Table of Contents
Epilogue
The Veranda
About The Veranda
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Founding Families
The Kellys
The Bryants
The Carlisles
The Epsteins
About the Author
Author Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Rosalind Abel
Preview of the Shipwreck
Read an Excerpt from the Shipwreck
The Veranda
Rosalind Abel
Wings of Ink Publications, LLC
Contents
The Veranda
About The Veranda
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-One
22. Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Founding Families
The Kellys
The Bryants
The Carlisles
The Epsteins
About the Author
Author Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Rosalind Abel
Preview of the Shipwreck
Read an Excerpt from the Shipwreck
The Veranda
Rosalind Abel
Copyright © 2017 by Rosalind Abel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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3rd Editor: Corrine Harris
Visit Rosalind’s Webpage: RosalindAbel.com
Visit Lavender Shores: LavenderShores.com
Created with Vellum
for Devon McCormack,
who is as free with his kindness
as he is with his beauty
About The Veranda
Donovan Carlisle helps countless people in Lavender Shores with his skills as a therapist. It seems, however, that his ability to enable others to live their happiest life only works outside of himself. Donovan truly loves his life, but isn’t able to find a relationship that satisfies his heart’s craving. Maybe the problem is that the only man he wants is off-limits.
Spencer Epstein came to Lavender Shores to find himself. Instead, he married one of the local town beauties. He’d thought his prayers had finally been answered. Then, he met his pregnant fiancée’s brother. It turned out those answered prayers were just cruel twists of fate.
A decade later, after a divorce and the crumbling of all Spencer thought was set in stone, he sees his brother-in-law at a masquerade sex party. He takes full advantage of the anonymity and acts on the desires he’s held at bay all those years. The problem is, those silent and frenzied moments didn’t satiate anything. The fire and heat between the two men only grows as secrets are uncovered and they must determine if the cost of their passion is too high.
One
Donovan
Two minutes in and I needed to leave. I’d had a ton of fun two years ago, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood for a sex party. No matter how festive.
“I always figured Elle Woods was a top, but seriously? A bottom coming dressed up as Billy Elliot? Cliché much?” Paulie nudged my arm with his elbow, nearly causing me to spill my drink. “The use of the dog leash is pretty creative, though. Well, not creative, but fun. Definitely fun.”
I followed his gaze and found the pair through the wall of windows in the living room. A man in a tutu was bent over the patio table as Elle Woods fucked him from behind, every once in a while giving a tug on the dog leash wrapped around his neck. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make sense of the fuzzy brown thing bashing into Billy Elliot’s leg between thrusts. “Oh my God, is that a stuffed dog?”
Paulie giggled. “Bruiser Woods.”
“Excuse me?” I spared a glance but couldn’t keep my gaze away from the fornicating couple for too long. Maybe if I were in the right mood, the scene would be hot. But I wasn’t, and the two men playing dress-up felt like a freak show. Although, I was just as dressed up as they were. Kinda.
“Bruiser Woods. Elle’s Chihuahua.” Paulie huffed. “Are you kidding me? You’re a therapist for gay men and you don’t know your Legally Blonde characters? Obviously your clients aren’t aware of your deficiency, or they’d never pay whatever ridiculous hourly rate you charge.”
“Not all my clients are gay men, and I don’t….” I started to move away from the doorjamb I’d been leaning on when Billy Elliot’s face blossomed from red to deep purple. “Paulie, I think you might have a problem.” At that moment, Elle unwrapped the dog leash from Billy’s neck and swatted his ass. I watched for a second longer as Billy’s skin returned to a human color. I turned back to Paulie. “You sure this is a clean party? The sun’s not even down yet, and things are getting a bit carried away.”
He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “I should kick those two out. It’s only polite not to fuck outside until night, and they didn’t follow the costume rules. Neither of them even attempted a mash-up.” He winked. “But no drugs, rest assured. Only poppers and alcohol, my friend. I only play clean, rules of my house. However, I do have a tray of magic brownies hidden in the pantry, for my inner circle only. Of which, you are most definitely a part.”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I shook my head, gave a final glance at Elle and Billy, and sipped my piña colada, the straw catching on my wolf snout prosthetic. I studied Paulie. I loved the guy, and it had been a long time since we’d gotten to catch up. “Speaking of not following rules. Neither are you. You’re not even from a musical.”
Paulie sucked in a breath. “Cinderella is a musical, you bitch.” He placed his wineglass on the bookcase next to him and spun around, hiking the countless yards of fabric of his ball gown around his waist, revealing his bare ass, which he shook in my direction as he grinned over his shoulder. “I had to special order this lion tail butt plug. My musical mash-up is subtle.” He dropped his skirt and lifted his chin in a truly princess manner.
“Oh, yeah. Subtlety has always been your trademark.” I grimaced. “And dear God, I hope my niece and nephews don’t ask to watch The Lion King anytime soon. I’m pretty sure Simba is ruined for me forever.”
“You’re no fun.” Paulie zigzagged his finger over my body. “I wasn’t going to mention it, considering I love you, but what is this getup you’re wearing? And don’t think I don’t know you chose the wolf face just so no one would know who you are.”
I didn’t even consider trying to deny it. Chances were low I’d run into
someone I knew from Lavender Shores at my friend’s private party in his San Francisco mansion, but I wasn’t going to take the risk. Therapists were like preachers—people wanted to believe we were above such base desires. Even if I was a single gay man. Even if it was the beginning of Pride weekend. “I’m the wolf from Into the Woods.” I straightened my leather jacket. “And Danny Zuko from Grease.”
“Oh, sweet mother Patti LuPone. Grease? Why am I not surprised?” Paulie snatched my drink and placed it by his wine and began tugging off my jacket. I’d learned years ago to not fight him. “It’s bad enough that I had to stock pineapple juice for your ridiculous piña colada addiction, I refuse to have you pull a John Travolta. At least a boring one.” He yanked the sleeves off my arms. “Take off that ridiculous white T-shirt.”
“No, Paulie. I’m not going to stay. This was a mistake. Maybe next year.” I reached for my jacket.
He held it away, but the teasing had left his tone. “Donovan. I haven’t seen you in months. You can’t leave. You’re the one here who’s known me the longest.”
“Trying to tell me I’m old?” I attempted levity.
“No, darling. If you’re old, I’m old.” He cocked a brow and pointed at my salt-and-pepper hair with his free hand. “Though one of us is quickly qualifying as a silver fox.” He grinned. “Which goes well with the wolf face, come to think of it.” He leveled his gaze at me. “Take off the damn shirt.”
I took it off, stretching out the neck, avoiding my wolf snout. It was pointless to argue with Paulie, I wasn’t even sure why I tried.
He snatched it away, but gave me my jacket, which I put back on. “No matter what the gray might say, that body of yours could belong to a thirty-year-old.” Paulie ran a hand over my chest and down my stomach. “How is it you still don’t have a belly?” His gaze met mine, and there was a spark of longing.
If I didn’t know him so well, I wouldn’t have seen it. Maybe it was because we’d dated eons ago. Maybe it was my therapist abilities, but I saw it. And it stung. I also knew when he realized I’d noticed.
Paulie glanced over my shoulder, his gaze unfocused for a moment, then his eyes went wide. “Holy mother Patti LuPone indeed! I’ve found the man who’s going to take home my lion’s tail!”
Relieved to have his attention captured, I turned to see the poor guy who had no idea what he was in for. I spotted him instantly, though my shock made me take longer than it should’ve to turn back around. Connor Clark was a mountain of a man. Gorgeous, covered in equal measure with muscles and tattoos. Even though his face was painted green, he was easily discernible. Probably feeling my stare, he glanced my way. His eyes narrowed, he paused, checking out my body, then lifted his hazel eyes to mine again.
I whirled around and nearly hissed. “I thought you said no one from Lavender Shores was going to be here.”
Paulie still studied Connor. “That gorgeous hunk of meat is from Lavender Shores?”
“Yeah. And another member of a founding family.”
He rolled his eyes. “I swear that place is a cult with all its founding family bullshit.” His gaze traveled away, and I assumed he was watching Connor walk across the room. Thank God he wasn’t coming toward us. “I don’t know him, but I’m glad someone brought him. Now, I’m going to hunt that green-faced Elphaba down, see if he can’t help me hit the high note.”
I gripped Paulie’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t you dare. I don’t need anyone from Lavender Shores knowing I’m here right now.”
Paulie grimaced. “You know, you’re a little self-absorbed for being a therapist. Trust me, darling, I don’t plan on bringing you up while I get into that man’s pants. And don’t worry, that stupid wolf face makes you unrecognizable. Even I wouldn’t have known it was you if you weren’t drinking a piña colada and had stick-in-the-mud written all over you.” He kissed my cheek, smacked my ass, and took off to hunt his man.
After a few moments pretending to study the titles in the bookcase, I retrieved my drink from beside Paulie’s abandoned wine, and slowly turned around. Not seeing Paulie or Connor anywhere, I relaxed a bit. I spared a glance toward the lavish backyard. Elle and Elliot had vacated the area, thank God.
Despite the previously fucking couple and Paulie’s pursuit of Connor, the masquerade had yet to turn into true bathhouse quality. It was part of the reason I enjoyed attending the annual Pride kickoff party once in a while. On one hand, it was everything I stood against. Paulie’s crowd was the A-list of San Francisco gays’ A-list, but that very quality provided some safety. Lavender Shores, even if it was A-list, was a different monster entirely. And despite Connor’s presence, the two rarely crossed. And even by San Francisco standards, the guests were gay men of status. Lawyers, judges, politicians, actors, the Richie Riches of the city. Men who liked to get down and dirty just like the rest of us but held fast to the “walls never talk” rule. This was a safe place to play and still be professional the next day.
I sipped my piña colada and indulged my natural state of being; I observed. While Lavender Shores didn’t lack for cash, even its largest homes had a cozy charm to them. Not here. Paulie’s mansion was decked in gold, marble, fur, and museum-quality art. And nearly all the costumed yet half-naked men walking around, lounging on the expensive furniture, and pressing each other up against linen wallpaper, were just as exclusive. Not all had perfect bodies, but each was primped, plucked, and pampered. And like every party I’d attended, most were unrecognizable behind masks and costumes.
This could’ve been my life. Twenty years ago, I thought Paulie and I were going to be together forever. But Lavender Shores had called. Or at least a few of the people in it. And I’d been growing increasingly uncomfortable with Paulie’s and my open relationship. I didn’t have a problem with open relationships, in theory. However, as I watched the beautiful men filling Paulie’s house, the idea of one appealed to me even less than it had all those years before.
But I was single. So very, very single. And the last time I’d had sex…. I started to think back and realized just how long it had been. Whoa. I’d be lucky if I could even remember what went where.
I should take the opportunity. It would be my only chance during Pride. I had to be back in Lavender Shores for the next two days. And I didn’t sleep around at home. Ever.
The idea left me feeling lonely. I couldn’t even pinpoint why. Maybe the thought of what could’ve been with Paulie all these years… no. No, that train of thought didn’t go to happy places. Who knew why? Some therapist I was. Couldn’t even determine the source of my own emotions. But I knew enough that I should listen to them.
With a sigh, I left my spot by the bookcase, paused to grab Paulie’s wine, and took the glasses to the bar in the ballroom. Yeah, ballroom. Something the homes in Lavender Shores definitely didn’t have. I’d made the right decision moving home after Paulie. Even if I didn’t feel like it at this very moment.
I considered trying to find Paulie before I left. He’d carried off my T-shirt. But if he’d convinced Connor to free him of his lion’s tail, then I needed to stay away. I could zip up my jacket and be fine. Hell, I could stop by a Target on my way home and pick up a shirt if I was that worried about it.
Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. I’d had a couple drinks. I could take a cab to purchase a shirt and by the time I was back, I’d be more than fine to make the hour drive back to Lavender Shores.
I was in the process of zipping up my jacket and had almost made it to the front door when a man stepped in my path and put his hand on my chest. A white Phantom of the Opera mask covered half his face. The other side was striped with tan, white, and black makeup and fur. Cat ears protruded from his dark brown hair. Phantom of the Opera and Cats. He was a walking Andrew Lloyd Webber wet dream. This was the man Paulie should be with. They were his favorite musicals. I hated everything Webber did.
My brain told my body to step around him. I was heading home. Well, I was going to sober up and head hom
e. My body didn’t listen. And I was pretty sure the Phantom-Cat man’s body was to blame. Or maybe it was the cat portion, as I could swear he was giving off pheromones. Whatever was happening chemically was helped along by the sight of him. He wore a long black cape and black pants, but in between? Solid muscle, tan skin, completely hairless. Primped and plucked and pampered—and in this case, obviously waxed clean. Though I typically liked a man with a hairy chest like my own, there was something about the hidden face combined with the suit pants and the cape framing his body that made the smooth skin intoxicating.
Or maybe it was the touch of his hand on my chest.
It had been so long since I’d been touched. Though Paulie had put his hand to my chest in a similar way only minutes before, this was different. There was heat in this man’s touch... desire. And force. There wasn’t a request as he pushed against me with one hand and used his other to roam over my stomach muscles. It was a demand.
Following his lead without even thinking, I stepped backward until I hit the wall of the foyer. We were the only two people in the entrance, and I glanced out the oval glass of the front door. Dusk was falling, and I had no doubt that with the lighting of the house, we were completely visible from the street. The high-walled backyard was one thing, but a street show?
My hesitation was cut off as the man gripped both sides of my jacket, pulled it over my shoulders and down to my elbows, trapping my arms at my sides. Simultaneously, he lowered his head and captured my left nipple between his teeth, causing me to hiss. Then he released it and ran his tongue over my chest and up my neck.
The Veranda (Lavender Shores Book 3) Page 1