Page 7 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Chapter Four

The following morning, David woke before his alarm, the sound of waves lapping against rock drifting in through the open window. He blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented for a moment. Then he remembered.

The call.

Michael.

The anger that had curdled into doubt. The endless, restless pacing afterward, his thoughts circling like vultures. Even the act of recalling it tightened his chest.

But then he noticed the light. Bright, clean, golden.

Sunlight?

He sat up, squinting toward the windows. Sure enough, sunlight poured in, warm and sharp across the wooden floor. He pushed back the sheet and padded to the glass.

Outside, the world had changed. The sky was a flawless expanse of blue, and the tide had rolled in, calm and steady, brushing against the rocks below. No rain, no wind, only sunlight and the faint cry of gulls.

It was hard to believe that only hours ago, he’d been drowning in his own thoughts, dragged under by anger, regret, and suspicion. For a moment, he felt it begin to return, like a shadow stretching from the corner of his mind.

No. Not now.

He drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he made a silent decision.

Enough. Whatever happened with Michael—or Clark—could wait. He wasn’t going to let the past poison this. He was here for a reason: to breathe, to reset, to give himself a chance to come back to life after the wreckage. And he wasn’t about to let ghosts drag him under again.

It was the first day of the rest of September. And he was going to make it count.

With a much lighter heart, David dressed, then went downstairs. Five minutes later, a cup of coffee in hand, David stood on the deck and breathed in the fresh morning air.

Now this is more like it.

The temperature was very pleasant. Maybe the UK got Indian summers too. He decided to make the most of the day and go out for a drive around the island, maybe find a pretty spot to have lunch. Michael’s comments still made his skin itch, but David was doing his damnedest to push them aside.

Nothing should be allowed to spoil such a beautiful day.

By nine thirty he was in the car and pulling out of Love Lane, the car roof folded into the trunk.

Vanessa had thoughtfully left a map of the island in the house and David had sort of worked out a route.

He’d already seen the eastern side of the island the day he’d arrived, so he figured he’d head west. The road took him through an area densely populated with trees, which led ultimately to a quaint little village, Niton, with a real lighthouse according to its sign.

But from there on the scenery changed dramatically.

David drove along the Military Road that ran the length of the western side of the island as far as Freshwater.

What a difference .

Fields stood on either side of the road, filled with either cattle or crops, a few houses dotted here and there.

A couple of older holiday camps sat beside the sea, with camping grounds and chalets.

A vast expanse of blue sea stretched away to his left, and white chalk cliffs rose in the distance.

At the end of the road, David could see the white cliffs of Tennyson Down, the farthest western point of the island.

He imagined the view from up there would be spectacular.

Maybe one day if the weather was good, he’d go walking up over the tops.

David spotted a parking lot coming up on the left and on impulse he swung the little Nissan into it.

He switched off the engine and got out. A pebbled path led down to the beach, and the light breeze that blew up from there carried with it the smell of the sea.

David crunched along the path, breathing deeply.

The air was invigorating. At the foot of the path, he turned right and walked along the pebble-covered beach.

There were groups of children with a couple of adults, and from what David could make out, they were fossil hunting.

He had to hold back his laughter when one little blond-haired boy, trembling with excitement, handed one of the adults his find, wanting to know if it was a dinosaur bone.

The woman regarded his prize in all seriousness, before telling the youngster he’d actually found a coprolite.

The little boy looked puzzled, and then highly amused, when he was informed a coprolite was ‘fossilized dinosaur poo’.

The boy burst into a peal of delighted laughter and hurried off to tell his friends, holding the coprolite aloft, his face wreathed in a proud smile.

David continued his walk along the beach. The sun was climbing higher into the sky and the morning was warming up nicely. He felt good, the misery of the last two days obliterated in the sunshine and heat of the day.

Maybe Juliet didn’t do so badly after all .

Maybe he should get around to actually telling her that.

He strolled along the shore for about forty minutes and then turned to head back to the parking lot.

The salty breeze played with his hair and the deep lungfuls of air were starting to make him hungry.

By the time he reached the car he was ravenous.

He got behind the wheel and steered the car out of its space.

As he edged carefully onto the main road, he spotted a sign for Brighstone.

Another impulse seized him, and he followed the sign, driving along twisting country lanes with those cute thatched houses here and there, until at last he came into another little village.

On the corner of the lane was a pub, the Three Bishops.

And there’s my spot for lunch.

David sat in the beer garden to the rear of the pub, digging into a ‘ploughman’s lunch’, which turned out to be a large salad with cheese, sliced ham, pickles and delicious crusty bread that smelled divine.

The temptation to sample the beer was tremendous, but that was one rule David never broke—drinking and driving did not mix .

The meal was tasty, the ginger beer was zingy, and his surroundings were perfect.

David hadn’t felt this content in a long while.

He spent the rest of the afternoon driving over the island, with stops here and there where he got out to admire the view.

A ridge of hills went right the way across the island like a backbone, from which it was possible to see both the southern side and the mainland across the Solent.

There were plenty of sail boats to be seen, their spinnakers either white or vivid flashes of color, as they glided in the channel between the mainland and the island.

Add to that the experience of driving with the roof down, the wind in his hair, the sun beating down, and David was having a wonderful day.

By the time he parked the car at the top of Love Lane, it was already six in the evening, the sun was getting lower in the sky—and David was officially in love with the Isle of Wight.

He clambered down the steep steps to the left of the path and emerged very close to the Lighthouse.

There were still a few families on the beach, but they were in the process of packing up their belongings, no doubt heading back to their accommodation in time for their evening meal.

The tide was coming in, and as David gazed out into the bay, he saw a familiar figure emerge from the sea and walk toward him through the frothing waves.

Taylor wore a dark blue wetsuit and carried a spear gun and what looked like a catch of fish.

He moved sinuously, every line of his body flowing. David stood and admired the view.

Goddamn, does that guy have to make me hard every single time I see him?

As Taylor neared the pebbled path, he caught sight of David and grinned. “Hello again.”

David raised his hand in a lazy wave. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

Taylor held his catch up and smiled. “Yeah, three sea bass. Good sized ones, too.” The fish glistened in the early evening light. Taylor cocked his head. “Hey, why don’t you join me for dinner? There’s more than enough fish to go around, and I’m doing new potatoes and salad to go with them.”

David almost salivated on the spot. He’d done no real cooking since he’d arrived, only heating up stuff in the microwave, and the thought of a proper, home-cooked meal was sorely tempting. Still, he held back out of politeness. “Thanks for the offer. It’s really kind of you, but?—”

“Oh please, don’t say no,” Taylor interjected. “I rarely have company for dinner, and you must be fed up of looking at the same four walls after all that rain.” He gave David a lopsided grin. “If it makes you feel better, you can bring the wine.” He gazed at him imploringly.

David laughed. “All right then, you’ve twisted my arm.”

Taylor beamed. “Okay, give me time to clean these and then come over to the house about seven. That sound okay?” David nodded.

“Great. I’ll see you then.” Taylor gave him one last warm smile and then headed up the boat ramp that led to his front porch.

David waited until Taylor was inside before glancing down at himself.

Time for a shower and a change of clothing.

The thought of spending an evening with the young man sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

Down, boy, he told himself firmly. No matter what David thought he’d sensed that first night, he wasn’t going round there with any expectations. But company would be good.

Then he reasoned there was nothing wrong with having expectations.

Taylor stared at the rack of shirts for the umpteenth time, conscious of the minutes ticking by.

For God’s sake, pick one. He’ll be here any second.

He wasn’t normally this fussy about his clothing, but for some reason he was determined to make a good impression.

And exactly what kind of impression would that be?

That was easy. Hot enough that the shirt wouldn’t be staying on for very long.

The last two nights had been dominated by fantasies, and he was hoping to make them reality.

More specifically, he was praying David had a fat cock and that he knew how to use it.

Taylor wanted those blue eyes staring into his while David nailed his prostate over and over again, wanted to tug on David’s hair as he filled him, long and deep and hard.

A guy can dream, right?

The fish was already in the oven, the potatoes wouldn’t take long, and the salad was in the fridge. He’d taken longer than usual in the shower, ensuring every inch of him was clean and fresh.

Some parts of his anatomy had received more attention than others.

His phone buzzed, and Taylor’s heart sank.

He’s changed his mind. He’s not coming.

Then he rolled his eyes. And he’s calling you? How exactly is he managing to do that? Did he obtain your phone number by reading your mind?

He groaned when he saw the caller.

Damn it, Mum, your timing is way off.

He could always ignore it, except that was never a good move.

Taylor clicked on Answer. “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“Is now a good time?”

Sod it.

“Not really, Mum. I’m expecting a guest for dinner. Was there something you needed?”

Three… Two… One…

“Oh. Anyone I know?”

“Nope. And he really will be knocking on the door any minute now.”

One nanosecond for the pronoun to register….

“Oh. Oh . Then I’d better let you get on with it.”

Taylor chuckled. “Want to tell me why you called?”

“I’m sure I had a reason. Oh yes, your dad’s birthday. I wanted to remind you not to forget.”

“Mum, it’s on my kitchen calendar. My phone calendar. My laptop calendar.”

He’d forgotten it a few years ago, and she was never going to let him live it down.

“In that case, I’ll go.” There was a pause. “This dinner date…”

“Oops, that’s him now,” Taylor lied. “Bye, Mum.” He hung up, then glanced toward the Lighthouse.

David was walking toward the house.

And Taylor still hadn’t chosen a shirt.

Okay, Lord. Mum’s call has pre-disastered tonight. Nothing else is going to go wrong. Nothing.

He scanned his bedroom, doing a swift inventory.

Just in case God was listening for once and Taylor was about to get lucky.