Page 19 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Taylor caught a wave and rose, his legs strong and sure, twisting into the motion, the board slicing the water clean.

But it didn’t feel like it usually did.

The freedom wasn’t there. No euphoria. No release. The sea surged around him, wild and alive, but he felt distant from it, as though he was simply going through the motions, chasing something that stayed tantalisingly out of reach.

Another wave. Another attempt.

Still nothing.

It didn’t matter how hard he pushed, how fast he moved, how high the wave. The tension in his chest wouldn’t ease. The hollow ache only deepened.

After half an hour, Taylor gave up. He let himself drift for a moment, the board rising and falling beneath him with the swell, then slowly began paddling back toward shore.

Why the fuck am I letting David get to me like this?

But even as he asked it, Taylor knew the answer, or at least part of it. He didn’t want to admit that David had slipped under his skin so fast it felt as if he’d always been there. That maybe this thing between them wasn’t as simple as either of them pretended it was.

He hauled his board onto the sand and stood there for a long moment, staring out at the horizon, the sky still heavy and low.

The sea was supposed to make everything better.

But today, it hadn’t even come close.

The sun was going down, and the clouds that had blanketed the sky all day finally gave way to a streak of gold and rose at the horizon. Taylor sat on the porch in his recliner, legs stretched out in front of him, a sketchbook on his lap, a half-drunk beer on the deck beside him.

Typical . The day clears up just in time for it to be over.

It had taken most of the afternoon, but he’d finally shaken off the residue of that icy rejection, the memory of David’s voice, his expression, that door shutting in his face. The surf hadn’t helped, not in the way it usually did, but at least he’d gotten rid of the ache in his chest.

He lifted his beer and took a long swallow, then set it down and refocused on his sketch.

What had started as an absent-minded doodle had turned into a surprisingly detailed portrait of David.

Not the David from this morning. There was no tension in the brow, no hardness in the jaw.

This David was laughing, his eyes crinkled, his mouth soft with amusement.

Taylor stared at the sketch. His pencil stilled.

Beautiful mouth.

God, he was getting obsessed. He leaned back and exhaled slowly.

Movement caught in his periphery, and he glanced up.

David was walking stiffly toward him along the path, his gait more awkward than usual, as though something in his body was working against him.

Taylor straightened in his chair, instinct tightening his chest. He set the sketchbook aside and stood as David reached the ramp. Before Taylor could open his mouth, David raised a hand.

“Before you say anything,” he began, his voice rough, “I owe you an apology.”

Taylor opened his mouth, but David pushed on. “No, let me get it out.” His gaze locked on Taylor’s. “What I said this morning was out of line. Hell, what I did ? Slamming the door in your face like that? That was ugly. You didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry.”

Taylor studied him. David looked tired. Strained. And behind the apology, there was something else.

Pain.

“It’s okay,” Taylor said in a low voice.

“The hell it is.” David’s jaw clenched. “I treated you like shit. You came by to do something kind. And I acted like you were an enemy.”

Taylor shook his head. “You don’t have to?—”

“I do .” David shifted uncomfortably, wincing.

That caught Taylor’s attention.

“What is it?” he asked with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

David let out a frustrated breath. “My back. It’s been out all damn day. No idea why. Woke up and could barely bend.”

Taylor’s frown softened into a smile. “Well, then you’ve come to the right place.”

David cocked his head. “You got a secret chiropractor stashed in your kitchen?”

Taylor stepped aside, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated flourish. “No, but I have something even better.”

David snorted. “If you say your dick, I swear to God…”

Taylor laughed. “I mean, thank you for the compliment. But no, that wasn’t what I had in mind— this time.”

He led David inside and up the stairs to the bedroom. “Wait here,” he said, then ducked into the adjacent room and emerged, dragging out a folded massage table.

David’s eyebrows shot up.

“This belongs to my brother,” Taylor explained as he unfolded the legs and set it up near the bed. “He’s a fireman now, but he trained as a masseur a few years back. He taught me a few things too.” He flexed his hands. “These can work magic.”

David’s eyebrows arched even higher.

Taylor grabbed a couple of towels from the airing cupboard and spread them across the table. He opened a drawer, found a bottle of almond oil, then turned back to see David already undressing. When he was naked, he fired Taylor an inquiring glance.

“So how do you want me?”

Any way I can get.

Taylor gestured to the table. “Lie on your front, with your face in the padded bit. I’m not bothering with a towel over your arse. I mean, what’s the point?” He grinned. “We both know modesty isn’t in your vocabulary.”

David snorted. “Gee, it’s like you know me.” He climbed up, groaning as he arranged himself, arms lying by his sides. “If I end up worse than before, I’m blaming your ‘magic hands.’”

“They are magic,” Taylor replied, pouring oil into his palms. “Just ask literally no one because I never offer this to anyone I sleep with.”

He started at the shoulders, working slow and firm, letting his thumbs dig in and sweep along the muscle. David grunted and swore softly as Taylor kneaded his way down, heat blooming under his palms. When he reached the lower back, David let out a noise that was half groan, half exhale.

“Right there,” he ground out.

Taylor grinned, working deeper. He focused, listening for the change in David’s breathing, letting his fingers do the talking. The silence between them grew thick and easy, filled with the sound of oil-slick skin and soft, involuntary sounds from David’s throat.

Eventually, David let out a long breath. “Feels better already.”

Taylor couldn’t help smiling at that. “Told you. Magic.”

Then he hesitated.

Because David looked so damn good laid out like that, his body glistening, relaxed, open. An idea sparked, wicked and slow. He bent down close to David’s ear.

“And I’m not finished.”