Anna Martin's Single Dads Box Set: Summer Son - Helix - The Color of Summer

by Anna Martin

  “Almost,” James agreed. “Come and cuddle me.”

  Dylan laughed, not bothering to hide it. “Only for a minute. I got sandwiches delivered.”

  James’s stomach gave a convincing rumble in response.

  “Okay. Quick cuddle, then food.”

  “Or I could bring lunch in here, and I could cuddle you while you eat?” Dylan paused, and shook his head at himself. “I can’t believe I just used the word cuddle.”

  “You are the snuggliest, cuddliest, squidgiest person I know,” James said with great sincerity.

  “I hate you,” Dylan said unconvincingly as he turned to go back to the kitchen.

  “I love you,” James called after him.

  They figured out how to do both; Dylan leaning back against the headboard, with James between his legs, leaning into Dylan’s chest as he worked his way through an enormous deli sandwich. He didn’t use the word perfection very often, but this wasn’t far off.

  “How was the exam?” Dylan asked.

  “Good,” James said around a mouthful of bread and meat and cheese. Dylan had ordered him a Reuben. His favorite. He swallowed and washed it down with Coke. “I’m so glad it’s over, though. My brain is about to start leaking out of my ears.”

  “You get to start applying for jobs, now,” Dylan teased.

  James huffed a laugh. “I know. Hopefully I can find some poor, unsuspecting grade school that would love a freshly qualified male teacher.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  They’d talked before, at length, about what they were going to do when James graduated. He wasn’t in any particular rush to move back to Forest Heights. Neither was he fixed on staying in San Diego. Dylan was in a good position to move wherever James got a job, and that had been their plan for a while now. James would finish his education, find a job, and Dylan would either find a garage near whatever school James wound up working at or he’d open his own.

  That was still very much Dylan’s long-term plan, to open a garage that he could build and grow into as much of a local institution as Joe’s was in Forest Heights. He was a patient man, unlike James.

  “You put your life on hold for me,” James said softly, tipping his head back onto Dylan’s shoulder.

  “I don’t see it like that.”

  “But you did.”

  “No,” Dylan said. “I’ve got experience, I’m good at my job, and I have enough saved to put a deposit down on a house for us to live in together. That’s not passively letting my life pass me by, James. I’ve been laying the foundation for what comes next.”

  “We’re going to live together,” James said. He wriggled out from between Dylan’s legs so he could turn and face him.

  “We are.”

  “You’re probably going to kill me within a week.”

  “If you don’t learn how to put your clothes away, I definitely am.”

  James laughed. “I’m house trained, I promise.”

  “Good,” Dylan said and poked him in the knee. “It’s going to be amazing.”

  James grinned and leaned forward for a kiss. “I think so too.”

  The Color of Summer

  by Anna Martin

  www.annamartin-fiction.com

  © 2020 Anna Martin

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  First edition May 2019 (Dreamspinner Press)

  Second (revised) edition June 2020

  Cover Art © 2020 Reese Dante www.reesedante.com

  Characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any person depicted on the cover of this book is a model and is not affiliated with, nor do they endorse, this story.

  Chapter 1

  The sun was just starting to set when Max passed the sign for Sweetwater, West Virginia. The sky was glowing over the top of the mountains with the pinks and blues and purples of the beautiful spring afternoon.

  Max had been driving for most of the day, taking a circuitous route home with the most important of his possessions tied down in the bed of his truck. It was a recent purchase, the reliable Ford pickup; he’d traded in the shiny Mercedes he used to own. He figured there wasn’t much use for a Mercedes in Sweetwater, and the truck was far more practical.

  He whistled along to the radio, a station playing bluegrass, as the warm air whipped in through the open windows. The whole scene felt idyllic—right up until he got pulled over by a local cop.

  Great. This was all he needed.

  Max wriggled his wallet out of his jeans as the guy ambled over.

  “License and insurance?”

  “I don’t have my insurance papers with me,” Max said, handing his license through the open window.

  The cop took the card and looked at it for a second.

  “Holy shit, Max?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Tyler. Tyler Reed.” He took a step back so Max could see him properly, instead of just the middle of his tan shirt.

  “Oh my God, Tyler,” Max said with a laugh. He hadn’t seen Tyler in years, which was strange now he thought about it, since Max had spent so much time around him as a kid. “How are you?”

  “I’m good, man.”

  Max hopped out of the truck and pulled Tyler into a hug, realizing a moment too late that maybe it was too much. Tyler was a cop, after all.

  Max had known Tyler Reed since he was five years old and Tyler was nine. Tyler was the big brother of Max’s childhood best friend, Shaun. Max was sure he and Shaun had been the worst pain in Tyler’s ass, from their bratty childhood to awkward teenage years.

  Tyler smacked his back in the perfect bro-hug, then stepped away again.

  “I’m not sure I can give you a ticket now,” Tyler joked. “Try not to speed past a cop car next time you come home, hmm?”

  “Sorry,” Max said, wincing. “How the hell did you end up working as a small-town cop?”

  “Deputy,” Tyler corrected. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead, revealing heavy eyebrows and pretty gray eyes that crinkled at the corners.

  Max’s stomach fluttered. Not now, he scolded himself.

  “Not like there’s much else to do around here. Did Shaun not tell you?”

  “He might have mentioned it.”

  Tyler shook his head and grinned. “Great. My own brother doesn’t even talk about me. I didn’t realize my life was that boring.”

  “I’m sure it’s not,” Max said. He leaned back against the truck and took in Tyler from top to toe. There was a lot to admire. Hoo, boy. “I’m moving back to Sweetwater. Did he tell you that?”

  “What? No. Typical Shaun.”

  Max laughed. “It really is. I left Pittsburgh this morning, so my welcome party is officially being pulled over by a cop. Sorry—deputy.”

  “There’s a story for the grandkids.”

  Like Shaun and the rest of the Reed clan, Tyler had thick dark hair that he wore neatly styled. These days he was sporting facial hair that didn’t seem to know if it was overgrown stubble or a full-on beard, but it framed his strong jaw nicely. Tyler’s shoulders were broad and his biceps peeked out from under the short sleeves of his uniform shirt, and Max had to force himself not to stare at those arms. Tyler certainly gave him plenty to look at.

  “It must have been….”

  “Fifteen years?” Max offered.

  “Not quite. I’m sure I saw you at Thanksgiving or Christmas one year.”

  “And there was that one summer I came home from college to work with John instead of staying in Pennsylvania.”

  “Right.” Tyler nodded. “I joined the sheriff’s department about six years ago. How’s your mom, anyway?”

  “I spoke to her last night, and she sounded good,” Max said, touched that Tyler knew what had happened. “Her physical therapy is going well, and she’s back at work.”<
br />
  “For a couple of days now,” Tyler agreed. “So I heard. I offered to give her a ride because she can’t drive again yet, but she said she could get a ride with John or her neighbors.”

  “Yeah.” Max grinned. “It seems to be working out.”

  “I’m glad. You’re looking good, man,” Tyler said, crossing his arms over his chest. Max let his mind play out a pretty fantasy where Tyler was checking him out. Ha. No. Unlikely. “I like the tattoos.”

  “Thanks.” Max was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, so the tattoos that went all the way down to his wrists were out on show. “I’m actually going to open my own shop.”

  “A tattoo shop? Here in Sweetwater?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Dude,” Tyler drawled and shook his head. “You’re going to have fun with that.”

  Max pressed his tongue into his cheek and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t mind being controversial.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” Tyler handed Max back his license. “I should get going.”

  “We should catch up sometime,” Max said. “Go for a beer or something.”

  “That would be good,” Tyler said, nodding slowly. “Here, let me give you my number.”

  Max pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it so Tyler could tap in his number. “I’ll call you so you have mine.”

  “My phone’s in the car, but I’ll check it later. And I’ll text you. That beer sounds good.”

  “See you around, Tyler,” Max said.

  “Yeah. See you around.”

  Max pulled into the convenience store just long enough to grab a six-pack of beer and a bunch of flowers on his way to his mom’s house. He selfishly hoped no one recognized him; he was tired, his eyes itchy from driving all day. He didn’t really want to go through long explanations on what he was doing back home, especially with half his possessions in the truck. Those conversations could wait until after he’d seen his mom. Fortunately the guy at the register looked about thirteen, though he was almost certainly older, and didn’t know who Max was.

  The town was small and old, one of the few mining towns that had managed to turn their fortunes around. People in this part of the country had hiked and hunted and fished for hundreds of years, appreciating the wide-open beauty Mother Nature had granted them.

  Back when mining jobs started to dry up, someone in town had the good idea to launch a PR campaign, and Sweetwater built an entire new industry from scratch in the beauty of the West Virginia country. Now it was a tourist hotspot, attracting city folk who wanted to reconnect with nature.

  Max slowed down as he turned onto the residential street he grew up on. Most of the houses along here were low, single-story, set back from the road and with no fences separating them. The houses without trucks parked on the front lawn were the exception rather than the rule, and big old trees stretched out, taking up space between the utility poles.

  It was exactly like Max remembered.

  The sun had set now, dusk heavy in the air, and he rolled the windows back up before he parked the truck. The house he’d been raised in was at the end of the long road, near the edge of the park and the lake. Not that they owned a lakeside home; they weren’t wealthy enough for that.

  It was a comfortable, two-story house, painted cornflower blue with white shutters and a wide front porch. That was where Max found his mom, in the rocking chair Max had bought her years ago, a book open on her lap. Waiting for him. Max parked haphazardly on the front lawn, leaped out of the truck, and jogged over to throw himself into his mother’s arms.

  “Oh, you’re home!” she exclaimed, holding him close.

  “Yeah, I’m home,” he murmured. It didn’t matter that he was a foot taller than her now, Max let himself be wrapped in the comfort only his mother could provide. When she finally stepped back, Max studied her for a moment, reassuring himself that she was okay. When she sat down again, he fetched his backpack from the truck, along with the beer and flowers, and took a seat on the porch next to his mom so he could catch up with her. The evening was turning cool, but that didn’t matter; Max just pulled on a sweatshirt. His mom had a blanket on her lap, clearly not wanting to leave the porch either.

  “I’ve already put a security deposit down on the shop,” Max said, sipping his beer. He relished the cool fizz on his tongue. “The landlord said if I decide I don’t want it, then he’ll refund it, so I didn’t mind.”

  “Where is that? I know you told me, but I forgot.”

  “Right off Main Street,” he said. “On Patriot.”

  She nodded. “It used to be a phone store for a while. Then they opened a bigger one at the mall.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “When will you go look at it?”

  “Tomorrow,” Max said, sure of that. “I can’t afford to be out of work for long, so I want to make some decisions and get moving.”

  “You’re going to be all right, though? With your savings?”

  “It’ll be fine,” Max said. It really would. Sure, he had student loans to repay, but he’d lived with roommates since he left home to save money, and had been careful in saving up for the past few years. He’d been preparing for this without even realizing it.

  “I can’t believe you’re really home.”

  “I am,” he said, wanting her to believe it. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? Who’s asking you to be sorry?”

  Max looked over at her and grinned. He’d been told all his life that he looked like his mom; they shared the same wavy light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her name was Ginger, but she wasn’t a redhead. Instead she wore fall colors year round—soft amber and tan and warm, rich reds. Her style suited her perfectly. She was just as warm as she dressed.

  Max’s dad had left when Max was a kid, so he’d grown up close with his mother. She’d remarried when he was eighteen to the man who’d been a surrogate parent to him before and since. John was out with a camping group and wouldn’t be back for a few days.

  “I’m going to get out from under your feet as soon as I can,” Max continued.

  “Don’t be silly. You know you can stay here for as long as you like.”

  “You say that now,” Max said, stretching his legs out until his knees popped. Then he yawned loud and long, not really tired, but appreciating the chance to finally relax. “But you’ll soon get sick of me.”

  “I could never get sick of you, Max.”

  “Still. If the shop works out, then there’s an apartment above it, so that might work.”

  “Don’t rush,” she said. “Life moves slower here. You don’t need to make hasty decisions.”

  “Okay.”

  It hadn’t been a hasty decision to move home—Max had agonized over it for weeks. After his mom had a stroke, he took a few weeks off work to be with her while she started the recovery process. Going back to Pittsburgh after that had been hard, and he’d never really settled back into life there.

  Max hadn’t been in a serious relationship for a couple of years, but a guy he was casually dating turned out to be a bitch when Max broke things off, and the whole experience left a sour taste in his mouth. When he’d sat down with his mentor and boss to discuss what he wanted to do next, it had been Buzz who suggested he might want to branch out on his own. Opening his own shop had always been in Max’s long-term plans, and Buzz had helped him put together a solid business plan to take to the bank for a startup loan. That, as much as anything else, had given him the confidence to do it.

  Now Max had to take his fine art degree, plus seven years of tattoo experience working under some of the best mentors he could hope for, and make it work. The fact that he could do it in the town where he grew up, close to his mom again, was icing on the cake.

  His mom reached over and took his hand. “I made up your bed for you with clean sheets, so you can go up whenever you like.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” He turned her hand over to admire her nail polish—a sof
t coral that matched the season.

  “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Me too,” he said, squeezing it lightly. And he meant it.

  Chapter 2

  “Juniper, we are leaving this house in five minutes,” Tyler yelled. “Put your shoes on right now!”

  Instead of any verbal answer, he got a loud thud from the top of the stairs. Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. Then he went back into the kitchen to finish packing their lunches and at the last minute remembered to grab a packet of chicken from the freezer to defrost so they’d have something to eat for dinner. He didn’t know what he was going to do with the chicken yet; that was a dilemma for later.

  “Juniper!” he yelled again as he exited the kitchen.

  “I’m right here, Dad.”

  “Oh,” he said, practically stumbling to a stop.

  His daughter had taken to dressing herself now she was in first grade, with varying levels of success. Today she was wearing gray leggings with pink cats on them and a pink sweater with a giant sequined heart. He was pretty sure his sister, Dana, had bought her the outfit.

  “Brushed your teeth?”

  She grinned at him, baring her teeth.

  “Hair?”

  “I’ll do it in the car.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Mornings were a struggle.

  At least his daughter still thought it was cool that she got dropped off for school in her dad’s squad car. Tyler was pretty sure the day would come where she considered it painfully embarrassing.

  There were all sorts of different hair accessories in the car, which often caused interesting conversations when Tyler was transporting someone in the back of it. If it meant one of their morning chores got done, though, Tyler didn’t care.

  “Here,” he said when he pulled into the drop-off lane. There was a line, so he had a few seconds. “Scoot around.”

  June had done a good job of brushing her hair; it was long and thick, like his own. Tyler scraped it up into a ponytail and secured it with a pink sparkly elastic band.