ought to hear. He should know.
“You can if you want, angel face, but you don’t have to.” Leaf nuzzled Donovan quiet.
“I already know it. I knew it all along.”
Donovan believed him.
* * * *
Willa Okati
79
Eve had yet to stop laughing at Donovan, but the hug she’d given him after signing the
deed was one that Donovan wouldn’t soon forget. A down payment on the Knotty Boy took
every last penny from the insurance settlement and then some, sure, but every time Donovan
woke to a blue morning over the water with Leaf snoring at his side… Well. Donovan
figured he couldn’t complain.
More to the point, he didn’t complain. No reason to, nor any desire. When he hadn’t
been looking, he’d been found.
And for their first anniversary, Leaf bought him swimming lessons.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Soulmarked: Now and Then
Willa Okati
Excerpt
Chapter One
“Finally.” Nathaniel collided with Robbie, wrapping himself around his brother from
the side.
Robbie was sturdy enough to take the hit without stumbling. He knuckled the boy’s
head. “You’re not excited or anything, are you?”
“Are you kidding? This is amazing.” Nathaniel’s eyes glowed like warm brown stars.
He’d never been tall or strong, always the youngest and most in need of looking after, but try
to coax him away from his love of sports…well. It’d be easier to teach a dog to climb trees.
He ducked away from Robbie’s fond assault on his noggin. “Did you ever think they’d
actually finish the coliseum?”
Honestly? There’d been times Robbie had doubted. Plans for the giant sports centre had
been drawn up before he was born, and they’d laid the foundation around the same time
he’d tried to teach Nathaniel how to ride a bike.
All good things had their own time, he supposed.
“I can’t be sure, but I think that means no, he didn’t,” Cade butted in, sandwiching
Robbie on his other side. “It can be hard to tell the difference, but that particular subtle
nuance of our big brother’s sombre demeanour—a hint of a smile—might just mean he’s
pleased to be proved wrong. Are you?”
Robbie rolled his eyes indulgently. Mother Nature must have known Cade’s destiny
was to be a middle child. He’d come out of the womb raising hell, and had pounced gleefully
on the chance to teach Nathaniel his ways when the youngest boy was born. His brothers
were noisy, energetic, affectionate double handfuls of trouble. He had no idea how he could
ever do without them.
He pulled Nathaniel’s ear instead of a lock of his brother’s hair. “I did buy tickets for
the first game, opening night,” he said. “Would I have done that if I didn’t have faith things
would turn out?”
“It’d be the first time in your life,” Cade said with careless ease. He caught Nathaniel by
the shoulder and hustled him a few steps forward. “I think they might be almost ready to
unlock the gates. Come on. I’ll show you how to throw elbows.”
Robbie shook his head as he watched them go. The gates would open when they
opened, and their seats for the first game were numbered. Come in early or come in late, it
wouldn’t make any difference…but on the other hand, he couldn’t blame them for their
eagerness. Or their teasing him for being a serious-natured bastard. After all, they hadn’t
known him in the days when he was different. They weren’t old enough to remember the
things Robbie had done. Or to know well most of the people Robbie had known, and those
who’d known Robbie in return.
Some more than others. Some very, very well…
Robbie rubbed absently at a spot over his breastbone.
He wasn’t the only one watching his brothers working hard at their playing around.
Just ahead, a tall drink of water with a head of wild chestnut curls whistled and elbowed a
shorter, ginger man beside him. “Get a load of that, would you?” Chestnut said, helping
himself to an ogle of Nathaniel’s trim shoulders and narrow waist. “I wouldn’t kick him out
of bed for eating crackers.”
“You’d have a hard time finding him in the sheets,” his friend said, apparently not as
impressed by Nathaniel. He lifted his chin at Cade. “Now, that one? The way he walks? He’s
packing, front and back. That’s more my kind of man. You’re taller. Can you tell if they’ve
got soulmarks?”
“Not as far as I can see, though I’d be glad to get a second look—”
Chestnut didn’t get to finish what he had to say. Robbie drew himself up to his full six
feet of height, took two steps forward to cast his shadow over them and cleared his throat.
Some people Robbie could have mentioned would have burst into giggles at the way the
rakish pair’s eyes widened. There were advantages to being tall and looking, as Cade usually
put it, like the kind of rough, tough and risky sort of man that motorcycles were made for.
“They haven’t found their mates yet,” Robbie said once he was sure he’d got their full
attention. “And if I have anything to say about it, nobody’s going to be looking tonight,
either.”
Chestnut squeaked. The corners of Robbie’s mouth quirked up. They understood each
other. Good.
And neither Cade nor Nathaniel had noticed a thing. Well, Cade might have, from his
wink at Robbie, but he didn’t pay the pair of chastened gawkers even a crumb of attention.
“They really are opening up,” Cade said, ducking back to tug at Robbie’s elbow. “You
can’t fool me. I know you’ve been looking forward to this for years.”
True. He had. Even when he’d doubted. Robbie rubbed harder at the uncomfortable,
sore spot over his breastbone. He blinked as his head took another of the odd turns he’d dealt
with all day long, as fogged-over as if he were drowning on dry land.
Cade raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”
“Me? Fine.” Robbie pushed the strange, small ache out of his mind. The coliseum,
finally open. Major league football less than an hour’s drive away. Family. What more could
a man want?
The iron gates keeping the hemmed-in crowd away from gates to the stadium started to
crank back. Robbie kept companionable pace with Cade and kept one eye on Nathaniel.
“Show me how to throw elbows, too. I’m not going to be the odd man out.”
* * * *
“Forty…fifty…yes!” Ivan pounded Nick’s trim shoulder, accidentally jostling him
forward half a pace and spilling a slosh of beer over the rim of his paper cup. Oops. Never
mind, he’d pay for a refill later.
Nick didn’t even notice. “Did you see that?” he yelled through the din. “God, that was a
thing of beauty! Fucking team!”
Next to Nick, Abram shook with laughter. “Barrett’s going to hate our guts for coming
to the game when he had to work,” he shouted, the deep heartiness of his baritone carrying
where other voices wouldn’t. “What do you want to bet he’s sour for a week?”
“Nah, not my Barrett,” Nick said, utterly confident. He patted the sturdy woven
wristband he wore on his left arm, covering the mark that he and his mate Barrett shared.
Not that Ivan had ever seen it, but there was no reason he would have. Soulmarks were
private. “I should call him. Let him know the score, at least.”
Ivan and Abram shared amused grimaces over Nick’s head. Nick and his soulmate
were still in the honeymoon stage. Had been for months, and they showed no signs of getting
over the head-rush yet. Good for them, in Ivan’s opinion. Those two had been friends for
years before their soulmarks had finally shown up. Sometimes it took a while.
He rubbed at a spot over his breastbone. Sometimes it took a while, yes, and
sometimes…sometimes, it happened quickly. He should know.
Abram frowned at Ivan and gestured vaguely at Ivan’s chest. “Everything all right?”
“Heartburn,” Ivan said, shaking it off and taking another bite of his giant, soft pretzel
coated in spicy mustard. “Worth it, too.”
Abram tsked at him. “Such a child.”
“Only two years younger than you,” Ivan said. He licked his fingers. “Damn, that’s
good.”
“I hope so. You’re going to be wearing it all night.”
Wearing it— Oh. He’d got a spot on his shirt. Ivan rubbed at the smudge to no avail. Ah
well. No big deal. He could cover the worst with the tie he’d loosened up the second he left
work, or if worst came to worst, he’d put his jacket back on. Or take off his shirt altogether.
Dealer’s choice, Ivan thought as he polished off the last of his pretzel.
Why was food eaten out of doors always better, anyway? A mystery for the ages. If the
guys at the station could see him now… With his hair dishevelled and his collar loose,
laughing and roistering with his friends, he doubted any of the other detectives would
recognise him.
Strange, now, to remember he’d wavered over coming to the game. Though he couldn’t
have said why—and he’d tried to figure it out all day—the thought of taking a night off had
kept Ivan dragging his feet for hours, even when the tickets were bought and the carpool
arranged. Drove him half-crazy until he got there, heard the roar of the crowd, and months’
worth of tension had lifted off his shoulders.
He licked his fingers and laughed at Nick, who was trying to be stealthy about dialling
Barrett.
Abram pretended to tut at him in disapproval, which was less frightening and more
hilarious coming from a six-foot-tall former Marine who kept his head shaved as bald as an
egg and his goatee as sleek as black velvet. Ivan wasn’t a small man, but Abram made him
feel tiny. “God save us from children in love.”
Ivan scoffed good-naturedly and absently rubbed his knuckles harder over his chest,
annoyed by the twinge over his ribs. “You and your mate were just as bad.”
Abram touched the obsidian mourning bead in his earlobe—a symbol only worn by
widowers—with reverence. “Worse, I think. Callum would have the time of his life teasing
them. Probably would have some big prank in the works.”
Ivan didn’t doubt it. Though he hadn’t known Abram’s soulmate, he wished he had.
The stories about those two in their prime were the next best thing to local legend, and when
Abram needed to keep his hands busy at the station, he’d sketch parts of the soulmark they’d
shared.
Better to have loved and lost, some people said.
Ivan wasn’t entirely sure about that one. Never had been.
He made himself stop fiddling with the warm tingle under his collarbone before Abram
insisted on checking for damage. He might not have noticed. Nick had just realised he’d lost
half his beer, and their paramedic friend was looking to put a hurt on someone. He roared so
indignantly it made Abram bellow with laughter.
Ivan held up his hands, palms out, before Nick could pelt him with the half-melted ice.
Cheeky little brat. “My fault! Sorry, my fault. I’ll replace it.”
“Will you? Good.” Nick tossed back the few sips of beer left to him and thrust the cup
at Ivan. “Start now.”
Abram tipped his cup up. “I wouldn’t mind a refill. If you’re going, that is.”
“Do I have a choice?” Ivan asked, more or less rhetorically. He couldn’t stop grinning.
Leaving aside the odd little aches and pains that came with getting older, there was just
something about this stadium, this night, wasn’t there? He could feel it behind his eyes. A
sense of something good, of anticipation, excitement, all making him feel like a kid again.
More so than he had in years. Something that heated the blood and made him want to run
and play, and he would swear it wasn’t just the game.
“Nope,” Abram and Nick said in unison. Nick winked at Ivan. “Come on. Do your best
barmaid impression.”
“Barmaid this,” Ivan said, waving a joking fist at them. They razzed him.
“Peanuts, too!” Abram called. He put a casual arm around Nick’s shoulders. Widowers
had more leeway. Even if Barrett smelt Abram on Nick later, the possessiveness wouldn’t
kick in. Shouldn’t.
He had to stop spending so much time thinking about mates and soulmarks, Ivan
decided. Beer was the best way possible to get started on that. Cups in hand, he threaded his
way through the stadium seats and to the steps leading down, taking them two at a time in
an easy jog.
About the Author
Willa Okati can most often be found muttering to herself over a keyboard, plugged
into her iPod and breaking between paragraphs to play air drums. In her spare time
(the odd ten minutes or so per day she’s not writing) she’s teaching herself to play the
penny whistle.
Willa has forty-plus separate tattoos and yearns for a full body suit of ink. She walks
around in a haze of story ideas, dreaming of tales yet to be told. She drinks an
alarming amount of coffee for someone generally perceived to be mellow.
Email:
Willa loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and
author biography at
Also by Willa Okati
