Something About You

by Jerry Cole

  “Something About You”

  M/M Gay for You Romance

  Jerry Cole

  © 2019

  Jerry Cole

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.

  Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2019.10.09)

  http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Craig C., Julian White, Earleen Gregg, Bailey H.S., RB, JayBee, Jenny and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Authors Note

  Books by Jerry Cole

  Prologue

  For a coastal town, supposedly a hub of tourism, the streets were quiet when Grant’s car turned onto the main road. The streets were lined with houses, set quite far apart, and the town itself had the appearance of being in the middle of nowhere despite Grant trying to find the closest one to the coastline.

  “Why are you picking Maine?” Matt had asked over the rim of his glass. He and Seb had taken Grant out for goodbye drinks and Grant would be sad to leave them. City life didn’t have the same appeal anymore and he was looking for something more in his life.

  “It’s not just Maine,” Grant pointed out. “I was hired to write about the coastal towns. Being established doesn’t mean I get the pick of the jobs I want. I still have to take them if I want to make a living. I just happened to pick one of the harbor towns at random, that’s all.”

  Seb was squinting down at the map. Grant resisted the urge to tell him that it wasn’t going to get any bigger no matter how close he held it to his face. “Is there anything there at all?”

  “A bed and breakfast,” Grant said dryly. “A harbor. And coastline.”

  “Well. You’ve sold me already,” Matt said with a snort, sarcasm heavy.

  Grant had thumped him in the shoulder and Seb and Matt started listing the myriad ways Grant would get bored and come running home in no time at all, tail between his legs as if this was a whim and not a well thought out, new plan for his life.

  Leaving them behind the next day had been hard but Grant had driven on straight to Maine. To split up the journey, he had spent a night in Buffalo with a friend and left early the next morning, arriving in Maine just in time for dinner. His stomach had been rumbling for the past half an hour and though the usual smell of fish and chips filtered in through the window, Grant had never been a fan. There was a B&B in one of the covers, and he was hoping that whoever owned it would be able to recommend something good to eat. Unless of course they cooked their own food.

  Turning into the parking lot, empty but for a car that had so much debris on it that Grant assumed it lived there permanently and found a parking space close to the shade. Grant had enough experience with driving in the summertime to know just how hot his car was going to be if he didn’t. Shouldering his overnight bag and slipping his phone in his back pocket, he headed for the front entrance of the B&B.

  Most of the windows were open, and some of the lights were on in the downstairs rooms. The door was propped open with the vacancies sign flipped over in the window. That was one problem Grant didn’t have to worry about. He hadn’t bothered to make a reservation—something Matt and Seb would have his head for if they knew—but Grant’s opinion of being a travel writer was the freedom and uncertainty of everything. Grant and Matt had grown up camping under the stars with Matt’s dad, and that was always an option Grant was willing to take.

  The reception of the B&B was small, just a tiny desk with a ledger, a laptop and a board of room keys hanging behind it, most of which were still in their places. Grant wondered how much traffic the place must boast given its location and apparent solitude of the harbor. There was a bell just beside the laptop and though there were doors either side of the reception, one leading to what Grant could see was a dining room, the other to a hall, there didn’t seem to be anyone about.

  Pressing the bell, Grant waited.

  With no chair to sit on, he put his bag down by the desk, hovering awkwardly next to it and peering around both doors just in case he could see someone coming. When it was apparent that they were taking their time, he gave the room a cursory once over. It was sparsely decorated, mostly pictures of a young girl and an attractive brunette with dimples when he smiled. There were also a couple of pictures on the sideboard of a blonde man, the same girl on his shoulders.

  “Morgan! I’m not gonna ask you again to pick up your toys!”

  Grant stood up straighter as a man came around the corner, looking a little flustered, hair stuck at weird angles as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly. It was the brunette from
the photos, and he was even more attractive in person. Young, about Grant’s age by his own estimation, with a scar across one cheek and a half-smile. “Sorry for the wait.”

  “It’s fine,” Grant said quickly, slipping his hands out his pockets. “I was hoping you’d have space for me. I didn’t call ahead. Mostly,” he added as an afterthought, “because I didn’t know what accommodations would be here.”

  The guy nodded, moving behind the desk and giving the keys a pointed look. “I think we have a couple of rooms available.”

  Grant couldn’t help but smile. He felt awkward suddenly, too tall to be comfortable, and not sure what he should be doing with his hands. The guy was staring at him, lips quirking up as if Grant was doing something hilarious.

  “Name?”

  “Grant,” Grant said immediately. “Grant Kelly. You?”

  The guy looked bemused. “Robert.”

  Grant realized too late that he was asking for a name for record purposes. He felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment as he dug around for his wallet to distract himself. “Sorry. That was a stupid question, huh?”

  Robert smirked. “A little, but I promise not to hold it against you.”

  Grant snorted and pulled out his ID, placing it on the desk. Robert took it, scribbling down his details. “I appreciate that.”

  “What brings you to Maine? You’re Canadian right?”

  “Obvious, is it?” Grant asked, with the right amount of sarcasm. Robert snorted, and Grant shrugged easily, leaning against the desk. “The scenery,” he continued, and then realized how generic that statement was, and that Robert probably heard that too many times. “I’m a travel writer,” he amended.

  Robert’s expression shifted, but Grant didn’t know what he was thinking. “You could have picked worse places I suppose.”

  “Really selling your part of the woods there.”

  Robert shrugged easily and handed Grant back his ID along with the room key. “I assume my opinion doesn’t matter in the case of a travel writer.”

  “The opposite, actually,” Grant pointed out. “People will care why you’ve decided to open a B&B here after all.”

  There was another complicated expression on Robert’s face, but Grant again didn’t know what it meant. “Sure.”

  The atmosphere was awkward after that and Grant slipped his wallet back into his pocket. “Thanks. Which room is it?”

  “Top of the stairs,” Robert said, gesturing to the right. Third door with the tree tag.” At Grant’s look, Robert gave him a wry smile. “My daughter named the rooms. Had to have her contribute somehow.”

  “Morgan, I presume?” Grant asked gently.

  Robert looked a little startled for a moment and then huffed a laugh. “You heard me yelling at her? Constantly leaving her toys around. Thankfully nowhere near the stairs,” he said hurriedly, though Grant waved him off.

  “It’s not a problem. Kids will be kids.”

  There was a soft expression on Robert’s face for a moment and Grant’s chest constricted. Robert really was attractive. It had been a long time since Grant had found somebody appealing, distracted as he was with this new life he wanted. Shaking it off—now was not the time, and Robert clearly had someone if he had a kid—Grant thanked Robert again and waved the key. “See you around.”

  “Sure,” Robert said, and his smile was just a little forced to be genuine.

  The stairs were quite tight, no chance for two people to pass on the stairs, but once he got onto the landing, it was quite spacious. Nice decoration, if minimal and monochrome–apart from the nice chocolate carpets–and Grant found his door easily. Just as Robert had said, there was a tree tag attached to the door and TrEe Room written in children’s scrawl, the lowercase e backward. Grant laughed and pushed it open, surprised by the simplistic beauty of the room. Nice and clean, Robert clearly cared for his B&B, or the team he hired did, and it showed. The curtains were dark enough to keep out the light but didn’t detract from the room.

  Dumping his bag on the bed, Grant moved over to the window. The view was amazing; the harbor stretching out before the B&B with the surrounding woodland. The town itself nestled perfectly in the bay. Grant threw open one of the windows, breathing in the sea air, certain that this trip was going to be an improvement over his life thus far.

  “Morgan!”

  There was the sound of running feet. Grant’s door that he’d left ajar started to creak and Grant grinned, looking over his shoulder to see a tiny face appear in the gap, giving Grant a toothy grin.

  “Hi,” Grant said.

  “Hello,” Morgan said, using a whisper even though Grant suspected her father was going to find her in only a few seconds.

  “Your name’s Morgan, is that right?”

  Morgan nodded. “Daddy said you’re staying with us.”

  “Morgan,” Robert yelled before Grant could say anything. He appeared behind Morgan in the doorway looking apologetic. “What did I tell you about barging into customer’s rooms?”

  “Not to do it,” Morgan said dutifully, flushing a little. “Sorry Daddy, but we haven’t had anyone stay in ages.”

  Robert’s cheeks were tinged with pink and Grant guessed that perhaps he didn’t want people to know that. “Yes, Morgan, I know, but it’s rude.”

  “It’s all right,” Grant assured him. Expecting to feel awkward and instead finding himself wanting to assure Robert he didn’t think anything of it.

  Robert gave him a questioning look, but Grant just turned back to Morgan and bent down to be on her level.

  “What’s the beach like around here?”

  “Sand,” Morgan said enthusiastically. “Daddy and I build sandcastles sometimes. It’s awesome.”

  “I bet they’re really good ones,” Grant told her. “I’d like to see one sometime.”

  “Cool,” Morgan said, grinning again. “Do you like the beach?”

  “I haven’t been for ages,” Grant admitted. “I’ve lived in Chicago a long time.”

  “Shikako?” Morgan frowned and it was painfully cute.

  Grant smothered the laugh he wanted to let out but not the smile. “Chicago,” he repeated. “It’s a long way away. I thought the beach was a lot more fun than the city.”

  “It is!” Morgan’s eyes lit up. “Daddy brought me here when I was still a baby, but I don’t think I would like a city if there’s no beaches.”

  Grant did laugh that time, watching as Morgan looked up at her father, seeing the expression on Robert’s face and her own expression fell.

  “Sorry Daddy. I didn’t mean to disturb the man.”

  “Call me Grant,” Grant told her. “And it’s fine.”

  “Grant,” Morgan said, but took Robert’s hand when it was offered to her. Robert’s expression was difficult to read but Grant thought he could detect the hint of a smile in there.

  “See you around, Morgan.”

  “Bye.” Morgan waved as she and Robert left the room, and Grant watched them go down the hall before shutting the door.

  Chapter One

  Waking the next morning was a slow affair.

  Grant didn’t have anything to be awake for, and there was nobody to bang on his door to wake him up. Matt had told him before he left that he would get lonely eventually and come home, but Grant had always found it easy to make friends and he didn’t think the exception was going to come miles away from his home.

  Being able to take some extra hours in the morning for sleep was a luxury he had never had before, and he was going to take advantage. He was only slightly surprised that Morgan had not been making enough noise to get him up, but perhaps Robert’s admonishment the night before had taken effect.

  By the time he was washed, dressed, and ready to face the day, the smell of something cooking downstairs filtered through Grant’s door and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. Though Robert hadn’t been cooking the night before, Grant had managed to find a takeaway selling chicken – thankfu
lly saving him from the fish and chips everywhere.

  The rest of the house was silent as Grant made his way downstairs. The dining room was empty so instead of taking a seat, Grant found his way to the back of the room, where the kitchen door was propped open. The kitchen was small, barely enough room to move in, but Robert was busy at the stove, frying bacon, Morgan sitting on the counter next to him eating a piece of toast.

  “Morning,” Grant said.

  Robert jumped, clutching at his chest, and Morgan giggled. “Jesus, warn a guy.”

  “Sorry,” Grant said, holding up his hands.

  Shaking his head, Robert turned back to poking at the bacon. “No, don’t be. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention.” After a pause, he gave Grant a sidelong glance. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “I did, thank you,” Grant said. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. “How did Morgan sleep?”

  Robert looked surprised by his question, but Morgan peered around her father to grin at Grant. “Very well. Daddy said I snored, but I think he meant he was.”

  Grant laughed and Robert muttered, “Morgan,” a flush to his cheeks. “Well, I think your daddy wouldn’t know whether he snored or not, because he’s sleeping.”

  Morgan looked considering. “I didn’t think of that.”

  Robert was smiling as he slid the bacon onto a plate. As if remembering himself, he looked at Grant and then back at the bacon. “I forgot you’d want some as well.” He made a face. “We haven’t had guests in a while, like Morgan said, and you’d think I would be better at this given that it’s my business.”

  “It’s fine,” Grant assured him. He wasn’t the sort of person who made demands of the B&B or hotel where he was staying, content as long as the basics were met—and even when they weren’t, the fact that Robert was genuinely apologetic went wonders to making up for it. “I would love to.”