Lety’s sister-in-law Juju, who’d heard about Loafers from Omar Abadi, who’d heard from Dale, had demanded to know if the new doctor washandsome.
Madeline McKetcham had twirled a lock of her blonde hair and asked if he wasnice, while her grandfather, George, had scathingly inquired if he wasyoung.
Bubba, Lety’s husband, had wanted to know where in the hell the new clinic was gonna be, and how he could get an appointment.
Mr. Wynott wondered if he should send over some books. Lety’s sister Isobel had offered some decorations for his “apartment.” Curt Ballinger wondered if he liked to fish. Gerry Twomey, predictably, had wanted to know if he likedmen, and if so, was he attached?
I’d barely been able to eat two bites of mypepianwithout being harassed, and I’d grown increasingly pissed off as I ignored their questions.
Mason Bloom wasn’thandsomeornice. Those were lame-ass words that in no way described the man. He was hot. He was a judgmental ass. I had no idea what he enjoyed doing, since I’d spent the entire ride from the airport wanting to fight him or fuck him or drive him away. I wanted him in my bed. I wanted him to go home.
And worst ofall? I owed the man one hell of an apology.
I’d asked Lety for a second container of the chicken stew, figuring food was always a good peace offering, and Lety, who was more psychic than Beale and his mother put together, had looked me up and down and pursed her lips as she’d handed me the container.
“El sabio cambia de opinion, el necio no,”she’d said, and even though my Spanish was for shit, I’d understood that she’d read my guilt and issued me a stern warning. I imagined it meant something like, “Stop being a dumbass to the new doctor, Fenn Reardon, just because he’s prissy and hates your ratty shirt and reminds you that you’re sexually frustrated.”
I took a deep breath and forced it out as I stared up at the building.
There wasn’t really any excuse for my behavior earlier. I disliked Loafers—and, okay,no, that wasn’t true. I didn’t like that Ididlike him, in spite of his ridiculous shoes and his genuinely deplorable, snotty attitude—but that didn’t matter. Iknewbetter than to physically intimidate anyone or get in their personal space without a direct invitation. One minute we’d been talking about treasure, calm as you please, then suddenly we were arguing about life choices, and Mason’s green eyes were looking at me like he knew my every secret weakness and I…
I’d Hulked out on him and ripped off my T-shirt in impotent rage.
Never a good idea. Especially not when you were a gay man, invading a straight man’s space.
Yeah. So… not my finest hour. By a long shot.
And then having him come up with that story in front of Rafe? Saving my ass from a very awkward, fumbling explanation?
I recognized when I owed a debt, and I didn’t enjoy the sensation, so I was going to attempt to repay it. Especially since the idiot was planning to stick around Whispering Key for a few weeks—likelylonger, if I knew Rafe Goodman and his wheedling ways.
I hefted the bag of food higher on my hip and grabbed the handle of the suitcase, rolling it across the parking lot, up the stairs, and around the back side of the building.
The room Rafe had asked Gloria to prepare for Loafers was on the second floor facing the water, on the side of the property closest to the Goodmans’ house, just down the walkway from my own place. Beale and I had hauled his other two suitcases up earlier, but I’d been too annoyed to apologize and Loafers hadn’t seemed to expect me to, which was kind of lowering, when I thought about it.
I knocked loudly. “Loafers! Special delivery.”
A seagull cried out, and I turned to watch it soar across the pink-and-scarlet horizon, its graceful arc reflected on the water below. There were seconds—or maybe fractions of seconds—when I could almost understand what Big Rafe saw in this place. It was beautiful and unspoiled, as familiar and constantly evolving as the waves themselves. I’d felt connected to the island the moment I’d set foot here, and I still did, in a way. But even all these years later, it didn’t feel likehomethe way it did for Beale and Rafe. I wasn’t sure it ever would.
I turned and pounded my fist against the door. “Loafers! You in there? I hauled your suitcase up here like a fucking bellhop, dude. Least you could do is open the door.”
I waited ten seconds. Twenty.
“Comeon.” I pounded again. “I brought you food! As a peace offering. And I… I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I was way out of line earlier.”
There was no response, and I sighed, resting my forehead against the door. For all I knew, Loafers had gone for a walk on the beach after Rafe had given him his key and pointed out his room. Or maybe he was chatting with Beale and Big Rafe, eating Hamburger Helper at the little Formica table in their mismatched kitchen.
I snorted. No, I couldn’t quite picture Loafers doing that.
“Fine, whatever. I’m leaving the food here.” I turned the suitcase on its side and set the food bag on top. And just in case hewasinside, I added, “If you need anything—if you needme—I’m seven doors down on this—”
From inside the room came a shriek followed by a metallic clatter and athudso loud I could almost feel the floor shake.
“Loafers?”Fuck. I kicked at the door. “Loafers! What’s going on? It better not be another gecko!”
But there was no answer except another slightly garbled scream.
“Shit. I’m coming in, asshole! You’d better be decent!” I tried the door, but it was locked, so I pulled up on the knob and shoved my hip into the hollow metal. It opened with apop, as I’d known it would, and my eyes darted around the darkened room.
