Page 1 of Last Resort

ONE

BEN

“This brings back memories.” Ben Nolan and his partner carried the last boxes up the stairs. “I spent too many Saturdays in my twenties helping my friends move in and out of apartments for free pizza and beer.”

“Look at it as a built-in fitness workout,” Erik Mitchell, his boyfriend, replied. “The good thing is that most days, you don’t need to go up and down more than once.”

“I’m sure I can come up with reasons to stay in.” Ben dropped his voice to a sexy growl and gave Erik a knowing look.

Erik shook his head fondly. “Sounds good—but we still need to go to work sometime.”

Erik owned Trinkets, the antique shop on the first floor of the old Victorian house where their apartment took up the second level. “Can’t beat the commute,” he added.

“True—and mine’s still totally walkable unless the weather is foul.” Ben managed Nolan Resort Real Estate, owned by his aunt and uncle. Until recently, he had stayed in one of the company’s rentals. Ben had moved in with Erik a few months ago, but forgot about a stack of boxes that were still stored in Trinkets’ back room.

The important stuff had already found a place in the apartment. Now Ben needed to figure out what in these last boxes to keep or toss. He’d packed long enough ago that he had forgotten what remained.

“Actually, I was surprised how fast I got used to the stairs,” Erik told him. “My place in Atlanta had an elevator, but nowhere near the charm.”

Both Ben and Erik had recently moved to Cape May, New Jersey, to make a fresh start after their old lives went off the rails. Ben stepped away from being a Newark cop after a betrayal and a near-fatal shooting, and becoming a private investigator had left him burned out and bitter. Erik left his high-profile work stopping art fraud and antiquities smugglers when a bust gone wrong nearly got him killed—and his boyfriend cheated. Differing circumstances led them to Cape May and chance brought them together. Ben thanked his lucky stars every day for how things had turned out.

“Now we just have to figure out what’s worth keeping.” Ben surveyed the stacks of boxes in the living room. “We already have aninterestingdecorating style.”

They had found a quirky way to blend his statues of Spider-Man and Optimus Prime and wall art of some of his favorite comics and sci-fi movies with Erik’s more traditional taste, honed by his work for art museums.

“Bring it on,” Erik said with a laugh. “It’s good to shake things up.”

Ben reeled him in for a kiss. “I can think of ways to get a whole lotta shakin’ going on,” he growled.

Erik returned the kiss and stepped away. “Hold that thought. We need to be able to navigate through the living room, so the boxes can’t stay—which means unpacking.”

“Spoil sport,” Ben grumbled good-naturedly.

Erik ordered hot subs for lunch so they could work without worrying about food, an Italian club for Ben and meatballs for Erik. Ben would have liked to turn up the music while they worked, but the shop downstairs was open, so they kept the volume down.

“Thank Susan for me.” Ben polished off the last of his sub and tossed the wrapper in the trash. “I appreciate her handling the store so you can help me.”

Erik laughed. “Are you kidding? She would have chased me out if I had tried to stay. She’s delighted we’re living together and passes along tidbits about keeping relationships ‘fresh.’” He grinned. “It’s kinda cute.”

Susan Hendricks, his next-door neighbor and now part-time shop associate, was widowed after a long and happy marriage and couldn’t resist sharing motherly wisdom and casserole recipes.

“We certainly don’t want to disappoint her.” Ben sidled up to Erik for another kiss. “Let’s at least clear a path to the bedroom.”

“Unpack first, sex later. How do you want to do this?”

Ben stood with his hands on his hips surveying the stack of boxes. “I’m not even sure I remember what’s packed. I think I need to take everything out, decide what to keep, and then we can figure out whether to sell, donate, or pitch everything else.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Erik replied. “How can I help?”

“Good question. Maybe if you open a box, then I’ll go through it while you unload the next one,” Ben said.

“Works for me.”

Ben couldn’t help being nervous. He felt acutely aware of invading Erik’s space, even though they had already been living together for weeks.

Ben sat on the floor and began to unpack a box. Erik found a spot across the room and peeled off the tape from another one.

“Oh wow. I forgot I had these.” Ben pulled out action figures and Comic-Con souvenirs. In his old apartment, he had a shelf that ran around the top of the room to display his collection.

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