Page 29 of Where the Pines Kiss the Sky

“So, here we are. Eating in public while playing toesies under the table,” Gibson said after our drinks arrived. The sole of his bare foot moved up and down my shin. Man, I did love shorts and sandal season. “How are you doing?”

“Good.” I meant it. I was doing really well with the new out and proud Elias Lake. Sure, a few patrons were staring at me. Perhaps they knew I had been outed or perhaps they didn’t. I really didn’t give a shit anymore. It felt amazing to be able to gaze longingly at a man I liked without wondering if I was being too obvious. “This is so freeing.”

He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “There is a terrible tragedy in living a lie. I’m thrilled that you’re unchained from that, even though you’re still struggling with the fallout of your freedom.”

“Thanks. It’s been…yeah, it’s been something else. My agent called earlier.” His light blue eyes were on me as I spoke, his foot still tickling the hairs on my calf. “She’s hearing rumors that my time there is about over.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate, Elias. Fools the lot of them. They’re letting a skilled and popular actor go due to outdated thinking about what a real man is.”

I shrugged. “Well, to be honest, I probably only had a few more years in me before they decided I was too old to be an action hero.”

“Bullshit. Stallone is still making action movies, and he’s older than Socrates or damn close.” I chuckled. “They would have kept you for eons had your sexuality not been discovered. Hollywood allows their male stars to work far too long at times while letting their female stars rot on the vine after they reach forty. Ageism and sexism are vile things.”

I couldn’t argue. “Well, whatever they might have done once my whiskers turned white is inconsequential now. They’re going to decide not to re-sign me. The liberal media will flail them for a week or two, and then some new drama will pop up and that will be that.”

“I am sorry.” He lifted my hand to kiss my knuckles.

“It’s okay. Well, not really, but I’m not going to fight them about it. I don’t want to work for people who don’t wish me to be there. Elle says there’s a small studio in New York that’s forward thinking and making movies with strong LGBTQ representation. When I’m freed from Four Winds, perhaps we’ll contact them.”

“Manhattan is a long way from Los Angeles. What about your home out there?”

“I’ll sell it and buy a swanky little rooftop place in New York. I was never really attached to the place. Other than the patio. I did like that patio,” I said, my gaze wandering out to the harbor. A whale watching trip was underway, the big boat moving slowly through the water of the harbor on its way out to the deep sea. “I’m trying not to put my cart in front of my horse, to be honest. I’m kind of enjoying my stay here. I’d forgotten how soothing the waterfront and familiar faces can be. New faces too.”

That made the slightly sad cast of his eyes brighten. “I like your new face as well.”

“Good. I hope you really like it a lot because I may have invited myself to be your houseguest for a few days.” I bit down on my lower lip. “My agent is fried, so I told her she could have my room at the inn and I could stay with a friend. Just for a few days. If that’s not acceptable to you, I totally get it. It’s incredibly presumptuous of me to do that.”

“It’s not rude at all. Oregano and I will be thrilled to have you stay. I’ve missed your face.”

“And I have missed yours.” The server arrived with our shrimp dip and crudites. We dug in, chatting about this and that, just an easy laid-back conversation. A few tourists stared at us, but none came over. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or sad.

As we ate, we made plans for the upcoming holiday weekend. A brash seagull landed on the patio, looking for a handout. An old lady tossed him a crouton before the staff chased the bird off, his bounty in his beak.

“When will Oregano’s eggs hatch?” I asked as butter from my lobster roll dripped onto my plate. I leaned over even further.

“She’s been on the nest for about two weeks, so another week or so. Twenty-days is what I read online. She’s a bit later than most. I wonder if she started a nest somewhere else then lost it and decided to come back to my place.” He shrugged. We’d never know. “Usually the male will help incubate and care for the chicks, but I’ve never seen another bird coming in to relieve her. Of course I’m gone most of the day, so maybe Idohave two birds.”

“Oregano and Basil,” I tossed out. He snorted.

“Perfect!” We toasted each other with our lemonades. “I’ll have to keep a closer eye on them over the weekend. Maybe she is alone and lost her mate. That was what I assumed but perhaps I was projecting.” I rubbed his leg under the table with the top of my foot. “I’m sorry. That was not really for your ears. I’m so damn comfortable with you I tend to forget that you have no need to listen to my melancholic random thoughts.”

“Please, share. I’m coming from a world where no one tells you anything that’s not in their Instagram profile. And half of that is bullshit. I like knowing you feel so at ease with me.”

“This is lovely, isn’t it?” His gaze moved over my face.

“The lobster roll?”

“Well, yes, but this thing between us. It’s easy and open. You’re on my mind all the time, Elias. I’m tickled to have you staying over again. Waking up with you was so pleasurable.”

Warmth spread through me. I felt the exact same way. Maybe I should have been spending my time with older men with lives well lived instead of flaky twinks whose only concerns were how many followers they had.

“Ditto,” I replied. Gibson smiled and then offered me his last bite of lobster roll. It was dripping with butter. Thank Christ Katy wasn’t privy to my menus since I’d come home. She’d birth a fucking seal if she could see this. I opened my mouth, uncaring of what the other people up here on the patio thought, and Gibson delicately fed me. Melted butter covered my lips. He kissed it away. His lips beat using an old, crumpled napkin any day.

***

After returning to the inn with dry towels, I spent the rest of the day helping where I was needed. Something that came right back to me like riding my old bike. Dad and I had worked as a team for years once I’d gotten old enough to legally work. I could make a bed, scrub a bathtub, and fluff a pillow with the best of them. My front desk skills were rusty, but I managed. My talents in the kitchen were limited to chopping veggies, making salads, and washing dishes, but sometimes those skills were sorely needed. We all pitched in.

“How’s Kimmy feeling?” I asked my father as I was toting clean towels to yet another room. What the hell did people do with all the towels? How did two guests dirty every towel overnight? I used one towel when I got out of the shower, and that one I hung up to dry to use again.

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