My Arrival

Carter

After a plane ride, a short ride on a bus that REEKED of urine, and a near miss of the ferry which is the reason I’ve been nursing a cup of coffee for the past hour, I’m rethinking all my life choices. Well, to be fair, I do that regularly. And honestly, this misadventure wasn’t even my idea. I really had no choice after Chief called me into his office Friday. It went something like this:

“Carter, sit.” I did, even though it felt like I’d had ants in my pants all week. “Losing a partner is tough. It’s taken down a lot of our best.” I almost interrupted because I was NOT about to let this ruin my career, but he lifted his eyebrows at me and I settled for scowling instead. “You need a break. I don’t want to lose you. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna take a leave of absence.” He lifted his hand this time, he KNEW I would say something. “Shut up and listen, Carter. My sister’s rich husband is finally coming in handy. His family has a place, they usually go every summer and get out of my hair but she’s about to pop this kid any minute so they didn’t go. Anyway, it’s empty and it’s yours. You’re gonna sit your ass in one of those Adirondack chairs, look at the ocean, and stop pacing around my damn department chewing out everybody who dares speak to you.”

There are lots of summer lake cottages around, the great lakes are full of them. And yes, he said ocean. And no, I didn’t catch it. Look, I had a lot on my mind. Things like almost being put in the ground with my partner last week. And Chief thinking I was a mess. And my life, which was, okay IS, a mess. And my stomach growling. I was hungry. Plus, I could kinda see where he was coming from. I’d yelled at Detective Brown for walking too close to my desk today. Even I realized that was a bit much. He was offering me two weeks to fish, maybe have a fire, and get away from the craziness and fumes of the Windy City. It didn’t sound so bad. “Fine.”

He looked almost shocked, like I was gonna argue. Okay, fair point. He thrust some papers at me and sent me to personnel, saying they’d even take care of my plane ticket. Wait, plane?

It was too late. And that’s how I was tricked to flying into Portland. No, not Oregon. Maine. And here I was waiting for a ferry to take me to Skye Island. Stupid name for an island. And why wasn’t there a damn bridge? If I hadn’t been in a bad mood this morning, I sure as hell was by the time I hiked, in the dark, about a half mile from the dock to a cottage tucked down a cobblestone alley. Do you know how hard it is to roll a suitcase along cobblestones? Fuck my life. At least the key was where Chief told me it would be.

*** Ready for a new story?  This one will be fairly short and feature a grumpy cop and a sunshine gardener who swore off tourists a long time ago.  What could possibly go wrong?!?!

Coffee

Carter

I lugged my suitcase, now missing one wheel, up the steep staircase, kicked off my shoes, and pretty much collapsed onto the small bed. I woke the next morning to gunshots, or at least that’s what my sleeping brain registered the noise as for the first two seconds. As soon as I was halfway vertical I knew for certain that I had no idea what in the world was making that rhythmic noise. I peered through the lace curtains and saw…. horses? Yes, two of them, pulling a large wagon or carriage maybe, holding half a dozen people. Coffee, I needed coffee. And something to eat. The beef jerky and apple I’d had while waiting for the ferry last night had long ago ceased to be enough. This island was way too much to take without some liquid nourishment. There had to be a cafe somewhere, and ten minutes later I was heading back towards the dock. It seemed the most obvious direction to head in.

People were everywhere. On bicycles, walking down the middle of the streets like they weren’t afraid of being run over, milling under huge hanging baskets of flowers and pouring in and out of little touristy shops. I finally found a coffee shop, ordered the biggest cup of black coffee they offered, and sat in the back corner of the cafe to eat a ridiculously overpriced quiche of some kind. It was premade and I was hungry. I’m a simple man. It took me halfway through my breakfast and several huge gulps of still scalding coffee before I realized that there weren’t any cars around. Weird. If I hadn’t just burned my tongue I might’ve wondered if I was dreaming.

Nothing about this place made any sense and that bothered me. I’ve made a career for myself because I notice things. I see things. Things that others want to ignore. I don’t shy away from the reality that human beings, and the world they’ve created, are shit. The entire planet is full of feral animals that are only one small step on the evolutionary scale from chimpanzees. And no, I didn’t say above. I’m really not sure we are. We are vicious, scared, territorial and desperate beings. Most people look away. I don’t blame them, really, but someone has to see the truth. Becoming a cop was an obvious choice for me. I’m not jaded because I’m a cop; I joined the force because I’m jaded. Although I prefer realist. Oh well, at least the coffee here is decent.

I need a few things and may as well grab them while I’m here. I don’t need much but I have no plans to come back to town today so I’ll need to grab something for dinner, at least. There must be a small shop that I can grab a banana or two, and maybe fixings for a sandwich. Some beer wouldn’t go amiss either. And allergy meds. Have I mentioned all the flowers? I haven’t ever seen so many damn flowers in my life. Every house I passed on my way downtown, if you can really call a few blocks a downtown, had yards bursting at the seams with them. Some of them didn’t hardly have lawns, just stone paths cutting their way through a sea of flowers to the front porches.

A ships horn shatters the peacefulness. Time to figure out where the hell I’ve ended up and what I’m going to do with myself for two months.

Snow White

Lyam

Wisteria Cottage is one of my favorites. It’s not the largest or most beautiful garden on the island if you are into that sort of thing, but it is named well. The huge Wisteria vine that gives the cottage its name is over 75 feet long and has literally caused the collapse of two trees. And that’s with us pruning it heavily each winter. The thing is simply unstoppable and when it is blooming, is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen or smelled. But, what makes it truly remarkable is that this cultivar of wisteria isn’t supposed to last through the nasty winters here, much less thrive. It’s a survivor. I can respect that.

I have to push my trike with its attached wagon up the small lane that leads to the back gate. I tried cycling up it once, only once, and lost a pair of sheers, two buckets, and my lunch from the back. It’s a bit bumpy, to say the least. That’s okay though, it gives me a few minutes to see the yard from a different angle and give it a good going over before I start mowing. Jack will be by later, he checks each cottage once a week to plan the next week’s schedule, but he always listens if we give him notes. Today it all looks good except that the side gate isn’t latched. Since the cottage is empty this summer, I consider calling Sheriff Holden to have him do a quick walk-through but it’s his last week and the chances of someone breaking in are pretty slim. Someone probably just wanted to get a closer look at the Wisteria and helped themselves to a peek or perhaps a sample. It wouldn’t be the first time. I decide to whistle, just in case someone needs a warning that I’m around. It works for bears, right? I’m pretty sure I heard that once, not that we have any bears on the island to test it on. Well, not the kind that walk on four legs, anyway.

I grab the push mower out of the back, it’s much simpler to do small yards with a light mower, than lug the electric one with me. Most of the back yard is fairly shady and doesn’t grow more in a week than my reel mower can easily handle. I’m halfway around the outside edge when a window on the second floor slides open and a man hollers down at me “Could you be a little louder, snow white? I’m trying to fucking nap!”

I’m so surprised that I just gawk up at him. Surprised that he’s being nasty and that he’s drop dead gorgeous. Like movie star gorgeous. Heck, maybe he is. A movie star, not dead. You probably knew that. I wave up at him because that’s what I do to people, even when they’re being a monster. “So sorry Sir, didn’t know anyone was here!”

“Well I am” is the only response I get before he slams the window closed. Okay, he’s a weird dude. One, it’s 10:30. I’m on my third job of the day and he’s still in bed? I mean, he’s probably on vacation so I guess that’s fair. What’s really weird is that his window was closed. It’s a gorgeous 70 degrees and the entire island is drenched in heavenly scents and he’s got the house closed up like it’s empty. Oh, maybe he’s not supposed to be here. But if I was squatting, I wouldn’t yell at people either. Not that I would, ever, it’s just not me, but you know. I make a mental note to mention him being here to Jack.

Info

Carter

He’s STILL whistling. I head downstairs, pretty sure that I saw a… yes, there it is. On the fridge is a card for TaR, Thorns and Roses landscape company. That must be who snow white works for. I immediately call.

“Jack Skye, how can I help you?”

“Hey, I’m staying at Wisteria cottage” which is a stupid name, by the way, but all the houses on the island seem to be owned by people pretentious enough to name them. “I think one of your workers is here.”

“Yes, Lyam should be there about now.”

“Well he’s loud! Who mows at…” I glance at the clock, realizing that it’s later than I thought. “10:30?”  I want to blame it on the time change but it’s just an hour and breakfast was quite awhile ago now.  I lost track of time.  It’s easy to do when you work shifts and the last two weeks have been much worse than usual.

“Sir, all of our mowers are either reel or electric, and our contract clearly states that we can start anytime after 8.”

“Well it’s clicky! And he’s whistling!” I immediately realize that I am, in fact, being an asshole, but I’m sort of all in at this point. I’m not surprised when the dude on the other end sighs.

“I’m happy to radio him and ask him not to whistle. Lyam is one of our best, and I’m sure he didn’t mean to cause you so much… distress.”

Okay, now he’s fucking with me but I sort of deserve it. “Fine, thanks.”

Thirty seconds later all I can hear is the clickity clack of the mower which is actually kind of soothing. I way overreacted. Maybe Chief was right, I do need a break. I decide to apologize to Snow White after I get a shower. Once I’ve finally cleared away the travel day and stink, he’s gone. Oh well, it’s for the best because I probably would have screwed that up too.

I eat a banana, then quickly look through the brochures on the table. One for a garden show, another garden show, the Rose Hotel, a pizza flyer which actually might be useful, ah, a visitors guide. Worth flipping through. Distinguished homes, blah. No cars, weird. Mostly summer cottages, only 400 year round residents. I think there are more than 400 people in my apartment complex back home. Okay, things to do. Rent a canoe and visit some nearby island with a fort on it. Sure. Fishing tours. Okay, I can do that. Garden tours. Geesh, what IS it with these folks and flowers? You know what I need? A bar. You can learn more about a place by spending an hour in its bar than flipping through brochures. The trick is getting there early. It’s time to go meet some regulars. The binder about the house tells me the wifi info and where the key is to the garage. There are bikes. Um, yeah, no. I’ll walk, thanks.

Half an hour later I give up and go into the coffee shop to ask where the local bar is. I should have known that this place would be too posh to have something as distasteful as a bar on main street. Heaven forbid they offend someone. I’m at the register and spit out half my order before I realize who I’m speaking to. “Black, the largest… hey Snow White.”

“Hello yourself, wisteria man. The largest…?

“Oh, sorry. Largest you have.”

He giggles and somehow it’s almost cute. “We just call that a large. $3.15. Any flavor?”

“No, just coffee. Black.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” He turns back towards me and slides the coffee towards me as I swipe my card.

“Oh, wait, where’s the nearest bar? Actually, are you a local?”

He’s looking at me very oddly. “I’m a full-timer, yeah, but this is a dry island.” I’m trying to fathom how there can possibly be no alcohol on the island when a group of about ten walk in, being loud and obnoxious. “Excuse me.”

Right, he’s working. Again. Damn, snow white keeps busy. I’m halfway back to the cottage before I realize I forgot to apologize.

Watching

Lyam

So, my boss Jack knows that there’s a rather grumpy man staying in Wisteria cottage because he called and complained about me. Of course I didn’t get into trouble. One, Jack is the nicest boss on the planet and two, he was mostly laughing when he told me that apparently my mower was too loud. He did ask me to not whistle, which is fair I guess. I’d just done it for the bears and then it had gotten stuck in my head. I made sure to clean and oil my mower, got a quick shower and inhaled some lunch so I’d be on time for my shift at the coffee house. Not half an hour after I started, wisteria dude/actor/tall drink of yum came into the coffee shop and acted like… like… I don’t know. A fairly normal, functioning human. I guess he was just having a bad morning. Happens to all of us.

And yes, he’s soooo my type. Maybe I’m basic, but tall, dark and handsome does it for me. Add in some scruff, a really nice fitting pair of jeans, and piercing eyes and well, yeah. Hey, I’m allowed to look. It doesn’t matter if he’s into guys anyway because nothing will happen. Why? I don’t do tourists. Period. The end. Been there, done that twice, got a t-shirt, a broken heart, and a case of crabs. Never again. Nope.

I crash onto my couch at the carriage house I rent and wonder if this is the summer it finally splinters into a million pieces and I end up on the floor.  I think it’s older than me.  My apartment is adorable, quiet, and I don’t have to do the garden here. A perfect escape. I’m exhausted, truly. Springs are toughest because honey, planting 800 annuals in one garden is a job and a half, then we get up and do another garden the next day. I’m not even gonna mention the stone work that never seems to end. Without cars, we end up doing a lot of manual labor because getting machinery around is tough.

The tourists start like crazy around Memorial day but honestly my life doesn’t slow down too much until the fourth of July. Then it’s mostly maintenance work and watering until fall clean ups. I don’t mind it though, who wants to be bored? Besides, the hard truth about life on the island is that you have to make hay while the sun shines, or in our case, money while the tourists visit. Two jobs through the summer, then just morning shifts at the coffee shop during the shorter off-season hours with an occasional odd job for Jack since I’m one of the few gardeners who sticks around during the miserable winters. I don’t mind though, I love the changing of the seasons and the quiet that comes with the snow. It gives me time to recharge and film a boatload of cooking videos that I upload once a week onto YouTube.

I’m back at Wisteria cottage three days later because Jack noticed some leaf damage on his walk through and yeah, we definitely have an earwig problem on our hands. No biggie, I replace a few things that are too far gone (they’ll go home with one of the team) and then bait. While I’m there I notice that his salvias are all ready to be cut back and make a note for Jack to schedule me some extra time to get to that next week. I also notice that Wisteria man watches me. I catch him quite a few times and wonder if I’ll have another laugh with Jack later. Maybe I’m chewing my gum too loud.  I really need to find out his name.  Maybe I’ll act like I work at Starbucks and ask him for one next time he orders a coffee.

On my way home I stop by the Farmers market. It runs five days a week during the summer and you can buy literally everything there. I grab some chicken, fresh bread, cabbage, the last of the fresh strawberries for the year and an awesome new cutting board. I have a whole afternoon off to cook, a rarity for me during the summer and I plan to make the most of it.

That evening I take a container of fresh strawberry shortcake to the cliffs and sit and watch the water while I eat my dessert. What a glorious day and to top it all off, no messages from Jack from Wisteria man.  I’m not sure why I’m a little bit disappointed.  I need a good night’s sleep, that’s all.

Cowboy Jack

Carter

The past two weeks have been eye opening in a lot of ways. I enjoyed my first few days off because I rarely have time to lounge around. When I’m at work I’m constantly covering shifts for guys who need to do a kid thing or catch whatever germs their munchkins have brought home. That lasted about three days before I got stir crazy and started running around the island every morning. I gotta tell you, the views are spectacular and if I get up and run before the first ferry arrives, there aren’t many people about. Yesterday I took a kayak out on the water and went to the Farmers market. It’s a really nice one for a place this small.

I’ve also been keeping an eye on the gardener and I have decided that there is definitely something going on with him. One, he’s always really happy at the coffee shop. I’m sure they give the employees free coffee but I have watched him wave at and charm everyone who walks in, even people who are obviously tourists and he’s never met before. Who is that damn chatty? Makes me think he’s hiding something. Or on something. I’ve seen him at the cottage too, happily humming to himself as he seemingly enjoys menial labor. He smiles. All the time. At no one. He caught me creeping at him through the window the other day and just waved. Waved. I don’t get him and I don’t like not getting things. It makes me curious. Makes me want to figure it out. Him out.

I decide, after a shower and about a gallon of water because it’s hot out already, that breakfast is in order. I pop a pod into the coffee maker, pull out a few slices of some amazing swiss cheese I got at the market and roll them up and pop them into my mouth while I grab a nectarine. Shit. They’re peaches. Fuzzy, gross peaches. Ugh! I grab the whole bag and put them outside on the trash. At least I’m pretty sure the strawberries are safe. Luckily my allergy meds kicked in last week and I can now sit out on the porch and breathe at the same time.

I see his blonde locks over the bushes before I see him, but there’s no way he’s coming back here again. I don’t even wanna know how much whoever owns this place pays TaR because apparently gardening is a full time freaking job here. I was wrong, he’s back. I hear the gate open, then the squeak of the hose being turned on. I ignore him until he comes onto the porch to water the huge planters that flank the front door. He lets out a little ‘eep’, then smiles and waves as he drags the hose around me. At least he doesn’t try to make conversation.

That is until I’m washing up my dishes in the kitchen and I hear him talking through the kitchen window. “You’ll feel much better, I promise” he coos and there is no way I can resist opening the back door to see what the hell is going on. He has some huge torture device in his hand and is taking whole branches off some bush. He’s talking to a plant. I can’t with him. I have questions but there’s no way I’m opening up that can of worms. 

 That’s when a dude in a cowboy hat, yes, a cowboy hat, waltzes into the yard. He even walks like one, like some John Wayne wannabe. He’s hot, I give him that, and it’s hard to be hot wearing khaki pants and some Skye Island staff shirt. He and my gardener chat for a few minutes and then there’s a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Cowboy is even hotter close up.

“Hey, I’m Jack. Just wanted to introduce myself and make sure everything’s going okay over here.”  He extends a hand and I shake it.

Ah, Jack the boss. Cowboy Jack. Hot Cowboy Jack. I would flirt except that he’s sort of scowling at me and I did yell about his employee during the only other conversation we’ve had. Yeah, he’ll have to be a lot drunker to let that go and that’s impossible around here. “Carter.  Uh, yeah. Fine. I mean” and I am nice enough to look and make sure gardener boy is across the yard decimating a small tree of some kind so he won’t hear me, “he talks to the plants which is really damn weird and he’s here like all the damn time. I mean, is he okay?”

“Lyam?”

Right, Lyam. “Yeah. Oh, is he a little uh, special?” That would explain a lot. “I really hope I didn’t get him in trouble calling, if he is.”

Cowboy Jack is now almost laughing. “He’s very special, to me and lots of other people, but not in the way you’re implying. I talk to the plants too, for the record. You get to know them, tending to them year after year. But you’re a city boy through and through, aren’t you? I get that it sounds weird. But no, our Lyam is just about the sweetest ray of sunshine on my team and I get the impression that maybe you could use some of that.” He literally steps back and tips his hat. “Feel free to chat with the homeowner if our schedule is bothering you but it’s all settled and planned ahead of time.  And you can give me a holler if you need anything. Just so we’re clear, you speaking unkindly to him, or anyone on my team, would create problems.”  Oh, he’s got a backbone.  Nice.  “You have nice day now.”  Yeah, it’s never happening.  Oh well.

Cobbler

Carter

Ten minutes later there’s a very hesitant knock on the door. Definitely not Cowboy, I watched him pedal past. So that only leaves… “Yes, Lyam?”

He smiles at me like I just hung the moon. “So you DO know my name! I was wondering about yours the other day and now that you know mine, it’s only fair that you tell me yours.”

My response is a stare. He’s cute. I knew that the first time I laid eyes on him but I actually haven’t seen him up close and personal for more than ten or fifteen seconds at a time at the cafe. I’d thought he was young but maybe he’s closer to my age. He’s clean shaven and has a tight, lithe body. It’s probably from all the gardening; that can’t be easy work. I doubt he or Cowboy ever need to hit the gym. “Did you need something?”

Even that doesn’t make his smile falter. He lifts the bag of sneaky peaches I’d put on the trash. “Are you really throwing these out?”

“Yes.”

“Is there something wrong with them?” he asks, spinning the bag slowly and peering at each one through the cellophane.

“I don’t know. They’re peaches and I don’t do peaches.” His smirk makes me realize what I said. “To be clear I do peaches, but I don’t eat them.” Uh, shit. “I mean… never mind.” I run my hand through my hair and my stunning personality slips back into place. “Take them if you want them, I don’t care.” Then I shut the door, pretty much in his face. What is it about this guy that makes me crazy?

Another knock. Seriously??!?!! “What?”

“Do you not like the taste? I’m confused because why would you buy them if you don’t?”

Why does he CARE? “I… fine. Peaches are fine. I don’t like the damn skin. Who wants to bite into fuzz?”

“You’re funny. I’ve never met anyone with so many feelings about peach fuzz. It’s natural. I mean, heck, you’re fuzzier than me and I’m not holding it against you.” He backs up a step, like he’s afraid he’s offended me or something. “I uh, I could make you a cobbler. Would you eat that? No fuzz involved, I promise. Or a pie, if you prefer pie? But it’ll have to be a crumb top because my pie crusts always end up ripping into shreds and I can patch the bottoms together but the tops are hopeless and then they look like crap even if they’re delicious and apparently you’re a guy who cares about appearances. Or, uh, feelings? I mean… uh I’ll just make you something. Okay bye!”

So he does have to breathe. I wasn’t sure for a minute. I watch him turn and walk towards his bike as quickly as those lean legs can carry him. What a strange guy. Very strange.

Two days later there’s a cobbler on my porch. With a bow on it. And a note. The note says that he used most of the peaches for the cobbler but kept the extras and hopes that’s okay and that I enjoy it. Oh, and PS, I can give him back the dish whenever. And he signed it with a smiley face and then wrote ‘Give peach a chance’, I shit you not. I take it inside because it looks amazing and the first bite has me groaning. It’s sweet but also a tad tangy somehow. The topping is crunchy and the whole thing is perfection. I decide that I’m going to be bad and stop by one of the half million ice cream places on the island on my way home from the cafe later and bring some vanilla ice cream to put on top of a nuked piece of this. It has to happen. Has to.

At the cafe, Lyam asks if I’d like my regular. “Please.  And thanks for the cobbler.  It’s really good.”

“You’re welcome, peach. Coming right up.”

Hold on. “Peach?”

“Well I can’t just call you Wisteria man forever, can I? So until you tell me your name I’ll just have to keep improvising.” Someone laughs behind me and I turn to see Cowboy Jack. “Do you know his name, boss?” Lyam asks hopefully.

“I do but it’s his to tell. Besides, I think ‘peach’ fits him perfectly.

That earns them both a scowl but I’m pretty sure they both just find it funny. That’s alright, I have better things to do than hang around here; I have ice cream to procure and cobbler to eat.  I should have just made coffee at the cottage; I can’t for the life of me figure out why I keep hoofing it down here.

Peaches

Carter

I don’t know what is going on with the weather but since I got here it’s been nice. A few showers, mostly mild days. Sort of what I’d expected in Maine. Today it’s so hot you could cook an egg on the pavement. Not that there is much, most of the island is covered in those pretty stones surrounded by moss or grass, heck, I don’t know what they’re called. But I swear that if I actually went over to the ‘road’ that they don’t let cars on, I could fry a damn egg.

It’s already blistering at 10:15 in the morning and I have just realized that the cottage doesn’t have AC. I may die. I’ve flopped onto one of the fancy adirondack chairs in the yard under some really cool tree. It’s got five trunks and peeling bark. I figure it’s as cool as I’ll get until I realize that I’ll be much cooler with my shirt off.  Now I’ve got my eyes closed and a glass that’s more ice than water in my hand and I’ve decided that I might survive.

I hear a squeak but pay it no mind. It’s too hot to think, much less care. And then I hear a sharp inhale. “Oh, excuse me.”

Lyam. I peel open an eye to make sure I’m not delusional but no, he’s here. And he’s wearing pants. And a hat. And somehow, against all odds, he somehow looks even better in one. Or maybe it’s just the angle, or the flush on his cheeks, or the sweat that I can see running down his neck. He has a hose in his hand and is probably doing the damn pots. Again. “You’re working? In this heat?”

“Yep. If we didn’t work while it was hot, we wouldn’t get much done. I’ll just be a few minutes, I’m going to weedwhip the stairs and I’ll be out of your chest hair. I mean, hair. Um, yeah, I’m going now.”

Holy shit, he’s… okay, I can NOT let that go. “Big fan?” I ask, threading my fingers through the dark patch between my pecs.

“Well, um, I thought we’d established that I’m okay with fuzz? Sorry, that was totally unprofessional. Can I blame it on the heat? Not you, I mean you’re hot but I wasn’t… Um, bye!”

He waves and is halfway around the corner before I can get my mouth to form words. “Lyam!”

He could not be any cuter as he peeks around from behind a bush. “Yes?”

“You’re not actually going to, wait, did you say ‘weedwhip’?”

“Yeah, it’s too hot to mow today but I’ll do the edging on the stairs because we’ve been trying to kill that creeping charlie anyway.”

“I assume you mean weedwack and no, it’s too damn hot to do anything today. Why don’t you sit down and have a drink?” He really does look a bit wiped out.

“I have a schedule…”

“I’ll fix that.” I grab my phone and call Jack. “Cowboy Jack!” I proclaim when he answers.  This will be easy; he expects me to be a demanding jerk.

“Mr. Peach. What can I do for you?”

“I have an awful headache and I don’t want Lyam weedWACKing the yard today. Can I have him do a small project for me instead? Is that going to ruin his schedule?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine. As long as he’s okay with it. I’ll radio him.”

I feel no need to say good-bye, just hang up and tell Lyam that he should sit down and have a drink. He goes back towards his bike and returns a few minutes later with a large water bottle and a small paper bag. “So what do you need me to do?”

“Not die of heat stroke, for one. Actually that’s it. You look like you need a break.” I motion to the chair beside me but he plops down on the grass right next to me instead.

“I appreciate it, really. It’s very nice of you.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m not nice.”

He chuckles. “At first I thought you were grumpy, I won’t lie.”

“And you decided I’m not because…?” He was right the first time.

“I think you’re just sad. I mean! Not like that! I mean, the emotion. Not like lame.” He sighs, loudly. “I can’t keep track of my feet today. They keep ending up in my mouth. Oooh, do you mind if I have a snack? Maybe it’s a blood sugar problem.”

Weirder things have happened. “Not at all, go for it.” I’m not sad about much except losing McDougal to a kid way too young to have a gun, but I don’t feel the need to tell him that. Part of me is glad he doesn’t think I’m an asshole, at least. I quickly realize that I should have been one. See? This is what I get for being nice. I get Lyam eating a fucking peach! Not only are those plump, gorgeous lips working overtime, but there is juice meandering down towards his chin. I can’t help but stare. He won’t notice, he’s looking everywhere but at me. Probably still embarrassed by the whole chest hair comment but I’m not putting my shirt back on. In fact, he should take off his. “You can take yours off if you want. There’s no AC in the cottage or I’d invite you in.”

“Oh, thanks, but I’m fine.” His tongue creeps out to lick to the corner of his mouth. “I’d offer you one, but…”

“Fuzz” I finish for him. “No, all yours.” Wait, does that mean? Yep. One pit goes in the bag and another peach comes out. Fuck my life. I’ve got half a chub just from a guy who smiles more than I scowl eating a damn peach like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. This time even more juice escapes, sliding off his chin and down onto his neck. I don’t think, just lean down and lick it off, then kiss him when he opens his mouth in shock. He tastes deliciously sweet and after the briefest pause, kisses me right back. He’s no wallflower, that’s for sure, and he’s got me thinking about pinning him against a tree before he wrenches away from me. Shit, why the hell did I do that? “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” And then he really is gone, the abandoned peach lying on the grass the only proof that he was here.

Pool party

Lyam

Mr. Kiss didn’t come into the cafe that afternoon but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the whole, you know, or if it was just way too hot to want coffee. I can’t imagine him drinking anything iced since he apparently thinks even cream is an abomination to coffee. It’s probably not me, or the thing, right? Right.

This morning I checked my weather app and the predicted high was 97. Talk about an abomination. It very rarely hits 90 even in August and I can’t remember it ever hitting 97. Luckily my boss is amazing and sent his little tribe of misfits a message.  I asked my phone to read it to me and I only had to do necessary watering and then head to his grandma’s cottage asap for a pool party and lunch. I’ve only been to his grandma’s cottage which is in fact, huge and right on the water, once. I helped Jack do a fall clean-up last year after most of the summer misfits had headed off island to go back to college or escape to somewhere warmer for the winter. She has one of the few pools on the island; most people didn’t bother because the season is so short and the ocean is literally never more than like 10 minutes away. They’re old money though and have one of the largest estates here and at one point, installing a pool must have been the thing to do.

I am super glad to have an excuse to not go mow at Wisteria and worry about running into, or away from, him. But damn, that kiss. I’ve been a mess since I first saw him reclining on the chair, shirt off and that gorgeous chest on display. I’m not even gonna think about how one leg of his shorts was hitched up and his legs. Phew. He’s just dreamy. I can’t pretend like I expected the kiss but looking back on it, he’s been sort of leaning over the counter when he orders his coffee and I did sit down right next to him. It’s like our bodies knew something our brains hadn’t realized yet. Well, I’m awake and as fully realized as Ms. Brene Brown and that hot mess of a man is NOT something I should be involved in. Or with. And he definitely, definitely should not be involved in me. Ahem.

So, since I’m not going over there I have no reason to think about him. I only have to water the pots at one property and it’s on the way to the pool party so by 9 am I am lathering myself in sunscreen and helping Jack fill coolers with ice. I make polite chitchat, we catch up on work, and then he asks about yesterday.

“What did you two get up to yesterday?” he asks.

My eyes are so wide that for a moment, I wonder if they can get sunburnt. Up to? OH! That’s right, Mr. Shortshorts told him I had a job. I don’t lie to Jack, so I tell him “He actually thought I looked too hot and just wanted to give me a break.”

I get a sharp look from Jack. “Oh shit, you didn’t mow, did you? Never, never put yourself at risk like that. Besides, it’s not good for the grass” he jokes.

“I didn’t, I didn’t. But you know me, I get pink. I’m probably ragosa rose pink right now.”

He tilts his head to the side. “A tad. Well, he could have just said that. Well, whatever, dude is a little high maintenance.”

“He’s not so bad” is out of my mouth before I realize that I should have let the conversation die.

Jack smirks at me. “Looking. No, no he’s not. Well, as long as he’s treating you right, I’m happy.”

I’m not sure if the kiss yesterday qualifies but I’m pretty damn happy too. It’s nice to be wanted, even if it’s not going anywhere.

*** Sorry that I didn’t get a chance to update yesterday and there’s only one today but life is busy.  I’m doing my best and promise this one will get finished.  It’s not going to be too long :)  Here are a few images to help you envision the island.

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/4c07e43c94193a7e3671d6fbbf426f12c768050e/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4d35574674755132536f46552d513d3d2d313334303431373438372e313735633038336139643965366436373231323537343531303439302e6a7067)               

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/bf8604557095509b6fcadbae34c2fe24e5a396bf/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4e48702d754358546c69306465413d3d2d313334303431373438372e313735633038343337393363616664373937313338383333303736362e6a7067)               

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/8ca9b2c5cf62efa63bb94a795cf2fa353707d02b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f51614d65363852536542387764773d3d2d313334303431373438372e313735633038363661316564653737623234303131373139353439312e6a7067)               

The sign says:  Gardener wanted.  Must look good bending over ;)

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/21ffd5e7a6d9e0ad2df45abb2cfdaeb88c02862f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f2d4a4876446b5846396b374a44673d3d2d313334303431373438372e313735633038373930383762303836643734313037313239333734322e6a7067)

Jordan

Lyam

Jordan is the next to arrive and he looks FABULOUS. I watch as he strips down to nothing but a hot pink swim skirt, a pair of huge sunglasses, and a polka dot scarf tying back his twists. “Hey babe” he says in greeting, plopping onto the chaise next to me. “I haven’t seen you all week. How’s things?”

“It’s summer on the island; how could things be anything but amazing?” Jordan and I have been tight since his first summer here. He swears that I’m one of the only people on the island who didn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s both black and, when I asked him about his pronouns said ’He/him or whatever you like is fine. My body is amazing and gender rules can suck my cock.“ And that, as they say, was that. This is our third year working together and he often comes over to share in whatever I’m cooking that weekend.

“AMEN sister! And it’s so warm! I am loving it, plus I get to be lazy today and work on getting rid of some tan lines. I glance over but don’t see any and he gives me a wink. “Oooh, there’s a new hottie on the island. Not a daytripper, I’ve seen him a few times now. Must be renting one of the cottages. He runs by my window almost every morning and let me tell you, he’s made me late to work a few days.”

A weird surge of what tastes like jealousy rolls through me until I realize that one, it’s probably not even Mr. Peach. I mean, honestly, there are lots of summer guests. Two, I’m pretty sure Jordan doesn’t mean the guy is coming inside. Ahem. “Lucky you.”

“Ah, what a time to be alive. Sun, pool, a good friend to grab me a drink” he teases.

I need one too so I hop up. When I’m done rooting through the cooler, Jack is in my seat and laughing. “You two are funny. Maybe Lyam can introduce you.” We both look at him confused. “That’s who Jordan’s lusting after. I’ve seen him running too. Hey, I’ve got rafts and tubes if you two want.” Of course we do and Jordan does grabby hands while I just say ‘yes please’. “They’re inside, just a minute.”

Jordan gives me a look. “You KNOW that fine specimen of man?!?!”

I just shrug. “Not sure if it’s even the same guy and I don’t even know his name so…” Man, my thoughts aren’t sure what to make of that. “But it might be the guy staying at Wisteria.”

Jordan tilts his head and stares at me. “What aren’t you telling me?” Several pool floats go flying by, landing in the water, and I think I might get out of this. I put my drink up and go to stand but he puts his hand out. “Now I know there’s something. Tell me. Oh, you don’t want to wreck my fantasies, right? He smells, or is a homophobic ass, right?  Wait, is he the guy I helped write the cobbler note for?”

“Pretty sure he’s not homophobic and uh, he doesn’t smell.” Bad. He doesn’t smell bad.

“So what, you two were just chatting about ‘Where Love Lives’ or something? Or…. oh. OH!!!!”

“No!!” I whisper/scream. “No, he just…. we just… I mean maaaybe he sort of kissed me yesterday.”

He hops up. “Oooh, I need to cool off. Do not dare take the pink tube or get my hair wet.  Meet me in the middle. We need to talk.”

Soon I’m soaked and we’re holding onto the handles of each others tubes so we don’t drift apart. I’m hoping I can nip this conversation in the bud. “It was nothing, is nothing. I don’t mess with tourists and he regretted it anyway.”

“Wait, honey, did you not WANT to kiss him? Is he gonna be an asshole? I like the moody vibe but he better not dare to cast a cloud on my favorite sunshine. You know what? I should come with you. I’ll help you with Wisteria, you help me with Brandywine, and we’ll handle whatever needs to be handled. I know you can be too nice.” I push him away but he just laughs. “And we love you for it, but honey, I can tell you’re uncomfortable and I’m not letting this guy mess with you.”

How can I help but smile? Besides, having Jordan there will ensure that nothing stupid happens again. “Okay, you win.”

“It’s all I know how to do, sweetheart. I just hope it’s not soon. I hope it stays in the 90’s for a week and we can do this every day.”

I can’t argue with that.

Nike

Lyam

Unfortunately for Jordan, we have to work today. The high is in the upper 80’s so the heat definitely hasn’t broken, but Jack asked us to get as much done as we could before lunch. So, after spending an hour deadheading at Brandywine and then replacing a few annuals which were not feeling the crazy temps so soon after planting, we headed to Wisteria. Most of me hoped Mr. Kiss wouldn’t even be there. It would be simplest. But then I’d have to face him alone for the first time after the incident. Oh well, whatever is gonna happen is gonna happen. 

 Jordan blasted music as we biked over and we both sang the chorus a tad louder than we should have. Oh well, life is short and I plan to enjoy each and every beautiful day. I’m just telling myself that all the stares coming our way were because of our amazing voices and not because we were being obnoxious or because Jordan is wearing a fully bedazzled halter top that stops way before his shorts start.

As soon as we park the bikes, Jordan turns and starts staring at the windows. I grab the mower and toss a compost bag his way. “Jordan!” I hiss. “Just be cool, please?”

I get a very noncommittal “Mmmhmm” before he sashays into the yard. “I’ve never been here before. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice yard and the view from the porch is great.” I always love watering those pots.

I’m almost done my half of the yard when the back door opens. “Isn’t it too hot for that?” Mr. Noname asks.

Jordan is between the two of us in a flash. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to take over soon. I’m Jordan.” Mr. Peach just nods. “And you are?”

“Not worried about Lyam anymore.” And the door closes. I almost want to laugh at the look on Jordan’s face.

“Rude!” he mouths as he turns back to me. “But hot” he whispers, taking the handle of the mower. “Go water the porch pots and water yourself too. I got this.”

We radio in to Jack when we’re done and he tells us to head to the Rose Hotel to help with the watering before going to lunch. They have about 8 thousand planters so I’m not surprised it’s all hands on deck. We decide to eat at my place. I have leftovers and Jordan is more than happy to abandon his sandwich. As soon as we’re there, it’s obvious that Jordan isn’t finished talking about Mr. Wisteria.   In fact, I’m pretty sure that holding it in while we did the hotel watering was quite a feat.

“He didn’t tell me his name on purpose. And you don’t know it either? Maybe he’s on the run.”

“Jack knows it, and we are sort of remote but a cabin in the woods would be a better place to hide. Besides, he rented a cottage. Not exactly incognito.”

He thinks about it for a second. “Maybe he used a fake name and paid cash.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” I toss a grape at him.

“Well I hereby dub him ‘Nike’.”

“Nike?”

“Yes. Just do it! Lyam, he’s obviously interested. Why aren’t you hitting that?”

He knows better. He knows what happened last summer. “Remember Will? I refuse to date any more tourists.”

Jordan laughs. “I didn’t say anything about dating, honey. Because you’re right, nothing good for you will come out of dating a tourist. But Lyam, it’s gonna be a long summer and it’s not like there are many guys to choose from. Other than Jack.” We both shudder because he is definitely hot but like a father to all of us. “So you’re just gonna be a monk? Hope some young, hot, gay, vers or top millionaire moves to the island full-time?”

“He doesn’t have to have money. But I get your point. It was a long winter.” Realizing that it’s been almost a year since the last time I did anything is depressing. Even to me.

“Exactly!” He smiles at me like he’s won something. “So since Nike is here and you’re going in with your eyes wide open that this is just gonna be a one-time thing, why the hell not? Don’t get your heart all messed up in it and don’t make it complicated. Just ask him if he’s down.” He whips out his phone but looks disappointed. “Not on Grindr, unfortunately. Or maybe that’s good for you. Thought I’d see what he was looking for.”

“Jordan! Jesus.”

“Well you obviously need some help. Think about it and let me know if you wanna team up again next week, it was nice working with you. I don’t mind going with you if you’re worried but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

“No! No, I don’t think so. It’s just awkward.” He said sorry! Who says sorry after kissing someone? Jordan jumps up and grabs his bike and rings his bell on his way out. I have an hour before I need to be at the coffee shop and think I’m going to take a long, cold shower. Maybe I’ll be able to think straight after that.  I’m not usually a casual guy but maybe Jordan is right.  Once couldn’t hurt anything, right?

Here goes nothing

Lyam

Of course, now that I’m alone, all tucked in my bed with nothing but my thoughts to occupy me and none of Jordan’s enthusiasm to bolster me, I’m rethinking everything. I’ve never admitted this to anyone but I don’t really like being alone. An island that pretty much empties out every winter is probably not really the best fit for me but I love it here. All of my happiest moments have happened on Skye and since I literally live here all winter while just paying utilities and keeping an eye on the main house, how can I complain? Still, I know I won’t be here forever. Maybe that’s why I make the most of every day. At some point, my desire for companionship or heck, good produce during the winter, will drive me away from the first place I’ve called home in a very long time. Uh, this is not me.

A text comes in an I wonder if it’s Jack about work. Nope, Jordan.

J-lo:

Stop second-guessing yourself. NIKE!!!!!

I smile. Somehow, against all odds, thinking about Mr. Nike is an improvement.

Lyam:

I’m worried I’ll get attached.

J-lo:

He’s not exactly the sweet, cuddly type. I think you’ll be alright. Dude is snarly.

He’s not wrong. Maybe that will be enough to remind my heart that this is going to be a one and done. I’ve done it before. Once. I mean, mostly cause the guy ghosted me afterwards but still, I’m capable.

It storms and pours overnight, the freak heatwave finally breaking. The next day I don’t work at Wisteria but he does come in for a coffee in the afternoon. He acts perfectly normal, as if the kiss never happened. That’s fine, at least he’s not avoiding me.

This morning he’s waiting for me, leaning over the porch rail when I push my bike into place. I wave and for the first time ever, I get a wave back. Okay, so he mostly just straightens his fingers and doesn’t look particularly happy about it, but it counts. The entire way over, I’d been planning on talking to him about, you know, right before I leave so that if he laughs I won’t have to stick around, but I realize that it’s now or never. I will totally chicken out if I wait. I walk up and stand next to him on the porch. “Um, hi.”

“Hello.”

Deep breath. Okay, let’s do this. “I was wondering if the kiss the other day meant that you might uh, might want to fuck?” The last few words come out as nothing more than a whisper but I can tell by his inhale that he heard me. Jordan will be so proud of me! I did it!!!!

**** Fine Noelle, you win.  Apparently I can’t write PG ;)

Let’s go?

Carter

Wow. Definitely did not expect that. Maybe I should have from the way he kissed me back last time but he did literally flee afterwards. I’ve done my best to give him some space and not bother him, especially after he showed up the other day with a bodyguard. I don’t say anything right away because I should probably actually think about this and I sure as hell can’t bite his head off. I take a drink and I know I’m making him nervous. I turn towards him and he surprises me by meeting my eyes. “I didn’t expect that.”

“That’s not an answer” he mumbles.

He’s blushing and it’s pushing all my buttons. He’s too sweet to get caught up in my mess. “I can’t quite figure you out.”

“Nothing to figure out.”

Of course there is. He seems to be, against all odds, an actually decent human being. I obviously don’t know him that well but I’m a good judge of character and he’s intrinsically good. That’s rare. The fact that he puts up with me is even more rare.  “The thing is, I’m not really here to… to get involved with anyone.” I’m supposed to be getting my head on straight, not thinking with the other one.

“Oh! Me neither. I’m absolutely not asking to date or anything, just to uh… well whatever. I’m vers and more than happy to just mess around if you prefer.”

“For the summer, or?” I need to know exactly what he’s thinking.

“No, just maybe once. I uh, I tend to get attached and you’re going back. Um, when ARE you leaving?”

“Little over a month.” It’s weird to think of going back. This island is sort of in a time warp and I feel like I just got here and can also hardly remember not being here. I have to think really hard to remember the smells and sounds of Chicago. I should send Chief a text and check in. Let him know how much I appreciate this. Of course, me being that nice might make him really worry.

“Oh, well think about it then. I mean, if it’s not an automatic ‘no’. I’ll obviously be around.

Who would say no to him? He’s cute, sun-kissed and sweet. He’s everything a summer fling should be. Besides, I can’t even try to convince myself any more that I’m not interested. Why else would I wait for him every morning like a stalker? Why would I walk into town for coffee? Why would I kiss peach juice off his… Fuck, there’s only one answer here. I lean in, wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and then let him come to me. I’m not gonna push him, even if he was the one to offer.

He hesitates only a second before I end up with my ass against the railing and him pressed against every inch of me. He’s just a bit shorter than me so I widen my legs and he steps between them, putting us eye to eye. And mouth to mouth. We only pause long enough for me to let him slide my shirt over my head. “God, I love this” he mumbles against my neck as his hands roam over my chest. And then I take his mouth again. Suddenly he stills. “Can we go inside?” Shit, yes, we are literally in view of most of the island. We sort of spin and shuffle towards the door and I end up mostly lying on my couch with a gorgeous Lyam draped over me. I’m already trying to remember if I brought condoms or we’ll have to handle this another way when he sits up. “I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

I let him stand up but then sit up and take his hand so he doesn’t run away. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know your name!”

It had only been a fun joke to me; I never realized it actually bothered him. “Everyone calls me Carter.”

“Calls you?” And this may be the first time I’ve ever heard a distinct curtness to his voice. “So I STILL don’t know your name.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea. I’m just not made this way. I don’t do this.”

He’s upset. Really upset. This is why I was sorry I kissed him last week. I knew, deep in my bones, that he wasn’t a casual guy. I never meant for any of this to happen, not that I’m regretting the hot and heavy although I am rather uncomfortable behind my zipper. I wiggle enough to give me room to adjust and then tell him “my name is Ronald which is why everyone calls me Carter. It’s my last name. Most of the guys at work go by their last names, I always have. Sorry, it wasn’t some huge secret, I thought we were having fun with it. You okay?”

Don’t call me by my name

Carter

“Yeah, of course,  fine. Ronnie? Eh?” he teases.

The little shit.  “Please don’t.” He finally smiles which is a huge improvement. Unhappy isn’t a good look on him and I don’t like it. At all.

“Okay. Well it’s nice to meet you, Carter. God this is awkward. I have made this super, super weird. I should go, right? Yeah, definitely.”

“You don’t have to.”  It’s an automatic response but I actually mean it.

“Shit! I still have to do your yard. Okay, I’m gonna go and do that. Can we maybe forget this morning happened? I’m so embarrassed, sorry.”

He’s blushing even harder now and I want to kiss him again but probably shouldn’t. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, I enjoyed it. Definitely the highlight of my week. How about I make us even? I’m probably gonna perv you from the window while I jerk off. Now we can both be embarrassed.” He looks down at my shorts and I can’t ignore the fact that he still has a fairly obvious bulge in his. “It may be dangerous to mow like that.”

That earns me a giggle. “Your fault.” He licks his lips and I swear that I’m about to lose the very tenuous grasp I have on my self-control. “I know your name now.”

He somehow makes even that sound sexual. “Yeah. Yeah you do.”

“And you’re here for another month. Um, where are you from?”

“Chicago.”

That seems to surprise him. “That’s uh, far. Nice city though.”

“Have you been?” The fact that we’ve gone from nearly tearing each others clothes off to small talk in the span of 3 minutes does not escape my attention. Or my dick’s. The tension still crackles in the air.

“Yeah, spent a summer there during college. Well, just outside. Okay, Carter from Chicago. What do you do?”

“We playing 20 questions? I’m a cop.”

“No, that was the last one. Carter the cop from Chicago. Who’s staying here another month.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out through his pursed lips. “I’d really like to suck your cock now. I mean, if I haven’t completely killed the mood. Or maybe kiss you? We could start there. Or, I mean, I can go outside. Totally up to you.”

If it was up to me he would have been moaning my name by now. Or whatever variation of it he wanted to use. I stepped close enough to cup his jaw in my palm. “I would love you on your knees for me, Lyam, but I want you to be sure. Really sure. So how about one more kiss before I go upstairs?” He nods so subtly that if I hadn’t been touching him, I’m not sure I would have caught it. This time, I claim his mouth without hesitation. He lets me inside as soon as I lick against his lip and the moan coming from the back of his throat sucks me in.

Hands go everywhere and he rocks against me, his hard cock riding along my hip. “God, I’m gonna….” he whispers a few minutes later and I reach down to cup his ass, pulling him against me harder.

Yes, that’s what he wants. I haven’t made anyone come in their pants in a long time and I’m really looking forward to it. I love knowing how turned on he is and honestly, if I had a bit more friction where I need it, I wouldn’t be long behind him. I decided earlier that this is about him though. “Come all over me, Lyam, come on.”

He throws his head back and I nip at his collarbone and he shudders against me. “Fuck, god Carter.” When he meets my eyes his pupils are blown and the smile I get somehow puts all his others to shame. “I can…” he offers, reaching for me.

“No, I already told you my plans. Get cleaned up in the half-bath and I’ll take care of myself upstairs. Want to borrow a dry pair of shorts?”

“I have um, extra clothes in my bag.”

It’s in his trailer, of course. “I’ll grab it.”

“Thank you.” He’s not just thanking me for fetching his bag, that’s for sure.

“You’re welcome.”

Bicycle for two

Carter

The next few days I see Lyam everywhere except in my bed which is where I’d really like to see him. He’s at the coffee shop of course, I see him ride by the cottage once, and I spy him down at the dock one morning when I’m doing my run. We’re pleasant at the cafe but he’s just out of my reach and this stupid, annoying thing between us keeps getting worse. I think I have a crush. I’m 31 years old, which by my calculations is at least 10 years too late to be getting googly-eyed over some boy.

I’m going a bit stir crazy and it’s a gorgeous day so I head down to the farmers market. I admit that I may have been a bit distracted and not been thinking quite straight because I find myself walking home with two pounds of cheese in a small cooler sack that I’ve been told I can just return next week which is weird. Who loans out stuff just to sell twenty dollars of cheese? I also may have bought a few premade burger patties which I stuffed in the cooler as well, some fancy brioche buns, all the fixings including homemade barbeque sauce, corn on the cob, plums, some gorgeous apples, a loaf of fresh bread, a wooden toy for my nephew, and a watermelon.

Getting the watermelon home is proving to be challenging. Especially without squashing the bread. And then the bag rips and I end up hugging it to my chest, a bag hanging off one wrist and the cooler bag from the other. I look like Steve Martin from the ‘Jerk’. This is all I need.

Except apparently the universe decides that I also need Lyam to ride up like a knight in shining armor on his bike. For a second, I think he’s going to ride past me but then he stops and turns, flashing me that sweet smile. “Need a hand?”

I look longingly at the empty trailer and realize that there is literally no reason except pride to say no. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all. Climb in.”

WHAT? Uh, no. “I’ll walk. Can you just take the watermelon?”

“Whatever you want. Going back to Wisteria?” And that’s that. He pedals slowly as I speedwalk next to him. One block later I toss the cooler in when he’s not looking. Then the other bag goes in too. He doesn’t seem to even notice the weight and I guess he doesn’t. He’s more than used to biking around here, often with a ton of landscaping tools. I even saw him hauling a load of dirt once. “They didn’t leave you a bike?”

It’s a valid question. “I think there’s one in the garage.” That just earns me a confused eyebrow lift. “I don’t ride.”

“Old war injury?” he jokes.

“I’m a city boy, remember? I never learned.” Part of me is surprised I admitted it, the other is wondering why I should be sad about it.

“Oh, well I can teach you. The wagon on back makes it super easy.”

Luckily he’s soon hopping off and pushing his bike into the yard after I open the gate. “I appreciate it, thanks. Didn’t intend to buy so much stuff.”

“I totally get it. The market is almost as bad as a Target. Granted, I sort of have an excuse since I only go twice a year. Gotta stock up.” He sucks in a breath and looks pensive. “So does this mean you haven’t toured the island?”

“I run most mornings, I’ve seen a lot of it.”

“Seen is not the same as experienced. Luckily for you, I know this island inside and out and am an awesome tour guide. You doing anything today? I can check the bike in the garage and get you riding in no time, or we could take the carriages.” Why is ‘no’ my automatic first thought? I used to try anything and everything once, and sometimes twice. I’ve been skydiving; why is touring an island suddenly scary? “Too much? Sorry, wasn’t sure after the other day. It’s not a date, I just meant as… friends?”

“It’s not that.” Against all odds, it actually isn’t. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Nope. I do get days off, you know.” The wind tussles his dirty blond hair and I want to run my fingers through it.

“Well, you did carry my watermelon so I guess you deserve to laugh at me falling off a bike.” Because honestly, he’s not wrong. I’m here another month and being able to ride down to get my coffee or groceries would make life much easier.  Besides, spending an actual chunk of time with him is probably the quickest way to knock him off the crush pedestal I’ve put him on.  May as well nip this in the bud.  He can’t be quite as sweet as I’ve made him out to be.  For all I know, he could curse at old ladies on the sidewalks as he rides past.  Maybe he litters.  Or shoplifts.  Maybe he’s dealing coke out of his trailer.

“You won’t fall off, I promise. I’m a very good teacher.” He offers to get the bicycle road ready while I put my groceries away and when I come back outside, he tells me to “Hop on” and this is when I realize that there is no way that I won’t look like a fool. That’s alright, let him laugh at me. Crush killing is the name of the game today, right?

“I don’t hop” I mumble as I throw one leg over the death machine. The seat seems very high. The wheels are very thin. He explains how the brakes work and how to shift gears but promises we’ll take it easy today. I do as I’m told and bend one knee up to put my foot on the pedal and listen intently as he explains to look ahead, not down. It’s just like driving, he says. So easy kids do it. Uh huh. Sure. Not THIS kid.

He jogs beside me as we go back and forth up the pathway that leads to the garage. My bad, carriage house. It’s the only path here that’s smooth enough to really ride on and soon he tells me that it’s time to hit the main road. “You’ve got it, really, and it’s not busy. I’ll stay right next to you.”

No. I’m not doing this in public. “No. If I fall, I fall.”

“I suggest catching yourself with one leg” he teases. “Hurts less than falling. And remember, the trailer will help you. Ooooh, we should weigh it down!”

“So this can be harder?”

“Well, yes and no. It will keep you from speeding too much but it’ll also be less likely to tip. I know!” He climbs in. “Onward, Jeeves!”

No. I’m not risking him going over. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t. It’ll be like sailing. I’ll just lean the opposite way and keep us upright. But you’ve got this, really. Don’t think too much, just pedal.”

I am the king of overthinking. He doesn’t realize what he’s asking of me. “There’s no way that will be comfortable.”

“Oooh! Good thinking!!” He hops out and returns with a big pillow from one of the porch chairs. “Now we’re talking!! We won’t go too far though, don’t want to wear you out or make your ass sore.” I turn back, consider glaring but instead raise one eyebrow. “Said I was vers. Head away from town and I’ll show you the swimming spot that only the locals know about.” After seeing the swimming area, complete with a swinging rope that Lyam swore was fun and I agreed to try sometime, he climbs back into the cart behind my bike and gives me directions to his place so he can make a quick stop on the way home.

I only almost kill us once which I think is pretty good considering I’ve never ridden before. By the time we get back to the house we’re both starving. He lights the grill while I bring everything out onto the back deck and an hour later we’re eating the best burgers I’ve ever had. The corn is great too, although it’s not hard to get good cob in the midwest. The company though, is the highlight of the dinner. We laugh, yes, I laugh. What more is there to say? After we devour half a watermelon, he finally shows me his stash.

“I may or may not make some wine. It’s not illegal or anything, and I don’t do much, but sometimes you need a drink, ya know? Thought you might want to try some of my blackberry wine.”

I’m honored he’s willing to share. “Yeah, sounds great.” We sit in the adirondack chairs as the sun sets and it’s the nicest night I can remember having in a very long time. Just as I’m about to invite him in to make the night really memorable, he receives a call and that puts an end to our fun. He hops up, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and tells me he’d had a great time.

Hickory Dickory Dock

*** You know me and names, I change them.  Finn is now Lyam because we had a Finn in Wreckless.  I will go back and change these sometime.  Maybe.

** Carter **

I didn’t sleep much last night, even after wearing myself out a little bit biking and helping sleep along with some wine, so I give up on staring at the ceiling and decide to do my run a little earlier than usual.

I have a lot of energy to burn this morning and push myself a little too hard so when the dock comes into view, I decide to slow down enough to get a look at the ferries. These aren’t the passenger ferries, they don’t seem to run super early; instead this is all cargo and a few workers who hitched a ride. There are a group of ladies in Rose Hotel uniforms coming up the walk, and then I notice Lyam down in the loading zone surrounded by plants. He takes a clipboard from, no, no, some dude is shoving a clipboard at him and yelling. I look around for Cowboy Jack but don’t see him. I honestly consider not putting my nose in where it doesn’t belong for about half a second but nope, the cop in me wins out. I head down.

“It’s all there” the man says, loudly. “If you won’t sign for it, get someone down here who will! The other company never leaves me hanging!”

“Jack’s not picking up” Lyam replies slowly. “He’s probably on his way though. I called Alyssa but she can’t get down here for about 20 minutes.”

“The ferry will be gone by then!” the cragged man hollers. “What’s the use of you if you can’t do anything?”

I’ve never seen Lyam with anything other than a smile on his face. Unbelievably, he now seems more sad than angry. “I’m here to help sort.”

“Hey” I say, waving. I am absolutely pretending that I didn’t hear any of that. “You’re working already?” I ask Lyam.

“I seem to be the only one, unfortunately. Jordan can’t make it and Jack is… I don’t know. He’s never late.”

The dude in overalls older than me says “Can you sign for this?” He thrusts the clipboard towards me while his other hand sort of waves at the stacks of plants. “I got places to be. It’s all here.”

I take the clipboard just so he’ll stop waving it in people’s faces. I apparently have a lot less patience than my happy gardener does. I look down at my running clothes, then at Lyam in his ‘Skye Landscaping’ shirt. I’m about to sign this paper with ‘up yours’ and see if the dude notices. “Give us a minute” I tell the man who seems more than willing to huff back towards the boat. “What’s going on?” I ask Lyam, whose shoulders have slumped.

“Sorry, this isn’t your problem. I just hate that I… I can’t sign for it.”

“They don’t pay you enough for that crap?” I joke, trying to put a smile back on his face.

“No, I mean I could but… um, I’m dyslexic. Severely. Trying to read that” he motioned towards the clipboard, “isn’t a good idea and it would probably take me two hours anyway.”

He’s obviously unhappy that he had to tell me but I have no idea what the big deal is. I also don’t know how to help. “What needs to happen? Can I read it to you? I mean, I have no idea what any of this is. What is a vibernum carlesii? I probably butchered that, didn’t I? You should have two number threes? This is all Greek to me.”

“I think it’s mostly Latin” he jokes. “That’s the Korean Spice…” It seems to make sense to him and he wanders over to a pallet of bushes. “Two number threes, they’re here. But Carter? You don’t have to stay, I’m sure someone will show up soon.”

“I’m here now.” I butcher a few more names, he corrects me on several, and then we get to a few things that I actually recognize. Begonia. Easy. Well, easier. The trademarked ones have the names written in English so they go super fast although poor Luke has to count 18 flats of assorted of thyme. “Supertunia Vista Indigo? I’m not sure this island is ready for SUPERtunias, whatever they are. Maybe just stick to regular tunias?”

Lyam laughs. “They’re great petunias. Grow huge and deadhead themselves. I’m a fan. How many?”

I read off about eight different colors and there are shelves and shelves of each. The grumpy man comes back and stares at us, arms crossed, for the last few plants but eventually we get through it, Lyam signs, and the man stomps off.

We both look up as Cowboy Jack comes flying down the lane on his bicycle, practically skidding to a stop. “I’m sorry Lyam! I know you…” and then he sees me and I can read his thoughts clearly. He doesn’t want to spill Sunshine’s secret although it’s not like it should have been one to start with but hey, if he wasn’t gonna spread my name around, he won’t talk about Lyam’s dyslexia. “I’ll grab the invoice. Can you check for me?”

“It’s done” Lyam answers, smiling. “Carter helped.”

Cowboy Jack’s eyes get wide, then he smiles and holds out a hand for me to shake. “Thank you. I owe you a coffee.” With the angry man gone, it’s hard not to focus on the two huge pairs of draft horses that are hooked up to wagons. They’ve been staring at us for the past half hour but were far enough away that I’ve been able to mostly ignore them. At a wave from Jack, the jockeys/drivers/whatever give a quick command and the horses pull up one on either side of the plants, hemming us in. Jack passes me a sheet of paper. “Those are for Broadview, just read ’em out for Lyam.”

“He was probably gonna—-”

I appreciate Lyam offering to save me but I don’t mind staying and I’m certainly not gonna walk past either end of those horses. “No problem.” I read while Lyam heaves huge flats of flowers and bushes that must weigh forty or fifty pounds up onto the wagon. I feel a bit guilty but also realize that he does this and much more on a regular basis. I’ve never been thrown around by a man I was fucking, but I have no doubt that Sunshine could do it if I decided to give it a try. No, I need to stop. Running shorts hide NOTHING.

The wagons are finally loaded and slowly the horses lumber up the steep incline. “Thanks Carter, for the help.”

Lyam looks what? Embarrassed? “No problem. Sorry the dude was a jerk. Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of or anything.”

“Eh, try getting called stupid all your life and not graduating high school. You’d be ashamed too. Anyway, thanks, really. I’ll cook you something as a thank you. I have to get going though, we have a lot to get planted.”

Stupid crush check. Yep, still there.

Deputy

** Carter**

I’ve learned a lot this week, like why old dudes sit around in coffee shops. Unfortunately I figured it out while becoming one of them. The fact is that I’m bored. I never have leisure time like this at home and even watching some YouTube, reading, running, spying on Lyam and hitting the market or taking a boat out to do a little bit of fishing isn’t enough to occupy my time. The cafe in the afternoon has AC, food, and Lyam. So here I sit, trying real hard to ignore the fact that I’m thinking or saying Sunshine’s name every half hour.

I’m not here because of him, I’m not. I’m learning that the cafe also has entertainment. While it’s busier in the mornings, the good stuff doesn’t seem to really amp up until the tourists are here and I need to be home in the mornings for, well, yeah. This is my third afternoon here and I’m watching the world go by outside. Slowly, because of the no cars thing. I have to admit that it makes for good people-watching but it’s not people-watching when you’re a cop, right? It’s something official. Keeping an eye or something. Maintaining the peace. I go up to the counter to pester Lyam a bit and get a pastry and a refill. It’s dead quiet but as soon as I get up there, a guy walks in behind me.

“What can I get you Bailey?” Lyam asks, too rude to not greet someone immediately and sensibly wanting to do the coffees at the same time.

“Uh, it’s Deputy now, if you don’t mind.”

I catch the look on Lyam’s face as he’s turned away. He’s amused. “You got it Deputy Bailey. Coffee or just a treat?”

A hundred thoughts run through my head. One, this young, obviously inexperienced kid is the deputy in charge of the island now that the Sheriff is retired? Jesus. Second, I don’t like the way his chest puffs up and I sure as hell don’t know why he’s wearing his badge on his shirt. He straightens it and points it towards Lyam. “My full name, please. And yeah, I’ll take a large caramel, three sugar, three cream and whip. Oh, and a brownie.”

Lyam’s eyes go wide and I realize that it’s not because of the ridiculous order, he’s heard much worse and likely today. But, he probably doesn’t know the kid’s last name and doesn’t want to misread it. I step in. “Hey there, nice to meet another officer. Tell me how you pronounce that so I don’t mess it up.” Just my luck that I couldn’t have said “Hey there Deputy Smith, nice to meet you. Nope, he’s got a name and a half.

Lyam beams at me as the kid says “McCorkle. Deputy McCorkle. Nice to meet you. You’re not from around here, are ya?” The look of appreciation I get from Sunshine makes me want to smile which makes my brain do all sorts of weird mental gymnastics.

He’s real fucking observant. He’s literally the entire police force so how could I possibly be from around here? “Nope. Sergeant Carter, Chicago P.D.” I never throw that around but he’s being a punk. And then my eyes land upon the atrocity outside which from my previous point of view was hidden by the largest, most overflowing flower pot I’ve ever seen. Behind it is a golf cart. Parked on the sidewalk. With a siren. And lights. The lights are ON. There’s gotta be a code to call this emergency in. Dear Lord. “That uh, that your ride?” Of course it is. I wanna know why it’s on the sidewalk so people have to go into the street to walk around it. Not that there’s much danger of them getting runover here but still, it’s the principle. Also, were lights necessary to get down Main Street? When would he ever, ever need a siren? I have questions.

“Yeah, nice upgrade from the bike.” He blushes and I am reminded again that there is something in the water here. People are strange. “Still kinda getting used to driving it.”

Holy shit, the deputy can’t handle a golf cart? Better inept than pretentious and I slowly start reworking my initial thoughts about the kid. The name thing was probably because no one takes him seriously. Or maybe someone, the Sheriff or his father, perhaps, told him to ask folks to use his title. Not excuses, but reasons, and those are important in my line of work. Still doesn’t keep me from being a smartass. “Pretty sure the brake is on the left, Deputy.” Crap, almost forgot. “McCorkle.” This island is lucky that nothing ever happens here.

Sunshine slides my coffee over and I take it and my danish with a nod. “Thanks so much Lyam, catch ya soon.” Time to take a walk and let the whole Deputy thing sink in. Plus, I want to see this golf cart up close. It has an old two-way radio that takes up most of the front seat. Please tell me who he’s going to radio? Does he not have a cell phone? But again, there’s no one to call except the Staties across the water. Make it make sense!

It also has an index card with McCorkle’s name on it that’s taped to the dash, I guess so he can tell it apart from all the other police golf carts? There is, no lie, a pair of handcuffs attached to the back roof support pole, whatever it’s called. What good will those possibly do him? He gonna ask some perp to wait while he grabs them? The entire thing is absurd. I can’t. I truly can’t. It has a grill on the front as if he’s going to take it off-roading. Okay, I take that back. Cobblestones are no joke and I guess he might need to push his way through a crowd? No, no, I tried but no. I resist the urge to kick the tire and head over to the bookshop to find something to read.

An hour later I’m slumped in a comfy chair in the bookstore and on chapter three when I see Lyam flip the cafe’s sign to ‘closed’. I’ve seen his routine enough to know that he does most of the cleaning up during the half hour of his shift and the morning crew does most of the stocking and cleaning so he’ll probably be out within an hour or so. I can wait.

Getting there

** Lyam**

I let out a little ‘eep’ when I see someone leaning against the wall next to my bike. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

As if Carter doesn’t get my heart racing enough when he’s not scaring me. “No worries. Something I can help you with?”

“Was hoping you’d have time to chat. Don’t forget to lock up.” Crap, I almost did. Sort of messed up my routine, what with the almost having a heart attack thing. I turn to do that and then walk towards him. I mean my bike. Yeah, I’m walking towards my bike. Totally. “So, Deputy McCorkle?” he asks.

Talk about an open ended question. “Yeah, never minded being called Bailey before but now that he’s in charge, I guess it makes sense. I wonder if he’s related to the old Sheriff. I think he was a McCorkle. I heard that the mayor fired him as soon as she was elected. That’s when Sheriff Brian started. I think he was retired from Portland or something and was only supposed to fill in until they found someone but… here we are. I’ve only been here five years though, almost anyone else would know more.”

“I like hearing it from you, thanks. He seems a bit.. uh, no, it’s nothing. It’s not like anything ever happens around here, right?”

“It’s not Chicago, that’s for sure. Sometimes folks steal gas, for the boats. There’s some dumping, trash and stuff that’s expensive to get rid of on the island. And tourist stuff, you know? Pickpockets and stuff. Nothing super major, I don’t think. Last year the ladies auxiliary put together an anti-litter campaign and got real serious. They had t-shirts made and were everywhere and let me tell you, they were a force. Sheriff Brian had to be downtown so they didn’t harass tourists.”

He shakes his head in wonderment then nods, looking relieved. “Good. And yeah, not like Chicago at all. Look, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure.” I probably wouldn’t have said yes if I’d known what was coming but that would have been sad for my nonexistent sex life.

“Still wanna hook up? You’ve been on my mind non-stop and maybe working out some frustration would help, if you catch my drift.” I’m not hesitating, just speechless, but I’m pretty sure he’s taking that as a bad sign. “No pressure, just asking. I’ll get out of your hair.”

He turns but I manage to make enough saliva to wet my mouth and find my balls so I can be honest. “No, I’m… I’m definitely interested. And I did offer…”

“Not holding you to that, Lyam.”

I figure that he’s gonna be gone sooner rather than later and that limits my chances of falling head over heels in like with this guy. More than I already am, I mean. Helping me out with McCorkle’s name earlier? That was clutch. He honestly hasn’t seemed phased by my dyslexia and he’s not treating me like a moron, which is nice. I’ve literally had people talk slowly to me. I mean, that says more about them than me, right? Still, everyone has sore spots and it’s a big one for me. Him just going with it? Ace. I give him a look that hopefully says ‘interested and sexy’ and not ‘stroke’. “You can hold it to me, or hold me, or whatever.” Damn it, I tried.

“Is that a yes and if so, when? I know you’re obviously getting off work now so there’s no major rush since I don’t plan on having kids.”

It takes me a second but I assume he’s feeling at least half as hard up as I am. It doesn’t take long, being on this island. I make a split-second decision and decide that if we don’t have full on lube required sex and just do hand and blow jobs, I won’t get attached. Right? Right. And if I won’t get attached, we could do it more than once. “I’ll be at Wisteria tomorrow morning working.”

“I doubt I’ll die before then.

There will be a smutty scene here in the Amazon version.  Sorry!!  It’s not written yet :)

The Bust

Carter

The next week is nice. Getting off regularly will improve anyone’s mood. Lyam is somehow busier than usual preparing for the fourth of July which is apparently a really, really big deal around here but for me, not much changes. I’m not sure what day of the week it is, only that the Farmer’s market is open today which narrows it down a bit. Otherwise, who knows? Lyam’s schedule doesn’t really give him a ‘weekend’ either so I can’t even use that as a benchmark.

I checked in with my sister yesterday, sending her proof of life and apparently I ‘sound good’. Sure. I get my nephews present wrapped up and stop by the post office on my way to my afternoon cafe shift. The lady behind the counter is 90 if she’s a day and spends approximately two hours telling me all the options I have for shipping, when it will arrive and how much it will cost. I can’t be mad about it though, I have nothing else to do.

I see McCorkle around town constantly but he’s eerily absent today; he’s hard to miss seeing as he drives the only golf cart on the island and waves and calls out ‘Sergeant Carter’ every time he sees me like we’re buddies or something. I suddenly wonder if there’s a golf course and if so, do they have carts there or make people bike? Do the caddies bike around with little wagons full of clubs? I’ll ask Sunshine. I’ve never been anything but miniature golfing but if they have a driving range that could maybe be fun. I have nothing better to do.

As if I’ve summoned him by thinking his name, as soon as I’ve sat down with my coffee I hear the sirens blaring. They don’t actually sound like police sirens but other than a singular ambulance on the island, there’s nothing else it could be. Sure enough, the golf cart careens halfway onto the sidewalk before McCorkle jumps out and runs into the cafe and towards me. “Sergeant! Sergeant I need back-up.”

Regardless of the absolutely insane circumstances around his arrival, every nerve in my body fires when I hear that. I am instantly on high alert. No, the kid in front of me isn’t Washington, my ex-partner. Unfortunately McCorkle isn’t half as well trained or street smart. Shit. Still, I need more info but I don’t get to ask.

“By the power invested… uh, you’re a deputy now! I’m doing that thing, Carter. Need back-up on a drug bust.”

Okay, that’s um… “Don’t I have to agree to that?”

“Don’t think so, come on! Wait, do you think I should call the state boys in?”

How the living fuck would I know? Lyam, wide-eyed, asks “Where?”

“Hollyhock house, Mrs. Willingham.”

Lyam snorts, then almost chokes, then looks like he’s about to cry but I’m pretty sure he’s trying not to laugh in McCorkle’s face. “Don’t think the SWAT team will be necessary, Deputy McCorkle.”

I relax about a thousand percent and really wish I could talk to Sunshine about it privately but McCorkle has taken my hand and is attempting to pull me towards the official vehicle of the Skye Island Po-po. Now the handcuffs hanging off the back make sense. They’re for me so I can’t escape. I say ‘attempting’ because I have at least 40 lbs of muscle on McCorkle; he’s a fairly tiny thing. Still, I go along, mostly so that he doesn’t get himself into trouble. “If we’re serious, my firearm is at the cottage.”

“Oh I’m serious!” He swerves so hard that I have to hold on and soon we’re flying at a whopping eight miles an hour down the cobblestone road and I can’t speak for fear of biting off my tongue. He stops in front of Wisteria, luckily not going up the drive and possibly destroying the fancy carriage house, and I dash up and attach my holster and load my firearm, then dart back to the cart.

Thankfully the island isn’t that big and we arrive before I have major brain damage. He’s attempted to hide the cart and even turned the lights and sirens off. Maybe there’s hope for him? “What’s going on? How many? Distribution or manufacturing? What are we looking at?” I’m not walking in there blind.

My questions seem to confuse him for a moment and instead of heading towards the woods that cover the slope of the hill to our right, he looks up towards the huge house that I can only see the top floor of. “Mrs. Willingham is growing a whole yard full of marijuana!”

Pot. He’s brought me here for pot. “Isn’t it legal?”

“Only a few plants, she’s got a ton in there!” And with that, he’s off and I have no choice but to follow on his heels. He turns and just as I see a very, very elderly woman rocking on the porch which is desperately in need of a coat of paint or demolition, McCorkle reaches for his weapon. Is he serious? I grab his arm, give him a look that has made lesser man piss themselves, and then realize that he does not, in fact, have a firearm. Apparently he realizes it too. Somehow I feel much safer now. The smell of pot wafts our way. “See?” he whispers loudly enough that anyone under the age of 60 would have heard him.

“You fellas coming in or just gonna gawk?” comes Mrs. Willingham’s voice from the porch. It’s much stronger than I expected. “That you, Bailey? Who you got with you?”

McCorkle’s eyes are wide and he has no idea what to do. “Deputy Carter” I yell. Are you armed?“

“Got two, same as I always have.” I can tell from her tone that she’s messing with me and sort of like her already.

“Anyone else in the house?”

“Just my cats, well one. Huckleberry snuck out when I made tea this morning.”

Okay, okay, this is making me insane. All my training says to not believe her but from what I’ve seen she is a woman, very likely in her 80’s, who is smoking a joint on her porch. It’s not a meth house, she doesn’t have an armed guard, and it’s safer than my brain wants to believe. I turn to McCorkle “Stay here, go back to town for help if this goes south.”

“I’m gonna come around to the gate if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, that’s how I prefer folks come in. Let me see you, Deputy Carter. I don’t bite. Used to, but too old for it now.”

I hesitate before stepping from behind my cover. It allows me to get a good look and I of course take her in quickly, checking for a weapon, and then scan the windows and house. The house is beautiful but old and in a bit of disrepair. I gather quickly that she probably does live alone. As McCorkle said, there are some very big weeds in the yard and yes, they have five leaves but it’s not weed. “Ma’am, what’s this plant?”

“It’s Agnes and that’s cleome. Be flowering soon, hummingbirds love it. Planted one packet last year and now they’ve spread everywhere. You a gardener? If so, would love to hire you but I’m broke.” McCorkle steps out behind me. “Hey, young Bailey. How are you?”

“Fine Mrs. Willingham, just fine. I’m afraid we’re going to have to search your property.”

We ARE? For what? The missing cat?

“Well go on ahead. Come out back, that’s where the good stuff is.”

He gets on his tiptoes and whispers into my ear “SEE?!?!”

“Oh I see, all right.”

“This ain’t marijuana? Looks just like the pictures.”

“You’ve never seen it in person? That would explain a lot, Deputy. Cannabis has tiny toothed edges, serrated. These are smooth.” He looks like I’ve smacked him. “Similar, they look a lot alike, I give you that. Easy mistake to make.” Deputizing someone to help you take out an 80 year old lady? Less so. We follow Agnes around to her back garden and she is growing just about everything imaginable and tells us exactly what everything is. She shows us vegetables of every kind and a huge herb and tea garden where we find a sleeping cat.

McCorkle is patient longer than I am, I have a book to read, but when she offers us tea, he tells her to “show us the marijuana, please.”

“Oh sure, would have shared but it costs and arm and a leg nowadays. I have a prescription.” We head into her kitchen where there are herbs and flowers strung everywhere, drying. It smells amazing. She hands McCorkle a piece of paper and opens an old cookie tin and shows us seven perfectly rolled joints. “Used to smoke it for fun, back in the 60’s. Oh I was a wild child! Nowadays I can barely get out of bed without it some days. Dying is a bitch.”

“Everything seems to be in order here, Mrs. Willingham” McCorkle announces. “We’ll be out of your hair. Have a nice day, now.”

He expects me to follow but spending a bit more time with Agnes sounds better than riding back in that death cart. “Actually I’ll have a cup of tea, if that offer still stands” I tell her.

“Yes, yes. You stay long as you like.”

McCorkle gives me a look like he thinks I’m up to something, like I’m gonna snoop and find a huge stash or get her to admit where she’s hiding the money, but I just want some decent company and she seems like a woman with great stories to tell. Over the next hour I hear about her marching in Washington, then losing her only daughter to drugs and her husband to cancer a few years ago. We have a good time, she makes me promise to visit again before I leave, and I apologize profusely for barging in on her.

“Don’t you worry none, Carter. Look, Bailey grew up under a dark cloud. His father was powerful and mean and that’s a dangerous combination. Luckily Bailey fell very, very far from that tree but unfortunately he hit his head real hard on the way down. He’s a good kid so don’t be too hard on him. Life has been hard enough and he’s just trying to find his way. Can’t believe he thought I was growing Mary Jane! But you know, maybe I should? Might try it next year.”

I can’t help but snort. “Just don’t tell McCorkle.”

“Nah, nah, no good in that. It’ll be our little secret.”

Pool Party

~ Carter~

Looking back on it, I should have seen the invitation coming but I’m not the sort who gets my hopes up. Wait, was I hoping to be invited? Shit, maybe it’s worse than I thought. Anyway, Lyam and I have settled into a routine where I help a little with the gardening when he comes over to my place, okay, I water, and that gives him a little extra time for us to get off.

When he gets off his knees this morning, panting almost as much as I am and wiping a trickle of me from the corner of his mouth, he whips out that dangerous smile. “Carter?”

“Mmm?” It’s about as coherent as I can be for another minute. Or two.

“Every year Jack throws a huge pool party for the fourth. There will be great food, including my famous cobbler. He may or may not, depending on if you’ll tell the Deputy, bring over some beer and assorted drinkeroos. I mean we’re allowed to have it but you may have noticed that he’s been a little extra lately. He gave the post lady a ticket for not locking her bike up and came in and took the temperature of our coffee to make sure we wouldn’t burn people. Anyway, the view of the fireworks is awesome.”

I raise my eyebrows. What he’s saying about McCorkle doesn’t surprise me in the least after the whole Agnes thing, but I was hoping he had calmed down since then. Apparently not. He seems to be waiting for an answer but I never assume things are invitations. Maybe he’s just telling me what he’s doing. “Is that an invitation?”

The head tilt and look I get are comical. “Duh! I mean, I can’t leave you alone on the fourth, that’s just wrong.”

“So it’s a pity invite?” He blushes so I put a look on my face that I hope says ‘I’m kidding’.

“No! You’re sort of a hero after the whole ‘bust’ thing and I don’t want everyone thinking you’re an asshole so you should come.”

“Just did. So am I a hero or an asshole?”

He shrugs. “Neither? But a great cop and while you may be grumpy, you’re not a jerk. So come and let everyone get to know you. Did I mention bbq? And liquor?”

I’m usually immune to most people’s smiles and I find most people’s verbal flailing to be more annoying than amusing but there’s something about Lyam that gets to me. I could blame the water but he’s too special to disregard like that. I barely hold back an audible sigh because I’m realizing that I’m going to say ‘yes’ even though this really isn’t my type of thing. Or is it? I’m more than used to hanging out at a cookout and having a beer with friends and while they’re not my friends, they are Lyam’s. Granted, Cowboy Jack probably literally hates me but I’m hoping Sunshine cleared it with him. He’s sweet enough to not invite people without getting permission but “I have questions.”

“Sure. Hit me. Or don’t, I’m not into that.”

I don’t quite suppress my chuckle. “Noted. Does Cowboy know you’re inviting me and also, are you gonna be running around in swim trunks all day?” I haven’t seen them since the local swimming hole and I’d really, really like to see that again before the end of the summer.

“He knows, said it was fine although he doesn’t think you’ll come. So you should and prove him wrong. And yeah, I’ll definitely swim some. Why?” He reads my look just fine. “Perv! So, what do you think? You in? And get your mind out of the gutter! Will you come to the party with me tomorrow?” When I hesitate he adds a “Please?”

That does me in. “Sure, for a bit anyway.” I can go for an hour and leave whenever. I can even drink if I want; the joy of living on an island and literally being able to walk home from anywhere.

“A bit? No Carter, hours. Starts at 4 and goes till after the fireworks finish. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Fuck. “Okay, okay.” The look on his face makes it worth it.

---

Jordan is trouble. I learn it quickly when I’m polite enough to ask their pronouns and he says “If you weren’t taken, you could call me absolutely anything you want. Since you are, ‘he’ or ‘they’ is fine, regardless of what I’m wearing.”

What he’s wearing is ever-changing and also pretty amazing. When I arrived and he pointed me in the direction of the backyard, they were wearing an amazing kaftan. He’s tall and lean and this one had a cut so deep that it went almost to his navel. The scarf his locks were tied up in was some act of engineering that I could not attempt to create. Now he’s standing over the chairs that Lyam and I are melting in wearing nothing but a pair of speedos in a deep, metallic purple and about 100 bracelets. Their fingernails match. Lyam says what we’re both thinking. “How are you not hot?”

“Honey I am hot with a capital H, O, and T but what I’m not, is white. Pool time, my melatonin-challenged darling! Come along Carter, if you dare.”

They’re a shit and I love him but I have no intentions of letting anyone know that. I tell Lyam to go ahead without me but when he comes up from his dive and climbs on a raft looking much cooler, I decide to go for it. I jump in and do 10 lengths, then put my arms up on his raft to help me float. “Holy SHIT, Carter! You can swim!” There’s nothing to say to that. Apparently my face says enough.

“Carter, you know what he means! You’re a fucking fish” Jordan exclaims.

I got through school on a swimming scholarship and still really enjoy it. “Easier on the joints than running but I don’t get to do it as much as I should.”

“Well next time you’re gonna do that, let me grab my phone first” Jordan teases. “Pornhub got nothing on that. Any chance you’ll do it naked?”

Cowboy Jack turns our way. “It is NOT that kind of party, Jordan. At least not until after the fireworks.” He gives an exaggerated wink and I’m really not sure if he’s kidding or not. And yes, he’s wearing the hat. And jeans. I don’t get him. “I gotta run up and check on nana, can one of you watch the grill?”

Jordan and Lyam both look as if he’s just asked them to do surgery. “I got it” I tell him, swimming to the edge and hopping up.

Mr. Speedo seems confused by Lyam’s hesitation. “You love to cook.” Jordan isn’t wrong, I saw the three dishes Lyam brought, including a cobbler, macaroni salad and what looks like an amazing pasta salad.

“Food, not me” Lyam answers. “It is TOO hot today. Don’t die, Carter!”

On the grill are, I kid you not, lobster tails. I panic a little but try not to show it. Then I remember how much this shit costs and beckon Lyam closer. “How do you know when lobster is done?”

“Are they flesh up or down?”

“Up. They’ve been flipped.” There are telltale beautiful grill marks on them.

“Most seafood is done around 135 degrees or when it’s flaky.”

Jack is back already and grabs a fork, testing. “Another minute. Thanks.”

“How is she?” Lyam asks.

Jack looks solemn. “Won’t be long now. A few days maybe. I’ll try to wake her up and get her to the window to see the fireworks; she loves them.”

“Let me know if you need any help, Jack.” Lyam dives and swims beneath Jordan, rocking his float and making him squeal. Being wet has kept me from spontaneously combusting but the water beckons and I dive back in, meeting up with my Sunshine on the other side. “Nana Skye is great and we’re going to miss her. I wonder who the house will go to.”

I look back, past Jordan still relaxing on the float, at what can only be called a mansion and then back towards the ocean which I can see from here because of how steep the cliffs are here. “I wouldn’t know but I hope it’s not ugly. Money makes people ugly.”

“Truer words, Carter, truer words. I’m starving so I tried coming over away from the smells. It’s not helping much. Wanna take my mind off it? What are your feelings on PDA’s, Mr. Grump?”

I snarl a bit at him but it just makes him smile. I’m usually not a PDA person because I’ve been taught to be cautious but since Jordan is wearing a speedo and it seems that half the folks here are queer, I’m tempted to relax. “Not usually a big fan.”

“Sort of figured.”

“I wasn’t finished. This seems like a pretty safe environment but honestly, if I put my hands or lips on you I won’t be able to get out of the water to get a plate for fifteen minutes and I’m hungry too.”

That pleases him and he tips his head a bit and laughs. “I can’t argue with that! Maybe during the fireworks I can have a kiss?”

That I can do. “Maybe two, if you’re lucky.”

“I am, Carter, I am. So are you.”

He gets a lot more than two kisses during the fireworks and when we get home there are some very, very nice explosions.

An offer

~ Carter ~

People usually can’t read me. It’s part of my whole ‘frowning all the time’ gig and few people can tell when I’m really upset but I am. It’s McCorkle’s fault. All week I’ve been thinking about what happened at Agnes’ place. Was it dangerous? No. Could it have been? Deadly. And what’s with him harassing townspeople? He thinks he’s being helpful and proactive but it makes him look like a joke. He’s not ready. Period.

“Carter, you okay?”

I haven’t even put my drink order in yet, not that I really need to, and Lyam is already hanging halfway over the counter, his ever-present smile gone. That won’t do. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying” he whispers, exaggerating his mouth to the point that people across the street can probably read it but he looks adorable doing it. “Hot black large, no sugar, coming up.”

He’s dropped the inquisition and turned away to make my coffee. He won’t push, I know that, and maybe that’s why I tell him “Your deputy worries me.”

His eyes are wide when he spins towards me. “I would hope so!” I am very, very lucky that I don’t have my coffee yet because the strange burst of laughter that comes out of me would have made a mess. “He was in here earlier tying someone’s shoes. Didn’t want there to be an accident!”

I’m trying really hard to compose myself. I have an image, ya know? But how… why… what? “That’s… helpful?”

Sunshine slides my coffee over. “A child, maybe. The mayor? Not so much. We’re lucky nothing bad actually happens around here.”

That’s not true, I was up half the night reading reports and court filings. “I wish that were true but it’s not and that’s the problem. I’m afraid he’s going to get himself hurt.”

Lyam steals my coffee back. Slides it back towards him and puts it under the counter. “Will you talk to the mayor? If you’re worried, I’m worried and you’ll be gone in a couple of weeks and… then what? He’s all we have. Please?”

Do I want to do this? Throw another cop, excuse me, Deputy, under the bus? Of course not. Still, it needs to be done. I’d rather wait until the day before I leave but Sunshine’s right, my return trip on that awful ferry is happening sooner rather than later. If it’ll bring his smile back, “Sure.”

A small Asian woman sitting in a table by the big front window raises her hand and waves. “Over here, Carter the cop from Chicago.”

I look at Lyam and get a smug little “The mayor” in response. The little shit. Of course I have no alternative but to go over. “You always hang out at the coffee shop during the day?” Her eyebrows rise but she doesn’t get flustered. Points for her.

“Mayor Liu. As for my office, the old mayor was practically buried in his chair. Everyone thought he did a great job but the budget was so bad I’m working at a cafe. I can’t complain though, the coffee is hot and the service is great.” Then she winks and waves at Lyam and I get to see him blush. Win. How can I help you?“

May as well jump in. “I’m not sure McCorkle is up for the job.”

“Well of course he’s not. Look, between you, me, and every full-timer on the island, I have been trying to fill the Sheriff position since the day after I was elected. Contrary to popular belief, Skye isn’t as quiet as it seems but Brian did a great job. He trained Bailey but… anyway. The salary is peanuts but there is a house as part of the benefits package. So, tell me why you want to be our new Sheriff.”

WHAT? I almost choke on my coffee but manage to get it down. When did I say that? Imply it? “I don’t?” Why is it a question? I look over at Lyam who is smiling and handing a donut to a small boy who can’t be more than four. He’s adorable. You choose which one I mean.

“Come on Carter, you love it here.” She’s staring at me staring at Lyam. She’s not stupid. “Have anything waiting for you in Chicago? Anyone important?”

“My life.” One I was able to walk away from for two months without doing anything more than having someone handle my mail. I like to think the Captain and guys on the force are waiting for me but I’m not cocky enough to think I’m irreplaceable. No one is, not at a job anyway.

“Seems like you have one here. So tell me, what do you bring to the island?”

“A suitcase, mayor. I brought a suitcase.”

She laughs and then clasps her hands together. “So let me ask again. Why do you want to be our new Sheriff?”

I find myself telling her the truth. “I’m not sure I do but you sure as hell need me. How do you even know I’m qualified?”

“I know enough and will find out everything else. That said, I’m not exactly overflowing with resumes here. Look, I’ve seen you around. Agnes thinks you’re great. I think you and Bailey would work well together and you could help… hmmm, how do I put this? You could help prepare him in case you can’t hack it out here.” Can’t hack it? She is my favorite kind of evil and reads people perhaps better than I do and that was the perfect thing to say to me. Judging by the look on her face, she knows it. She stands up and apparently I’ve accepted a job offer and we shake on it. “I don’t like bullshit either, Carter, we’re going to get along just fine. Welcome to Skye, Sheriff. I’ll get you the keys tomorrow. When can you start?” I hesitate for less than a second. “The first? Great. Meet me in my office sometime next week to do paperwork, you’re here every day anyway.”

She’s not completely wrong. She grabs a purse, messenger bag and bookbag and takes off and I sit back down, stunned. After a minute or so I manage to finish my coffee but my brain is still somehow empty and full at the same time. Am I going to be Skye’s new sheriff? It’s a promotion for me, regardless of pay. But, and here’s a pretty important point, I have a job. In Chicago. Which is nowhere near Maine. Am I really going to go put in my notice and pack up my apartment and then move to a tiny island in the Atlantic ocean? Chicago may be cold in the winter but this is farther north than some of Canada!

I can’t help but grin at the thought of Lyam keeping me warm in the winter. Maybe I could finally get him into my bed and I’m pretty sure that would be hot enough to keep us both warm. Maybe the house has a fireplace. I’ve never had a house, actually, only apartments. Hiring Lyam to do my yard seems wrong yet also very, very right. Hell, if I don’t stop now I’ll have him living with me and us having a dog. I need to get myself together but it’s hard to stop thinking of him when he takes a quick break and heads over.

“How long are you gonna leave me hanging, Carter? What was the shaking hands about? She looked happy which isn’t exactly what I was expecting. Why, why did we get an afternoon rush when I wanted to be listening?”

At least he admits it. “I uh… I may have accepted a job?”

“May have?” If his eyebrows go any higher they may get stuck that way.

I run my hand through my hair which I only do when I’m nervous and I have no reason to be except that I’m not quite sure how Sunshine will react. This is good, right? “I might be the new Sheriff. I mean, she offered it to me and Ooomph” I have a Lyam in my arms and can barely breathe but he pulls back.

“Are you shitting me, Carter? Wait, have you thought about this? There are downsides to island life” he teases but his tone tells me how serious he is.

“It’s sort of sinking in now. I didn’t really intend… I mean… she’s one persuasive lady.”

That almost puts a smile back on his face. “I’m pretty sure that she was a drill sergeant in her past life. Great mayor though. So, you’re not sure yet? That’s totally okay, it’s a big decision.”

I’ve been a man who has always gone with his gut. It’s saved my life several times. Literally. Its also put me where I am now. My gut says that even though I’ve had exactly one actual boyfriend in my life, the man in front of me will be that and more. It says I have things to learn here, and things to teach. That this island is where I should be. “I’m taking the job, Lyam.” My gut also says that a coffeee shop is not the place to do this. Lyam doesn’t seem to be getting the same message.

He pulls me into a hug again before whispering “What does this mean for us?” against my cheek.