Tempting Tristan Page 4

“Yeah,” he says tightly. “Just getting used to not hiding.”

  “I can’t imagine what it was like, but if you notice that we get any more looks, just ignore them.”

  His eyes move over the people walking in the other direction. “I’ve spent years ignoring assholes. Kind of makes me want to set them straight.”

  “I get that, but around here, more people accept than don’t. Sometimes it’s worth a fight, but when you really think about it, ignorant is as ignorant does. We don’t have to lower ourselves to their level.”

  He grins again and stops short, tugging me against him. “My voice of reason, huh?”

  The urge to kiss him is strong, but I have a feeling if the wrong person sneers or makes a comment, regardless of how out he wants to be, Alex is too tightly wound to keep from flying off the handle. So I bite back the urge. For now.

  “I’ve fought that fight before,” I explain. “We won’t change their minds, so it’s a futile effort.”

  “Your confidence makes you pretty damn sexy, T.”

  The compliment and the way he says T gets me. Despite my concerns, I lean forward and give him a chaste kiss. “What about your parents? Are they cool with your lifestyle?” I ask to distract myself from how much I want to keep kissing him. I can’t even begin to understand how I’ve gone weeks without coming close to breaking my no-male rule and then in just a few hours I’m ready to bend over the railing for this guy.

  “My father’s never been in the picture, and my mother’s totally cool with it. She’s okay with pretty much everything. She’s not exactly someone who lives by any rules.”

  “Drugs?” I ask, preparing for the worst.

  He laughs softly and shakes his head. “Not even close. My mother does what makes her happy, every minute of the day.” He tilts his head toward me with amusement in his eyes. “Made for a fun, and confusing, childhood.”

  “How so?” I ask as we leave the boardwalk and cross the parking lot, hoping he’ll shed some light on his comment.

  Alex pulls his keys from his pocket and stops by a blue Ram truck. “Every way you can imagine other than booze or drugs. She wasn’t neglectful or anything like that. She just did her own thing. She’d put up Christmas trees in June, or wake me at three in the morning to watch a movie and eat popcorn with her—when I was seven. She once took me out of school for two weeks because she thought it would be a better learning experience to go camping in the mountains and learn about the stars. Only she didn’t know anything about astronomy, so we basically fished and camped and had a mini vacation. I didn’t mind, but the school wasn’t pleased. Needless to say, we moved a lot. Apartments, group houses, slept in the car a few times when she’d get the urge to drive down to the shore for a weekend.”

  He unlocks my door and pulls it open, then circles the truck and settles into the drivers’ seat.

  “Somewhere along the way, being guarded became easier than trying to fit in with new kids at school because I knew my mother would get bored and we’d be moving on. For obvious reasons, my grandparents insisted that I stay with them as often as she’d let me. School breaks, summers. She sounds crazy, but she’s not. She’s just restless.”

  I hear love and amusement in his voice, but also a hint of something darker. Disappointment, maybe? “Do you see her now?”

  “Here and there.” He starts the truck and drives away from the center of town. “She’s been married twice; neither lasted longer than six months. Not currently married, or at least not that I know of. She’s off on one of her adventures right now, staying in a yurt in Montana.”

  “I guess there’s something to be said about living life to the fullest.” That earns me another sexy smile. “I was trying to remember seeing you at Arty’s funeral, but for the life of me, I can’t. Arty made it sound like you two were close. Did I misread that?”

  “No, you didn’t misread it.” Alex grinds his teeth. “I wasn’t able to go.”

  “Were you overseas?”

  “Something like that,” he says in a low voice.

  “Doesn’t the military give you leave for stuff like that?”

  He’s silent for so long, I wonder if he’s going to answer at all, and when he does, it’s with a grave face.

  “Not when you’re lying in a hospital bed.”

  Alex

  IT’S EASY TO see why my grandmother was so enamored with Tristan. It’s as if he instinctively knows I need time to process what I’ve just confessed and doesn’t push me for details on my hospital stay. It’s also easy to see why assholes could take advantage of him. As tough as Tristan is—and he’s all man for sure—he’s got what my grandmother used to call a tender heart. It makes me want to protect him from people like the bastards walking by and eyeing us up with disgust on their faces. There aren’t many of them, but the few I’ve seen deserve to be fucked up for their ignorant attitudes. One look at Tristan, though, and respecting his wishes wins out. I err on the side of the passive.

  Tristan tells me about Harborside while we head off to meet the Realtor. He describes local businesses, tells me to be careful of seedier areas, and mentions the strong community bonds between families that have lived here forever. It’s clear by his tone how much he loves his hometown. I heard the same excitement in my grandmother’s voice when she’d tell me about the area—and when she talked about Tristan. As he speculates about the cause of small-business closures, I reflect on how lucky I am that he and my grandmother connected. My grandmother believed in fate. I have never been a big believer in destiny. I’ve seen too much unnecessary death to believe in such a thing, but now I wonder…

  By the time we arrive to meet Dinah, I have a solid grasp of Harborside, and Tristan is already making a list of potential locations for my store.

  “This is a seedy area,” he says as I park in front of a row of shops that’s pretty far off the main drag. “Two streets behind this is where druggies hang out.”

  “Why would she suggest this place?” I take in the torn awning over the window on the corner and the broken window on the vacant property beside it. The grass out front is dead, and there are two empty shopping carts that must have come from the grocery store several blocks away pushed up against the far end of the building.

  “My guess would be cheap rent.”

  “Great. She said she has four places to show me, but if this is her idea of an acceptable location, then chances are they’ll all be a waste of time, and I’m not interested in wasting one second of our time together. What do you suggest?” That we blow her off and go back to my place?

  I can see by his devilish grin he’s thinking along the same lines as I am, but he’s made it clear he needs to move slowly. “I think we should figure out the areas you feel comfortable looking in, and then you should get a new Realtor. Dinah isn’t known for her solid decision-making skills. You should call Dave Jacobson with Harborside Realty. He’s the best agent around.”

  We step out of the truck, and I eye the buxom blond real estate agent wearing too-high heels and a too-short skirt, and ogling Tristan like he’s what’s for lunch. I make a mental note to track down Dave Jacobson and take Tristan’s hand. I want to claim him even from a female. Go figure.

  I lean close enough to get a scintillating whiff of his spicy, citrusy cologne and say, “Let me get us out of this. Then I want you to show me those gardens you’re so fond of.”

  After I get us out of the next three appointments, Tristan gives me directions to his parents’ house.

  “You don’t have to pretend to be interested,” he says as I drive. “Gardening isn’t exactly something most guys are into, and you’ve already impressed me with your listening skills and big cock.”

  “Jesus, T.” I laugh. “I’m not out to impress you. I want to see the things that mean something to you. Although I am glad my big cock impresses you. I’m equally impressed with that sword you’re wielding.”

  The drive across town is paved with dirty jokes and lots of laughter. We climb out o
f the truck in front of a cedar-sided saltbox-style home with a yard that looks like it slipped off the pages of New England Garden magazine. Raised rock gardens snake alongside lush verdant plants and colorful flowers. Tall grasses shoot up between leafy low plants, interspersed with shrubs and taller trees of varying sizes. Another rock garden trails along the right side of the yard, cascading down the gentle slope like a waterfall.

  “Wow, T. This is where you grew up?” I follow him around the side of the house and take in the breathtaking view of a quiet cove and more magnificent gardens. Clusters of knockout roses and decorative trees rise above flowerbeds and rocky ledges surrounding a wide expanse of manicured lawn.

  “Yup.” He stands at the top of the yard, looking hot as sin with the sun shining down on his chiseled face and a smile on his very kissable lips. “My childhood was pretty much the opposite of yours. Stable and predictable, which was just fine with me. I like knowing what tomorrow will bring.”

  “It sounds like what I’ve always longed for.”

  Tristan gives me an empathetic look, and I know he gets it. But as he did with the comment about my hospital stay, he doesn’t linger on the subject.

  “My older brother, Brody, and I were pretty wild. We used to play catch, wrestle, and basically tear up the lawn.”

  “Bet your mom hated it when you hit a ball into the gardens.”

  “Nah, she’s not like that.” He walks along a path that weaves through the gardens to the grass. “My parents were concerned with grades and how we treated others more than they cared about us messing up a garden. But that didn’t stop me from feeling guilty when we did. I hated messing up her hard work, but I was a kid.” He shrugs. “Shit happens.”

  As we walk around the yard, Tristan explains how the gardens have changed over the years, and he tells me about the summer when his mother broke her hand and he maintained the gardens for her. It’s easy to imagine him as a boy tending to the gardens alongside his mother, pouring his heart into creating the perfect beds for each plant.

  “That was when I realized how much work went into them and how much I wanted one of my own.”

  He leads me through a thick patch of spiky green bushes to the far corner of the yard, where the gardens fade and long dune grass takes root on a small dune leading to the sandy beach. We look out over the water, and I imagine what it might have been like to wake up to this view every day, year after year.

  “Brody always wondered what it would be like to get on a boat and sail away, but I’ve never had that curiosity. I know it seems silly, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be here in Harborside. To have the kind of life my parents have.” He turns a serious gaze my way. “How about you?”

  “Brody and my mother would get along great.” I reach for his hand. “I want rock gardens.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tristan

  THE NEXT DAY can’t move fast enough. Alex is picking me up for our second date at eight o’clock, after my shift at the Taproom, and every time the door opens my heart accelerates. A couple comes into the bar and makes their way to a booth in the back. Disappointment coasts through me. I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate dating universe. The men I know don’t date. They hook up, get together with friends, and talk about bullshit. In fact, it’s usually all about the sex. I have to admit that Alex came across as that type of guy at first glance, all attitude and badass swagger. He’s nothing like I expected him to be. He’s surprising me at every turn with a softer, family-oriented side that rivals his unstable upbringing. But a loving parent is a loving parent, no matter how many times they uproot you.

  “Dude, you’re like a nervous chick.” Wyatt hands me a shot of tequila.

  I stare at it. It’s seven forty-five. “I’m still on the clock.”

  “I’m your boss, and I’m officially ending your shift. You’re done for the night.” He shoves the shot glass toward my mouth as I hear the door open again.

  I’m facing away from the door, but the hair on the back of my neck prickles, and heat doesn’t consume me. It slams into me. The women sitting at the bar begin to whisper, looking at the man who’s got me hard with nothing more than a memory. I glance at Wyatt, who’s smirking, and I down the tequila.

  He takes the empty glass from my hand and winks. “Never seen you like this.”

  Tell me about it.

  As I turn, Alex moves between two women seated at the bar, and those sinful baby blues blaze a path straight through me. He hasn’t shaved, and his scruff has grown in thicker, making him staggeringly hotter.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” He leans on the bar, and I notice a few scars on the underside of his left forearm I hadn’t noticed yesterday. The women visually devour him as he eats up every inch of me.

  “Hey, T.” He winks, and I’m as nervous as a frigging teenager about to get his first hand job. “Wyatt, how’s it going? I hear congratulations are in order.” He reaches a hand across the bar to shake. I want to pounce on him, scale the bar and wrap myself around all his hotness.

  Wyatt shakes his hand. “Thanks, man. I haven’t seen you in forever. How’re things? Is your tour over?”

  Alex’s eyes skip to me again. “Yeah.”

  “Signing up for another?” Wyatt asks.

  “No, man.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes suddenly shuttered. “I’m done with that, and here to stay.”

  “It’ll be good to have you around.” Wyatt slaps me on the back. “Go on, buddy. Have fun.”

  “Thanks, Army.” I hold a finger up to Alex. “I just need to clock out.”

  Alex pushes away from the bar and matches my stride as I walk to the bar pass, meeting me as I come through it.

  His hand slides to my waist, and he leans in and says in a rough whisper, “I thought about you all day,” then kisses my cheek.

  I’m so used to jerks like Ian wanting to appear available that the kiss surprises me, even though it shouldn’t after how openly affectionate he was yesterday. It takes me a few seconds too long to move. In those startled seconds, Alex’s eyes fill with concern. He pulls away, and a gust of cool air drifts between us.

  “Be right back,” I say nervously, and push through the doors into the back room. In the privacy of the back room, I press my palms to the wall and bang my forehead on it.

  “Dude. Need me to go kick some ass?” Dutch, the cook, asks from behind the stainless-steel counter. He’s a big guy with thick curly hair, and reminds me of Seth Rogan. He’s funny, blunt, and a little awkward.

  “No. I need to kick my own ass.”

  He shrugs and flips a burger. “I’d be happy to do that for you if you need it.”

  “I’m good, thanks. I just did an asshole thing and I need to go apologize.” I clock out and head back into the bar.

  Alex is leaning against the wall beside the door with his arms crossed. He snaps upright when I come through the door.

  “Sorry.” I’m not sure what to say, and I don’t want to get into my issues here in the crowded bar. “Ready?”

  He nods, and as we walk out the door, the silence turns oppressive.

  “Look—” he says at the same time I say, “Alex.”

  We both laugh, and his smile cuts right through me.

  “Go ahead,” I say.

  The door to the bar swings open, and Alex puts a hand on my arm and guides me farther down the pier, away from the bar. When we’re out of earshot, we stop. Frustration rolls off of him as loudly as the waves crashing against the pilings below.

  “I’m new at this,” he says. “I’m sorry if I was out of line in there, but I’m not on a military base anymore. I’m not about to hide who I am. I’ve done that for long enough, and—”

  “What?” I snap. “You weren’t out of line, Alex. I was the one who acted like a prick. I’m so used to guys wanting space, wanting to look available, that I’ve come to expect it. You shocked the hell out of me. I was an ass, and I’m sorry.”

  We step forward at the same time, and he pres
ses his rough hand to my cheek. “I don’t know what kind of pussies you went out with before, but I wanted to fucking claim you in there.”

  He slides a hand around my waist, tugging our bodies together. I feel every hard inch of him, and he’s got me so hot I’m sure we’re going to combust.

  “I’ve spent almost nine years hiding who I am, and I’m not willing to do it anymore,” he says through clenched teeth. “Not here, where I came to start over. Where I came to live on my terms without the goddamn military hanging over my head.”

  “I have no interest in hiding,” I assure him.

  “You’re sure? Because I really want to kiss you right now, and I don’t care who sees us.”

  I respond by pulling his mouth to mine, my break from men long forgotten. We stumble backward, crashing into the railing, fighting for dominance as we did yesterday morning. The passion between us has a life of its own. My hands claw over his ass, up his back. I want to strip him down and take all of him. I want to discover why he’s so rough and learn what about those shadows that are lurking behind his gorgeous eyes. Instead I take, and give, and take more of the angry kisses. When we finally tear our mouths apart, my body’s still reeling, and we both curse under our breaths.

  “Okay?” he pants out.

  I nod, knowing if I open my mouth, I want to fuck you, is going to come out.

  As if we’ve made a silent agreement, we walk down the pier toward the parking lot. His limp is more pronounced, and I’m sure it’s because he’s as rock hard as I am.

  “I thought the military was more accepting now,” I say to break the silence.

  “There’s a world of space between allowing gays in the military and acceptance of gay men among the troops.”

  I try to imagine what it would be like not to be able to own your sexuality as a grown man, and my mind spins back to Delilah. Her parents unknowingly did such a guilt trip on her, she’d never even experimented with women until after her parents’ tragic accident. Even then she had a hell of a time trying to move past the guilt.