Jude Mason & Jenna Byrnes Kindred Spirits 5 Dylan's Dilemma

A Total-E-Bound Publication

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Dylan’s Dilemma
ISBN # 978-0-85715-510-8
©Copyright Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2011
Edited by Janice Bennett
Total-E-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, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-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 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature
readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

Kindred Spirits

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dedication

To my writing partner, who puts up with me going in ten directions at once and sometimes

doing it very haphazardly! Thanks for catching me when I fall. Here’s to many more ornery

spirits! ~ Jenna

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

BonBon: Hershey Company
Cujo

: Stephen King

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Chapter One

“What do we have here?” Coffee in hand, Dylan Wyatt stood just inside the inn’s

double doors. He was admiring the view, but not of Whiskers’ Seaside Inn’s picturesque

setting. His attention was drawn to a tall, slender man who’d just climbed out of an old,

white truck. The newcomer sported a black leather vest over a ragged T-shirt, an unusual

combination considering the warm summer weather. ‘Unusual’ seemed to be an appropriate

word for the man, whose hair ran in a thick braid down his back. A large, colourful tattoo

wound down one arm to his wrist.

He fills out those worn blue jeans in a nice way. Dylan shook his head in an attempt to clear

the thought. He couldn’t get a grip on what he found so intriguing. He’d never been

attracted to tattooed physiques in the past, but this guy seemed different. An air of—what?

Mystery? Danger?—surrounded the handsome hunk like thick fog.

“Hey, daydreamer.” The words came from a very short, nearly bald man climbing from

the front seat of the truck. “Give us a hand, would you?”

Dylan’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, wondering if the guy was talking to

him. He quickly realised the driver was speaking to the handsome hunk.

With an obvious sigh, the sexy fellow in tight jeans turned his attention from the ocean

and made his way to the rear of the truck.

Dylan bit back a chuckle. The view was incredible, but the guy wasn’t there to sight-see.

He was one of the men hired to tear down the marquee, tables and chairs brought in for the

wedding at the inn the previous day. Dylan’s brother, Cade, and his groom, Ethan, had

finally tied the knot with a full-scale celebration. Once they’d got past some pre-wedding

nonsense, the ceremony had gone off without a hitch, and guests had partied late into the

night. Now, the couple were off on their honeymoon, leaving Dylan to run the inn for a

couple of weeks. His first chore was to supervise the cleanup.

Dylan noted annoyance on the balding man’s face when the hunk, moving at his own

slow pace, reached for the armload of strapping he held out. Shorty was obviously in charge.

Two other men stood idly by, each bearing a burden of rope or burlap. It wasn’t a terribly big

job, but it was hot outside, and no one seemed anxious to get started before anyone else.

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The wedding paraphernalia had to be removed that afternoon so the garden and yard

could return to normal for incoming guests. Logan Emerson, the inn’s former cook who had

spearheaded the wedding plans, had hired local barkeep, Joe Swanson, and his crew to do

the teardown. Dylan eyed the workers, his attention going back to the tall, dark-haired hunk

and staying there. The stud’s three-day beard growth was nearly as black as his hair. When

the hunk turned his back again, Dylan dragged his gaze off the man’s ass long enough to

realise the thick, braided hair nearly reached his waist.

“Yowzah!” Dylan whispered and sucked in his breath. That’d definitely be something to

hang onto during… He pushed that thought aside. The guy was probably as straight as an

arrow, so whatever Dylan might dream up, he’d be disappointed.

Nevertheless, he had to go out and talk to this Joe guy. Setting his cup on the nearest

table, he pushed his fingers through his own shoulder-length, brown hair and walked out

into the sunlight. Joe had stopped the truck at the far end of the parking lot, so Dylan got

another look at Mr. Hunk on the way over. By the time he reached the truck, Dylan was

tempted to grab a handful of the hottie’s hair just to see what would happen. He forced

down his lustful thoughts and approached Joe.

“Joe Swanson?” Dylan extended his right hand towards the balding man. “I’m Dylan

Wyatt. I’m taking care of the place while the newlyweds are away for a couple of weeks.”

Joe reached out and took Dylan’s hand, giving it a vigorous shake. “Mr. Wyatt, good to

meet you. Logan told me you’d be here to make sure we got this right. The marquee, tables

and chairs, that’s all you want us to take, right?”

“Yes, that’s it. Logan said you’d be able to return the stuff to the rental place on

Monday.”

“Yeah, the store is just a couple of blocks from my bar. I’ll have the boys run everything

back in the morning.” Joe nodded towards the men he’d brought.

Dylan thought the other two guys looked like they could be twins, blond, beefy and

middle-aged, each with a large nose that screamed family trait. The last, but definitely not

the least, was Mr. Hunk. Dylan’s cock pulsed, and he shifted his stance, hoping that was all

that happened. “That’ll be fine.”

“We’ll get right to work, Mr. Wyatt. Shouldn’t take us more than a couple of hours,

three at the outside. I’ll shout when we’re loaded so you can give a quick look-see, if you

want.” Joe raised his arm and motioned the men to head onto the lawn.

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“Sounds good. The inn is pretty empty right now, so you shouldn’t be disturbed. Most

of the wedding guests have checked out. The next batch of tourists is supposed to arrive

tonight or tomorrow.”

Joe nodded and followed his men to where the marquee covered a good portion of the

backyard.

Dylan stood watching as they entered the canvas enclosure. Less than a minute later, he

heard the rattle of chairs being stacked and tables being broken down.

Voices came from the direction of the lobby, and Dylan headed inside. More guests

were ready to sign out, and he hurried to the desk.

The man and woman standing there were people he didn’t know, but he remembered

them from the festivities. An elderly couple, they were both well dressed. The man’s hair had

thinned to a silken ring of white around the circumference of his head, while his wife’s had

that obvious look of newly-coloured, bottle mauve-grey. They both smiled up at him when

he went around to the business side of the desk.

Opening the guest book to the previous day, he scanned it but failed to recall who they

were. He glanced up and looked at them sheepishly. “Sorry, but I’ve forgotten your names.

Could you help me out here, please?”

The woman smiled and replied, “We’re Stan and Margaret Felton. We sold the inn to

Ethan.”

“Oh, sure. How could I possibly have forgotten who you were?” Dylan beamed at the

couple. He turned the book towards them and added, “There’s no charge for staying. The

owners have asked that each guest be given the opportunity to leave a message for them,

though.”

“What a fabulous idea.” Mrs. Felton reached for the pen he held out to her.

While she wrote her message to the boys, Dylan eyed up Stan while trying to look as if

he weren’t. The man appeared fragile and nervous. Dylan said politely, “I hope your stay

brought back some good memories.”

Stan raised his eyebrows. “Memories, yes. But I dare say we’re both more than glad we

left this place. As if the fiasco at the wedding wasn’t bad enough, neither of us dared sleep a

wink. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

Taken aback, Dylan didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He’d been present for the so-

called ghostly chick fight that took place in the lobby before the ceremony but hadn’t thought

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much about it. He’d been more than a little drunk at the time and assumed the women had

been escorted off the premises or bedded down somewhere to sleep off their own inebriation.

It wasn’t until the man’s kindly-looking wife had finished writing and looked up from her

script and nodded that Dylan got the full impact of how these two really felt about the place.

Mrs. Felton told her husband, “We’ll be gone soon, dear, and I’m sure we’ll never have

a reason to come back.” She smiled sweetly up at Dylan.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d felt this same way when Cade first told

him he was working at an inn that was supposedly haunted. He hadn’t believed it. After he’d

experienced the place for himself, Dylan steered clear, pooh-poohing it all as sheer rumour

and wishful thinking on the part of ghost watchers and the like. Nothing could have kept

him away from his brother’s wedding, though, and he realised the Feltons must have felt the

same way.

When he opened his eyes again and looked down at the couple, he knew he had to be

as diplomatic as possible. “It was kind of you to come back for the wedding. I hope you’re

both doing all right.”

Stan took a moment before replying, but when he did, it left no doubt about his

feelings. “After we sold the inn, I wasn’t sure Margaret was ever going to be all right again. It

took some time, but we’re finally happy and settled in our new home. When the boys invited

us to their wedding, I was flabbergasted she wanted to come. The events of the day were

shocking but not a surprise to either of us. Bad things happen here, and I’m sure yesterday

wasn’t the end of it.”

He held his arm out for his wife to take then added, “We both wish Cade and Ethan all

the best. But it might be an idea for them to find somewhere else to call home. This

place…well, let’s just say some very strange things have happened here.”

Dylan closed the guest book and went around the desk to help with the couple’s

luggage. When he got them settled into the cab they’d obviously called for earlier, he wished

them a safe journey but wasn’t dissatisfied to see them go. All the talk of ghosts and bad

things happening made his skin crawl.

On his way back inside, he took a moment to check out how the dismantling of the

marquee was coming along, and his spirits rose. Hunk was shirtless, and his surprisingly

broad chest shone with sweat as he carried a stack of chairs towards the truck. When he

walked by, Dylan saw the tattoo he’d spotted earlier ran from the guy’s neck, across his

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shoulder and down his arm, right to the wrist. From this distance, he couldn’t tell what it

was, but the colours and tight design intrigued him.

I wonder if he’s gay or at least bi. Dylan gave himself a shake and again went into the inn.

He did some minor cleaning but mainly familiarised himself with the computer and books so

he’d be prepared when the next guests began to arrive. Before he realised it, the morning had

sped by and it was nearly noon.

The inn’s one permanent guest, Mrs. Delia Nelson, had called the front desk twice. The

first time, she’d asked for the newspaper to be brought up to her room, more for company

than the paper, he felt sure. The second call, she’d asked him to bring her a cup of tea as her

back was bothering her. Both times, he’d plastered a smile on his face and complied. She was

one batty old broad, but Cade seemed to admire her a great deal, so Dylan made nice. He

couldn’t understand why an elderly woman chose to stay by herself in a place that

apparently had so much going on.

Dylan went outside to see how the work progressed. He was both glad and

disappointed to see the job nearly complete. The chairs and tables were all but gone, the last

load being carried to the truck by the big, blond brothers. The marquee lay on the ground,

supports and ropes scattered around the large circle of canvas.

“Scott, grab those poles and tie them in bundles of a dozen.” Joe stood where the

doorway of the canvas enclosure would have been.

Dylan studied Mr. Hunk, Scott, and surmised by the sweat trickling down the man’s

sides that he’d been working pretty steadily throughout the morning. Dylan forced down the

urge to go over and offer the man a towel—or better yet, offer to towel him dry.

“Mr. Wyatt,” called Joe. “We’re nearly done. ‘Fraid your grass is going to need some

TLC, but I’m sure Cade’ll have a remedy for it when they get back.”

Dylan looked down at where a patch of lawn showed and realised it was going to be

both flat and worn through in spots. “Not a problem, Joe. I’d guess the lawn ranks pretty low

on the list of things to worry about right now for the love birds.”

“Probably right. Nice to see Cade settle down. Wasn’t sure he’d ever find someone.” Joe

gazed around, apparently checking to make sure the men continued to do their jobs.

Scott stood at the far side of the marquee, an armload of poles under one arm. Using the

rope they’d brought, he wound it around the centre of the bundle several times then tied it.

Done, he tossed them aside and went to gather more poles.

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“Scott seems to be a hard worker.” Dylan nodded towards the tattooed man.

Joe followed his gaze and shrugged. “Yeah, seems to. Don’t know him well. He’s only

been around for a few weeks. Not sure what his story is, or the whole story. Been in prison

for a while, but so far, he’s kept his nose clean and appears to want to keep it clean.”

“Where’d you pick him up?” Dylan’s belly tightened. An ex-con wasn’t exactly the kind

of man he’d been attracted to previously.

“He showed up at the bar one day with one of the regulars, Pete Jackson. Pete’s a good

guy, down on his luck since the factory closed. Whenever I needed to hire on a few men for

some side work, Pete was my go-to guy.”

“What happened to him?” Dylan pressed, more interested than he cared to admit.

“Pete found work back east, but Scott’s still here. He’s been hanging around since then,

him and that monster bike he rides.”

“Bike, eh?” Adds to the air of mystery. Dylan turned his attention towards Scott and

watched him bind several more of the bundled poles. The tattoo on his shoulder and arm still

intrigued him. “You need a hand to fold this thing up?”

“Nah, thanks. The four of us should be able to manage it all right.” Joe waited a few

more minutes until the ropes and poles were ready to go before rejoining his crew.

Dylan watched the men take up their positions and stretch the canvas taut before they

began to fold it. Scott took up a place closer to Dylan, which gave Dylan another chance to

take a good look at the man. And what a sight! Well-defined muscular shoulders and arms, a

slender waist and hips as well as long, long legs that Dylan was sure would look amazing

spread and braced for anything. The tattoo was of a prowling tiger, its claws and teeth bared

and the tail actually wrapping around Scott’s neck.

“Impressive,” Dylan whispered to himself. “Fuckable,” he added, just as softly. A

stirring in his jeans brought a smile to his lips. He reached down and repositioned himself for

comfort, continuing to watch until the four men had the marquee folded.

“Good work,” Dylan said as the last of the supplies went on the truck. He pulled a

folded cheque from his pocket and held it out to Joe. “Logan said this was the amount you

agreed on.”

After a quick swipe of his brow with the back of his hand, Joe took the cheque and

examined it. “Yes, sir, it surely is. Thank you.”

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“Thank you, Joe. We appreciate your help. Hey, I’ll probably see you around.” His gaze

wandered to Scott, and he enjoyed a few more salacious thoughts about the hunk while

watching him climb back into the truck. “I think I’ll have to check out this bar of yours.”

“Be glad to have you. We’re open ten a.m. ’til two a.m., Monday through Saturday.”

Dylan looked thoughtfully at Joe and decided to ask the question on his mind. “What

time does Scott usually show up?”

“Most days around three or so.” Curiosity shone in Joe’s eyes.

Dylan smiled. Joe seemed pretty cool about Cade and Ethan, so he took a chance and

spoke frankly. “You wouldn’t happen to know if he’s gay, would you?”

The barkeep pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. He

grinned slyly before replying, “I don’t, but I could find out for you.”

“Only if you can do it discreetly. Scott looks like he could pound your ass if he took the

question the wrong way.”

Joe waved him off. “I’m not worried about that. We’ve got a good group of regulars at

the bar. No one’s homophobic. Folks around here just don’t care.”

“I’ll definitely be in to visit, then.” Dylan extended a hand.

Joe shook it and grinned again. “Coldest brew on tap you’ll find in these parts. Look

forward to seeing you.” He headed to his truck.

“Take it easy.” Dylan watched Joe get into the vehicle and drive off. For a moment, he

made eye contact with Scott through the filmy passenger’s window. It might have been his

overly horny imagination, but Dylan thought he saw Scott lick his lips. Before he could react,

the truck pulled from the car park onto the pavement and headed towards town.

Dylan adjusted his too-tight jeans and sauntered back into the inn. A whole host of

lusty images ran through his mind, all of them including Scott lying naked in Dylan’s bed.

For a brief instant, he considered taking a warm shower and reliving the images in private,

where he could do something about the painful throbbing in his groin. Just as he’d decided

that seemed like a fine idea, a minivan rolled to a stop out front, and a family with several

children and a large black Labrador Retriever piled out, spilling into the front lobby.

The smallest, blond-haired boy had semi-control of the dog on a leash, but it was

obviously the dog who led the boy. Two taller, dark-headed boys followed, backpacks slung

over their shoulders and ear buds firmly in place. Thin cords peeked from the buds, probably

connected to unseen digital devices Dylan could only wonder about how to use.

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A pretty, blonde teenager chatted non-stop on a mobile phone from the moment she

exited the van. Even after she entered the lobby, she continued the conversation which

consisted of a lot of, “He said what? No way!” type comments.

A harried looking couple hoisted all the luggage and followed their brood into the inn.

Dylan met them at the door and took the bags from the slender woman. “Let me help

you.”

“Thank you.” She handed them over and offered a tired smile. “We’re the Stallings, we

have reservations for the week.”

“Right. I’m Dylan Wyatt.” Dylan set the bags in front of the desk and walked around to

check the book. “Ethan noted you’d be bringing a small dog.” He looked at the Lab

disapprovingly.

Mrs. Stallings frowned apologetically. “Prince’s a very good dog. He won’t be a bit of

trouble. Our youngest son is really attached to him. You see, Mark has some learning issues,

and the therapist told us a dog might—”

“Susan,” her husband interrupted. “This nice man doesn’t want, or need, to hear our

life story.” He faced Dylan. “Prince won’t cause any damage, but I’ll sign a statement

agreeing to pay for it if something unusual should happen.”

Dylan pulled a piece of paper from a shelf behind the counter. “There does seem to be a

pet addendum already drawn up. If I could just get your signature here and in the book,

please? Three rooms, correct?”

“That’s right.” Mr. Stallings obliged and pulled out a credit card.

Dylan swiped the plastic and handed it back, getting out some key cards for the rooms.

“How many will you need?”

“One for each of us, please. The wife and I will take one room, and Cecily will have a

room to herself. The boys and the dog will share.”

Dylan ran the cards through the computer like Logan had shown him, programming

each card to a specific room. “I assume the dog won’t need one.”

The family simply stared at him.

He chuckled. “Small attempt at humour. Very small. Fell flat, I see.”

Mr. Stallings smiled. “Sorry. It’s been a long trip.”

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Dylan stole a glance at the girl, still chatting away mindlessly on her pink mobile.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Getting the girl her own room wasn’t cheap, but it was probably the smartest thing

these people could have done for their own sanity.

He placed the keys in small folders and tucked them into his breast pocket. “Come on,

I’ll show you to your rooms. You’ll have time to hit the beach or head into town before

dinner. Our chef is serving his amazing salmon tonight.” Dylan went around the desk and

gathered up the bags, stacking them on one of the luggage carts.

“I hate fish,” one of the boys proclaimed.

Without glancing the boy’s way, Dylan headed through the dining area to the guest

rooms. “The chef has a dozen specialties. I’m sure each of you will find something on the

menu to your liking.”

“Does he make grilled cheese?” the smallest boy asked.

“The best grilled cheese you’ve ever tasted.” Dylan stopped in front of the first door.

“Here we go. This is a bigger room. I thought you and the Mrs. might like this one.” He slid

the key card in and opened the door, handing the keys to Mr. Stallings. Moving to the next

room, Dylan did the same. “This room is big, too. I’ll have to get you a rollaway bed for the

third boy, but there’s plenty of space.” He stepped in and turned on the lamp. “All the rooms

have beachfront entrances, too, which will make it easier to take the dog out.” He held the

key towards the youngest and looked down his nose at the two older boys. “Make sure you

pick up after Prince.”

Dylan led the family to the last room, number six. “Your daughter should be quite

comfortable in here. It’s a bit smaller and there’s no kitchenette, but plenty of room for one

person.” He handed over the last key card.

“These rooms are perfect!” Mrs. Stallings gushed. She and her husband sorted out the

luggage and left the children in their respective rooms.

Dylan paused by the couple’s doorway. “Kitchen is open until eight.”

“Fine, thanks,” Mr. Stallings said.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” He left the couple to unpack and walked to

the kitchen through the empty dining room.

The cook glanced up when the door opened and grinned. “Did I just hear you say I

have a dozen specialities on the menu? Are there even twelve items on the menu? I’m still

trying to memorise it.”

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Dylan looked at Jack Donner, the inn’s new cook, who’d been there roughly a week.

Cute as hell with shaggy dark hair, the man, who was about ten years too young for Dylan,

had a smile that lit up a room. Probably how he managed to find a boyfriend in such a short time.

Quinn Stevens, the local minister who’d married Cade and Ethan, had become a regular

fixture around the inn since Jack’s arrival.

Dylan smiled. “Hey, I figured since it’s just you and me, you can cook anything you

want. Though I did promise the littlest kid the best grilled cheese sandwich he’s ever eaten.”

“I can probably manage that. He the one Cujo’s leading around? I thought I heard

somewhere the inn had a ‘small dogs only’ policy.”

“What could I do?” Dylan shrugged. “The family reserved three rooms. If I turned them

away, the inn would be seriously under-booked. We don’t want Cade and Ethan coming

back to a short till, now, do we? I thought the idea was to show them how good you could

run the place.”

“Yeah, until that dog takes a bite outta someone, and we have a lawsuit on our hands.

Don’t really want that, either.”

“He seemed okay. The father promised to pay for any damages. I’m going to assume

that includes bites out of other guests.”

“You know what they say about assuming.” Jack waggled his brows.

“Fuck.” Dylan shook his head. “First guests I check in and I’ve already screwed up.”

“I didn’t say that. Hopefully it’ll be all right. So when’s the family coming down for

dinner? I’m standing around, all ready to show off my specialities, with no one to cook for.”

“I told them you closed at eight.”

“Okay. How about you? I know you missed lunch. Care for a plate of delicious salmon

and steamed vegetables?”

Dylan made a face. “I am hungry, though. How about a big, greasy burger with double

cheese and a side order of thick, fried potatoes?”

Jack clutched his chest dramatically. “Would you like some bypass surgery to go with

that?”

The small bell over the front door chimed, and Dylan headed out to see who it was.

Grinning back over his shoulder, he added, “Maybe later, thanks. Extra ketchup with those

fries, okay?”

“You got it,” Jack called as the door swung closed between them.

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“Hey!” Dylan spotted the minister walking across the room. “Thought you were a

paying customer.”

Quinn smiled. “I’ll pay for dinner, how about that?”

Dylan halted when the handsome, wavy-haired man met him halfway. “I doubt the kid

would let you. He’s been talking about you all day. I think he’s as anxious to see you as you

appear to see him.”

“What can I say?” The reverend’s eyes sparkled. “When you find a good thing,

sometimes you just have to grab it.”

“Well, the fellow you’re looking to grab is in the kitchen making me a cheeseburger.

Just so you know, he’s pushing the salmon and steamed veg.”

Quinn’s face lit up. “Cheeseburger, eh?” He entered the kitchen.

Dylan heard him say, “I hear you’re frying up cheeseburgers tonight. Have an extra one

for me?”

Jack stuck his head out the swinging door and rolled his eyes at Dylan. “Thanks a lot.

You’re eating salmon for lunch and dinner tomorrow, fella.”

“Nah, by tomorrow the inn will be full again. You can pawn it off—I mean, interest one

of our guests in it, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Jack grinned at him, and before the swinging door closed,

Dylan saw the cook fold into the minister’s arms.

Must be nice to have someone. He thought back to the man he’d seen earlier, Scott Hunk

with the tiger tattoo. Dylan’s cock thickened, and he squirmed. I might have to visit Joe’s bar

tomorrow. The mere idea caused his dick to throb. For tonight, a warm shower and his

imagination would have to do.

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Chapter Two

Dylan reached into the shower stall and held his hand under the spray, testing the heat.

Satisfied, he stepped in and pulled the door closed. Alone at last, he let his mind wander. His

hands encouraged the direction of his thoughts.

He slid fingers across his chest, the coarse hairs tickling his palms. His nipples perked

up, pebbling when he pinched them. After a few moments, he reached lower over the rippled

ridges of muscles he’d worked hard to obtain on his stomach. Not quite a six pack, but not bad.

He smiled when the back of his hand brushed the head of his cock.

Dylan settled his shoulders against the tile and spread his feet apart. With a steady

hand, he took hold of his shaft and simply held it while the water cascaded down over his

body. The stinging spray felt wonderful driving its tiny, watery spikes against his flesh. His

cock bounced when a particularly accurate drop sent a jolt of pleasure from the tip of his dick

up into his balls. He groaned and stroked himself—one long, lingering caress from cock head

to his smooth, nearly hairless, sac.

A hiss of air escaped when he gently tugged on his balls. With his eyes closed, his

thoughts went back to the hunk he’d lusted after all day. The man’s long hair draped over his

shoulders and back. Perfect for grabbing when Dylan bent him over a couch and fucked him

solidly. Just the thought of how the man’s ass would sound slapping against his belly made

Dylan’s heart race.

He envisioned Scott in more detail. Wide shoulders leading to a narrow waist down to

muscular ass cheeks meant for grabbing or biting. With Scott stretched over the back of the

couch, Dylan would be in seventh heaven when he kicked the man’s feet wide apart. The

moist, dark opening waited for his attention, which he would definitely give and most

willingly. With one hand gripping an ass cheek, he’d be free to spear the luscious hole with

the fingers of his other. He imagined deep, guttural groans of pleasure coming from his

lover. Imagined the sexy look over the man’s shoulder when Dylan’s fingers found just the

right spots to touch and tickle.

“Yes,” Dylan hissed when his cock jerked upwards at the thought. He reached around

behind himself and slipped a finger along the crease of his ass. Would his hands be rough or

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smooth? Would he hurry or show patience when we fuck? Dylan spread his buttocks and brushed

his fingertip over the puckered opening. Will he like to be fucked or do the fucking?

“Oh yeah,” he whispered. He reached for the soap and used it to lube both his cock and

the hand he returned to his butt. Blood pounded in his ears as his finger slid across the soft,

puckered hole. He waited a moment, allowing his excitement to soar, then pushed its tip past

the outer sphincter. For an instant, he couldn’t breathe. The sensation sent his pulse racing.

He eased his middle digit in deeper, breath held, toes curled and eyes closed. Again his

cock leapt in his hand. I hope you like your ass reamed, baby. I hope you get off with me stretching

and probing you like the first time you ever had sex.

After burying his finger deep, he slowly withdrew it and added another. He carefully

stretched his anus when he pushed them in, twisting them, twirling them around then gently

spreading the two apart.

His knees grew weak, and he fought to remain standing, yet he still refused to open his

eyes. Lost in his world of fantasy, it was Scott’s fingers and Scott’s hands tormenting and

teasing him mercilessly. A mouth—he craved the suction and delicious torture a mouth

could give.

In his mind, he saw Scott’s face, his smiling mouth open wide and a tongue slithering

across his lips.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned and began to increase the seesaw motion he’d been doing to

himself. More fingers, harder strokes. He ached to come. Yet he wanted the fantasy to last all

night.

Water sluiced off him and trickled in meandering rivulets of sensation down his body.

He shifted his stance and groaned as his ass clamped tight.

Synchronising his hands, he quickly got into the rhythm it had taken a lifetime of

diligent practice to learn. In and out, stroke up and down. Harder, faster, he thrust his hips to

the timing he craved, adored.

“Fuck. Scott, fuck now!” The cooling of the water brought him back to the present.

“Damn,” he whispered in a harsh voice. Desperation took over. Come before the water grows too

cold. Make it good before he wanted nothing more than to get out of the chill.

“Yes,” he sobbed as his thighs tensed and his balls shifted up into his body. That

waiting, that delicious, painful waiting that preceded a climax gripped him, and he

wallowed in it. Muscles tight, body like stone, his hands flew for a moment or two longer.

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It happened, as he knew it would. No way to stop the inevitable, he thought and clenched

his teeth against the pleasure of that first, mighty blast. He stroked and jabbed at himself, his

eyes rolling back in his head as the euphoria gripped him. A spasm of sheer delight sent a

shudder down his spine. Cum oozed over his fist, washed away by the colder water.

A half dozen more strokes did it. The spray took care of the clean up. He turned the

water off then left the shower before the chill became too intense. A large, white bath sheet

awaited him and warmed him instantly when he flung it around his body—the last of his

orgasm dimming.

The vision of Scott returned, but only for an instant. Dylan smiled at no one and rubbed

the thirsty terry over his lower belly. He quickly dried his hair and the rest of him then hung

the damp towel on the rack. At home, he’d pull his sweats on and head into the front room

where he’d watch some TV. But now he had to see to the inn before he turned into a couch

potato.

Dylan pulled on a pair of snug-fitting jeans along with one of the inn’s logo T-shirts. On

the way to the door that led to the beach, he slipped into his loafers. He thrust his wallet and

the key to the manager’s room into his pocket and walked out.

Warm, sea-scented air brushed over him. He stopped and took a deep breath. He loved

the beach. He just didn’t like the reputation of the inn.

A dog barked—loudly. It wasn’t just a single yap, or he’d have ignored it. This was the

continual bark, bark, bark of a dog either playing or getting into trouble. He zeroed in on

where the noise came from and scowled.

“Mark, come on. We can’t get caught out here,” a young, male voice urged in a forced,

but too loud, whisper. “Come on, Prince. We gotta get you back inside before mom catches

us.”

“I’m coming, Sam. He’s really pullin’, though,” a younger voice complained. “Can’t

you guys help me?”

“Prince’s supposed to be your dog. Not mine. Not Sid’s. Yours.” There was an obvious

bone of contention between the boys.

Dylan knew exactly who they were, but not what they were doing. Looking around, he

judged it was well past the boys’ bedtime. That meant Mr. and the Mrs. wouldn’t know

where they were, either.

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He headed towards the sounds of their ruckus and was just about at the edge of the line

of trees separating the beach from the inn’s backyard when he spotted, off to the right, a

young girl with dark hair. He turned and looked directly at her. How strange. Her nightgown

wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before other than in the few old photographs he’d

perused, dating back to the turn of the century or even earlier. Dylan decided to take a closer

look. Perhaps some child had become lost. What if her parents were out looking for her right

now? He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t help.

Just then, Prince howled. An instant later, a boy screamed.

He stopped and turned. His heart raced. “What the…” Dylan looked back at where the

young girl stood and blinked. She was gone. There was no sign of her. Even in the dim light,

he should have been able to see the bushes move or something.

The dog howled again.

His mind made up, Dylan raced for the boys and their dog.

Once he broke through the brush and came to the smooth expanse of sandy beach, he

realised why the boy had screamed. Prince was going crazy. The big Lab raced along the

edge of the water, dragging the young, running blond boy, Mark, behind him. Mark, all sixty

pounds of him, held onto the dog’s leash with a grip that belied his small stature. Prince

stopped and faced the inn, raised his muzzle to the sky and howled again, a blood curdling

cry of fear or anger. At least that was what it sounded like to Dylan.

The older boys, obviously twins clad in blue jeans and pale T-shirts, charged towards

the dog and their little brother. Before they reached them, Prince set off again. Instead of

going towards the inn or the boys, the dog veered around and ran for the ocean.

The boy at the end of the leash lost his footing about the time the dog’s feet touched

water. His brothers began yelling, trying to call the dog back, urging Mark to let go. Hysteria

raised its head about then, and the twins bent in unison, as if they’d practiced, and found

rocks to throw.

Prince never slowed. When the first small rock struck his back, he yelped but continued

in deeper.

Dylan roared and raced for the ocean. His shoes came off, unplanned but a good thing.

His toes found traction in the sand, and he ran faster.

The twins peered back at him. Their mouths gaped. Their eyes looked like small

saucers, the whites gleaming against the tanned faces.

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“Get back,” Dylan said in a rough voice. “Stay together. Stay out of the water. No more

rocks.” Without stopping to see if the two did as he’d said, Dylan raced after the young boy

and the Lab.

“Prince,” he called, trying to sound as friendly as possible. What had spooked the brute?

“Come on, boy. Come, Prince.”

The big, black head turned and looked at him, but only for a moment.

Changing tactics, he aimed his next words towards the boy. The kid was lying in the

water, and Dylan had no idea if he could swim. He had to get Mark out. “Mark. You have to

let Prince go. Just for a second.” It was then that Dylan remembered the boy had some kind

of problem. He could only hope the kid wasn’t too afraid or unable to follow his orders.

Dylan was within an arm’s length of the boy, yet he didn’t reach out. He knew some

kids would freak if anyone touched them, and he couldn’t take the chance of the boy

panicking, not now.

Behind him, as if from the line of trees, came the tinkling laughter of a girl.

Dylan glanced around and nearly fell over his feet when he saw the child. Her long

gown swept the sand, but it was her laughter that chilled him to the bone. Her face reminded

him of an angel; the harsh cackle coming from her seemed so out of place.

Shuddering, he forced himself to turn his attention back to the boy. The dog had

paused, but who knew for how long? “Mark, please son, you have to let the leash go. I’ll

make sure Prince comes back. I promise. I need to make sure you’re safe first.”

The boy looked up at him then smiled. “Okay, mister.”

On the move once again, Prince lunged forward, dragging the boy deeper. Another

forlorn howl and the dog raced on. In a matter of just a few seconds, the beast had hauled the

boy a dozen feet ahead where the waves crashed over his head. The child went under.

Dylan took a couple of steps and dived. Water closed over him, and he blinked against

the saltiness. He reached out and waved his arm around, searching for Mark.

He hadn’t taken in much air, but he assumed the boy hadn’t, either. So, when his body

cried for oxygen, he kept going, knowing Mark would be in the same state.

Something brushed his fingertips. He felt around and grasped cloth. He pulled, and the

weight reassured him he’d found something or someone. Lungs about to burst, he got a

better grip then kicked upwards. He broke the surface and dragged the small body with him.

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“Mister, mister!” The two boys called, frantically. “Hey, mister. Mark. Ya gotta find

him.”

The twins were not where he’d told them to be but entering the water directly in front

of him. Dylan held the sobbing youngster close and stroked his head, whispering, “It’s okay.

You’re fine, son. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Dylan took a few deep breaths before he strode from the water. He was cold. Colder

than he’d been in a very long time. “Boys, let’s get Mark back to the inn. He needs to get

warmed up.”

“But what about Prince? Mom and Dad are going to kill us,” the closest of the boys

lamented.

“Sid?” Dylan asked, looking at the boy.

“I’m Sam,” the boy said and nodded towards his brother. “That’s Sid. We’re twins. I’m

older, though.”

“Well, Sam, I think your parents would be more upset if I let Mark catch pneumonia

out here. Don’t you?”

Eyes wide, Sam replied seriously, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I’m sure I can get Prince to come back. He’s a big dog. I bet he eats a lot. Right?”

“You bet. Dad’s always saying he’ll eat us out of house and home, whatever that

means.”

Dylan was on dry ground by then but still cradled the younger boy in his arms. The

child seemed quite content to remain there, snuggling his cold body against his. Dylan

smiled down at the twins and said, “I bet we can find something in the kitchen Prince might

like to try.”

Sid grinned and said, “Maybe some of that stinky salmon stuff.”

Chuckling, Dylan headed up the beach. He paused long enough to step into his loafers

and cast one last glance over his shoulder for the dog. Damn fool animal. He was questioning

his decision to allow the family to check in with a beast bigger than their youngest child.

“Whatever,” he muttered and trudged towards the inn. His brother hadn’t given him a lot of

time to consider whether or not he wanted to stay for two weeks and run the place. He’d

made a snap judgement call. Now he had to live with the consequences. I’m doing the best I

can.

“Cold,” Mark mumbled into his chest.

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“I know, kid. We’re almost there.” Dylan gazed at the row of beachfront doors and

realised he didn’t know which room was which from the outside. He glanced at Sid—or is it

Sam? “What room is yours?”

“This one.” One of the twins marched ahead and opened the sliding glass door.

Dylan stepped in and deposited Mark on a big, soft chair. He pointed at one boy and

said sharply, “You, get me a couple of towels from the bathroom.” He squatted down and

glanced at Mark before telling the second twin, “And you, go get your parents.”

“Do we really have to bother them tonight? I’m sure they’re tired—”

“Look, Sid.” Dylan expelled a breath.

“I’m Sam,” the boy replied.

“Whatever,” Dylan snapped and gritted his teeth into a sort of a smile. “I’m going to

start calling you ‘Thing One’ and ‘Thing Two’. Go get your parents, now, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam bolted out the main door in a flash.

Sid handed over a couple of large, terry towels.

Dylan scrubbed Mark’s head with one until the boy’s hair stood on end. All of them

were laughing by the time the parents, dressed in robes, hurried into the room.

“What happened?” Susan Stallings cried, dropping to her knees in front of her

youngest, still very damp, son.

“Prince ran away!” Mark leapt into her arms.

“He was acting crazy, Mom!” Sid added. “Barking, running around in circles. Never

seen him like that before. He dragged Mark into the ocean. Then he showed up and pulled

Mark out.” He motioned towards Dylan.

Sam moved around and stood next to his twin. “Prince got away, though. We wanted to

go after him, but this guy said we needed to get Mark back.”

“What on earth were you doing down by the ocean at this time of night?” Roger

Stallings frowned at his sons.

“You said we should walk Prince!” Sam offered, as if that explained everything.

“There’s grass right outside!” The father waved his arm at the sliding glass door.

“Roger, not now.” Susan cradled Mark, rocking him back and forth. She turned her

gaze towards Dylan. “How can we ever thank you, Mr. Wyatt? You saved our son.”

“Nah.” Dylan stood self-consciously and handed the second, dry towel to her. “I’m sure

the boys would have been fine. That fool dog was acting strange, though. I told the boys I’d

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put some food out and see if that didn’t bring him back around. If not, we can go out looking

for him in the morning.”

“That would be wonderful.” She nodded and returned her attention to Mark.

“Can’t we look for him tonight?” the youngest child asked, his voice pleading.

“It’s almost dark out there,” his father replied.

Dylan nodded. “Too dark. I don’t live here full time, so I don’t know my way around

that well. When I go to the kitchen, I’ll ask the cook to keep an eye out for Prince. The search

will have to wait ‘til the morning.”

“Thank you.” Roger extended a hand, and they shook.

“I hope the rest of your night is uneventful.” A shiver ran down Dylan’s spine as he

spoke. He retreated into the hallway and said, “Goodnight,” before he closed the door.

Walking to the dining room, he couldn’t shake the chill that encompassed him. His

clothes were as soaked as Mark’s, but they weren’t what caused him to shudder. It felt like

something sinister was going on at the inn, and he didn’t care for it one bit.

Dylan caught his reflection in a small oval mirror as he passed, and it shocked him.

Besides the water-logged clothes, his long hair was matted in spots and sticking out in others.

He looked like a wild man. I’m the sinister one. Chuckling, he tried to cheer himself out of the

funk, but it didn’t quite work.

His brother had been telling him for years about the strange things which happened at

Whiskers’. He hadn’t visited very often, mainly for that reason. He was a practical man who

liked to work with his hands. Things he couldn’t touch or feel didn’t interest him, or perhaps

they just didn’t seem real. Dylan suspected, like it or not, his views were about to be tested.

He shuddered and headed to the kitchen. Shake it off.

Jack and Quinn were drinking coffee at the small table in the back. “Hey, guys,” Dylan

said as he entered.

Jack blinked. “What the devil happened to you?”

“Do we have to bring the devil into it?” Dylan scrubbed one hand over his face. “To

make a long story short, some of our newest guests already managed to get into some

trouble.”

“Let me guess, the boys with the small dog.” Jack grinned.

“Spot on, Sherlock. Damn beast went berserk when they took him out for a walk.

Dragged the littlest kid into the ocean. Luckily, I spotted them out there.”

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“Good Lord!” Quinn shook his head. “Is everyone all right?”

Dylan nodded. “Everyone’s fine, but the dog ran off. I told the family I’d set out some

food and see if we couldn’t lure him back.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Jack offered. “We were just headed over to the cabin, unless you

want us to stick around tonight.”

“Nope, no reason for that. Just find something you think the dog might like to eat and

stick it in the backyard before you go. I’m off to take my third shower of the day.”

“‘Night,” Jack and Quinn replied in unison.

“Later.” Dylan smiled and strolled back to his room.

* * * *

More guests arrived in the morning, and Dylan kept busy checking everyone in and

seeing to their needs. It was after lunch before he finally caught up with the Stallings and

inquired about the dog.

“No sign of him.” Roger shook his head.

“We’ve looked everywhere!” the daughter added dramatically, casting an accusing eye at

Dylan.

He bristled but smiled apologetically, trying to be nice. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s a pain.”

She released an exaggerated sigh. “This is not how we wanted to spend our vacation.”

Dylan’s smile froze. “I guess I could have let your brother drown. Then you’d have

spent your vacation in a funeral home somewhere, picking out caskets.” Nice is highly

overrated.

Roger’s face reddened. He squeezed his daughter’s shoulder and said, “Of course that’s

not what we would have wanted. Prince will come back, or somebody will take him to a local

shelter. We searched for him all morning. I promised the kids we’d take them into town this

afternoon for some sight-seeing and maybe some ice cream. Right, Cecily?”

“Double scoops,” she muttered and tossed one more irritated glance at Dylan before

they walked away.

“Have fun,” he called after them and strolled into the kitchen.

Jack was drying the last of the pans from the lunch rush. “Get everybody checked in?”

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“Yeah,” Dylan said absently and reached for a cookie to nibble. “Do you know if there’s

an animal shelter in town?”

“No idea.” Jack shook his head. “Quinn would know. I could call him.” His eyes lit up.

Dylan waved a hand. “Give the poor guy a break. He probably goes in to his office

every day to grab a nap after spending nights with you.”

Jack folded his dishtowel and hung it over the oven handle. “I’ll take that as an off-

handed compliment. What’s wrong? The dog still missing? He never touched the food I put

out for him. I left it, just in case.”

“Yeah. You think you could watch the front for a while? I’d like to go out and have a

look for myself.”

“Sure I will, but this isn’t your fault, Dylan. Don’t let it get to you.”

“I’m not. I’d just feel better.”

“You don’t know your way around very well. Unfortunately, neither do I. Be careful

out there.” Jack picked up a couple more of the freshly baked, chocolate chip cookies from

the counter and wrapped them in a napkin. He handed them to Dylan and smiled. “Good

luck.”

Dylan eyed him as he accepted the snack. “Are you suggesting I use these as bread

crumbs, sort of a Hansel and Gretel thing? To find my way back?”

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of sustenance if you do manage to get yourself

lost. Find a rock and sit on it. Shout out every twenty minutes or so. If you’re not back by

dinner, we’ll send out a search party.”

“Yeah, right.” Dylan shoved the bundle in his pocket. “Speaking of dinner, remind me

to kick your ass after it’s over with tonight. No, wait, after you’ve finished the dishes, that

is.”

“Ooh, I’m really scared.” Jack took Dylan by the shoulders and pointed him in the

direction of the back door. “Go on, get out. I can take a break when the slave driver leaves. If

you need me, I’ll be eating BonBons in the lobby, ass firmly planted in front of the TV.”

“Gotta talk to Cade about docking your salary,” Dylan muttered good-naturedly as he

walked out. Jack’s a good guy. He’d taken on a big responsibility by agreeing to help run the

inn so Cade and Ethan could have a honeymoon. We both did. Dylan hadn’t realised how big,

until now.

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He glanced around the yard, searching for any evidence of Prince. Seeing none, he

headed down the path towards the beach.

* * * *

Dylan walked for nearly an hour without spotting so much as a dog turd. He passed the

cottage where Jack stayed at night and the second, smaller cabin that belonged to Cade. His

brother had lived there before he’d moved in with Ethan. Now, the two lovebirds kept the

place as a mini-retreat when they wanted to get away from the hustle of the inn.

The beach had a fair amount of people on it, but no animals. Dylan walked until the

sand turned to patchy grass and rocks. He rounded a corner and realised he was heading

towards the lighthouse on the point.

He hadn’t seen the light up close, not yet, and decided to check it out. The white brick

building had a bright red dome at the top. It appeared very well kept up, not that he’d seen

many lighthouses to compare it to.

The beach path ended just as Dylan spotted a gravel service road. He followed it to a

fence with a locked gate. The dog could have easily scaled the entrance, so he did the same

and approached the small house which sat close to the looming light.

“Hey there.” A blond, bearded man carrying a bucket came around the corner and

walked towards him.

Dylan paused, surprised that someone was actually at the lighthouse. “Oh, hi.”

“You’re Cade’s brother. I saw you at the wedding. I’m Hunter Pierce, the keeper.”

Another round of surprise caused Dylan to blink. “There’s actually a lighthouse keeper?

I didn’t think they existed anymore.”

Hunter smiled. “You’re right. I’m just a figment of your imagination. Never mind.”

Dylan smiled, and his face heated into a blush. “Sorry. I just thought—I mean, I didn’t

know—”

“It’s all right.” Hunter waved a hand. “There aren’t many of us left, anymore. But some

patches of ocean are just tricky enough that the Coast Guard wants the lights manned.

Harbour Point is one of them.”

“Wow, I had no idea. You live out here by yourself? Must be a lonely life.”

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The handsome hunk shrugged. “Not really. I get my groceries delivered. I have friends

I talk to online every day. Someone from the Coast Guard makes the occasional appearance

to take over when I really need to leave, which isn’t very often.”

“Sounds neat and tidy. But doesn’t it get, you know…” Dylan eyed the beefy stud who

actually looked anything but lonely.

Hunter grinned. “Oh, and I have David, my significant other, who makes regular booty

calls every chance he gets.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Dylan laughed. “Why doesn’t he live with you?”

“He travels for his job. He’s a freelance writer and a paranormal investigator. So he

loves it around here.”

Dylan’s heart thudded in his chest. “A paranormal investigator? For real?”

“Very real, my friend. It’s a booming business. But you’d know that, being Cade’s

brother.”

He swallowed. “Honestly, Cade and I haven’t talked about that stuff. I keep pretty busy

and haven’t had the chance to visit much.”

“I didn’t think I’d seen you before. What do you do?”

Dylan smiled. His business was one thing that brought him true pleasure. He had to be

careful—if someone got him started, he could talk about it for hours. “I own a cabinet

making shop in Montana. We do woodworking for residential and commercial sites.”

Hunter nodded. “Sounds nice. It’s fulfilling to be able to work with your hands.”

“I love it.” Dylan was about to go on but remembered the reason for his visit. “Say, I’m

looking for a dog that ran away from the inn last night. A big black Lab named Prince.”

“Didn’t know Ethan allowed big dogs at the inn.” Hunter smiled.

Dylan hung his head. “Yeah, tell me about it. I’m screwing up right and left. Shouldn’t

have allowed the damn fool thing in, but now that I have, I feel responsible for him. He went

mad as a March hare last night and took off.”

“Not surprised.” Hunter shook some drops of water from his bucket and set it down on

the porch.

“Why do you say that?”

“Dogs and spirits don’t get along. Not sure which is more scared, the dog or the ghost,

but David can tell you stories where this has been proven. Dogs hate ghosts and visa versa.”

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Dylan shook his head. “That’s just ridiculous. The dog wasn’t even inside the inn when

he went crazy. The three boys who own him were right there.”

“Anybody else?” Hunter raised an eyebrow.

“Me.” Dylan shrugged. He remembered the dark-haired girl in the white nightgown.

“Oh, and some local girl. Not sure where she lives. She was wearing a nightgown, so I know

it can’t be far.”

“There aren’t any houses within walking distance of the inn, not counting the cabins on

the property. Walking distance for a child, that is. Wearing a nightgown? Did you see her?

Was it white and old-fashioned looking?”

It was old. Dylan remembered thinking that the previous night. But how did Hunter

know? “Well, maybe…”

“Did she have long, brown hair?” The keeper grinned.

“Do you know her?” Dylan felt a jolt of relief. He’d all but forgotten the girl with the

other events of the evening and hoped she’d made it home okay.

“Why, sure I do. Everyone around these parts knows Laura. She’s one of the ghosts at

the inn.”

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Chapter Three

Dylan’s mouth sagged open, but he quickly clamped his lips tight, hopefully before he

looked too dumbstruck. A ghost? My left testicle, he thought, but kept it to himself. He felt as

if he’d fallen into some otherworldly place and someone had locked the door behind him. He

closed his eyes, focused and opened them again before blurting, “Ghost? Are you serious?”

The keeper’s eyes sparkled as if he had some mischief planned. “Yeah, I know, pretty

outrageous. But Laura, she’s a ghost. I suppose I should say ‘spirit’. There’s a difference,

though I don’t give it much thought. I’ve heard some people say they hear a music box when

she’s around.”

Feeling the need to get away from the man before he said something he’d regret later,

Dylan scanned the area. “And you haven’t seen the dog?”

“Nope, no Lab. Sorry.”

“I’d best get moving on. I promised the family I’d do my best to find the brute.”

Hunter’s smile broadened. “It might have gone back to the inn. Dogs aren’t all that

stupid. They know where their food comes from, and you say there are kids?”

“Yeah, four—a teenage girl, twin boys and a younger kid.” Even thinking about all four

of the brood made him shudder. He let his gaze travel along the rock-strewn beach then

added, “Thanks, I’ll let you get back to…whatever you were doing.”

The big, blond man chuckled. “Washing down the boat. I like to keep things tidy here.”

“Well, thanks.” Dylan nodded and turned away, determined to put some distance

between the crazy light keeper and himself.

Hunter followed him to the gate and opened it. Once he’d refastened the lock, the man

simply nodded and headed back to his small cabin.

Dylan watched him walk away. Long legs, a tight ass and a wide, muscular back

reminded him of how long it had been since he’d had a lover. For an instant, jealousy reared

its head—but only for an instant. A vision of Scott with his long hair and tattooed body

chased any thought of Hunter from his mind. He let that distract him for a few moments.

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A sudden, mental flash of the dark-haired girl he’d seen on the beach made Dylan

shake his head, and he muttered, “Ghosts. What is it with everyone around here?” He gave

Hunter and the light station a final look before heading back the way he’d come.

The inn came into view, and he picked up his pace, eager to get back. He passed several

sunbathers on the beach before the short pathway brought him to the back lawn. Looking

ahead, he spotted movement next to the stairs leading to the kitchen. Thinking it was Jack

and that he might need a hand, he veered that way.

“What the…?” He thought for a second he’d spotted a bear going through the inn’s

kitchen trash but quickly revaluated and smiled. “Well, I’ll be…” Prince had come back. The

large black Lab hunched over the bowl of leftovers Jack had left on the back step, munching

away.

Knowing the dog might spook and run if he frightened it, Dylan changed his pace to a

slower, more reassuring, walk. He called softly, “Hey, Prince, old boy. The kids have been

looking all over for you.” Trying to sooth the dog, Dylan managed to get close enough to

reach down and grab what remained of the leash.

“Gotcha.” Dylan bent forward and ran his hand along the animal’s back. “Now, where

did you get to, and what made you do a rabbit on the boys?”

Prince stopped eating and looked over his shoulder at Dylan, but only for a moment.

Satisfied that whoever had captured him wasn’t about to pull him off his meal, the dog

returned to it and wolfed the remainder down. Finished, the brute belched and flopped

down at Dylan’s feet.

“Nice try, dog.” Dylan gave the leash a gentle tug, pulling the dog upright. He led him

towards the back door, planning to simply tie him somewhere until his family returned. On

the way, he noticed the fence on the far side of the lush garden and scowled.

Dragging the dog that way, he felt his annoyance rise. The fence he knew Cade had put

up to keep the wildlife from the more delectable plant species had two boards missing. Upon

closer inspection, the boards weren’t missing at all, the wood had simply been broken then

pushed aside.

Dylan looked down at the dog, who gazed at him with calm, innocent eyes.

“In a hurry, were you?” he asked, not expecting an answer or any reaction from the

dumb brute. He got exactly that and sighed. A light bulb flashed in his head. “I wonder if my

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hunk, Scott…” The sentence trailed off, but thoughts of the man, shirtless and working at

fixing the fence for him, had Dylan’s heart racing.

“This might not be all bad. But you’re still in trouble, so don’t go getting any more

ideas.” He caressed the dog’s head with his free hand and silently said a thank you. “Is this

the only damage?” He gave the short leash a tug and took stock of the rest of the fence.

Everything else looked fine. Dylan led Prince inside the inn and tied him beside the fireplace.

“Stay. And behave,” he admonished, shaking his finger in the dog’s face. “Hopefully your

family won’t be long.”

He wandered into the kitchen where he found Jack standing over a large mound of

potatoes, peeler in hand. “Hey, good news,” Dylan said when he’d passed through the

doorway. “Found the dog, and he’s fine.”

Jack looked up from his task and said, “Great. I’m sure the boys will be glad to have

him back.” He tilted his head then added, “Why the smile?”

It wasn’t until Jack’s comment that Dylan realised he was grinning like a fool. “Uh,

well, the damn dog put a hole in the fence around Cade’s special bit of garden.”

“And?” Jack urged, and from the puzzled look on his face, Dylan could tell his remark

confused him. “You’re looking forward to the funeral?”

Dylan chuckled then went on. “The fence needs to be fixed, and I know just the guy for

the job.”

“You do?” Jack’s confusion didn’t seem to be clearing up.

“Yes, one of the men Joe Swanson brought out to take down the marquee and return it

along with the tables and chairs.” He pictured Scott, naked from the waist up, sweating in

the sunlight. The man’s long, black hair tied back in a ponytail would leave the tattoo

running down one arm clearly visible. A tiger—from the few things Joe had said, the

description fit the man, too.

“Cade might not like someone else messing with the inn.”

Dylan forced the smile from his face and looked more seriously at the cook. “He’ll be

even less likely to appreciate a broken fence and a ravaged garden.”

“True. He works hard to keep the place looking its best.” Jack bent to the task of peeling

spuds, apparently finished with the conversation.

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“Can you keep an eye on things while I take a run to town?” Dylan turned, ready to

head out, but looked over his shoulder, pausing only to be sure Jack could spell him for a

while.

The cook looked up and nodded. “Sure, be glad to. I’ll just finish off these then do desk

duty.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long.” Dylan had a difficult time controlling the urge to rush out to

his car but somehow managed.

The drive into town seemed to take hours instead of the usual fifteen minutes. Once

he’d reached the city limits, he turned onto the first seaside route, a path Cade had shown

him. He drove past the marina and eyed the row upon row of small boats and yachts

crowded along each of the dozen or so fingers of the wharf. A few moments later, Joe’s bar

and tackle shop came into view. He pulled into the small car park at the side of the old, brick

building and stopped.

Stepping from the bright sunlight into the dimness of the bar, Dylan paused and

allowed his eyes to become accustomed. The soft murmur of voices coming from ahead died.

Joe must have spotted him as soon as he walked in, because almost immediately he

called, “Hey, Dylan, what brings you here?”

Dylan’s vision cleared, and he looked towards where the voice had come from. Behind

a long, well-worn bar, the nearly bald owner stood polishing a glass. Dylan walked towards

him. “Came to see about one of the guys you had out at the inn yesterday.”

There were only a half dozen people present, all sitting at one large, round table.

Playing cards lay scattered around the mugs sitting in front of each man.

As Dylan neared the bar, the soft hum of speech resumed.

“You’re talking about Scott, I assume.” Joe turned and set the glass among the others on

a shelf.

“Yeah, I was hoping he’d be available for a few hours of work.” Dylan pulled himself

onto one of the bar stools and laid his elbows on the polished wooden surface. “Got a fence

that I need to have fixed.”

Joe glanced around and shrugged. “He’s not here, but he usually shows up about this

time. You’re welcome to hang out, if you want. Not sure if he’s much good at fixin’ fences,

but you can ask.”

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“Thanks,” Dylan replied. “Got any coffee?” He knew there was some. The warmer sat

on the lower shelf, under where Joe had just put the newly cleaned glass.

“You bet.” The man reached for the pot. He poured a cup for Dylan and another for

himself, then nodded towards someone at the gamblers’ table. “Back in a flash.”

Dylan watched him grab an empty jug, fill it with local draught and head for the group

of men. Joe topped off their glasses and spoke to a couple of the men before returning to the

bar. Dylan was about to spin around when the front door opened. He waited a heart-

stopping moment and inhaled when Scott entered.

“Nice timing,” Joe remarked.

Dylan faced him and smiled. “Agreed.” When he looked back, the hunk had narrowed

the distance between them by about half. His gaze went from the man’s dark eyes to the

slightly crooked nose then to his lips. Kissable, he thought and stifled the groan that

suddenly wanted out. The four-day growth of beard gave Scott an almost sinister appearance

and made Dylan’s cock twitch as he wondered how it would feel sliding down his belly. He

closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts on more serious matters.

“Hey, Joe, what’s shakin’?” Scott said in a deep voice.

“Not much.” Joe poured a pint of draught into a tall beer glass, slid it across then

nodded at Dylan. “You remember Dylan Wyatt from Whiskers’ Inn?”

Scott turned and nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” He looked Dylan up and down then

frowned. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“I’m not a local. I’m looking for someone to do a small job for me.” He shifted in his seat

and hoped his voice didn’t give away his lustful thoughts. “I’m just watching the inn for a

couple of weeks. One of our guests’ dog tore a hole in a fence, and I need to get it fixed before

the owner comes back. Joe didn’t know, but suggested you might be open to the work.”

“Sounds like the guest should be dealing with the problem,” Scott said.

“Trust me, he’ll pay for the damage.” Dylan checked out the rest of Scott’s body as the

man rested his elbows on the bar and took a gulp of beer. The same studded leather vest he’d

worn the day before concealed most of the black T-shirt he had on. Tight leather pants and

biker boots finished off the outfit. The tiger tattoo was not on the arm facing Dylan, and he

controlled the desire to ask if he could take a closer look at it.

“Good. People should be responsible,” Scott said in a hard voice.

“Can’t argue with you there.”

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Scott nodded and gave Dylan the onceover, again. He looked towards the ocean side of

the bar and asked, “Care to take a seat, and we’ll discuss the job?”

“Sure.” Dylan followed, which gave him ample time to check out the man’s tight butt

and the sway of the braid down the centre of his back. Once they were both seated, he asked,

“So, do you think you might be interested in doing a fix-up on that fence?”

“How big a mess is it?”

“Nothing huge. The dog broke out one slat, maybe damaged a few more. Shouldn’t take

more than a couple of hours, tops.”

“How’d you know I do woodwork?”

Dylan took a gulp of coffee before replying. The man seemed uneasy, perhaps

rebellious. He knew the guy had been in prison. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“I didn’t. I saw you work with that crew Joe brought over. You didn’t slack off like the other

two.”

“You mean the twins. They’re okay, but neither one of them has a lot of ambition.”

Dylan couldn’t resist asking, “What were you in prison for?”

Scott tensed, his jaw clenched. He finished his beer, apparently giving himself a few

extra moments to get his act together. When he did speak, his voice was calm. “Stupidity,

mostly.” He smiled, a crooked thing that gave his face a comical look. “Seriously, grand theft

auto. I did three years, and I don’t plan on going back.”

“A car?”

“Fuck, no. A bike!”

“Right, what was I thinking?” Dylan chuckled.

A moment later, Scott joined in. When the laughter died, they sat in silence, watching

the ocean. The hunk’s easy manner and lopsided smile, along with the guy’s tight leathers,

were like a magnet to Dylan.

“I’ll take the job, if it’s still available. Not everyone wants to hire an ex-con.” Scott

pushed his chair away from the table and balanced on the back legs.

“Yeah, the job’s yours.” Dylan couldn’t keep his gaze from going to the man’s crotch.

The leather stretched tight over a very obvious bulge.

“See something you like?” Scott asked in a husky voice. He slid a hand along his thigh

but didn’t touch the impressive lump.

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Dylan’s face grew suddenly hot. “Sorry,” he mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“Fuck!”

“No need for sorry. The fuck…we’ll talk about later.”

How in hell did I lose control of the conversation? Dylan was about to get to his feet when

the man’s words sank in. Does this mean he’s gay? He blinked and opened his mouth to say

something but realised he didn’t know what. Finally, a raspy, “Damn,” made it out.

Scott gave him that lopsided smile again. “More coffee?”

“Uh, sure. Maybe I’ll find another way to put my foot in my mouth.”

“Didn’t think you had. But I do like a flexible man.”

Before Dylan could think of anything to say, brilliant or otherwise, Scott stood and went

for another beer. He reached for the coffeepot, but Dylan waved a hand.

“Actually, I’ve had plenty, thanks. I should be getting back to the inn. It’ll be dinnertime

soon, and I left the cook running the place.” He watched Scott saunter back slowly.

Scott took his seat. “So you’re the manager or something?”

“Oh, hell no. My brother is. I guess I should say my brother married the owner. Not

sure if that makes the inn his or not. Never really thought about it.” Dylan scratched his chin.

“Ah, the wedding out there last weekend. I heard it was a gay event. That was your

brother?”

“Yes,” Dylan replied hesitantly, not sure he liked the way Scott said ‘gay event’. “Hope

you don’t have a problem with that.”

The dark-haired hunk chuckled and rocked back on his chair legs again. “Fuck no! I’m

as queer as they get. Thought I made that clear a while ago.” He waggled his brows. “I’m just

not sure about the whole vows and cake business. Never really thought that was for me.”

Dylan emptied his cup and rose. “I never knew anyone who was anti-cake.”

Scott laughed, a full-bellied guffaw that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Okay, you got

me. I like cake.”

Feigning relief, Dylan added, “That’s good. Not sure I could associate with someone

who was too far out there.” He eyed the other man’s extensive tattoos and ear piercings.

“‘Associate with’,” Scott repeated, raising his brows again. “Never heard it called that

before.”

Scott cleared his throat. “We’ll start with the fence and go from there. Can you come out

tomorrow and take care of it?”

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“Yep.” Scott nodded. “What time works for you?”

“Whenever you can make it. First thing would be good.” It’ll give me more time to get to

know you.

“First thing it is. I wake up around noon. I’ll see you sometime after that.”

“Okay…sure.” Dylan thought about saying something but held back. There really

wasn’t a rush to get the fence fixed. Morning or noon, it didn’t make much difference. “You

remember how to get to the place?”

“I do.” Scott pursed his lips and took a drink of beer.

Dylan watched for a moment, imagining the lush lips wrapped around something else.

His erection twitched, and he knew it was time to go. “See you tomorrow, then. Thanks.”

“No, boss, thank you.” Scott winked and smiled.

Like an arrow from Cupid’s bow right to my heart. Dylan nodded and hightailed it out of

the bar before he changed his mind and stayed.

Back at Whiskers’, he was pleased to see Mark Stallings happily romping with Prince in

the yard under the watchful eyes of his father.

“Thanks, mister!” Mark called before Dylan had climbed out of his SUV.

“You’re welcome, kid. Glad I found him.” He approached the father. “He seems to be in

good shape.”

“Yes, he looks just fine.” Roger extended a hand for Dylan to shake. “We can’t thank

you enough. I know you went over and above the line of duty when you went out looking

for Prince. If we can put in a good word about you with your boss, or anything like that,

we’d be happy to.”

Dylan smiled. “Appreciate it, but that won’t be necessary. I operate a cabinet-making

shop in Montana. I’m just filling in here as a favour. My brother runs this place, and I

wouldn’t want him to think he was ever the boss of me.”

Roger chuckled. “Gotcha. Well, we do appreciate what you did. We’ll keep a closer eye

on Prince from here on out.”

“Sounds good. Oh, I should tell you, he broke a couple of fence boards in the back

garden. I’ve hired someone to come fix them tomorrow.”

“Add it to my bill.”

“We think alike.” Dylan smiled at him. “See you later.” He headed inside, certain Jack

would be chomping at the bit to get back to the kitchen for the evening meal prep. I’m a little

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hungry myself. He entered the lobby and smiled at the cook sitting behind the front desk.

“Dinner ready?”

* * * *

An animal’s howl, followed instantly by a child’s blood-curdling scream, woke Dylan

out of a sound sleep. That damn dog! Cursing under his breath, he hurried into the nearest

pair of jeans and T-shirt before heading down the hall to the guest rooms. The Stallings had

been there for—what?—two nights, and the only time without incident had been when the

dog was lost. For a moment, he regretted finding the brute then realised that wasn’t the case.

He simply wanted a quiet night’s rest.

He found Roger and Susan Stallings in the doorway of their boys’ room, trying to calm

the four shaken kids who’d obviously been rudely awakened. Prince, tied to a bedpost,

continued to howl and bark while struggling to break free.

“What’s his problem?” Dylan asked from behind them.

Susan jumped and patted her chest over her robe as she turned around. “Mr. Wyatt.

You startled me.”

“Like that didn’t?” He motioned to the psycho, bouncing dog.

“I’m not sure what frightened Prince,” Roger answered. “The boys said they were

asleep when he started up with the ruckus.”

Dylan leaned in to look at the kids. “You didn’t hear anything?”

“I heard music,” one of the twins admitted. “It kind of sounded like a music box. Then

Prince cut loose, and someone screamed. Scared the piss out of all of us.”

“Sidney,” his mother admonished.

“Well, it did! Look!” The boy pointed to his younger brother.

Mark’s hands flew to cover his crotch, but it was too late.

Dylan noticed the wet spot on the front of the child’s pyjamas. Nice of the older brother to

point it out. He’d picked on Cade plenty when they were kids, but he’d always had his little

brother’s back. Always.

He looked at the boy and smiled. “I’d have done the same thing if I’d been wearing

pyjamas. No big deal.” Dylan winked.

Mark gave him a relieved smile and dropped his hands back to his sides.

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From somewhere down the hall, a man called, “Think you could shut that mutt up?”

Dylan glanced at the other guest, the man’s head peeking out of his room. The husband

of the young couple who’d checked in early that day. “We’re working on it. Sorry for the

inconvenience.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The man pulled his head back in and slammed his door.

Like an echo, a series of doors slammed throughout both floors of the inn, one after

another.

Dylan winced. That’s a lot of unhappy guests. He looked at Roger. “Could you please take

Prince outside and try to calm him? Keep hold of his leash, though. I don’t want to spend

another day looking for him.”

“I’ll try.” Roger untied the dog, who seemed more than happy to go outside through

the sliding glass door exit.

Susan entered the room and hugged Mark, then led him into the bathroom.

In the blissful silence, Dylan stepped in and looked at Sid. “You heard a music box?”

“I don’t know.” The boy shrugged.

“I did.” Cecily nodded. “I was in my room, almost asleep. I thought maybe I’d left my

MP3 player on, so I was feeling around in the dark for it. But the music was old-fashioned,

and it was coming from the hall. It definitely sounded like a music box—kinda tinny,

scratchy sounding.”

Dylan thought back to what the lighthouse keeper had told him. Laura’s a ghost. People

say they hear a music box when she’s around. He shook his head to clear the thought. Ridiculous.

“Okay, well, who knows? Let’s forget about it for now and try to get some shut-eye.”

He walked to the glass door and joined Roger outside. The dog had calmed down and

was lying at his owner’s feet. “He’s doing better.”

“Yeah, I think he’ll be fine.”

Dylan caught the other man’s eye. “Look, Roger. I can’t have him disturbing the guests

every night. That’s just not going to work.”

“I doubt it’ll happen again,” Roger replied in a voice that lacked any sign of

enthusiasm.

“Yeah, and every time I get on an aeroplane I think, ‘I doubt this thing’s going to fall

from the sky.’ But you just never know, do you? I really have to tell you, if Prince creates

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another disturbance, I’ll be asking you to move on. I’d hate to do it, but I have an inn full of

people to consider.”

“Understood. We’ll try to keep him quiet. We really will.”

And I’m going to try not to enjoy tossing you out. I really will. He gave Roger a sceptical

glance and said, “Good night.” He slipped back into the room where Susan was tucking the

boys back in bed. “How we doing with sheets? Need some fresh ones?”

She shook her head. “Nope, they were barely damp. I put a towel down, and he’s fine.

Thank you, though.”

“‘Night, everyone.” Dylan shot one more wink at Mark, who had quickly become his

favourite Stallings, and left the room.

He strolled through the hallways on both floors, but everything else was quiet. By the

time he returned to the lower level, all the doors were again closed, and a tranquil silence

loomed. Let’s hope it stays that way.

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Chapter Four

Dylan slapped at his alarm clock when it sounded early the next morning. It felt like

he’d hardly got any sleep, but in truth he’d slept straight through once the dog had quieted

down. The dog. He grimaced and climbed out of bed. The damned brute better mind his p’s

and q’s. He intended to watch him like a hawk, and the first sign of any misstep, the family

was out of there.

He showered and shaved, his thoughts wandering to Scott. The man was definitely

different from anyone he’d been attracted to before, but Dylan was eager to see where the

appeal led him. For a moment, he thought about masturbating. His cock stiffened, but he

forced his hands to simply wash, not stroke. The man would be there that afternoon. Might

be better, or more fun, at least, to wait and see what happened.

He dried himself and dressed in his usual jeans and the T-shirt with the inn’s logo on

the front. After slipping into his shoes, he left the room and headed for the lobby. All was

quiet, and he thanked his lucky stars.

The dining room was half-full when he went through to the kitchen, and he nodded at

the guests who looked at him.

Jack smiled when he entered. “Hey, you’re late.”

Dylan checked the time and nodded. “Yeah, it was another one of those nights.”

The young cook looked concerned. “Trouble?”

“Nothing huge.” Dylan filled a cup with coffee from the pot just outside the door. “That

dog, the Stallings’ mutt, you know? It went a little crazy last night at some ungodly hour. No

idea why. Nothing else, just a fucking, loony dog barking.”

“That dog’s turning out to be way more trouble than it’s worth.” Jack scooped

scrambled eggs from a skillet onto a plate already loaded with pancakes and sausage. “Be

right back.” He headed into the dining room, returning a few minutes later empty-handed

and with a smile on his face.

“What?” Dylan asked.

“Nothing, just some nice couple said they liked my breakfasts.” He went back to the

stove. “Can I get you something?”

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“One of those muffins would be great, that is if Mrs. Nelson’s left any.” Dylan chuckled.

Now that he thought about it, he was surprised the old woman hadn’t been one of those

complaining last night—although just about every door in the place had slammed.

“There’s plenty. I like to make extra if I have time.” He walked past Dylan into the

dining room. When he came back, he had two of the muffins on a plate. Handing it over, he

said, “If you want more, help yourself.”

With coffee in one hand and the plate of blueberry muffins in the other, Dylan smiled.

“I’m going to have to start watching my waistline. You are a good cook.”

“Thanks,” Jack replied.

Dylan tucked in and polished off one of the muffins in no time flat, then reached for the

other.

Jack busied himself washing dishes while Dylan ate. “So, the family with the dog. Are

they still here?”

“Yeah,” Dylan answered around a mouthful. “But that could change at any moment.

One more problem with that brute and I told the father they were out.”

“So, what the hell was causing all the ruckus?” Pausing for a moment, Jack leaned

against the sink, drying his hands on his apron.

“Who knows? One of the twins said there was some kind of music box or something.”

“Really?”

“That’s what he said, and his older sister backed him up. Personally, I think the boy

was dreaming. And the girl, she’s a brainless teenager who doesn’t seem able to function

without her electronic toys. She said she might have left her MP3 player on.”

“Aw, so you’re leaning towards ‘the dog heard lousy music and was complaining’.”

Dylan chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You have heard about Laura, the ghost of a young girl with the music box?” Jack

looked at him seriously.

Taking a deep breath, Dylan exhaled before replying. “Yes. I’ve heard of her. Didn’t

think too much about it, though.”

“Maybe it’s time you did.”

Dylan wasn’t about to tell the man he was crazy, even if that was what he thought. He

was only there for a couple of weeks, so he decided to let it slide. “Maybe. But right now, I’m

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going to go make sure there’s no more damage to that fence. I’ve got a guy coming out to fix

it later today. I don’t want any surprises. After last night, I’m about done with surprise.”

Jack nodded. “Anything I can do, just yell.”

Dylan set his empty cup and plate in the sink. “Thanks, I’ll do that.” He left, again

nodding to a few of the diners on the way out. When he got to the lobby, he checked the

books to see if anyone was scheduled to leave that day. Not a one. Shrugging, he made his

way out into the mid-morning sun.

He crossed the lawn, heading towards the area Cade had fenced in. There didn’t seem

to be any further damage, and the plants all looked to be in good shape.

Rather than go back inside, he drifted towards the beach. Many of the inn’s guests were

already there, sitting on blankets or at one of the dozen or so tables dotting the sand. Dylan

walked passed them all until he found a secluded spot where he could rest his back against a

log pushed up by the tide. He settled in and closed his eyes. The sun warmed his face. The

breeze reminded him of the softest kiss he’d ever experienced. A gull cried, its call fading as

it flew away from him.

The next thing he knew, he awoke to the sounds of water lapping very close to his toes.

“Damn!” He sat up and shaded his eyes. He looked around and climbed slowly to his

feet. Nothing much had changed. His face didn’t feel burned, so he couldn’t have been out

there for too long.

He ambled up the path towards the inn, feeling well rested. Remembering he’d asked

Scott to come out, he hurried his pace.

He entered the lobby and looked at the clock over the desk. Dylan smiled. Scott should

be showing up at any time. Feeling a little grubby from his unplanned nap on the beach, he

went to his room and washed up. “Ah, much better.” He dried his face.

Returning to the front desk, he was just settling down when he noticed Mrs. Nelson

hobbling towards him. He rose and went around to greet her.

“How are you, ma’am? It’s a gorgeous day. Are you planning an outing?” He offered

his arm and waited.

She stopped in front of him, ignoring his arm, and glared. “I’m fine, other than

exhausted from lack of sleep.”

“The dog,” Dylan muttered and let his arm fall to his side.

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“Dog? It didn’t sound like any dog I’ve ever heard. It sounded like some wounded

banshee or a shrieking harridan. This would never have happened if Cade and Ethan were

taking care of the inn.” She tightened her lips into a thin line, scowling up at him.

“I’m so sorry you were affected by the ruckus, Mrs. Nelson. I can assure you, it was a

dog. A black Labrador to be exact. He—”

“That’s not a dog. That’s a monster. Do you know how big those breeds are?” Her face

took on a shocked expression that made Dylan bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“I didn’t realise Ethan allowed small horses into the inn.” She brushed past him and

walked towards the dining room. “I’ll have to speak to him when the two of them return.”

Dylan hurried after the woman, annoyed by how she’d manipulated both the

conversation and him. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to discuss it with you.”

Delia Nelson went to her usual seat and plopped down but continued facing him. “Tell

me, young man, what caused this dog to go berserk in the middle of the night?”

“The family seemed to think there was music playing that disturbed the brute.”

“Music? How strange.” She turned towards Dylan’s left and beamed at the cook who’d

just entered the room.

“And what can I get for you today, Mrs. Nelson?” Jack asked solicitously. He grinned at

Dylan and returned his attention to the old woman.

“Yes, strange,” Dylan added quietly. Louder, he said, “I’ll leave you to your meal.”

“The only music we have around here at that time of night would be Laura,” Delia

remarked sharply, then without missing a beat asked the cook, “Do you have any of that fish

left?”

Dismissed, Dylan turned away but heard Jack reply, “We sure do. Would you like me

to make you a nice plate of it with some potatoes and vegetables, perhaps?”

By the time he got back to the desk, Dylan had pushed the old woman’s odd

conversation aside and was thinking about the man he’d asked to come over. Good looking,

sexy, tattooed and gay. What more could I ask for?

As if on cue, the rumble of a motorcycle approached the inn. Through the window,

Dylan watched the machine swerve around a couple of tourists and stop at the far end of the

car park. A few moments later, the front door jingled, and in walked Scott.

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Dylan smiled and came from behind the desk, towards the hunk. “Perfect timing,” he

said when he stopped in front of the leather-clad man. “Have you had lunch…err,

breakfast?”

Scott looked around and shrugged. “Nah, don’t usually eat for a while.”

Dylan’s heart fluttered, and he had to tamp down a wave of lustful thoughts. The long-

haired biker looked like he’d just climbed out of the shower. His tresses, still damp, clung to

his neck, and Dylan was sure the man’s several days’ growth of beard looked a little tidier,

shorter, than it had been the previous afternoon.

“I’ll just let the cook know I’m going to be outside.” Without waiting for a reply, he

turned and headed for the kitchen. Poking his head in the door, he spotted the man. “Jack,

I’ll be away from the desk for a few. That handyman is here to fix the fence. Watch the lobby,

would you?”

Jack looked up and nodded. “Sure thing. The lunch crowd is pretty much done.”

They walked out together. “Scott, this is Jack, our chef,” he said by way of introduction.

The men shook hands, then Dylan added, “We better get at it. Thanks, Jack. I shouldn’t be

too long.”

“No problem.”

Dylan headed for the door, Scott on his heels. Outside, Dylan pointed towards the area

where the fence needed mending.

“Here, these few boards need replacing.” He held back the branches of the large bush

and allowed Scott to ease past him to get a better look. Just that slight touch had him

breathing harder and his cock thickening.

“Yeah, it’s not a big job. Care to show me where the guy keeps his tools?”

“That shed,” Dylan said, pointing towards the small tool shed half hidden by a large

creeping vine. “Let me unlock the door.” He pulled a key ring from his pocket and bent

forward. A flash of a sexual vision filled his thoughts, and he had to force down a groan as

he turned the lock. His face felt warm, and he knew his hands were trembling when he

straightened up. Maybe I should have taken that extra few minutes in the shower this morning. He

stepped aside and let the man enter. Against the back wall, he noticed a bundle of fence

boards that looked like they were just waiting for someone to use them.

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“He’s got some nice tools in here,” Scott said then turned and winked at Dylan. Their

eyes locked, but only for a moment. Scott’s lowered, going down Dylan’s body, stopping

when they appeared to be aimed at his crotch. “Seems he isn’t the only one.”

The sexual tension rose by a thousand fold, and Dylan knew he had to get away or he’d

jump the guy. “I’ve got to get back inside. Everything you need is here, but if you want

something, feel free to come find me.”

“Uh, we haven’t actually discussed how much you’re paying for this job.” Scott stood

just inside the door, leaning against the wall.

“The going rate for carpenters sound fair? That plus a meal when you’re done.”

“Sounds more than fair.” Scott turned and looked around the shed. “It looks like all I’ll

need is here.”

Dylan stepped back, ready to make his retreat. The man had a magnetism that shocked

him, but drew him as well. “I’ll check with you later, or come in when you’re done.”

“Got it.” Scott went deeper inside.

Dylan watched for a few moments longer, wanting to stay and see how far that sexual

tension would go but knowing he needed to get back to the inn. Torn, he turned and took a

deep breath before squaring his shoulders and heading back to the front desk.

The afternoon passed fairly quickly. A family of three signed in, completely filling the

inn. He had several errands to run in town. When he got back, he found a message from

Cade on the answering machine in his room, saying, ‘Having a blast, hope things are okay,

wish you were here, NOT. Love you, bro.’

Dylan smiled and settled back in the chair. His thoughts returned to the handsome

hunk he’d left fixing the fence. After a quick glance at the time, he decided checking on the

man was a good idea. It was nearly the dinner hour, and he had promised him a meal.

Leaving the office, he headed through the lobby and around the inn to the garden. He

spotted Scott. The man’s shirtless skin gleamed in the warmth of the sun, his braid swinging

across his back with each strike of the hammer. The tiger tattoo seemed to move on his

shoulder and arm.

“Hey, just finishing up. I was going to put this stuff away and come inside.” Scott

stopped working and swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “It took a little longer

than I’d thought it would. A couple of the posts were pretty much rotted, so I spent a couple

of hours digging those out and replacing them.”

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Dylan strode to the fence and eyed the work Scott had done. “This looks great. I never

thought to check the posts. I’m glad you did.” He turned and grinned at the man. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I figured if I do a decent job, maybe you can recommend me for more

work around town.” Scott bent and picked up the bag of nails he’d been using and returned

them, along with the hammer, to the shed. Next, he dragged the saw horses in and closed the

door. “That’s about it.”

“I promised you something to eat.”

“I should maybe take a rain check. I stink like a horse.” Scott grabbed his shirt and

mopped it across his chest.

“Nonsense. I’ve got a shower if you want to borrow it. Or you can come back later, if

you’d like.”

Scott smiled and replied, “A shower would be great.”

Dylan led him into the inn and to his room. The closer they got to the bathroom, the

firmer Dylan’s cock grew. He loved sex in the water, and this man was driving him crazy.

“Help yourself.” He opened the door and waved the stud in. “Clean towels there, and

lots of hot water.”

Scott looked around and walked into the large room, tossing his shirt on the floor.

“Great.” He reached down and unsnapped his leather pants. “Sure you don’t want to scrub

my back?”

Dylan chuckled and stepped into the room. “I’m not even going to try to resist that

offer. I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you.” He pushed Scott’s hands aside and

slid his fingers into the waistband of Scott’s leathers. “Sure you’re up for this?”

“Oh yeah,” Scott replied and bent forward, pressing his lips to Dylan’s.

Heart racing, Dylan pushed the man’s pants down as far as he could without breaking

their kiss. When he let go, he heard them fall to the floor, the metal studs landing with a

clatter. A groan escaped from deep inside as he slid his hands up Scott’s thighs and found

him naked. He reached around and caressed the smooth firmness of the man’s ass.

Scott gasped and swivelled his hips, his erection pressing against Dylan’s thigh. “Let

me get cleaned up.”

Dylan reluctantly pulled his hands away and stepped back. “Better get in, then.” He

reached for the bottom of his T-shirt and skimmed it up and over his head. After tossing it

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

aside, he quickly shed the rest of his clothing. The man entered the shower and began

scrubbing.

Dylan took a moment to find a condom and drop it onto the tank of the toilet.

He stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed. Slick flesh slid across Dylan’s

and sent a shudder of excitement straight to his cock. He stroked it, easing the tension that

had been building all day. His shaft pulsed against his palm, and he released it.

“Want to play ‘pick up the soap’?” Scott asked then laughed when Dylan smiled

wickedly.

“Yeah, but first, let’s get you clean.” Dylan palmed a sponge and scrubbed the bar of

soap over it. Satisfied, he ran it over Scott’s chest and back, urging the man to slowly turn for

him. He shifted Scott’s long braid from the front to his back to get it out of the way. “Lift

your arms,” he said and continued washing. The swell of his chest and the smattering of dark

curls there was a big turn-on for Dylan. When he dropped the sponge and continued with

just his slippery hands, Scott slowed his spin even more.

“Don’t forget…yeah, there,” Scott muttered when Dylan’s hands zeroed in on the erect

cock straining up from his middle.

Dylan squeezed and stroked its length, toying with the shaft until Scott’s groans grew

louder. He cupped the large ball sac, massaging it carefully. “Grab the wall,” he ordered in a

voice grown rough with passion.

Scott spun around, his hands going to the wall at shoulder height. He shuffled

backwards, placing his feet wide apart and thrusting his hips high. The perfect pose for

Dylan to access him.

“Beautiful,” Dylan whispered, going to his knees behind the man. He pried the firm

cheeks apart and pressed his mouth against the puckered opening. Alternating fingers and

tongue, he slowly spread the anus. Time stood still while he pleasured his new lover. The

occasional grunt or groan seemed to add fuel to their lustful fire.

Satisfied Scott was ready for the fucking he so desperately wanted to give him, Dylan

rose to his feet. He reached for the foil packet he’d left handy and hastily opened it. Sliding

the condom on, he shuddered at the tightness. Taking his cock in hand, he aimed its sheathed

tip at the softened pucker and leaned in.

“Push onto me,” Dylan urged the man, gripping the muscular hips.

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

As if he’d only been waiting for the cue, Scott eased backwards. Dylan’s cock head

popped in. Scott grunted and stopped for a long moment while he got accustomed to Dylan’s

girth. Slowly then, Scott pressed himself farther onto Dylan’s shaft. Inch by pulsing inch

vanished into the man’s clenching hole.

When Dylan’s belly met Scott’s butt, Dylan sighed. They stood perfectly still for a few

seconds. That silence lasted until Dylan couldn’t stand it another moment. He pulled back,

slowly easing out then slamming ahead. He tried to keep the pace slow for a while, but his

lust wouldn’t allow it, and from the way Scott responded, he was as desperate for action as

Dylan. Their bodies came together, the slapping sound echoing in the small enclosure.

“Yes, fuck me, hard…yeah. Like that. Fuck!” Scott growled as his body shuddered.

Dylan saw stars and knew he wasn’t going to last. He reached under Scott and palmed

the man’s erection. Stroking it, he worked his hips in rhythm with his masturbation, hoping

to bring the man off before he lost his fight for control.

“Now,” he growled as his vision blurred and his muscles clenched. He squeezed Scott’s

shaft and gave it one more stroke then shot his load deep inside the man. The condom caught

it all; pulse after pulse of creamy offering filled the latex reservoir. Just as he sagged against

Scott’s back, Dylan felt the man’s cock jerk.

“Yeah, fuck,” grunted Scott as his body shuddered its release. He staggered but kept to

his feet as he sent ribbons of cum into the water.

It took Dylan a few moments to gather strength enough to stand unaided. When he did,

he kept his hold around Scott’s belly, leaning down to press a kiss to the man’s upper back.

“Thank you. I needed that.”

He straightened up, slowly easing out of Scott’s ass while holding the edge of the

rubber. While he tossed the used condom into the trash, Scott straightened up and turned to

face him.

“You and me both, sexy.” Scott ran a rough palm over Dylan’s chest, tweaking a nipple.

“Now I’m starved for sure.”

They took turns rinsing under the showerhead. When Dylan stepped out, he reached

for one towel and handed a second to Scott.

“Thanks.” The stud winked at him and dried off. “You know, this wasn’t exactly what I

was expecting here, today, but you won’t catch me complaining.”

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dylan took his towel and rubbed it slowly across Scott’s back. “I wasn’t sure what to

expect. But I had hopes. From the minute I laid eyes on you, very high hopes.”

Scott turned and grinned, a sexy, lop-sided thing that made Dylan’s heart flutter. “I

noticed you, too. Thought you were damned good looking. Never dreamt you were gay until

you dropped a few hints at the bar yesterday.”

“I tried to be subtle. I wondered the same thing about you. It’s hard to find out without

coming right out and asking. Some guys get a little touchy.”

“Tell me.” Scott shook his head. “In the pen, you can fuck some guy one minute and

both get off. But you try talking to him about being gay, and there’s a good chance he’ll come

after you looking for blood. If you’re too weak to take care of yourself, you’ll wind up some

big ass con’s bitch. Even then he ain’t considered gay. The bitch maybe, but not the big ass

fucker.”

Dylan drew his wet hair back into a ponytail and looked at Scott thoughtfully. “Do you

think being inside somehow changes things? I’m wondering if a guy might do things in there

that he wouldn’t on the outside.”

“Oh, sure.” Scott squeezed the water from his braid and hung up his towel. “A guy

might go in straight as hell, but if some big homo sees him and wants him, he might not have

a lot of choice. On the other hand, you go in for any length of time and you’ll see stuff that

maybe you’ve thought about but never had the balls to look into. After a few weeks or

months, you might want to try these things. Lots of straight guys turn bi- in the pen.

“What I don’t know is whether they go straight again on the outside. Me, I’ve always

known I liked outies.” He eyed Dylan’s cock and raised his brows up and down.

Dylan grinned. He ambled from the bathroom into the bedroom followed by Scott, who

gathered his clothes.

“I’ve got some clean things you could borrow.” Dylan tossed underwear and socks on

the bed. “Of course, that means you’ll have to come back again to return them.”

Scott snatched up the skivvies and stepped into them. “Who said I was leaving? You

seem to have plenty of room here. I noticed a few more jobs that could use some attention.

Hell, I think you could use more attention, yourself. If you’re interested, that is.”

Dylan’s gut churned with anticipation and excitement. He tried to sound nonchalant as

he reached for a clean Whiskers’ T-shirt. “Sure. You can stay, if you want. No problem.”

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Scott grabbed a similar shirt and pulled it over his head. He checked himself out in the

mirror, running a hand over the inn’s logo. “Nice.”

For a fleeting moment, Dylan wondered if it was the best idea to let him wear the

uniform shirt. Lust got the better of common sense, and he shrugged the worry away. What

does it matter? And more importantly, besides Jack, the cook who’d been employed there less

than two weeks, who’s going to know?

He ran a hand over Scott’s firm, muscular chest. “You look good in that tight shirt.”

Scott offered a wickedly handsome grin. “Keep sweet-talking me, baby, and I’ll let you

rip it off me later tonight.”

Dylan’s cock thickened at the mere idea. He groaned and turned the sexy stud towards

the door. “Let’s go eat. If we stand around here talking much longer, I might take you up on

that right now.”

The dining room was full when they passed through. Dylan saw all the guests had been

served, and most of them were nearly done. He winked at Mark Stallings, who finished his

apple pie calmly while his brothers bounced rambunctiously in their seats.

In an extraordinarily good mood, Dylan patted the curly blond head of five-year-old

Timmy Dunbar, the son of the couple who’d been the latest family to check in. “How is

everything?” he asked the young parents.

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Dunbar replied enthusiastically. “The food is amazing.”

“Just great,” her husband agreed. “We thought we’d eat in town tomorrow, but dinner

was so good we might just stay here.”

“Jack will be glad to hear that.” He smiled at them warmly. “Have a nice evening.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Scott. “This way. There’s a table in the kitchen.” Dylan

pushed through the swinging door. “You’ve got a lot of happy campers out there, Jackie-boy.

Mrs. Dunbar thinks your food is amazing.”

“The Dunbars, which ones are they?” Jack beamed as he pushed past them to peek out

the door.

“Our newest arrivals. Cute blond guy, red-headed wife and the kid with the head full

of curls.”

“Ah, yes. Nice family. They have a well-behaved child.”

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dylan flinched when he heard a glass hit the dining room floor and shatter. He looked

at Jack and scowled. “Stallings?”

Jack nodded. “Stallings.” He reached for a broom and dustpan.

“Let me.” Scott took them from his hands. “I might as well earn my supper.” He walked

into the dining room.

“Uh, thanks.” Jack blinked, obviously surprised.

“You already earned supper, my friend,” Dylan called after him. “Maybe even

breakfast.”

Scott grinned over his shoulder. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

The door closed between them, and Dylan gave a satisfied smirk.

Jack went to the sink and began rinsing dishes. “He did a good job on the fence, then?”

Dylan cleared his throat. “Yeah, the fence. He did an excellent job.”

“I noticed he’s wearing a Whiskers’ shirt. You hire the guy on permanently or

something?”

“Or something.” Dylan rolled his eyes at the cook who seemed determined to draw the

inquisition out. He decided to change the subject. “Where’s the fine Reverend this evening?”

“A finance committee meeting. He said they usually last ‘til about ten. Which gives me

plenty of time to keep an eye on things here.” He glanced up at Dylan and flashed his teeth

in a pearly grin.

Ignoring the taunt, Dylan began unloading clean glasses from the fancy commercial

dishwasher. “Nothing to worry about here. Unless that damn dog acts up again.”

“If that happens, you could always send Scott to talk to the Stallings. I’ll bet the sight of

him in the middle of the night would hush them up.”

“You’re assuming Scott will be here in the middle of the night.” Dylan said the words

out loud, testing how they sounded. Pretty damn good.

Jack shrugged. “Not assuming anything. You two look pretty chummy, is all.”

“That’s a nice word for it.”

Filling the racks Dylan had just emptied, Jack grinned. “I was going to say ‘horny’, but

all of a sudden you don’t seem like it so much anymore.”

Scott returned and dumped the dustpan full of glass into the large trash can. “Mouthy

little kids.”

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dylan eyed Jack, warning him not to continue their conversation. “Mouthy big kids in

here,” he muttered but smiled when Jack laughed.

“The dining room has cleared out.” Scott returned the broom to where Jack kept it.

“Suppose if I start cleaning off tables I might be able to get something to eat?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Dylan and Jack said at the same time. They glanced at each

other and chuckled.

Scott shrugged. “I don’t mind. I am getting hungry, though.”

“What’s your pleasure?” Jack wiped his hands. “We have some nice salmon or roast

beef—”

Dylan interrupted. “He makes a great burger, too. Extra thick. Greasy if you ask for it

that way.”

Jack shook his head. “Pay no attention to Mr. Heart Attack on a Plate. I have a really

nice grilled chicken wrap—”

Scott’s eyes lit up. “The burger sounds perfect. With a side of fries?”

“Big, thick ones? Extra ketchup?” Dylan prodded.

“Absolutely.” Scott grinned, nodding.

Jack sighed. “You two better start clearing tables, then. You’ll need all the exercise you

can get if you’re going to eat that meal.”

Scott nudged Dylan’s arm as they walked into the dining room. “I suspect we’ll be

getting plenty of exercise, later. What do you think?”

Dylan’s heart thudded, and he could only smile. “I think, I like the way you think.”

* * * *

Dylan, his head filled with lustful thoughts about what he wanted to do to his new

lover, entered the bedroom first after dinner.

The door closed behind Scott with a soft thud. An instant later, an arm slid across

Dylan’s chest and pulled him back against a hard body.

“Mmm, nice.” Dylan reached back and gripped Scott’s firm, muscular thighs. Holding

tight, he pressed his ass against the obvious bulge at the man’s crotch. “That’s nice, too.” He

moved side to side, effectively stroking the hard-on.

“Yeah, nice. Horny as hell, too. I hope you’re ready for a good fucking.”

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Scott’s hands seemed to have a life of their own as they felt Dylan’s chest, finally

coming to rest when he zeroed in on his nipples. Warm air tickled his neck and ear. Scott’s

tongue flicked across his lobe. Sharp, stabbing pain shot across his chest.

“Damn!” Dylan arched his back, pulling his chest away from the sudden stimulation. In

the same instant, he realised Scott had simply pinched his nipples and that his cock was rock

hard and aching. “Fuck,” he murmured, again pressing his ass against the man’s cock.

“Yeah, that’s where we’re headed.” Scott alternately pinched and released Dylan’s

nipples, sending surges of electricity straight to his crotch. “I wondered if this would get you

going.”

“No one has ever…” Words failed him as Dylan wallowed in the new sensation. His

clothing seemed too tight, his jeans strangled his erection and squeezed his balls much too

tightly. The shirt kept Scott’s fingers from the direct contact he craved. He desperately

wanted to be skin on skin with this stud.

With a groan, he pushed free of Scott’s grip and spun around. “Get naked.” The words

flowed out before he realised he was going to say them. He smiled and winked. “No one’s

ever made me so horny so fast.”

“Good,” Scott replied and skimmed out of the shirt Dylan had given him only a couple

of hours ago.

Just the sight of his chest and abs gave Dylan shivers. The claws of the tiger tattoo

seemed to be digging into his arm, its tail caressing his neck.

Scott reached down and worked the button holding his pants together, and Dylan

quickly reached for his own. The zipper fought his rushed attempts for a moment of

frustration but gave in, finally. He thrust his jeans and underpants down, bending forward

just as Scott straightened up. Scott’s crotch came level with Dylan’s face, the erection swaying

lazily in the air.

“See anything you like?” Scott’s voice sounded even gruffer than usual.

Glancing up, Dylan smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t think I was hungry, but maybe I was

wrong.” He stepped on the jeans bunched around his feet until he’d worked them off.

Satisfied he wasn’t going to fall over, he took hold of Scott’s hips and pulled himself forward.

Mouth open, he poked his tongue out and flicked it across the plump cock head.

The organ jumped, and Scott inhaled—the breath a long, hissing sound.

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Encouraged by the man’s response, Dylan dropped to his knees and slid his tongue

over the crown again, grasping it between his lips before it leapt away. He slathered the firm

dome with saliva, paying special attention to the slit. After only a few moments, Scott’s

thighs tensed, and he thrust forward, trying to push more of his shaft into Dylan’s mouth.

“Suck it,” Scott growled in a lusty whisper. He took hold of Dylan’s head and slowly

eased his cock in deeper.

For a heartbeat, Dylan thought of pulling free of the man’s hands. Instead, he softened

his lips and allowed more of the delectable shaft to enter his mouth. He loved the subtle taste

of salt and man. With his eyes closed, he savoured the texture of the flesh and ran his tongue

along the swollen vein running down the side. Easing forward, he stopped only when his

nose touched the healthy bed of dark hair circling the base. He fought the gag reflex

threatening to overcome him.

Scott pushed him back but not off his cock. Dylan sucked and licked at the top third of

the man’s shaft, savouring the succulent flesh.

“That’s it. Get me good and wet.” Scott guided Dylan’s mouth and tongue.

Slipping Scott’s cock from his mouth, Dylan offered, “Rubber, in the bedside table.”

“Come on, then. Bed seems like a better idea than on the floor in front of the door.”

Scott chuckled as he spun away and strode towards the bed.

Dylan scrambled to his feet and for a moment his gaze followed Scott’s tight, sexy ass.

By the time he’d grabbed a towel from the bathroom and returned to the bedroom, Scott was

kneeling at the head of the bed, facing him. In his hand, he held a small silver packet—a

condom.

“I see you found them,” Dylan said and spread the towel out. He climbed onto the bed

and crawled forward, stopping only when he’d sucked Scott’s cock into his mouth again. He

didn’t linger, though—he was too horny for that. Satisfied, he rose to his knees and reached

for the condom. After tearing the foil open, he deftly rolled the latex over Scott’s shaft then

gave it a couple of strokes.

Spinning around, he dropped to all fours and looked over his shoulder. “Lube’s in the

drawer.” He wiggled his ass and eased his knees wider apart.

Scott held up his hand, showing him the tube he’d already palmed. “Found it.” He

unscrewed the cap and squeezed a dollop of the clear goo into his hand.

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dylan’s heart raced. He lowered his shoulders to the bed and turned his head to the

side. The sudden touch of Scott’s fingers against his pucker made him groan.

“Relax,” his lover said as he pressed a well-greased fingertip against Dylan’s clenched

hole.

As the finger entered him, Dylan’s thought process collapsed into mindless gibberish.

The sensation of Scott’s fingers easing past the outer anal muscles sent a shiver of pleasure

straight to his cock. A harder thrust sent the finger in deep, and Dylan’s balls shifted.

The bed moved. Scott’s body pressed against his hip. Dylan felt the man’s erection, the

shaft tapping his buttock.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let me in.”

If he turned his head the other way, he was sure he could have kissed the man. He

remained as he was. Another shudder tore through him as Scott worked his digit out then

back in again, a second finger alongside the first.

Dylan’s body reacted, seesawing back and forth, his anal muscles loosening, his knees

easing a little wider apart. A soft hum came from inside him when he felt Scott move. A

moment later, the man slipped his fingers out and pressed the tip of his cock into their place.

Nudged against his hole, the head popped in with nothing more than a shifting of his hips.

“Oh my God,” Dylan murmured.

Scott’s fingers dug into Dylan’s hips. When he opened his mouth to protest, the man

shoved forward, filling him with cock. Words failed him. The only sound he made was a

harsh grunt of sheer bliss.

The rhythmic echo of flesh on flesh echoed in the small room. Dylan’s soft moans came

as punctuation.

“Harder, fuck me harder.” He pushed back and again groaned with pleasure as Scott

filled him.

Scott must have been waiting for his demand. The man slowly increased his speed until

he was jack hammering Dylan’s butt like there was no tomorrow. Both men groaned

incessantly. Dylan was on the verge of climax, and Scott controlled how fast he’d fall into the

abyss. All he could do was hang on and enjoy the ride.

When Scott rammed into him and tensed, hot spunk spurted into the condom buried

deep inside Dylan. His body responded in kind, sending a volley of cum onto the waiting

towel. He shuddered and thrust ahead then back, trying to extend his pleasure as well as

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Scott’s for as long as possible. He knew it couldn’t last. A final shudder rippled through him,

and he sagged to the side, Scott with him.

“Amazing,” Scott muttered, dragging the blankets over them both.

Dylan lay quietly until he got his breath back. “Yeah, what you said.”

Scott eased himself out of Dylan and climbed to his feet. “Back in a flash.” He hurried

from the room and into the bathroom.

Dylan basked in the afterglow of a great fuck while listening to his lover move around.

When he returned a few minutes later, Dylan felt so drowsy he was nearly asleep.

Scott climbed in, spooning against Dylan’s back.

* * * *

A dog’s loud howling woke Dylan from a deep sleep. When he tried to sit up, he found

himself entangled in Scott’s arms and legs. It was a pleasant place to be, but not with the

interminable dog noise and someone slamming doors that echoed throughout the inn. “Hey,

scoot.” He nudged Scott.

“What the fuck?” Fully roused, Scott sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“God damn dog I told you about. It can’t seem to sleep through the night. Well, I’ve

had it. That family is out of here.” He pulled on a pair of jeans and his Whiskers’ shirt and

slipped into his loafers.

“Wait for me.” Scott dressed quickly but didn’t bother to pull on his boots.

Dylan hesitated but gave in to the sexy hunk who had his heart wrapped around one

little finger. “Okay, but don’t say anything. Let me do the talking.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Scott followed him through the dining room and down the

hall.

They paused in front of the room the howling came from. Dylan knocked loudly.

“We know, we know.” Susan Stallings opened the door, hands folded apologetically.

“Roger’s taking Prince outside. We’re as baffled by this as you are. He’s never acted this way

before.”

“Mrs. Stallings.” Dylan shook his head. “As much as I’d like you to stay…” Which is not

very damn much. “I have my other guests to think about. Just listen.” Doors continued

slamming up and down the halls of both floors of the inn.

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“People are pissed,” Scott commented, glancing down the dim walkway.

“Not just ‘people’, young man,” a voice said from behind them.

“Whoa, Nellie!” Scott sputtered, startled by the vision in white that had suddenly

appeared. In his mad scramble to back up, he tripped over his feet and landed on his ass in

the middle of the hall.

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Chapter Five

“Good evening, Delia.” Dylan smiled at the little old lady in a fuzzy, white robe and

hair rollers.

“That’s Mrs. Nelson to you. And what, pray tell, is good about it?”

Dylan could think of several really fine parts of the evening, but he spared the old

biddy his gloating. “Well, Prince has quieted down, for one thing.” He leant down to her and

added, “And this is the Stallings’ last night with us. I’m giving them the boot.”

He reached around her and extended a hand to Scott, pulling him off the floor. “You

okay?”

“Fuck me,” Scott mumbled, face reddening.

“I suppose a man who has so many tattoos would have to use language like that,” Delia

snapped. “But not in front of me. And not while you’re wearing an employee’s uniform

belonging to this inn. Ethan wouldn’t appreciate it.” She turned her scowl on Dylan. “You

should know, your brother doesn’t like anything that upsets Ethan.”

“Take it easy, Grandma.” Scott dusted off his jeans. “His Royal Highness doesn’t have

to find out about it. And D. can handle his brother. Everything’s under control.”

Dylan glanced at Scott, torn between being intrigued that the man had nicknamed him

‘D.’ and fearful that the wrath of Delia Nelson was just getting warmed up. “Scott, would

you go check the lobby and make sure everything’s locked up?”

His handsome hunk didn’t budge. The man simply stared at Delia, and she at him.

“Please?” Dylan added.

Slowly, Scott turned his gaze on Dylan. “Sure, boss.” With one last, annoyed look at

Delia, Scott sauntered off.

Delia folded her arms across her chest. “Does Ethan know you’ve turned his inn into a

den of iniquity?”

“I’d hardly say that.” Dylan looked into the Stallings’ room, where all three boys and

their mother were watching the display. “Just a minute,” he told Delia and stepped into the

room.

“You think he’s going to be quiet now?” He motioned to the dog outside.

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“I’m sure he will.” Susan’s voice had a pleading tone.

“Then you can stay until morning. Check-out’s at noon. See you then.” Without giving

her a chance to respond, he returned to the hall and pulled the door shut.

“Delia. Mrs. Nelson. I’m very sorry the dog disturbed you again tonight. I’ll personally

see to it that the family is gone tomorrow.”

“It’s not me you should be worried about, young man. Laura is beside herself, and

Annie doesn’t like it when the child’s upset.”

Laura. More ghost nonsense. “This has nothing to do with any of that. This was one nutso

dog that never should have been here in the first place.”

“I tried to tell you that. Annie’s been trying to tell you, but you obviously haven’t been

listening.”

Dylan drew a blank. “Who’s Annie?”

Delia smiled. “You met her. Before Ethan and Cade’s wedding.”

Memories of the beautiful blonde-haired supposed ghost who could screw her face into

the ugliest scowl he’d ever seen flooded back. At the time, he’d thought—briefly—that he’d

actually seen her appear then disappear into thin air. But he also remembered the drinking

he’d done that night and doubted he recalled things as they really happened. He frowned, a

name coming back to him. “Angry Annie.”

“She’s the door slammer. When you hear that, it’s not the guests. It’s Annie.”

“No.” He didn’t want to believe it. It was just the alcohol, it had to be.

“Yes.” She nodded, a smug, self-satisfied expression on her face.

Dylan was tired and didn’t want to think about ghosts anymore tonight. “Okay, well,

like I said, the family is checking out tomorrow. That should take care of the problem.”

“You better hope so.” Delia stood a full head shorter than Dylan but still managed to

look down her nose at him.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Nelson.”

She didn’t reply, just turned and walked away.

Dylan stood watching the old woman for a few moments before he, too, turned away

and headed towards the lobby and Scott then hopefully bed and sleep. The excitement done,

exhaustion regained a hold.

When he entered the big room, he saw Scott sitting on the sofa directly in front of the

fireplace. The man turned and said, “That was entertaining. Not!”

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“It’s the perks of the job,” Dylan replied and, feeling a little miffed at Scott’s attitude,

added, “Might have been handled a little differently.”

“True, but I don’t do customer service well.” Scott got to his feet and held out his arms,

beckoning Dylan to come closer. “I’m much better at behind the scenes raunch.”

Despite his annoyance, Dylan couldn’t help but smile at Scott’s choice of words. And his

honesty. The man had never claimed to be good with people.

Instead of entering Scott’s arms, Dylan reached up and grabbed one of the extended

hands. Giving it a tug, he said, “We can talk about the old woman and the ghosts, if you

must, in the morning. I’m for bed.”

Scott waggled his eyebrows. “Me, too, boss.” He urged Dylan towards the doorway to

the room.

Inside, Dylan pulled his clothes off while admiring Scott’s body as the man did the

same. They slid under the covers and into each other’s arms. Dylan’s eyes closed, and he was

almost asleep when his lover shifted next to him.

“Who’s the old broad?” Scott asked in a dreamy voice.

“Delia Nelson. Lives here,” Dylan replied lazily. He yawned and snuggled closer.

“She have any say about what goes on?”

“Babe, talk in the morning. I’m beat.” Dylan yawned again and sank deeper into sleep

mode.

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

Silence fell like a blanket over the room. Dylan sighed and let sleep overtake him.

* * * *

“Gimme the soap!” Scott reached up for the bar with one hand, running the fingers of

his other up and down Dylan’s ribs.

“In a minute. Just hang on, for crying out loud!” Dylan howled with laughter as his

lover poked him extra hard in the ribcage and grabbed the soap from his slippery hands.

Before he could protest further, wet, slick fingers closed around his cock. He bit back the

response he had planned and simply enjoyed the feel of his morning erection being toyed

with.

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“Hanging on, boss,” Scott replied triumphantly as he gently worked his hand up and

down Dylan’s shaft. He adjusted his grip, taking the ball sac into his palm. Kneeling down,

he took Dylan’s cock into his mouth and sucked on him like he needed a good meal and

Dylan was it.

Lust rising rapidly, Dylan groaned. “Better slow it down or you’ll get a mouthful.”

Scott’s only response was a nod of his head. The man caressed Dylan’s balls expertly,

gently tugging on the orbs then pressing the flat of his hand against them. All the while, he

sucked on the head or deep throated the entire shaft.

It didn’t take long before Dylan felt the beginnings of an orgasm tickling the back of his

balls. He tried to pull away. He grabbed Scott’s head and tried prying the man off him, but to

no avail.

“You’re killing me, stud,” he whispered urgently. “I’m going to come. Fuck yeah, do

me. Your mouth feels so damn good.” He thrust his hips forward and held the man’s head

against him, suddenly aching to shoot his load.

That seemed to be what Scott was waiting for. He released his hold on Dylan’s balls and

pulled his mouth off his cock.

Dylan groaned and reached for his shaft.

“Nope, don’t touch. That’s mine, for now,” Scott said in a gruff voice. He grabbed

Dylan’s hands and held them away from his crotch.

“What the…?” Dylan growled, his frustration mounting.

“Rinse off and follow me.” Scott stepped under the shower nozzle and let the water run

over his shoulders and back then his front. Clean, he ducked out of the small enclosure,

leaving Dylan in a lustful daze. “Come on, rinse off. I’m waiting.” He hurried out of the

room, a towel wrapped around his waist.

The door closed. The soft thud jarred Dylan into action. He quickly let the water cleanse

him of soap then turned it off. On the way out, he grabbed a large bath towel and ran it over

himself. His erection throbbed painfully.

“Man is going to drive me crazy,” he muttered as he rushed into the main room of the

suite and came to a dead stop.

Scott was there, bent over the back of the sofa, the towel spread beneath him. “Thought

you’d changed your mind.” He wiggled his ass and smiled over his shoulder.

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“Not a chance.” Dylan dropped his towel and walked towards his lover. “Lube,

rubbers?”

“Lubed already. I knew you’d be ready for it,” Scott answered quickly, easily. He held

out his hand, a small foil packet between his fingers and thumb. “Rubber.”

“Think of everything, don’t you?” Dylan took the condom and ripped open the foil. His

fingers shook as he rolled it on.

“Yeah, I try to.” Scott reached back and spread his buttocks. “Fuck me, babe. I’m ready

for you.”

Dylan needed no further urging. Stepping close, he took firm hold of his erection and

pressed it between his lover’s muscular butt cheeks. The soft fluttering invitation of the hole

encouraged him to thrust. A request I have no intention of denying. He eased in and growled

with pleasure at the tight embrace. Once he hit bottom, he held still, allowing time for Scott

to become accustomed to the fit.

He spread his feet apart, steadying himself before going on. When he did, it was a slow,

easy fuck for long minutes of mounting bliss. Under him, Scott thrust back, meeting each

movement with his own. The increase of speed came by unspoken, mutual consent.

Flesh slammed against flesh, the resounding slapping sound music to Dylan’s ears.

When Scott’s guttural moans became a continuous melody, Dylan went into high gear.

Gripping his lover’s hips tight, he seesawed back and forth in a desperate rush towards

completion. His cock pulsed, and he knew he was there.

“Yes, now. Fuck,” Scott moaned and arched his back.

Each shuddering eruption dragged a grunt from Dylan. He forged ahead and growled

as he sent another volley of spunk into the condom. Spent, he collapsed across Scott’s back.

He leant forward and pressed his lips to the man’s sweat-soaked neck. “Good morning,

sexy.”

“Yeah, you, too,” gasped Scott. “Damn, that was good. Sex that hot is the only reason

I’d be up at an ungodly hour like this.”

Dylan chuckled. “It’s nearly eight.”

“I know.” Scott shuddered. “Hey, I think I need to hop into that shower again just for a

second.”

“Me, too.” Dylan eased himself out of the man’s tight ass. “Then breakfast. I could

eat…oh, never mind.”

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Scott roared with laughter as he raced for the shower.

* * * *

Over breakfast, Dylan listened to the list of repairs Scott thought were needed around

the inn.

“One of the shed doors is loose. There’s another broken fence board way out in back.

Plus the handrail by the back steps is loose. Wouldn’t want that pretty little cook hurting

himself coming in or out someday.”

“I’m surprised.” Dylan sipped hot coffee thoughtfully. “Cade usually keeps this place

in tiptop shape.”

Scott shrugged. “He’s been busy getting ready for the wedding. Maybe a few things

slipped. It’d be nice to have them fixed by the time he gets back, wouldn’t it?”

“Sure.” Dylan was still surprised. Cade wasn’t the type of person to let things go.

Jack entered the dining room with a tray of muffins for the side table. He refilled the

warming bin and spoke to a couple of the guests on his way over to them. “Get you

gentlemen anything else this morning?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Dylan pushed back and rubbed his belly. “You’re too good to

me, kid. I need some exercise to work off that huge meal.”

Scott waggled his brows over his cup of coffee.

Dylan looked away quickly, focusing on Jack. “Hey, I hear the handrail by the back

stairs is loose. How long’s it been that way?”

Jack seemed surprised. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Scott mentioned a few more things that need attention around here. We thought we’d

get everything taken care of before Cade gets back.”

“I’m sure the handrail is fine.” Jack nodded towards the kitchen. “Why don’t we go

check it out?

“Let’s do it.” Dylan rose and followed the cook. Glancing over his shoulder at Scott, he

asked, “You coming?”

Scott finished his coffee and stood. “Loaded question if I ever heard one.”

A tingle zipped down Dylan’s spine. It’d been a long time—too damn long—since he’d

had anyone to exchange sexual banter with. He’d forgotten how much fun it was. He

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grinned at the sexy hunk adjusting the waistband of his leather pants and followed Jack

outside.

“What the hell?” Jack wiggled the loose handrail. “I didn’t come in this way today, but

I’d swear the railing wasn’t loose yesterday.”

“Sure it was.” Scott wedged a toothpick between his teeth. “When I was working out

here, I noticed it wobble when you leaned against it.”

“Hmm.” Jack appeared unconvinced but didn’t press the issue. “Okay, then. I must

have missed it. Yeah, we should probably get it fixed.”

Scott grinned. “I’ll get right on that.” He pointed to the Whiskers’ logo on his shirt and

looked at Dylan. “Keys, please?”

Jack and Dylan looked at him.

“To unlock the shed and get my tools,” Scott explained.

“Cade’s tools,” Jack muttered beneath his breath, stepping back inside.

“I’ll get the lock.” Dylan jogged down the stairs.

Scott followed. “You can trust me with those, you know.”

“I know,” Dylan replied, irritated with the way his voice cracked. I’m a lousy liar. He

probably could trust his new lover, but it wasn’t his inn, and he couldn’t take chances. “But I

need the keys to get started on my work inside.” He unlocked the door and noticed how

loose it was. It hadn’t wobbled like that when he’d opened it the previous day. “Strange.”

“Place is damn near falling apart.” Scott gripped Dylan’s ass cheek and squeezed as he

passed. “But never fear. Scotty-boy is here. I’ll get you fixed right up. Shouldn’t take more

than an hour…or a few hours. Probably be done before lunch. Definitely by dinner.”

Dylan smiled. “I’ll be inside if you need me.”

Scott chewed the toothpick and perused the interior of the shed. “Pretty sure I’ll have

need of you later today. And again, tonight, if you think you’re up for it.”

“I’ll be up for it, stud. No worries about that. See you later.”

“Yup.” Scott went to work.

Dylan walked back to the inn. It’d be time for the Stallings to check out soon. He hoped

that business went smoothly and the family would soon be a distant memory.

Hope springs eternal. He sighed as the Stallings family converged upon the lobby shortly

before noon. The dog barked, the boys chased each other and the girl seemed oblivious to it

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all, chatting noisily on her mobile phone. The hapless parents wrestled a luggage cart loaded

with the family’s bags to the front desk.

“I’ll help you out with that,” Dylan told Roger as he handed the man his bill.

“Thanks, but we can get it.” Distractedly signing the ticket, Roger snapped at his sons,

“Sid! Sam! Get over here and grab your things.”

“Cecily, hang up the phone and get your bag.” Susan rolled her eyes at Dylan and

offered a small smile. “Thanks for everything, Mr. Wyatt.”

“Our pleasure.” He nodded at her politely. Happy as he was to see them go, the parents

and Mark weren’t so bad. “Hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation.” He caught the

youngest boy’s eye and smiled. “Behave yourself, fella.”

Mark grinned at him, shouldering his bag while trying to keep control of Prince. “Slow

down, boy!” he called as the dog dragged him, following the family outside.

The door closed between Dylan and the family, and the lobby grew peacefully quiet

again.

“Whew!” Jack said from behind him. “That’s a load off.”

“No kidding.” Dylan shook his head. “Not sure I’m cut out for this line of work. I’ll be

happy to get back to my little cabinet-making shop.”

Jack grinned. “Cade told me it’s not that little. Said you have something like a hundred

employees working for you.”

“And not one of them spooks people or slams doors in the middle of the night. I can

handle my employees.”

“Speaking of which, Carmen from the housecleaning crew called in. They’ll be about an

hour late, but they’ll be here.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Dylan glanced at the book on the counter. “Nobody new

checking in today as of yet. When she gets here, ask her to freshen up the occupied rooms

first. That’ll give them more time to focus on the rooms the Stallings just vacated. Those

might need more attention.”

“Will do. Better get back to the kitchen. Looks like the lunch crowd is rolling in.” He

returned to the dining room.

Dylan saw the Dunbars take a seat and heard Jack say, “I’ll be right with you folks.”

He smiled at Timmy, happily playing with a car at the table. Nice kids like that made

him double-think his life-style choice to never have, or adopt, children. Some kids are okay.

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“That family get out of here?” Scott’s voice behind him made Dylan jump.

He turned and smiled at his lover, who was slightly sweaty with his braided hair

askew. “Yep. Loaded up and gone.”

“Good riddance. I hate kids. Whaddya say, is it lunch time, yet?”

* * * *

Dylan was pleased to note the Stallings’ rooms were in decent shape. Once Carmen and

the daily cleaning crew worked their magic, the place would be back to normal. He looked

through the window at the view of the ocean and inhaled. Finally, a good night’s sleep. The

idea sounded wonderful—even better with Scott in the picture, nestled in his arms. Would

the handsome handyman stay another night? I might have to convince him.

He helped Jack carry in a load of supplies later that afternoon and paused to shake the

newly-tightened handrail. “This feels good.”

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged. “Same as it did yesterday.”

“Hey.” Dylan set a box of food on the counter noisily. “Are you suggesting Scott broke

a few things around here so he could stay longer to fix them?”

Jack looked at him coolly. “I’m not suggesting anything. I merely stated the facts as I

knew them. The handrail was fine before he started dinking around with Cade’s tools. The

guy seems to like it here. Who knows?”

Dylan set his face. “He doesn’t need to create a reason to stay. As far as I’m concerned,

he has an open invitation.”

“You sure that’s wise?” Jack raised his brows. “Dude did time and all. Joe Swanson told

you that.”

For a split-second, Dylan felt the prejudice Scott would undoubtedly face for the rest of

his life. He frowned. “He did his time, and now he’s out. You don’t think people deserve

second chances? That’s mighty intolerant, coming from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Jack chuckled nervously. “I’m a clean-cut kid from the city. Not

quite sure what you’re talking about.”

“I’m just saying, from one gay man to another, that people who’ve experienced bigotry

should be a little less hasty about doling it out.”

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“Oh, ho! I got you.” Jack shook his head. “Sorry, friend. It’s one thing to discriminate

against someone because of race or sexual orientation. Those things can’t be changed, not

easily, anyway. But breaking the law and getting thrown in the slammer was a choice Scott

made. I don’t have to tip-toe around him because he’s a felon. That was his decision.”

“No one asked you to tip-toe. I just expect common courtesy. He’s here as my guest.”

Movement beyond the back door caught his attention, and he spotted Scott walking through

the yard with a tool belt on his hips.

Jack’s glance followed his. “Your guest is wearing your brother’s tool belt. You will

make sure he leaves that when he goes, won’t you?” Jack headed out the door for the last

load of supplies.

“Who said he was going anywhere?” Dylan called after the cook and strode away in the

other direction. Irritated that he found himself in the position of sticking up for Scott, he

suddenly wondered why he bothered.

The ex-con means nothing to me. In another week Cade and Ethan would return, and he’d

be out of there, back to his normal, quiet life. That had always been the plan. What was

expected. What he wanted. Or is it?

Dylan made sure he was outside when Scott closed up the shed at the end of the day.

He had no idea what Cade owned, nor would he venture to guess if everything was there.

What he could see seemed organised, with each item in its proper place. “Get ‘er done?” he

asked, casually glancing around.

“Yep. All tools present and accounted for. Tool belt in the top drawer. You can check if

you like.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

Scott grinned, a toothpick hanging out one side of his mouth. “I saw you and cheffie-

boy talking about me earlier. He’s been watching me like a hawk all day.”

Dylan shrugged. “Jack has concerns. I don’t.”

The hunk took a step closer to him. “You just have needs. You know, if I wasn’t so

sweaty, I’d bend you over this workbench and do you right here.”

Dylan’s cock twitched with arousal. “If I wasn’t in charge of the inn right now, I might

let you. What do you say you head on in to the shower? I’ll make sure everything’s under

control and meet you in there.”

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“As appealing as that sounds, I should get home. Haven’t been there in a couple of

days. Check my mail, feed my fish…”

Dylan’s eyebrows rose. “You have fish?”

“No, not really. But I do need to go home. It’s been fun, boss.”

A sinking feeling of desperation washed through him. “You don’t have to go yet, do

you? You need dinner, and I have to pay you.”

Scott smiled. “Almost sounds like you don’t want me to go.”

“I don’t.” It wasn’t as hard to admit as Dylan thought it would be. “I’m not sure what’s

going on between us, Scott. I’m only in town for another week or so. I just know it’s been

pretty great up to now. One more week of smoking hot sex doesn’t sound horrible, does it?”

“It sounds…hot. I could handle another week of you. No problem there, stud. So what

do you propose we do about this situation?”

Relief replaced the unhappy feeling in the pit of Dylan’s stomach. “I suggest you go

home, get cleaned up and pack a bag. Come back out for dinner.”

Scott reached between them and cupped Dylan’s crotch. “Only if you’re on the dessert

menu.”

Dylan swooned. “Definitely. Dessert, breakfast, whatever you want, you got it.”

Scott squeezed his package, grinning wickedly. “I got what I want, right here.”

Their lovemaking that night was fast and hot and over too quickly in Dylan’s opinion.

Lying in Scott’s arms, gasping for breath, he let his thoughts wander to his feelings for the

man. Scott was so different from the guys he usually fell for, but his honesty and

straightforward attitude had a hold on Dylan he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, deny.

Scott’s slow, deep breathing lulled Dylan to sleep.

A door slammed. Another one banged shut an instant later. Dylan rolled out of bed, his

legs tangled in the sheets. He scrambled to his feet, reached for his pants and hopped

awkwardly into them.

“I thought that fuckin’ dog was gone,” Scott muttered, yawning.

“He is. This should not be happening.” Throwing a shirt over his head, Dylan raced for

the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Like hell!” Scott grabbed his clothes and put them on as he hurried through the lobby.

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Light from the entrance shone across the floor and illuminated the room just enough for

Dylan to navigate without bumping into anything. Once they’d both reached the hallway

leading to the rooms, the light was gone. Darkness closed in like a blanket, but Dylan rushed

on, determined to find out who dared disturb the inn’s quiet.

Upstairs, the doors slammed, sounding like the beating of some insane drummer. Those

he passed remained closed, the guests behind them either too afraid of the racket to venture

out or simply fed up with the uproar. Abruptly, the noise stopped.

Dylan’s foot slid in something wet. The stench of rotten fish gagged him.

“Whoa there, stud.” Scott’s hand closed around Dylan’s upper arm, barely keeping him

from falling.

Getting his feet under him, Dylan dared take a breath, dreading another lungful of the

stink. The air he inhaled was fresh. “What the hell!” He faced Scott and realised the floor was

suddenly dry. “This is insane!”

His lover had an odd look on his face—surprise, shock, maybe something else. “Look,”

Scott said in a hushed tone and nodded towards the end of the hall.

Dylan turned and gaped.

Music, something old and tinny, came from a small box the little girl held in her hands.

The look on her face sent a shiver down Dylan’s back. Rage, like nothing he’d ever witnessed

before from a child so young, stared back at him. Her long, dark hair swirled around her

head, and her white gown simply looked out of place.

Dylan blinked and was about to ask the child if she were lost, but when he opened his

mouth, all hell broke loose. The doors started up their slamming again, twice as loud and

fast.

Hands covering his ears, Dylan yelled, “Enough!”

Instantly, as if someone flicked a switched, the noise stopped. Dylan glanced at Scott

and managed a weak smile.

Scott’s mouth sagged open.

From upstairs, a woman called, “What’s all the racket about?”

“Mrs. Nelson? Is that you?” ventured Dylan. His ears were still ringing from the noise,

but he was almost sure it was the old woman.

“Yes, it’s me, as you should good and well know.” She descended the stairs and peered

down the hall.

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Dylan’s gaze followed hers, and he gasped. The little girl was gone. “What the—” He

clamped his lips together, stopping the next word. He looked around, sure the child must

have slipped into the shadows somewhere. “Where’s the kid gone?”

“She’s not a kid,” Mrs. Nelson said sternly. “Her name is Laura, and she’s been a

resident spirit here for a very long time.” The old woman hugged her shawl more firmly

around her shoulders. “And something has obviously upset her. Either her or Annie.” She let

her gaze rest on Dylan, then it moved over to where Scott stood with his back to the wall.

“No one has pissed either of them off.” Dylan closed his eyes and groaned softly,

realising he was arguing with a crazy lady about ghosts.

“Then how do you explain the doors slamming?” The old woman crossed her arms and

glared up at him.

Dylan opened his mouth to reply only to close it a moment later. He didn’t have an

answer, and he was tired of the insanity. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and get

some much needed shuteye.

“I’ll check around,” Scott said and eased by him, heading up the stairs to the upper

floor.

“Right, thanks.” Dylan patted the woman’s arm and said, “It’s probably the wind or

something. There’s a logical explanation, I’m sure.”

“Humph, so am I. The spirits are agitated. That dog, somehow it disturbed things it

shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, me and all the guests here in the middle of the night.”

“You’re being a fool, young man. Something’s happened. Something bad. I can feel it in

my bones.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shuddered.

Rolling his eyes, Dylan was about ready to strangle the woman when he heard Scott call

from the top of the staircase. “Not a thing happening up here.” He walked down the steps.

“All right, let’s get you back up to your room.” He eased Delia around and guided her

towards the stairs. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, perhaps.”

She allowed herself to be led then, with little more than a grumble or two, went

upstairs. A few moments later, she called from the first floor, “Be warned, when something,

or someone, upsets Laura, Annie can be a real handful.”

Dylan bit back what he really wanted to holler up to the crazy old bird. “Thanks for the

heads up.”

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Scott grabbed him by the crotch and squeezed just enough to make Dylan’s cock pulse.

“Come on, stud. This dragging ourselves around here in the middle of the fucking night isn’t

what I’d call fun and games. Bed sounds good.”

“I’m with you.”

The inn remained silent as they searched the downstairs and even went into the garden

to see if anyone was about. Finding nothing, they retraced their steps to Dylan’s room. Ten

minutes later, the two men were in bed and in each other’s arms.

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Chapter Six

When the door slamming started in the dead of another night, Dylan rolled out of bed

once again. Familiar with his new routine of fumbling for his pants, he stepped into them.

“Oh for the love of…!” Scott mumbled and sat up. “I thought everything would get

back to normal once that fuckin’ dog was gone. What’s it been, four nights now?”

“I stopped counting,” Dylan lied, slipping a shirt over his head. Five nights since the

Stallings left with Prince the terror-dog. Yet the nightly occurrences hadn’t abated. Nervous

energy raced through him, settling with a thud in the pit of his stomach.

“Bullshit.” Scott dressed as he followed Dylan through the lobby. “Deny all you want,

but something’s going on here. I think the old lady nailed it. That dog opened up a door to

the beyond or something like that.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Dylan hurried into the hallway, hopeful but not

convinced he could find out what, or who, was causing the ruckus. It’d been the same scene

night after night. The doors to each room opened and slammed shut all the way down the

corridor. He reached for the first one and gripped the knob, pulling it closed and holding it.

Scott went past him and grabbed the next but was unable to stop it from opening and

slamming shut again. The man growled his rage.

There was just enough light for Dylan to see the muscles standing out along Scott’s

biceps and shoulders. He was literally dragged back and forth twice more, then the door

closed with a loud crash and stayed shut.

The rest of the doors went crazy, and the noise became deafening.

Releasing the knob, Dylan looked down the hallway, and there stood Laura. She didn’t

stay there for long, though. It seemed as soon as Dylan’s eyes focused on the girl, she turned

and raced up the stairs.

Without thinking, Dylan charged after her.

Behind him, Scott yelled, “Get her, D.! Nab that little brat.”

His tone made Dylan look back, and he nearly fell. His toe caught on the step ahead,

and he went to one knee.

The man was enjoying himself. The smile on his face and the eager way he climbed the

steps annoyed Dylan.

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“Right,” Dylan said in a much less cheerful tone. “She disappears every time I get

close.”

Scott chuckled. “Like you could grab her, anyway. She’s a spook, remember?”

Dylan scowled. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Then what the fuck is causing this? And who’s the kid that keeps vanishing?” Scott

obviously was more inclined to believe in this stuff than Dylan.

“The girl must live nearby. I’m not sure how she’s making doors slam on both levels of

the inn, but I’m sure she’s behind it. We’re lucky to have any guests left at all. If it doesn’t

stop soon…” He didn’t know what he’d do, but he was too angry to care. “This nonsense

can’t be good for business.”

Dylan reached the upper floor with Scott on his heels. Silence loomed. He stopped dead

in his tracks and stared down the dark hallway at the line of round, gaping faces of several of

the inn’s guests peering at him. At the end of the corridor, Delia Nelson stood looking at him,

her arms neatly folded across her chest. The long, belted robe she had on matched the white

shawl she’d drawn over her shoulders.

“I told you, things aren’t right,” the old woman said in a shrill voice. “You choose not to

look at what’s staring you straight in the face. The spirits aren’t pleased.”

“What on Earth are you babbling about?” Dylan approached her, very aware of the

guests watching him—and her.

“That dog. The family said they’d never had that kind of trouble with him before they

came here. There’s a reason things happen, young man. It’s up to you to figure it out.”

“That dog was unmanageable,” he replied in a sharp tone.

Scott stepped up beside Dylan. “Listen, old lady, the dog’s gone. The family’s gone.

They fucking cleared out five days ago. What do they have to do with what’s going on now?”

“It all started when that dog arrived, you mouthy ruffian. Put two and two together,

why don’t you?” She looked at Dylan. “Didn’t another family with a young boy register?”

Her voice held a note of triumph.

“Yes, the Dunbars. Mr. and Mrs. and the kid. Nice looking boy, I think he’s around

five.”

“Another fuckin’ kid to get underfoot,” griped Scott.

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Dylan looked at his lover and wondered again why he disliked children so much. He’d

get to that when they were in private. At the moment, all he wanted to do was get everyone

back to bed, including himself and Scott.

Before Delia could go off on another rant, Dylan cleared his throat. “The commotion

seems to have died down for the time being. Why don’t we get some sleep? I’m sure this will

all seem like a strange, confusing dream in the morning.”

Delia scowled at him but didn’t say another word. She turned and went back into her

room, slamming the door behind her. He heard her snarl a few words through it. Something

about ungrateful and uppity, he thought.

Dylan looked around and said to the guests who were still gaping at him, “Everything’s

fine, folks. Just a neighbour kid playing pranks. Show’s over, back into your rooms. Try to

have a good night.”

A rather large, middle-aged woman in a floor length, flannel nightgown folded her

arms across her chest. “Does this kind of thing happen often at the inn?”

Scott grinned then answered quickly, “No, but I bet you’ve heard the reputation of the

place. I guess it’s to be expected.”

Dylan shot the man a scowl. That was all he needed, guests lurking around the halls

telling each other ghost stories all night. He raised his hands and said, “Everything’s quiet, so

let’s all go back into our rooms and get some sleep.”

A couple of men grumbled, but in a matter of a few minutes, the hall was empty and

gloriously quiet. Dylan sighed. He pointed to Delia’s door. “She’s wrong. I don’t have to

figure out any of this shit. As soon as my brother gets back, I’m out of here. None of this will

be my problem anymore.” He peered into Scott’s eyes and was surprised when the man

looked away.

“Might be an idea if we head for bed, too,” his lover said. He didn’t wait for Dylan to

reply but turned and went down the stairs.

Dylan hurried after the man, wanting to find out what was up. He didn’t catch Scott

until they’d entered the lobby. “Hey, what gives?” He reached for Scott’s arm, gripping it

tightly and pulling the muscular man to a stop.

“Nothing. Tired.” Scott jerked his arm away and entered Dylan’s room.

Following, Dylan frowned at the man’s behaviour. He watched Scott slip out of his

clothing and into bed.

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“You going to tell me what’s bugging you?” he tried again, not expecting an answer.

Scott faced the wall. “No need to. A few more days, none of this is your problem.

You’re out of here, remember?”

Understanding dawned on Dylan. He touched his lover’s shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t mean

anything by that. I wasn’t talking about you. I was thinking of the inn and the mysterious

shit that keeps happening here.”

“I know. What I don’t know is what’s going to happen with us when your brother gets

back.”

The nervous tingle returned to Dylan’s gut. “I don’t know either, babe.” Dylan stripped

off his clothing and tossed everything over the back of a chair. Climbing into bed, he

spooned against Scott’s back, feeling the tension along his spine.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Dylan changed the subject. “You’re

not much on kids, are you?”

“Fuckin’ brats. It pisses me off when snot-nosed kids don’t do as they’re told.” Scott

buried his face in the pillow.

Strange, Dylan thought. What could possibly have happened to make him hate children so

much? Tonight wasn’t the first time he’d noticed it, either. Whenever something happened

with a young person involved, Scott went off the deep end.

“I’ve never known anyone to dislike kids as much as you do. Did something happen?”

Silence stretched, broken only by the man’s soft in-and-out breathing. It took a full

minute, but Scott sighed and rolled onto his back. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone,

ever.”

“What?” Dylan laid his head on Scott’s chest, patiently giving him the time he seemed

to need to gather his thoughts.

It was a long wait, but finally his lover said, “I had a brother. He was three years

younger than me. When I was ten, he used to follow me all over. Drove me and my friends

crazy, always wanting to hang out with us. You know how kids are.”

Another pause followed, but Dylan waited for him to continue. Again, his patience was

rewarded.

“That summer, Tommy seemed determined to drive me completely around the bend.

He just wouldn’t let up. Mom got after me about playing with him and how the kid idolised

me. I finally told him we’d play hide and seek, but only if I hid and he looked for me.”

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This pause went on and on. After what seemed like an hour, Dylan whispered,

“And…”

“Tommy was thrilled.” Scott turned over, his back to Dylan, and slid his arm under the

pillow. “Anyway, I told Tommy to count to fifty or something before he came lookin’. I took

off. Kid didn’t do what I told him. He followed after me just a few seconds behind.”

Dylan felt his lover shudder. “Whatever happened, you were just a kid.”

Scott’s body tensed even more. “Fuck off. What do you fuckin’ know?”

“Nothing. I don’t know, Scott, but I want to. Tell me what happened.”

Dylan waited a very long time and wasn’t sure he’d get an answer. He’d pretty much

given up and was going to try getting some sleep when Scott began to talk again.

“My plan was to just take off. Let Tommy look all he wanted. I’d disappear to a friend’s

house, and Tommy would keep looking until he got tired of it. I’d say later that I’d been

hiding in the woods, waiting for him.”

“Sounds like something any boy would do.”

“Fuck off. I don’t need your sympathy.”

Dylan remained silent, letting his lover calm down.

“Well, the kid followed me right into the traffic. I was older. I knew how to cross the

intersection.” He took a deep breath, and when he let it out, his body shuddered. “I heard the

car skid. I heard the whack when Tommy got hit.” A sob tore through Scott, and his shoulder

shook for several seconds. When he got control, he went on. “I heard Tommy scream, and I

heard him hit the ground. He kept screaming for a while after that. Then he stopped.”

“Oh my God,” Dylan whispered and tried to pull him close.

Scott resisted, but only for a few seconds. “He died there. Lying on the road with all his

bones broken.

“If I’d just stuck around and played with him like I was supposed to.” Scott rolled over

and looked at him. “If he’d only listened and counted like I told him—”

“Scott, babe, it was an accident. You were a child. Tommy was a child. Children don’t

always listen, don’t always do what they’re supposed to. That’s part of being a kid.”

“And that’s why I don’t want anything to do with them. They’re a pain in the ass, and

you can’t trust them.”

Taken aback, Dylan didn’t know what to say so was silent. He wanted to think about

what Scott had said. He wanted to sleep. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Not after this. He

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pressed his lips to Scott’s shoulder and kissed him. When he pulled back, he said, “I’m so

sorry, babe. I wish I could say or do something.”

“Nothing anyone can say or do. Tommy’s dead. Been dead a long time.” He pulled

away and again buried his head into the pillow.

* * * *

Dylan climbed out of bed quietly the next morning. While Scott slept in, he showered,

dressed and left the room before the man ever batted an eyelash.

He checked the lobby and found everything in order, as usual. Lights and noises from

the kitchen indicated Jack had arrived and was busy with the breakfast prep. Dylan headed

that way, a cup of hot coffee in his thoughts.

Jack glanced up as he entered the gleaming, silver-accented kitchen. “Good morning.”

Dylan smiled wryly and reached for a cup from the cabinet. “Morning, anyway. Not

sure yet how good it is.”

“Uh oh.” Jack turned off his mixer and looked up. “Trouble in paradise?”

Dylan couldn’t help but snort at that. “Paradise, yeah, you bet. Right now, paradise

sounds like my place in Montana. I get the occasional critter knocking over trash cans in the

middle of the night, but at least that’s easily explained. This place…” He glanced around the

room. “I don’t know. Weird shit happens here.”

Jack smiled. “You ready to admit the inn’s haunted? I mean, come on, man! You were

there for the ghost chick fight before the wedding. We all saw it. Quinn, Logan, Alex, Delia,

everyone.”

Dylan rolled his eyes and filled his cup with steaming brew. “I’m still blaming that on

the whisky I drank the night before. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

“Quinn and I didn’t drink any whisky.”

Jack’s tone was teasing, but Dylan knew the man was serious. “Look.” Dylan faced the

young cook. “That batty old broad upstairs seems to think it’s my responsibility to figure out

this crazy shit because I’m the one who allowed the dog here to begin with. She thinks the

dog opened up some door that was better left closed or some nonsense like that.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “Delia’s pretty smart about this stuff. I’d guess she’s right.”

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“I don’t care.” Dylan said firmly. “I’m here for a few more days, and then I’m history.

When Cade and Ethan get back, you guys can do all the ghost hunting you want. Have a

séance, break out the Ouija board, whatever the fuck turns you on. Hell, invite Scott to join

you. He’s more interested in this crap than I am.”

Jack seemed to ignore Dylan’s rant and filled a muffin pan with thick batter then stuck

it in the oven. He set the timer and turned back to face Dylan. “Scott, now there’s an

interesting subject. What’s going to become of the big, bad biker man once you disappear

back to Montana?”

“How should I know?” Dylan muttered sourly, shaking his head. “He’s not my

problem, either. The dude has issues.”

“What kind of issues? Did you catch him stealing something? Because I was telling

Quinn, I wouldn’t put it past the guy to make off with some of Cade’s tools.”

Dylan frowned. “Why would you tell Quinn that?”

Jack shrugged. “I tell him everything. He tells me everything. That’s what having a

partner is all about, my friend.” He grinned. “It’s more than just bumping fuzzies, you

know.”

Caught in the middle of taking a sip, Dylan sputtered and sprayed coffee all over the

counter. “You little fucker.” Trying not to smile, he shook his head and grabbed a rag to wipe

up the mess.

“Sorry.” Jack bit back a laugh. “Couple more minutes and I’ll give you a warm muffin

as a better apology.”

“Make it two.” Dylan tossed the rag in the sink and refilled his cup. Moving to the door,

he glanced into the dining room and made sure it was still empty. He turned back to Jack.

“No, I don’t think Scott stole anything. He has some issues from his past, a little brother that

was hit by a car and killed. Scott blames himself. He was older, saw the whole thing. Thinks

he should have been watching the kid, you know, normal feelings anyone would have,

especially when he was so young himself. I just don’t think Scott’s over it, is all. He doesn’t

like children one bit.”

“That’s sad—and too bad, really. I like rugrats. Quinn and I might want to adopt,

someday.”

“I used to think about that, myself. Pretty much decided it’s never going to happen with

the kind of life I lead. But I do like kids.”

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The oven timer buzzed, and Jack removed a hot pan of muffins from the dual oven. He

set it on the counter and stuck the next pan in. “So you like kids, but you’re not fond of

Laura.”

Dylan scowled. “Laura is a pain in the butt. I should find out where she lives and have

a talk with her mother and father.”

“Good luck with that. I hear she pre-dates this century.”

“Bullshit.” Dylan grabbed a napkin and used it to scoop up a muffin. “You’re letting the

stories about this place get to you.”

“I’ll admit, they’re a little more interesting since I don’t live here. But, hey, talk to Delia.

She’ll tell you. She knows everything about this inn.”

“She’s battier than you are. No, thanks.”

The cook placed another muffin and some pats of butter on a plate and slid it across the

counter. “Okay, then. You’ve spoken with Hunter, the keeper at the lighthouse? You liked

him.”

Dylan nodded. “He seemed reasonably sane.”

Jack chuckled. “He has lots of ghost stories. Ask him about the old sea captain who

haunts the tower of the light.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Dylan couldn’t believe the obsession with ghosts he was

encountering. “He just says that because of that fellow he’s seeing, the paranormal

investigator guy.”

Jack’s body shook with his full-out laughter. “Captain Joshua was at the lighthouse long

before David ever came around. Face it, bro, you’ve landed in a haunted region. You might

not have spirits in Montana, but we have them here in Cape Harbour. Lots of them. Anyone

familiar with the area will tell you that little Laura is one of the spirits of Whiskers’ Seaside

Inn. Not a neighbour child, not a visitor, not even a ghost. A spirit.” He glanced at the clock

on the wall. “I’d better get my butt in gear. Call Hunter if you want someone to talk to. He

might be able to help.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dylan took his plate to the front desk and ate the delectable muffins

sitting on the stool behind it. Jack may be as loony as the rest, but he sure can cook. He licked his

fingers and sipped his coffee.

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Scott came out of their room, dressed in another of Cade’s Whiskers’ shirts and a pair of

jean cut-offs. Eyes bleary, he looked tired after an almost full night’s sleep. He hadn’t even

bothered to braid his long hair.

“Morning, sexy.” Dylan smiled at him.

“Hey,” Scott mumbled. “I’m hungry.”

“Jack’s got the stove fired up. I’m sure he’ll make whatever you like. Come on.” Dylan

slid one hand in Scott’s back pocket and cupped his ass as he led the man to the kitchen. Jack

might cook whatever Scott wants, but the request will go over better if I do the asking.

Jack glanced up as they entered and gave Scott the once-over, eyes lingering on the

Whiskers’ shirt. “Well, look who’s up. You working today?”

“Yeah, working on my tan. Thought I’d grab a beer and lie in a lounge chair all day.”

“Must be nice,” Jack commented flippantly, continuing to prepare food.

Dylan felt Scott’s body tense.

“You got something to say, fry cook?” Scott growled.

Jack blinked and raised his hands innocently. “Hey, no offence intended. Personally, I

have bills to pay. I just said it must be nice not to have to work.”

Scott allowed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Live simple, and you don’t have

so many bills.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jack turned away to tend to a skillet on the stovetop.

“What did you want to eat?” Dylan asked quietly, hoping to diffuse the situation before

it went any further.

“I’m not so hungry any more. I’m gonna nab a brew and go lie in the sun.”

“At this hour?” Dylan chuckled. “Not much sun, yet.”

“There will be. If you can believe that little fuckin’ orphan kid, the sun’s always gonna

come out.” He moved to the large refrigerator and fumbled around in the back, pulling out a

bottle of beer. “Course, she was a damn kid. What do they know?”

Dylan wrapped three muffins in a napkin and took them to Scott. “Take these. Go out

and shut your eyes for a while. You’ll feel better.” He brushed a strand of long hair away

from his lover’s face.

“Thanks.” Scott winked at him and went out the back exit.

After the door closed, Jack looked at Dylan. “Somebody’s wound a little tight today.”

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“Give him a break, will you? It’s been hell getting a decent night’s sleep here these past

few nights.”

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to sleep?”

Dylan smiled. “Not with me in his bed.”

“Point taken.” They heard voices and the scuff of chairs in the dining room. Jack added,

“Sounds like the first round of guests has arrived. Feel like taking a few orders for me?”

“I’d be delighted.” Dylan grabbed a note pad and headed out.

Once the breakfast rush was over, Dylan checked on Scott, who had fallen asleep in the

backyard. He left without disturbing the leggy hunk, who looked as good in shorts as he did

in tight leather pants. Tamping down the erection that watching Scott always caused him,

Dylan sat behind the front desk and picked up the phone. He used the speed dial and

phoned the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

“Hunter Pierce,” a voice answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Hunter. This is Dylan Wyatt. You have a minute to talk?”

“Morning, Dylan. I’ve got nothing but time for you, my friend. What’s up?”

“If you mean ‘who’s up?’, then the answer is me and most of the residents of the inn, in

the middle of the night, for the last few nights. Something wacky’s going on here.”

Hunter chuckled. “So I’ve heard. Laura causing some fits, is she? She’s not so bad,

really, but Angry Annie doesn’t like it when Laura’s unhappy. Annie’s the noisy one.”

“For a guy who rarely leaves his property, you sure know a lot of shit.”

“Isn’t that the truth? Folks love to tell me stuff. I guess they think I’m starved for human

conversation or something. People call all the time to share gossipy titbits. The gossip du jour

is about the sleepless nights at Whiskers’.”

“Oh, that’s fucking great. Cade’s gone a mere two weeks and I manage to ruin the

reputation of the inn.”

“Nah. Sounds like you’re more freaked out about it than anyone else. Folks around here

think it’s normal. Interesting conversation, even.”

“Not sure the guests do, but they’re being pretty good about it. Fortunately, most are

only here for a few nights. Some of them haven’t even mentioned anything.”

“From what Ethan’s told me, not all the guests hear the things that happen. Some sleep

right through it. Very few people go running out into the night.”

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Dylan laughed. “Thankfully, I haven’t had that happen yet. I just wish I knew where

this Laura kid was coming from.”

“David speculated that she’s from the early nineteen hundreds.”

“No, no, no,” Dylan muttered. “She’s some local yokel who knows the owners are gone,

and she’s yanking my chain.”

“A little girl’s going to do that? Her parents don’t mind her sneaking out in her nightie

at all hours? Wake up, man! She’s a spirit, like Annie and Ben.”

Dylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He decided to ask the question that had

been nagging at him. “Jack mentioned she was a spirit, not a ghost. What’s the difference?”

“A spirit can cross over and back at will. They inhabit places where they were

comfortable in their past life.”

“Jack said you have a spirit there.”

“Captain Joshua? Sure do. Joshua Farelly went down with his boat, the Maggie May, in

1912. He couldn’t save his crew that night, but he does his damnedest to keep other ships safe

now. He keeps watch from the tower. He’s even summoned me when I needed to call for help.”

“No shit?” Dylan tried to process what he was hearing.

“What would I get from lying to you? I’m just telling you like it is. When Cade gets back,

ask him. He knows as much about this stuff as I do, maybe more. He’s definitely more familiar

with the Whiskers’ spirits. It’s the ghosts that throw us all for a loop, occasionally.”

“Ghosts,” Dylan repeated.

“Yeah, like that bride ghost, Catherine. The one raising hell before Cade’s wedding.”

“I remember.” As much as I’ve tried to forget or blame it on drink.

“Ghosts have unfinished business. Usually, if someone helps them solve it, they disappear.

Not always, but usually. Some of them get nasty, violent, even. Gotta watch out for the ghosts.”

“Fuck.” Dylan closed his eyes again.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. It doesn’t sound like you have a ghost problem. Sounds more

like Laura was disturbed by that big dog. I told you, dogs and spirits don’t get along. Maybe the

dogs can sense them or something, who knows. But the two don’t mix.”

“The dog’s been gone for nearly a week. If Laura was upset, shouldn’t she have calmed

down by now?”

“You’d think so. I know who you should talk to. Delia—”

“Delia Nelson,” Dylan interrupted. “Batty old bird knows everything about the inn.”

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Hunter chuckled. “I doubt you’ll get very far by calling her a batty, old bird. Might try using

a little honey instead of vinegar, my friend.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the advice, Hunter. I’ll mull it over.”

Another chuckle. “You do that. Good luck.”

Dylan hung up the phone and sighed. The front door opened, and a rush of wind blew in,

along with two people.

“Hey, the place looks to be in one piece! I told you he wouldn’t tear it apart too badly.”

Cade stepped into the lobby and dropped two suitcases on the floor.

Ethan followed, setting down a third bag. “You were right. Everything looks just fine.”

“What the devil are you two doing here?” Dylan hurried from behind the counter to catch

his brother in a bear hug.

Grinning, Cade embraced him back then held him at arm’s length. “You look great, too!

Man, we missed this place. Your house in Montana was wonderful, but we both missed home.

Decided to come back and finish the honeymoon here.”

Ethan stepped close for his own hug. “Yeah, we expect the honeymoon to last about a year,

anyway. We were both anxious to get home.”

Dylan hugged his brother-in-law and moved back, grinning. “You two are nuts. Perfect for

each other, but nuts. So the vacation was good? How’s your head?” He looked at the small, latex

bandage on Ethan’s temple, mostly hidden by the crop of unruly, thick, dark hair.

“The trip was heaven. You have a fabulous home. Cade even drove me by your shop, and it

looked fantastic.”

“Everyone still working, I hope?” Dylan raised his brows.

Cade chuckled. “Hard at work. You obviously have a good crew there. I do have a

complaint about some racoons that seem to like foraging through your trash bins in the middle of

the night. They were a touch noisy, until I chased them off.”

“Well, welcome home!” Dylan grinned wildly, thrilled to turn the night-time ‘chasing’

duties over to his brother. “We’ll need to clear our stuff out of your room. I’ll get Carmen to

change the linens and clean everything for you.”

“No problem, thanks.” Ethan waved a hand. “I do hope we have an available room for you.

We don’t want to chase you off. It’d be great if you could stay for a few more days, since you’d

planned to, anyway.”

Dylan’s current thoughts ran in the direction of moving his things to Scott’s place. Some

privacy and a good night’s sleep sounded good right about then. He had no idea what kind of a

place Scott actually had—or if he’d even be invited.

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“We?” Cade took a step closer to Dylan.

“Hmm?” Dylan glanced at his brother absently, mind still racing, making plans.

Cade repeated, “We’ll need to clear our stuff out? We?”

“Oh.” Dylan felt the heat of a blush creep over his face. “I’ve got a friend staying here with

me. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Of course, we don’t.” Ethan smiled. “Do we have an empty room for you and your

friend?”

“Yes…” Dylan let the word slip before he could mention his plans to leave.

“Perfect!” Ethan slapped him on the shoulder. “Get your things moved over, and we’ll all

have lunch together. We can meet your friend and tell you more about our trip.”

“Great.” Dylan’s mind whizzed. He hurried into their room and dragged his own suitcase

out from under the bed.

What will Cade and Ethan think about the long-haired, tattooed felon I brought into the inn? A jolt

of surprise hit him, and he murmured aloud, “Where the fuck did that come from?” He hadn’t

thought twice about Scott being a felon until then. Probably because he knew it bothered Jack

and Quinn, and he suspected they’d be quick to share the information with the inn’s owners.

And be quick to point out Scott, lying in the backyard, wearing Cade’s Whiskers’ T-shirt. Fuck!

He grabbed one of Scott’s own shirts and peeked into the lobby, which was now empty.

Cade and Ethan must have gone into the kitchen. Dylan stepped out back, using the side door.

Approaching Scott, he murmured, “Hey, handsome. Time to wake up.”

“I’m awake.” Scott peered at him with one eye squinted open. “Horny, too. Want to go

check out that tool shed?”

Dylan smiled. “As fun as that sounds, my brother and Ethan are back. I’d really like to peel

you out of that uniform, then go inside and introduce you.” He held out Scott’s T.

“Ah, gotcha.” Scott sat up slowly and took his time changing.

Dylan tapped his toe nervously. “We need to move our things into a guestroom. They

invited us to stay on a few more days. They’d like to get to know you over lunch, if that’s okay.

You’ve got to be hungry.”

Scott stood and pulled his hair through the neckline. “I am hungry, for the taste of you.

Don’t suppose we could find a few minutes to be alone before lunch?”

“Probably not. But prospects for the afternoon are looking up. With Ethan back, I’m off

duty. Maybe we can leave—go to your place or somewhere with more privacy.”

“Maybe.” Scott shrugged, cupping Dylan’s crotch and squeezing.

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Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dylan groaned. “I’m supposed to walk after that? Come on, babe. Be nice during lunch and

I’ll make it up to you this afternoon. I promise.”

“I’m always nice,” Scott growled and led the way back into the inn.

Dylan followed, his gut churning. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, but it was a

horrible feeling he hadn’t experienced in years. Walking into the dining room, they found Cade,

Ethan and Jack standing there, chatting. “Hey,” he said for lack of more intelligent conversation.

“Hello.” Cade studied Scott for a moment, then his gaze settled on the shirt in Dylan’s

hand.

Instinctively, Dylan’s arm went behind his back. “Cade and Ethan, this is Scott…” He

trailed off, realising he didn’t know a last name.

His lover didn’t bother to supply it. He simply stood there, staring.

“Scott?” Cade stepped forward, extending his hand.

“That’d be me,” Scott finally said, still not offering a surname. He did accept Cade’s hand,

and the men shook.

Dylan watched the exchange, wondering what the men thought of each other. Cade,

muscular and rugged but clean-cut, shoulder-length hair neatly pulled into a ponytail. And then

there was Scott, his waist-length hair dishevelled from his morning nap, tiger tattoo running

from one wrist all the way up to his neck. What is Cade thinking?

His brother smiled warmly. “Pleased to meet you. Any friend of Dylan’s is a friend of ours.

This is my better half, Ethan. I guess you know Jack.”

“Ethan.” Scott shook hands with the dark-haired man. “Yeah.” He glanced at the cook.

“Jack and I are old buddies.”

“Really?” Ethan appeared surprised.

“No, not really.” Jack offered a half smile.

Scott flashed Jack a scornful look as he turned to enter the room where he’d been staying.

“He’s a good cook,” Scott told Ethan over his shoulder. “Just needs to work on his people skills.

If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some packing to do.” He walked into the bedroom.

“I’ll be happy to help you carry your bags to the car,” Jack called after him.

“Stop it,” Dylan snapped at Jack.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Cade blinked.

“Did you see him?” Jack waved his hands in the air. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Oh, I’ll bet you did.” Dylan frowned. “They’ve been home, what? Less than an hour?

Surprised it took you so long.”

Ethan looked at Cade. “I think it’s a good thing we’re back.”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“No kidding.” Cade glanced from one man to the other. “You two been carrying on like this

the whole time?”

“Of course not.” Dylan forced himself to be calm. He wasn’t helping his case acting like a

raving lunatic.

“Dylan’s been fine,” Jack said.

“You don’t think much of the hired help,” Ethan supplied.

“There you go.” Jack nodded.

“He’s not hired help.” Dylan crossed his arms and realised he still held the Whiskers’

uniform. He dropped his hands but knew it was too late to hide the shirt anymore. “I mean, I did

hire him for one day. To fix a few things that got screwed up after the wedding.”

Cade took the piece of clothing from Dylan. “And then, what? He just sort of came to roost

here?” He glanced at the T. “Is this mine?”

Dylan snatched it back. “What the hell do you think I wore while you were gone?”

Cade got in his face like he did when they were boys. “You were allowed, dipstick. Mr.

Tiger in the Tank probably stretched out all the biceps.”

“He did not. His arms aren’t bulky, they’re just right.”

“Aw…” Ethan teased, and Cade chimed in, too.

“Fuck,” Dylan sputtered. “Can we end this conversation now? You said you wanted to get

to know Scott over lunch. Are you going to give him a chance, or is he doomed from the

beginning?”

A young family entered the dining room through the beach-side door.

Dylan took advantage of the situation and changed the subject. “Good morning, Brenda,

Steve. How are you today, Michael?” He smiled at their son.

“Fine, Mr. Wyatt,” Michael replied politely.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Brenda Dunbar told them. “We’ve just been for a walk on the beach.

We’d really like to clean up a bit before we eat. Is there some kind of problem?” She looked at

Jack.

“Absolutely not. Come back for lunch whenever you’re ready. Today’s special is a turkey

club sandwich, but for you,” he pointed to Michael, “grilled cheese with extra cheese.”

“Just the way I like it!” The boy grinned.

“Thank you,” Steve said and led his family down the hall.

“Nice people,” Ethan commented.

“Sorry, I should have introduced you,” Dylan told him. “I’ll do it at lunch.”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“No problem. Why don’t you finish gathering your things? I’d like to unpack before we

eat.”

“We’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“Take your time,” Ethan replied. “See if Scott needs any help.”

“Scott can handle anything,” Cade said to Ethan. “Don’t you remember? His arms are just

right.”

“I’m a dead man,” Dylan muttered as he headed to the bedroom, leaving three chortling

fellows behind him.

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Chapter Seven

By the time their two hour lunch was over, Dylan was amazed at how well everyone got

along. Almost too well. Ethan was his usual, charming self. Scott was pleasant and conversational.

Cade seemed happy as he described, with gusto and enthusiasm, a new gazebo he intended to

build for the garden. When the meal concluded, Scott asked to see the plans Cade had drawn up,

and the two men disappeared into the tool shed for the remainder of the afternoon.

So much for quietly slipping away together. Dylan wasn’t entirely unhappy. He’d been looking

forward to time alone with Scott but needed to go over the books with Ethan and get the owner

up to speed on current guests. He mentioned the Stallings and Prince but glossed over the

ghostly events, not really wanting to bring up any of it.

“It looks like you’ve done a fine job,” Ethan told him. “I would have done the same thing

with the Stallings. Give them a chance, but when the dog caused a ruckus, tell them they had to

go. Don’t worry about it. Sounds like you did great.”

“I hope so.” The situation still caused a nervous lump in Dylan’s gut, but with Ethan and

Cade home, it was beginning to calm.

Ethan smiled. “Cade and I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. We really needed

to get away.”

“Then why’d you return early?”

He chuckled. “Once we were there, we figured out that we really wanted to come back. We

love it here. I can’t explain it, but this place is home. It’ll always be our home, no matter who else

comes or goes.”

Something clicked inside Dylan. What if Laura missed Cade and Ethan? He’d been told Angry

Annie had an affinity for Ethan and was protective of him. He’d witnessed that firsthand before

the wedding. Could their being gone for the first time explain why Laura was sad and Annie angry?

Might as well bring it up. “Ethan, there’s something else I should—”

Carmen, the feisty, dark-haired cleaning woman, pushed a laundry cart out of the master

bedroom. “All done, Mr. Ethan. You’re ready to move back in, and none too soon, in my

opinion.” She screwed up her face at Dylan. “Pigs,” she whispered.

He grinned. “We’ll be in room four from now on. I’ll make sure to leave it extra special nice

for you.”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“Yeah, yeah. Leave your tip on the counter, too, while you’re at it.” She manoeuvred the

cart through the dining room into the kitchen.

Ethan blinked at him. “You’ve made quite an impression on all my employees, haven’t

you?”

“Pansies.” Dylan rolled his eyes then turned when he saw Delia enter the lobby.

She stopped in front of Ethan. “You finally made it back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ethan smiled at her. “You keep these guys in line while we were gone?”

She exchanged glances with Dylan. “As much as I could.”

Dylan wondered if she were going to tell Ethan about the ghosts, but to his relief she never

mentioned them.

“I received a telephone call from my great-nephew, Franklin. He’s coming to visit for a few

days. Do you have a room for him here at the inn?”

Ethan winced. “We’re full right now. Next opening should be in a couple of days.”

Delia looked off into the distance. “He’s a good boy, but he could use some time away.” She

seemed to want to say more but didn’t.

Ethan went on, “I can save the next opening for him, maybe help him find a room in town

until something becomes available.”

She nodded. “That will have to do. Will you have Cade bring me my dinner, please?”

“Of course, Delia. And I’ll let you know what I find out about a room.”

Nodding, she turned around and walked back down the hall.

“Franklin?” Dylan’s brows rose.

Ethan shrugged and chuckled. “So, you and Tiger care to join us for dinner? Quinn’s

coming. We’ll eat about eight, after Jack’s finished with the evening rush.”

Dylan sighed. “Do you have to call him ‘Tiger’? Please. I’ll check with Scott, but I think we

have plans tonight.”

Ethan winked and smiled. “Well, so do Cade and I, but we need to eat first. Surely a man

that big needs to keep up his strength.”

“God, you’re incorrigible.” Dylan shook his head. “I should have gone with my first

instincts and moved into Scott’s place tonight.”

“Oh, don’t do that! Who can we pick on if you two aren’t here? We’re tired of teasing Jack

and the reverend. Fresh meat is so much fun.”

“Incorrigible!” Dylan repeated. “I’m going out to the garden and see if Cade has my fella

tied up out there or something.” He realised what he’d said the moment the words left his lips.

Ethan hooted. “Let me know if he does! I’ll come out and watch!”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Shaking his head, Dylan headed out the door.

Much to his surprise, Cade and Scott were working happily, side by side, on the base for

the gazebo. He examined their progress and listened to Scott rattle on and on about the job. His

lover finally said, “Your brother invited us to join them for dinner.”

Dylan raised his brows at Scott. “I thought we had other plans.”

“Dinner sounds nice. We can do our other plans, after.”

“Whatever you think.” Dylan shrugged. He could tell Scott wanted to have dinner with the

group. He was the one dragging his feet, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Great.” Scott winked at him.

“We’ll be in shortly,” Cade said. “Once we get these last couple of boards nailed in, it’ll be a

good stopping place.”

“Fine.” Dylan returned to the inn and got cleaned up for dinner. He helped Ethan with

some small chores in the lobby and didn’t get a chance to talk to Scott when he slipped in for a

shower. In fact, they didn’t have a moment alone before dinner, and by that time, Quinn had

arrived.

Dinner conversation was lively and loud. Ethan kept the drinks flowing, and the meal

ended before Scott seemed to want it to. They exchanged warm good nights with the others and

went to their room.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself,” Dylan commented, closing their door and unbuckling his

belt.

Scott frowned. “Wasn’t that the idea? Your brother’s a riot. Ethan’s great. Jack and the

reverend are nicer than I thought. Guess it was just you being a dick tonight.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who’s been mouthing off to people here, right and left. I didn’t

figure you’d want to spend time with them. I tried to get us out of it.”

“Your brother wanted to get to know me better. He’s a nice guy. I think he likes me. I’m

sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fuck, D. It’s obvious I’m not in the same league as you and your friends. Only they didn’t

make me feel that way tonight. You did.”

“Bullshit! This is crazy. I knew we shouldn’t have stayed here. Let’s pack up and go to your

place. I think we could do with some privacy, just you and me.”

“No.” Scott looked him squarely in the eye. “I’d rather stay here.”

“Being around all these other people is making us nuts. I really think—”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“D., listen. I don’t have a place, okay? I rent a room in the back of Joe’s bar. It’s got a bed

and chair. I don’t even have my own john. Leaving here to go there would really be what I’d call

crazy.”

Dylan listened, stunned. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Scott.”

The handsome hunk smiled. “Don’t be sorry. I’m getting by. I just don’t have things as

cushy as you do. Look, I know I’m not the kind of guy you’re used to, and that’s okay. Couple of

days you’ll be gone, back to your nice life in Montana. But while you’re here, do you mind if we

just hang out around the inn and chill? If I can make a few friends, like your brother, Ethan, Jack

and Quinn—it might help get me more work. I could really use that.”

Dylan felt like a heel. He was used to being on his own, looking out for number one. He’d

only been thinking of himself for the past couple of weeks. He’d never stopped to look at things

the way Scott saw them and had no idea what kind of a life the man led when he wasn’t here,

tending to Dylan’s every sexual desire. “I’m a dumbass,” he said frankly.

Scott chuckled. “No, you’re not. We just come from two different worlds. Ships that pass in

the night, you might say. So, what do you think? Want to bump anchors with me one more

time?”

Dylan growled with desire. He’d wanted that all damn day. But he didn’t want just one

more time, and he didn’t know how to let Scott know that. “Come here, you.”

He drew his lover into his arms. Their kiss began tentatively and grew passionate, almost

feverish. Hands hurried to unfasten each other’s jean snaps.

Before they dropped to the bed, Dylan paused. He heard the distinctive sound of a little girl

crying right outside their door. “No.” He refused to acknowledge it and tried to push Scott back

onto the bed.

“Wait.” Scott held a finger to his lips. “You hear it, too.”

“Ignore it!” Dylan gasped, frantic to get his lover naked.

“No fucking way.” Scott stood up and snapped his jeans before opening the door.

Irritated, Dylan did the same and followed him. Looking over Scott’s shoulder, he saw

Laura, crying by their door.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Scott mumbled.

She didn’t speak, just sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

“Hey, Laura.” Dylan stepped into the hall. “Ethan and Cade are back, did you know that? I

think you missed them. They’re back now. Right down the hall, in their room off the lobby.” He

reached out to touch her arm, and his hand went right through her.

“Oh, my God.” Dylan shuddered.

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“A fucking ghost,” Scott whispered.

Laura glanced up at them with empty, lifeless eyes.

“Shit!” Dylan stepped back. “I thought I had her figured out. Now, I’m not so sure I was on

the right track.”

A slow series of door slams began in the upper hallway and echoed through the first floor.

“Fuck, Angry Annie. Just what we needed.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in all this!” Scott looked at him incredulously.

“I didn’t, but what am I supposed to think?”

Their room door slammed shut at the same time a woman screamed. “Michael!”

“That wasn’t Annie.” Dylan looked at Scott. He whirled around to see Brenda Dunbar in

the hallway in her nightgown.

“Michael’s gone! He’s not in his bed!”

“He sleepwalks.” Her husband came up behind her. “We locked the door, but somehow, he

got out. We’ve got to find him!”

“I’ll look upstairs,” Scott said quickly and raced down the hall.

“You check the lobby,” Dylan told the parents. “I’ll go with Scott.” He followed his lover to

the staircase. “Anything?”

“I don’t know.” Scott scaled the steps two at a time. “Michael?” he called.

Almost to the top, Scott suddenly stopped. “Oh, shit,” he murmured.

Dylan froze behind Scott. Laura was on the landing of the first floor. Michael Dunbar,

obviously asleep, stood perched precariously on the top step.

“Don’t you do it,” Scott told the spirit.

“Why would she—?” Confused, Dylan couldn’t figure out why the ghost child would want

to harm the boy. But Scott had pegged her intentions.

Before either of them could say another word, Laura reached out and shoved the boy. She

giggled.

He fell backwards.

“Son of a bitch!” Scott shouted and leant forward. With seemingly super-human strength,

he caught the big boy into his grasp before the child tumbled down the stairs.

Dylan pressed himself against Scott’s back and steadied them both.

“I got you,” Scott murmured to the boy as he woke, disoriented. “It’s okay, kid. You’re

safe.”

Michael slid an arm around Scott’s neck and hugged him tight.

Scott shuddered and seemed to inhale the scent of the boy. He sighed with relief.

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“Michael!” his mother cried, racing up to them, her husband, Ethan and Cade in tow. “Oh

my gosh, son, are you okay?”

Dylan backed up to the wall so Scott could make the exchange. The boy went to his parents

and nodded. “He saved me. I don’t know how I got up here, but I almost fell.”

Steve Dunbar slid his fingers through his son’s hair. “Darn sleepwalking. I’m sorry, son. I

guess we’ll have to put that ankle alarm on you again at night.” He glanced up at Scott. “Thank

you, sir. You really are a lifesaver.”

Brenda reached out and squeezed Scott’s hand. “God bless you.”

Scott’s face flushed beet red. “No problem.” He waved off the praise. “Anyone woulda

done it.”

“We should get him back to bed. We’ll see you in the morning,” Steve said.

“Can I help you?” Ethan offered. “Get you anything?”

“No, thank you. We’re fine, now.” Brenda carried her boy, and they descended the staircase

on their way back to their room.

“What in the fuck was that all about?” Cade looked from Scott to Dylan. “I thought I heard

voices. Was someone else here?”

Dylan glanced around the now-quiet stairway. “No. No one was here.” He spotted Delia

standing back in her white, fuzzy robe, hair full of curlers.

She smiled.

Ethan looked at Cade. “A sleepwalking kid, huh? What do you know? It’s always

something, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. Okay, then. Good night, you guys.” As they headed down to the ground floor,

Cade glanced back and smiled. “Nice catch, Scott.”

Scott nodded, still flushed.

Dylan turned to Delia. “What do you think, Mrs. Nelson?”

She stepped forward into the dimly lit landing. “I think that people always assume it’s the

ghost who has unfinished business. Sometimes, maybe, it’s the other way around.”

Realisation dawned on Dylan, and he glanced at Scott. “You saved that kid.”

Scott grinned. “Yeah. Felt damn good to finally do it, for once. You know, maybe kids

aren’t so bad.”

Dylan gazed at the man, and his heart flooded with warmth. “Let’s go back to our room.

We need to talk.”

Delia looked down her nose at each of them in turn. “I believe it’s going to be a nice, quiet

night from here on out. You boys take it easy.”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

“Have a good one, Mrs. N.,” Scott replied.

Delia smiled and returned to her room.

Dylan descended the staircase and headed for their room.

“You really want to talk?” Scott asked, following him inside.

“Oh, yeah.” Dylan nodded, facing him. “We have a lot to talk about. But first things first.”

He reached for the snap on Scott’s jeans and unfastened it.

The next morning, Dylan carried his suitcase to the lobby. He was followed by Scott,

carrying his bag.

“Morning,” Cade called from a table in the dining room.

“You two sleep okay?” Ethan, sitting across from Cade, asked.

Dylan and Scott left their bags and joined the men at the table. “Actually, we didn’t sleep

much at all.”

“Oh!” Ethan waggled his brows at Cade.

“Shut up.” Dylan poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Scott. They both sat. “We

talked. Most of the night. It seems Scott isn’t set on staying in Cape Harbour, so I’m taking him

home with me for a couple of weeks. See how he likes Big Sky, Montana.”

“Yeah, I grew up around here, but my family’s gone, now.” Scott sipped his coffee. “No

reason to stay when prospects are so good elsewhere.” He gazed at Dylan and smiled.

“What kind of prospects?” Cade asked, playing the role of concerned father.

“Hey.” Dylan raised his hands. “We have two ski resorts in the area. We’re just a few miles

from Yellowstone National Park. And I happen to know of a cabinet making shop that can

always use an employee who’s good with his hands.”

Ethan smiled. “Scott’s pretty good with his hands, is he?”

Dylan closed his eyes and nodded. “Very good.”

“He’s not bad at woodworking, either,” Cade teased. “You know, I think that sounds like a

good plan.”

Dylan reached across the table and took Scott’s hand, squeezing it as he spoke. “We need

more time to figure things out, but we both like where this relationship is headed. Neither one of

us is ready for it to end.”

“I’m sure as hell not.” Scott squeezed back. “I’m just going to take my clothes for now. If it

works out like we hope, we’ll fly back in a few weeks to pick up my bike.”

“That sounds good.” Ethan said. “But do you have to leave so soon?”

DYLAN’S DILEMMA

Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Dylan nodded vehemently. “Yes, we do. Delia’s nephew Franklin needs a place to stay.

Now he’s got one. Room four is all his. Besides, I’m ready for a good night’s sleep.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well here?” Cade blinked innocently. “That’s odd. Most people

say they sleep like a baby out here, so close to the ocean and all.”

Dylan looked at his brother over his coffee cup. “Yeah, well the ocean is fine. It’s Angry

Annie and Laura who have caused me fits.”

“Who?” Cade blinked again. He turned to Ethan and asked, “Any idea what he’s talking

about?”

“No idea. “ Ethan shook his head, barely a hint of a smile on his face.

“Fuckers.” Dylan stood up and looked at Scott. “Before I start my diet, I’m going to ask Jack

to cook me one last fattening breakfast. What would you like?”

Scott reached for Dylan’s hand and swung it. “Got everything I need right here, boss.”

“Aw,” Ethan and Cade chimed in.

Dylan beamed. He leant down and kissed Scott’s temple. “Me, too, babe. But I’m still going

for muffins. Bring you some?”

“Damn straight.” Scott placed a noisy kiss on Dylan’s cheek, and they all laughed.

About the Authors

Jude's imagination frequently leads her astray and she eagerly follows while trying to
keep out of trouble, or at least, not get caught. For those of you who know her, you'll
know that's not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a
load of soil in the back of a pick-up, are all fodder for her writing. Her male characters
run the gamut from the dominant male ruling his women with an iron fist, to a
simpering purple-clad boy-toy whose only desire is to please. As diverse and as richly
depicted, her women find themselves in a myriad of exotic and erotic situations.

Email:

mason.jude@gmail.com

Jenna Byrnes could use more cabinet space and more hours in a day. She’d fill the
kitchen with gadgets her husband purchases off TV and let him cook for her to his
heart’s content. She’d breeze through the days adding hours of sleep, and more time
for writing the hot, erotic romance she loves to read.

Jenna thinks everyone deserves a happy ending, and loves to provide as many of
those as possible to her gay, lesbian and hetero characters. Her favourite quote, from a
pro-gay billboard, is “Be careful who you hate. It may be someone you love.”

Email:

byrnes.jenna@yahoo.com

Jude and Jenna love to hear from readers. You can find their contact information,
websites and author biographies at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

Also by Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes

Kindred Spirits: Quinn’s Blessing

Kindred Spirits: Alex’s Appeal

Kindred Spirits: Hunter’s Light

Kindred Spirits: Ethan’s Choice

Untamed Hearts: Stallion’s Pride

Untamed Hearts: Wolfen Choice

Untamed Hearts: Bear Combustion

Untamed Hearts: Feral Heat

Gaymes Anthology: Good Cop, Bad Cop

Over the Moon: Trapped

Friction: Maximum Exposure

Also by Jude Mason

Jett’s Gift

Forever Mine

Stiff Trick

Knight or Daye

Jacob’s Pony

Night Games

Ghost of a Chance

Daybreak 2525: Doc

Pleasure Bound: Selene’s Awakening

Naught Nooners: Lunch is Served

Also by Jenna Byrnes

Practice Makes Perfect

Stroke of Luck

Night Shift

Secret Santa

Taking Control

Carnal Collision

Second Time Around

Convincing Cate

Cattle Valley: Fool’s Gold

Cattle Valley: Truth or Dare

Rose & Thorn Society: Switching Seth

Rose & Thorn Society: Never Say Never

Unexpected Love: Having It All

Unexpected Love: Worth the Risk

Unexpected Love: Nothing to Lose

My Secret Valentine: Secret Rendezvous

Pleasure Bound: Aloha Kaua

Total-E-Bound Publishing

www.total-e-bound.com

Take a look at our exciting range of literagasmic™

erotic romance titles and discover pure quality

at Total-E-Bound.

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