Leaning Into Always: Eric and Zane part 2 (Leaning Into Stories Book 1)
Page 7
“That was me,” Nick said in a low voice. “The bad breakup. You probably knew that, though.”
Dean raised his brow in what passed for sincere surprise. “Uh…no. I didn’t. Sorry. I wouldn’t have said anything if—”
“Hey! The Giants just scored. Woohoo!” Josh jumped in front of Nick and held up his hand for a high-five. It was a desperate effort to lighten the mood, but we collectively grasped it, knowing there was no other way to defuse the faux pas without creating tension.
I pulled Nick with me and flopped on the sofa, aware of multiple conversations happening at once. Josh ordering takeout as he paced behind me, Dean and Zane chatting with Grant about their day on the Bay while Nick stewed unhappily beside me. I told myself to remain calm. Now was not the time to draw conclusions. I didn’t like the idea of Dean, Don, and Zane spending time together any more than Nick did, but the fact they did wasn’t a sign of collusion. It was just…annoying as fuck.
Zane and I agreed early on to confront any issues between us before they grew unmanageable. We’d been together for less than a year, but we’d been good friends for ages. And good friends knew how to communicate. Or so I assumed.
“This isn’t about taking sides, Er. It’s about you deciding I’m guilty,” Zane said irritably before handing over the toothpaste and then brushing his teeth.
“Of what?” I glowered.
He spit into the sink and paused to say, “You tell me!”
I pointed my toothbrush at his chest and clenched my jaw. “Befriending the enemy.”
The second the words left my mouth, I knew they’d be tricky to argue successfully. I ducked my head and gave my utmost attention to the art of applying toothpaste to a brush. I nearly had the perfect swirl at the end, but Zane’s incredulous gasp ruined it. He rinsed his mouth hurriedly and then smacked his hand on the marble countertop, startling me a second time.
“And who exactly is the enemy in the scenario?”
“Dean and Don. Known enemies of the state!” I declared around my toothbrush.
“What?” He waited for me to rinse and repeat before shaking his head and crossing his arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are we really doing this again?”
“Maybe we are,” I snarled. “I can’t believe he brought up Lisa in front of Nick. Don’t tell me it was an accident.”
“Dean spoke out of turn, but I highly doubt it was malicious. He apologized to Nick later. You heard him.”
“Hmph. He knew exactly what he was doing.”
I wiped my mouth on the hand towel then took a sip of water, set the glass down, and turned toward him. I wished I hadn’t. Zane had looked annoyed in the mirror but something closer to pissed off face-to-face. His sun-streaked hair fell over his right brow sweetly but did nothing to soften his expression or mask the tension radiating from him. I might have joked that he resembled a modern-day Viking sometimes. Sue me. The formidable warrior who was rough, commanding, and sexy as fuck was the stuff of my warped fantasies. Perhaps that was why my dick twitched in my boxer briefs. I hoped he didn’t notice. He’d think I was a freak for getting turned on during an argument.
“I’ve explained in depth the nature of my business with both Dean and Don. It isn’t personal,” he said wearily.
“Dean isn’t just business!” I threw my hands in the air in frustration.
“Come on, Er! I’m not interested in him at all. You know that,” he said, clearly exasperated.
“He’s interested in you.”
“No, he isn’t. This is a job. Nothing more.”
“Maybe to you, but I’ve seen how he looks at you. He wants a repeat of high school.” I sighed, crossing my arms to mirror his pose.
“He doesn’t, but…even if he did, I’m not interested in him that way. Do I really need to say it over and over?” he asked softly.
I dropped my hands to my sides and shook my head, feeling more than a little ashamed and embarrassed. “No. I’m sorry. I—I have too much on my plate. My mind is going a million miles an hour between work and the wedding plans and…I wasn’t excited to see Dean tonight. Again.”
“Again, huh?”
“Whatever. I don’t like him and I can’t wait until you find Don fucking Carrigan his boat so this is over,” I huffed.
Zane arched his brow and then raked his hand through his hair. And yeah, those flexed muscles, taut abs and the hint of his V-line caught my eye, but it was the subtle change in his expression that made me do a double take. Irritation gave way to understanding. Frustration gave way to compassion. And under it all was love. Just love.
I gulped when he closed the distance between us and set his hand on my bare hip, slipping his fingers under the elastic of my briefs.
“I found the boat he wants,” he said.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“You were giving me the stink eye all night. It threw me off my game.” He covered my mouth with his free hand before I could apologize or defend myself. “I’m going to explain how this is going to work, but I need you to listen without jumping down my throat. Agreed?”
I let out a deep breath. “I knew there was a catch.”
“There’s no catch. It’s procedure. The boat is in Half Moon Bay. It’s identical to the one we sailed today. Dean knows the owner so he’s going to get the ball rolling for me.”
“Why can’t you go yourself tomorrow? You don’t need him.”
“Actually, I do. It’s Tuesday. I have a regatta to train for this weekend. I can’t go anywhere until after the final race. My plan is to get a ride there and sail the boat home.” He paused for a moment then added, “With Dean.”
“Why Dean? Can’t it be anyone else? Can’t it—I’ll do it. I want to go,” I blurted.
Zane let out an amused half laugh and smiled. “Thank you for offering, but I need an experienced—”
“I’m experienced! I go with you all the time. I know how to tie knots and move the sail thing. I can be helpful,” I insisted.
“ ‘Move the sail thing’ is a new technical term, right?” he joked as he reached to cradle my chin and scratch my jaw lovingly. “Look, it’s a long day at sea. This isn’t a pleasure cruise, it’s work and—”
“Got it. I’m up for the job.”
Zane narrowed his gaze slightly. “What about your own job? Can you take Monday off?”
The answer, of course, was no. As in no way in hell could I afford to take a precious weekday to ride shotgun up the California coast on a whim. It was ridiculous to even suggest such a thing. I clearly wasn’t thinking straight and somewhere in my hazy mind, I was aware Zane was humoring me, surely thinking I’d bust up laughing at the very idea. But I couldn’t let it go and if he let me tag along, I was determined to follow.
“Sure.”
He stepped backward and studied me for a long moment before giving a short nod. “Okay, you’re on.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, clenching my fist victoriously.
“Not so fast, Popeye,” Zane said, recrossing his arms. “Be prepared for a long, hard day. As the least experienced crew member, you’ll be expected to take orders and obey without question. Capisce?”
“Aye aye, Cap’n.” I saluted him with a wicked grin and then lowered my briefs, anxious to move on to a more mutually satisfying past time. “Long and hard, eh?”
Zane snorted then reached around me to open his medicine cabinet. I was pretty confident he was looking for the lube, but he held up his dental floss, cut off a strand and tossed the container on the counter before stepping aside. “Yep. Assuming I can take care of the sale portion this week, we’ll head to Half Moon Bay Sunday night and set sail Monday morning.”
“It’s only a forty-five-minute drive from the city to Half Moon Bay. There’s no way it’ll take all day,” I said confidently.
“Not all day, but it’ll be a few hours. The sea is rough around the point and the fog can be unpredictable. It’s vital to study the charts ahead of time and…”
“I bet it’s wet out there,” I interrupted.
“Well, yeah. There’s a little water involved,” he quipped.
“This much?” I dipped my fingers in my water glass and flicked them at him.
Zane held my stare in the mirror and then rolled his eyes. “More or less.”
“How about this?” I dumped most of the water down the drain but left a quarter of an inch in the glass and held it up for inspection.
Zane slowly turned to face me with a somewhat dangerous look in his eye. “I would advise you not to throw that at me.”
“I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing,” I scoffed then waited a half a beat before I flung the contents at his chest.
He was on me so fast, I barely had time to brace myself when he lifted me onto the counter and stepped between my legs.
“You looking for trouble, Er?”
I met his mischievous grin. “What d’ya got?”
Zane palmed my cock and stroked me from base to tip. The lecherous look in his eye promised the kind of trouble that would block out any unpleasantness like creepy high school lovers with flashback crushes and the impending voyage I’d signed up for that had to be the product of momentary madness. This was real. This man, this moment. And he had a delicious way of reminding me of what was truly important. All I had to do was lean in.
6
The boat was docked in Pillar Point Harbor. Even a novice like me could tell La Bella was a beauty. Her hull was a stunning cherry red veneer and the decks were a gorgeous teak. There were three sails of varying sizes at the front, middle, and rear, which was different from most of the other sailboats I’d been on with Zane. Otherwise, the general layout was familiar. The helm was in the back, or the stern as we sailors called it, near a set of steps leading to the living quarters below. There was a built-in settee with a table and a miniature kitchen and two private bunks. Every detail was luxurious, from the leather cushions and highly polished surfaces to the nautical lighting and kitschy pulls and levers. She was shiny, new, and really fucking expensive.
It killed me to know this was where Don Carrigan chose to reinvest the money he’d pulled from EN Tech. I wondered if Zane told him I was part of the crew delivering his new baby to the San Francisco Bay. Probably not, I mused as I checked my emails. I’d worked like hell to keep my schedule as clear as possible, but we had three major deals set to close before the end of the month, which usually called for impromptu conference calls and intense renegotiations. I couldn’t rely on anyone else to make major decisions in my absence. Not today anyway. Nick was frighteningly one-tracked when he became consumed by a project. Barb and Miles could hold down the fort. Our secretaries knew their stuff. But it would be nice to have one more chat about the upcoming workweek before we set sail.
I glanced at the time on my cell screen: 7:57 a.m. Miles would be at his desk soon and—
“Give me your phone.”
“Excuse me?” I slipped my cell into my windbreaker pocket and shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Hand it over now,” Zane commanded, holding his hand open expectantly.
“If Miles needs to reach me—”
“He won’t. I reminded him about my ‘no cell’ policy when I called you at work the other day. He knows you aren’t going to be available today.”
I furrowed my brow indignantly when he snatched my cell from my pocket. “But if—”
“No ifs. You’re in my office now. You play by my rules.”
“You sound so…strict. That’s kinda hot,” I purred, raking my fingers down the front of his navy pullover.
He was dressed in what I referred to as his “sailing uniform,” along with khaki pants and topsiders. Zane never wore jeans if he was sailing for work. I didn’t know if it was his personal dress code or an unspoken one amongst serious nautical types. Now wasn’t the time to ask. His “don’t fuck around” expression didn’t bode well for non-essential questioning.
Zane captured my wrist and squeezed it meaningfully. “Eric, I love you and you know I love being with you, but this isn’t going to be a fun trip. The ocean is choppy around the point and it’s always rough in this stretch. My attention will be on safely navigating us home. And to do that, I need full cooperation. If I say ‘jump,’ the only response I’ll accept is ‘how high?’ ”
“You better wrap up your pep talk. I’m getting hard,” I whispered.
Zane chuckled then slung his arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “You make me nuts, Schuster. Are you wearing your seasick bracelet?”
“Yeah.” I pulled back my sleeve to show him the simple black band around my wrist. “Maybe I should take Dramamine as a backup. Do you have any?”
“No, but”—he waved to someone behind me—“Dean may. Hey, man, ready to go?”
I watched their bro handshake, willing myself to shake off the familiar irritation as I greeted the third member of our party.
“Hi, Dean,” I said. “Got Dramamine?”
“Uh…no. Hi.” Dean squinted at me as though he wasn’t sure he was seeing correctly. “I didn’t know you’d be here. You’re coming with us?”
Zane answered before I got there. “Yep. Eric played hooky to spend a day at sea with us. He’s agreed to assist when needed and to stay out of the way when he’s not. Right, babe?”
“Right. I brought a book, but I’m willing to help however I can,” I assured him with a smile. “I’ll be useless if I’m seasick, though. Do you have anything in case this bracelet doesn’t work?”
“Oh. No, but I know where you can find some.” He cast a funny look between us then inclined his head toward the building closest to the dock. “I’ll go with you. It’ll be faster that way.”
“Thanks. Make it snappy. I’m ready to go.” Zane clapped then turned to talk to a couple of men standing near the boat who I assumed were going to help push us out to sea. I took a moment to admire his confident swagger before hurrying after Dean.
I made idle conversation as we headed toward what looked like a small tack shop. I’d already made up my mind to be as cordial as possible to Dean for Zane’s sake. There was no point in making the day any more miserable than necessary.
I smiled at the craggy-faced older gentleman behind a battered counter, noting his scraggly beard and the copious tats on his arms. He reminded me of a character from a Hemingway novel. Or a real sailor. Not the country club set who wore water-proof Rolexes and belonged to exclusive clubs up and down the coast. If he hadn’t chuckled when I asked if he sold seasick pills, I might have liked the guy.
“Where you headin’?” he asked when I handed over a twenty.
“To San Francisco.”
“Nice ride all in all, but you’re sailin’ against the wind. Is it your first time?” His eyes sparked with humor that assured me the question was rhetorical. He knew I was a landlubber.
“No. Well, yes. I’ve never sailed this far before,” I admitted, stuffing the change into my pocket.
“It’s not the distance so much. It’s the current, the fog, the weather. The only thing you’ve got going for you today is there won’t be any rain. The rest”—he smiled widely, showing off the gap between his yellowed front teeth—“maybe these magic pills will take care of that.”
On some level, I knew he was playing with me but if Zane hadn’t taken my cell, I would have called my ride then and there. This was beyond stupid and I didn’t need the old man from the sea to tell me so. I thanked him politely then turned toward the door and immediately bumped into Dean. He held the door but didn’t say anything until we were outside.
“Hang on. I’m gonna take one of these now. I just need water.” I rummaged in my backpack, talking to mysel
f as I sifted through my things and planned my speech to Zane. I couldn’t do this. I’d tell him I forgot an important meeting or—
“He’s really marrying you, eh?” Dean mumbled.
His eyes were locked on the platinum band on my right hand. Zane slipped it on my finger the night he’d asked me to marry him on the cliff overlooking the Bay. The plan was to switch it to my left hand on our wedding day when I gave him his ring too.
In spite of his caustic tone, my smile was automatic. I would happily recount that story to anyone who asked. Even Dean. But when I looked over at him, I knew he wasn’t congratulating me. He was wondering what the fuck his friend was thinking.
“Yes,” I replied shortly. “We should—”
“I don’t get it. You’re not his type. It’s gotta be the money. You probably have connections too. But still…it’s a head scratcher. He’s out of your league, Sherbert,” he snorted derisively.
It took me a second to recover from the attack. It was unexpected and casually vicious. And paired with a nickname I hadn’t heard aloud in thirteen years, it affected me far more than it should have. I was catapulted back in time to the darkest days of high school when derogatory names were the least offensive thing I worried about. I’d had pages from textbooks glued together, Post-it notes stuck to the back of my shirt with crudely-drawn penises or “kick me” scrawled on them. I’d been tripped, knocked into lockers, and yes…in third-grade, I’d been gifted with a nickname that was so silly, it was laughable. Except for the part that it followed me through grade school, junior high, and every fucking year of high school.
Dean was two years older than me. I barely said two words to him back then but his sister sat next to me in a few classes. She’d hung with the popular crowd so needless to say, we weren’t close buddies but she was cool. She was a pretty, petite blonde who’d stood out because she was always kind and she was one of the few who never called me Sherbert.
To hear that silly taunt all these years later from a grown adult was almost laughable. It told me more about him than me. He was an idiot. A jealous one, no less.