The Garden (Lavender Shores Book 2) Read online

  The Garden

  Rosalind Abel

  Wings of Ink Publications, LLC

  Contents

  The Garden

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Author Note

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Rosalind Abel

  Preview of The Veranda

  Read An Excerpt from The Veranda

  The Garden

  Rosalind Abel

  Copyright © 2017 by Rosalind Abel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: AngstyG - AngstyG.com

  Main Editor: Desi Chapman

  2nd Editor: Corrine Harris

  3rd Editor: Cristina Manole

  Visit Rosalind’s Webpage: RosalindAbel.com

  Visit Lavender Shores: LavenderShores.com

  Created with Vellum

  for Lucy Lennox,

  who broke it down for me,

  and shared her kind, kind heart

  About the Garden

  Beautiful Gilbert Bryant designs jewelry for the rich and famous, and he made his escape from his gossipy little hometown of Lavender Shores. However, with so many friends and family, he keeps getting pulled back. When he attends his best friend’s engagement party, Gilbert can’t help but sample one of the new men in town. It’s just some innocent—or not so innocent—fun. Nothing that will even cross his mind once he gets back to his everyday life.

  Walden Thompson dreamed about living in Lavender Shores since he visited as a child. He finally gets his chance, and he embraces the opportunity to start over, to become someone new. He leaves both hurts and dangerous habits in the past, where they belong. When Gilbert crosses his path, Walden gives in to his baser instincts. He can indulge in the carnal pleasures this once and still be okay.

  Their few hours together haunt Gilbert, the two-hundred-mile buffer from home no longer shutting out the past or the sexy man he left behind. Walden is just beginning to recover from the smoldering encounter with Gilbert when they are thrust together once more. This time, neither of them can walk away, no matter how hard they try. But when their pasts crash into each other as surely as the magnetism that pulls them together, walking away may be the only option.

  One

  Gilbert

  December

  Fresh meat. Whoever designed the gym so the Stairmasters were directly in front of the treadmills needed a raise. Like, for real. Every step the guy took made that ass clench, flex, and relax with the tiniest bounce. I wanted to fling myself off the running torture device and dive in.

  He had to be a bottom. Simply had to be, with an ass like that. If not, well, then the world was broken.

  Considering that the world actually was broken, he was probably a top. Or straight, God forbid. Nah, not with an ass like that. Even God couldn’t be that cruel. Although, that outfit. Cutoff sweatpants right at his knees, a paint-stained T-shirt with both sleeves ripped off, and not stylishly either, more like the guy had too many drinks while watching Project Runway and attacked his closet. That outfit screamed straight or an absence of mirrors.

  At the thought, my gaze flicked to the wall of mirrors, and our eyes met.

  Again.

  The ass wasn’t the only fine thing about the man. Well-proportioned face, angular enough to be masculine but round enough to give off a boyish air. Wavy dark blond hair bouncing around his cheeks and nearly hitting the nape of his neck in the back. Handsome, but unassumingly so.

  We’d been playing the “I’m looking, I’m flirting, no, I’m not really” game for the past hour. I thought I’d been imagining it while we did weights—me on the incline press, him doing squats—and again, I have to point out, that ass! But our mutual staring competition in the mirror had gotten longer with each round.

  He wanted me.

  And I was totally fine with that. I could get him out of those horrid clothes and see exactly how much perfection waited underneath. He looked thick, corn-fed. God, I loved Midwestern boys visiting the West Coast, feeling free to let their gay freak flag fly for the first time. I had this guy pegged; those nervous heated glances told the tale.

  I hated being back home in Lavender Shores, but the gay tourists were always a sure thing, even in the off-season as it was.

  Not attempting to be subtle, I broke eye contact, tilted my head, and tried to inspect his crotch. Hard to see through the reflected maze of equipment, but thanks to those shameful sweats, the amount of flopping around was impressive.

  Even if he wasn’t a bottom, he would be a good time. Not my position of choice, but for the right guy, I could flip. Well, not that kind of right guy, but for one who looked like sweaty straight boy over there? If I had to? Hell, yeah.

  He was blushing when I looked back up. And again, hell yeah.

  Someone lightly smacked my shoulder, and I nearly stumbled in my stride on the treadmill. I gripped the handhold and looked over. One of the most handsome men in Lavender Shores shook his head in judgment at me. When I’d first met Donovan, his close-cropped hair had been jet-black, but fourteen years later, nearly half had gone silver, and he was even hotter than before. It had been nearly five months since I’d seen him in person, and I swore the amount of silver had nearly doubled.

  I pulled out one of my earbuds and hit Pause on the screen of my iPad. “Dr. Carlisle, billing me for my biweekly therapy sessions not enough? Is the hospital giving you kickbacks for causing physical injury and sending people their way?” I glowered at him. Even after all these years, it took effort not to flirt. “Should I be calling your brother-in-law, since he handles malpractice litigation?”

  Donovan Carlisle ignored the prod and cast a glance toward Sweet-Ass over there. “You looked like you’re preparing to attack.”

  “You know me well. And you should. I pay you enough to.” I shrugged and dipped my chin to the iPad. “I’m catching up on The Walking Dead. Do I look hungry?”

  He grimaced. “I swear, you’re enough to make me hang up my hat. No progress at all.”

  I flashed him a grin, making sure to expose my canine teeth, which I suppose was more vampire than zombie, but whatever. “I’d say you’re doing just fine, Doc. Maintaining homeostasis is what I’d call success. At least I’m not going backward.” I held up my finger. “And don’t bring up last year’s episode.”

  Furrowed brows. “You know I’d never discuss such things in public, Gilbert.”

  “Always so serious, Doctor.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  God, I loved getting under his skin. He’d been my therapist since I was sixteen. We’d been on a first-name basis since day one. He was one of my longest-running friends at this point, or relationships, or something. Though I’m not certain what he’d say at thoughts of that nature.

  “I almost called you yesterday.”

  “Yeah?” Another flash of teeth. “Missed me?”r />
  Donovan sighed. Apparently I wasn’t worth the effort of a second eye roll. “You scheduled our phone session for this coming Tuesday, but I figured you’d be in town for Andrew’s engagement party tomorrow. And we both know you won’t be in any shape to drive. Why don’t we have a face-to-face session before you head back home on Monday? It’s been too long.”

  “I’m not having any crazy emotions around my best friend buying my house or living in it with the man of his dreams.” And look at that; I could say that phrase without gagging. Only for Andrew. “I’m fine, Doc.”

  Donovan just stared at me, those dark brown eyes of his leveling at me knowingly.

  “Fine.” He was one of the very few people who could guilt me into something. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  He grinned and then nodded. “Perfect. Though I’ll see you tomorrow as well.”

  “Of course.” Engagement party. The entire reason I’d come back to this hellhole of a town. Donovan started to walk away. “And, Doc?”

  He glanced back.

  “You probably want to make sure you’re out of the showers pretty quickly.” I jutted my chin to the fresh meat on the Stairmaster. “Unless, of course, you want a live show of what we’ll talk about on Monday.”

  Another eye roll. Success!

  “And again I say, you haven’t changed since you were sixteen. I really do need to hang up my hat.” With a smile and a slight wave, he left.

  Chuckling to myself, I popped my earbud back in and hit Play, and zombie gurgles filled my ears. I barely noticed what happened on the screen, Donovan’s all-too-aware stare still eating at me.

  I wasn’t having feelings about Andrew’s engagement. Well, I was, but they were good feelings. I was happy for him. Him and Joel. Thrilled, even. Though Andrew and I had been best friends our whole lives, we couldn’t be more different. He was like my twin sister, Lacy. Both were homebodies, both in love with anything Lavender Shores. Both wanted nothing more than the perfect romance, the perfect home, and the perfect little life. I’d often wondered if Andrew and I had been switched at birth and he was Lacy’s twin; it would’ve made more sense. They were both bright and happy—like puppies wearing cheerleader outfits. I… wasn’t.

  And as far as the house? I was glad it was gone. When I’d left Lavender Shores, I’d promised myself I’d never come back. Of course, I knew there’d be plenty of times like these. With families as large as Andrew’s and mine, there would always be some event or other that I needed to return for. But, they would be blips. A day here or there and then out. I was glad that house was gone, really. Especially since it got to play such a big part in Andrew building a home with his husband-to-be.

  I was glad it was gone.

  Although the number of times I’d said that to myself made me wonder otherwise. Or maybe that was just due to Dr. Donovan Carlisle’s knowing brown eyes. Stupid therapist.

  I was glad the house was gone. There. I’d said it again, and I meant it. That particular avenue back to Lavender Shores was cut off. Thank God!

  A wet ripping sound brought my attention back to the iPad. A zombie was chowing down on a kid. I grimaced and hit the Home button, making the show disappear.

  God, fucking therapist. Even ruined my enjoyment of zombies. Why was I paying him again?

  I suddenly remembered that corn-fed ass, which instantly caused my mood to brighten. I glanced up, but the ass was gone. I halted, which caused me to shoot backward, and I had to grip the railings with both hands to keep from a complete crashing fiasco as I got my pace back under control. Once certain I wasn’t going to give the gossipy people in town something embarrassing to talk about, I focused on the mirror, searching for Corn-Fed. Sure enough, every Stairmaster was empty, and I couldn’t find his reflection anywhere. Conscious of looking desperate if he did happen to be nearby, I glanced around the cardio room.

  Donovan met my gaze from his spot on an elliptical and gave a knowing shake of his head.

  I flipped him off with a grin, then hit the emergency Stop button, bringing the spinning belt to a halt, once again causing me to nearly stumble. For fuck’s sake, you’d think I had no moves at all. It seemed Corn-Fed was having quite the effect on me.

  And, maybe he was straight. Any gay guy knew to catch the other one’s attention before heading to the showers. It was like he’d waited until I’d been distracted to make his getaway.

  Nah. No way. He’d been interested. No doubt at all.

  Maybe he was doing another round of weights, despite the amount of sweating he’d already done. Gross, but what could you expect from a guy who didn’t know proper gym attire.

  I made my way through the rest of the gym, careful to appear like I wasn’t looking. Giving a nod here and there toward a few locals I didn’t loathe, and avoiding making eye contact with the ones I’d played with in the showers before. No reason to risk sending an accidental invitation. If I couldn’t find Corn-Fed, I’d do another pass inviting a few of them for a repeat performance.

  He was nowhere to be seen. Damn. Surely I hadn’t misread him that badly.

  Deciding to take a look around the locker room, I’d nearly given up, when I noticed the cutoff sweatpants hanging on a hook outside the hall of showers.

  Bingo.

  Not sure how much time I had, as it seemed Corn-Fed wasn’t playing by the rules, I hurried to my locker, stripped down, grabbed a towel, and entered the showers.

  The first two stalls were occupied, curtains open, and both men made a pretense of turning away, trying to hide their erections. Noticing it was me, they stopped bothering and continued stroking for each other. I spared a glance. One of them was rather impressive but old news.

  The next three showers were empty. A shadowy figure was visible behind the frosted glass of the fourth one, though its curtain was drawn.

  Corn-Fed no doubt, judging from the blurry thickness of the body. It looked like he was wearing shorts in the shower. Seriously? Shorts and a closed curtain?

  Straight and not interested?

  No way. No fucking way. I was good at this game. Both the playing of it and knowing exactly who the players were. And Corn-Fed most definitely wanted to play.

  I chose the shower across and down one from him, hung my towel on the hook, turned on the spray, and stepped in. Leaving the curtain open, I stood under the water, rinsing the sweat off, and had to rake my fingers through my long bangs to get them out of my eyes before turning around.

  Corn-Fed’s silhouette faced me, and though I couldn’t see his expression, I could feel his gaze on me. After getting a bit of soap on my hands, I rubbed it over my body, making sure to move just slow enough over the flat planes of my chest and the ridges of my abs to show that I wasn’t actually washing, but didn’t look like I was fondling myself like a freak either. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn’t too bad of an idea. It seemed like this one needed blatant. Letting my hand dip lower, I encircled my dick, giving it a couple of strokes. Just enough to help it plump up a touch, though it wasn’t all that necessary, as it was stiffening rapidly at the feel of Corn-Fed’s gaze on me.

  His shower shut off, and Corn-Fed pulled open the curtain. And fuck. He was hotter than I’d even anticipated. And taller up close. I was nearly six foot, but I was willing to bet he was a good three or four inches taller than I was. Thick, heavy muscles looked chiseled over his chest, shoulders, and arms. The thighs and calves showing from his shorts made it clear he never skipped leg day. His handsome face flushed bright red, and as he stepped out, his blue gaze darted at my growing erection—the briefest of glances. Brief enough it made me question if I was pushing things with a straight guy. I nearly turned around but noticed the huge bulge in his swim trunks right before he pulled the towel off the hook and held it in front of himself, cutting off my view.

  So, we were back to interested and gay. Or at least gay enough.

  Without another glance, either at my cock or my eyes, Corn-Fed walked from the showers, passed the two men who were get
ting close to heaven, judging from the sounds they were making, and entered the coed wet area.

  Well, I’ll be…. Looked like I was going to have some fun in the steam room or sauna instead of the showers. I liked that a lot better anyway. Hurriedly, I rinsed the soap from my body and turned off the shower. I nearly went back to my locker to get a pair of shorts, since swimsuits were required in the coed area, but I didn’t take the time. I wrapped the towel around my waist, holding the knot securely so my hard-on was covered, and followed Corn-Fed’s path. Luckily, I didn’t give a shit about the rules and just having a towel would make for a lot easier access.

  For the next fifteen minutes or so, I wasn’t going to mind being back home.

  Two

  Walden

  Guilt raged in my head. It screamed and warned and threatened. Despite that, lust surged through every other part of my body.

  I’d noticed him while I’d been doing squats. Actually, I’d noticed him noticing me doing squats. At first I figured he was taking stock and finding me lacking. I knew what I looked like. I was in fancy Lavender Shores, and while I might not have the money for designer gym wear, I knew it existed. Most of the time, I didn’t care. I was long past worrying what people thought. Part of the joy of moving as far away from family as you could get. However, with his honeyed brown eyes staring at me, I wished I’d spent a week’s paycheck on proper gym attire. Not to mention I was certain I was sweating a river down my back that was probably soaking into my sweats in a completely unflattering pattern.