Page 23 of Leather and Longing (Island Tales #3)

Chapter Nineteen

Adam gripped his cane and stood by the door while Paul locked it. The rolling in his stomach hadn’t disappeared, and his mouth was still dry.

Why am I nervous?

It was a walk, for God’s sake. A stroll down a sloping path to a bay he hadn’t visited for years, with tons of people milling around because they were in the middle of August. Small children whose only aim in life was to trip him up and send him crashing to the ground, making him lose both his cane and his dignity…

Yeah, he had plenty to be nervous about.

“Ready?” Paul was at his side.

No, not at all, he wanted to whine. But it was too late for that. He’d gotten this far, he could manage a stupid walk.

Paul’s hand was at his lower back, oddly comforting. “I’ll be right here. I’m your eyes, okay?”

Thank God. Paul got it. This was a big deal. “Now I’m ready.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

They walked up the front path, crunching across the gravel until the gradient changed, and Adam knew they were climbing the driveway to join the lane.

He was conscious of Paul at his side, ready if he were needed but allowing him some independence.

It was the one thing Adam had hated when he’d first lost his sight—those people who continually took his arm without asking.

If Adam wanted help, he’d ask for it.

“Hang on while I open the gate.”

He stood still while Paul unfastened it, the metal hinges grinding as it was opened. Paul guided him through a gap and Adam stood once more while the gate was secured.

“Which path would you find easiest to negotiate?”

Adam brought to mind the two access routes: a set of steep steps with an iron railing, narrow, difficult to walk two abreast, or the sloping path, steep in two main sections that led to the far end of the bay.

That made him think: the steps would mean walking along the promenade to reach the café.

More opportunities to meet with disaster.

“The path to the Beach Shack.” It was a no brainer.

“Fine.” Paul guided him along a small stretch of the lane, up to the juncture where he knew the two paths met. “There’s a steep part here.”

They carried on, Adam taking it slowly, relieved Paul was in no hurry.

The sound of the waves below, apparent as soon as they’d set foot outside the house, grew louder as they descended.

It reminded Adam of the wind brushing through trees.

He took small steps, his cane constantly sweeping in an arc before him, taking in the width of the path.

The going got a little easier for a while, until Adam froze at the sound of voices ahead of them.

“It’s a group of four walkers coming down the steps from the Botanic gardens,” Paul informed him quietly. “We’ll let them go first, okay?”

Adam gave a grateful nod, coming to a standstill, Paul’s hand at his back. He listened as the group’s lively chatter grew fainter. A slight pressure at his back and they continued forward.

“Remember the covered part of the path, where it’s grown over, before it turns left?”

Adam did. “I know, I have to duck.” He didn’t want to catch his head in the branches. Once they were through, Paul stopped him.

“This is the steepest part of the path. There’s a railing to your right if you need it. I’ll go first. Small steps, yeah?”

He nodded, conscious of the irony. This whole episode was one fucking huge step, as far as he was concerned. As they turned left, what struck Adam immediately was the sound of the sea and the salty breeze that hit him in the face.

I’ve missed this.

“The tide’s in, isn’t it?” Adam could tell: he heard the loud crash of waves hitting the rocks, followed by the squeals of children and adults alike.

“Yes. The waves are really rolling in. It’s a great day to be out there surfing.”

Adam caught the wistful edge to Paul’s voice. “Do you surf?” There was so much he had to learn about his assistant.

“Yeah. My friend Taylor has a house down here in the bay. He runs a water sports equipment rental business. He and I go out on boards whenever we can.”

The name struck a chord. “Taylor. The same Taylor you were speaking with on the phone the night I?” It was on the tip of his tongue.

The night I fucked you.

Adam snapped his mouth shut. This was not the time for such reminders.

Paul spluttered out a cough. “We’re here.”

In other words, Adam, shut up, there are people around.

Adam got the unspoken message. He steeled himself for the sensory onslaught, the prospect of meeting people. “Let’s have some lunch, shall we?”

No going back now.

Paul looked into the café, assessing the number of people already seated outside. The tables next to the railing were all occupied, but a group of five or six adults was walking toward them, clearly having vacated a table. The café was starting to fill.

“I think we’re in luck,” he told Adam who was standing by the high stools, just inside the entrance to the café. “There’s a table just been freed up.” He had no idea if the others were there yet and he couldn’t see around the corner to know if there were more empty tables.

Adam merely nodded, his fingers gripping the cane.

He didn’t have to say a word for Paul to know what was going on in his head.

Adam rubbed at the skin above the neckline of his T-shirt, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Paul was still amazed he’d gotten Adam to agree to this. He expected to wake up any time soon.

Once the walkway was empty, he guided Adam through the café to the far end, where there was a covered area, the Cave, before it opened out into a seating area with tables and chairs, large green parasols over four of them.

All around them was the sound of the sea, the waves hitting the concrete pavements below the café wall, now and again rising up to splash over the railing, spraying the café’s clients and making the children shriek with delight.

There were three empty tables and Paul headed for the one farthest from the railing.

“Hey, you got here, then!”

Paul turned and grinned at Taylor’s greeting.

He was sitting in the Cave with David, who had his laptop out and was busily typing.

“Of course we did.” He turned to Adam who had become very still.

“Adam, do you want to sit in the shade or the sun?” He knew they’d be getting plenty of sun later, but he wasn’t about to share that.

“I’d prefer shade, if that’s okay.”

Taylor rose instantly and commenced putting together a couple of the shiny metal topped tables. “Any idea how many of us to expect?” He grabbed chairs and placed them around the now rectangular table. A bench ran along the whitewashed wall behind the table, David already seated there.

“Not sure, but there’s plenty of space.” Paul brought Adam’s hand to a chair.

“Here you go. Right, some introductions. You’re seated opposite my friend Taylor Monroe, and his husband, David Hannon.

Guys, this is Adam Kent.” He aimed a stern look at David.

“Put the laptop away, David. It’s lunch time.

” Paul rested his hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“What would you like to drink? There’s coffee, tea, wine, beer, ginger beer, Coke… ”

“Right now I’d love a large glass of water.” Adam swallowed.

“Water would be good for us, too,” Taylor added.

Paul patted Adam’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He dashed to the hatch. It wasn’t fair to leave Adam alone for too long with two strangers, not on his first outing. Paul skidded to a halt in front of Richard. “Hi there. Can we have a jug of water and four glasses, please? We’re in the Cave.”

“Sure, no problem, Paul,” Richard said with a smile. “You gonna order food?”

Paul nodded. “Can we have a menu?”

Richard handed him one and went to get the water. Paul hurried back to where Adam was sitting, the cane resting against the edge of the table. He took the empty chair next to him.

Adam cocked his head. “Laptop? Are you a writer, David?”

“Yeah, but I write under two different names, my own and a pseudonym.” David leaned against the wall, the laptop already switched off and packed away in his brown leather bag.

“Would I have read any of your books? I’m assuming you’re published.” Adam smiled politely.

“Well, that depends,” David said with a grin. “I write gay romance under my own name.”

Adam shook his head. “Not something I’m into, I’m afraid.”

Richard brought over the jug of water and glasses, and deposited them with a smile before vanishing back into the kitchen. Paul filled the glasses for everyone.

David shrugged. “Yeah, I know, it’s not to everyone’s taste. I also write detective thrillers under the name of James Blanchette.”

Adam’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. I’m sitting in a café talking to the creator of Detective Ed Manning? The writer of Secrets Kill ?” His manner changed completely. He leaned forward, smiling broadly.

It was David’s turn to gape, apparently. “Oh my God. You read my books?”

Paul didn’t miss the way Adam’s face tightened for a brief moment, then relaxed. “I did, yeah. I think I have every one of them.”

“Wow. I’m flattered. Then now would be a good time to mention that your book on Watergate is on my bookshelf at home.”

Adam’s face lit up, and the sight of it took Paul’s breath away. He’d forgotten how gorgeous his boss was when he was happy. Heaven knew there hadn’t been many occasions to see that look of joy lately.

One came instantly to mind, however, and his cock filled at the memory of Adam’s expression as he orgasmed. Fuck, but the man was beautiful when he let go.

“Okay, this is turning into an Author’s Appreciation Society meeting,” Taylor butted in, eyes gleaming. “I thought we were here to have lunch. There’ll be plenty of time for you two to talk later.”

Paul flashed him a warning glance, but Adam jerked his head in Taylor’s direction. “There will?”

“Need to know basis,” Paul told him. “And right now, you don’t need to know.”