Chasing the Horizon
Readers Love SCOTTY CADE
Sunrise Over Savannah
“…this is a beautiful story. Well written, deep characters, lots of drama, especially toward the end.”
—Love Bytes Same Sex Romance Reviews
“This was a very emotionally charged book, and I simply loved all of the men Mr. Cade put in this story.”
—The Novel Approach
The Mystery of Ruby Lode
“My attention was grabbed from the first page to the last. I give this a book 5 sweet peas, 5 stars, and a 2 thumbs up rating.”
—Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books
“The storyline and plot are brilliant.”
—MM Good Book Reviews
Unconventional Courtship and Unconventional Union
“Taken as a whole, both Unconventional Courtship and Unconventional Union make for a highly enjoyable read.”
—Hearts on Fire
“Beautifully written with characters that live and breathe off of the written page, An Unconventional Union is one of my favorite books I’ve read this year. Mr. Cade … gave this reader several hours of pure reading enjoyment, and I can’t wait to see what he has in store for us!”
—Top 2 Bottom Reviews
By SCOTTY CADE
Final Encore
The Mystery of Ruby Lode
Sunrise Over Savannah
Chasing the Horizon
An Unconventional Courtship
An Unconventional Union
LOVE SERIES
Bounty of Love
Foundation of Love
Treasure of Love
Wings of Love
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
5032 Capital Circle SW
Suite 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886
USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chasing the Horizon
© 2014 Scotty Cade.
Cover Art
© 2014
Reese Dante.
http://www.reesedante.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.
ISBN: 978-1-63216-001-0
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-002-7
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
June 2014
As always to my husband, Kell. He is the most understanding, supportive, and unselfish person I know and sacrifices many things to allow me to follow my dream. At the risk of sounding gay as a goose, in the famous words of Barbra Streisand, “Oh my man, I love him so.”
I would also like to thank my dear friends Hawken Morrison and Justin Lavigne, upon whom two of the characters in this book are based. Hawken is a handsome, sweet, and gentle man who can scare the hell out of you if you don’t know him. Justin is our good-looking pocket gay and made sure that I referenced his “pools of honey” colored eyes. I love you both.
Chapter 1
GARNER HOLT stood behind the helm of his Beneteau Oceanis 55, a moderate wind blowing through his shoulder-length, sun-streaked brown hair. AquaTherapy, as he’d so aptly named her, was heading south toward Key West, cutting through the clear azure waters of the Hawk Channel, just off the south Florida coastline. AquaTherapy’s sails were tuned perfectly to the southwest winds, and she was cruising along at a brisk six and a half knots, heeling a comfortable eighteen degrees.
The closer Garner got to his destination, the lighter his heart felt and the better his mood became. He turned his head upward as the warm mid-December afternoon sun blanketed him with her glorious rays. He inhaled deeply, and his lungs filled with crisp, salty sea air.
God, I love the feeling of freedom when I’m on the water.
With seeming inevitability, though, that thought caused Garner’s mind to drift back to a time when things weren’t so simple, and freedom was the last thing he felt. The lightheartedness waned, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d spent so many years chasing his tail instead of chasing the horizon. He knew it was partly hereditary. Both of his parents had been overachievers. His mother—now retired and living on Long Island—had been a world-renowned pediatrician. His father, who’d died at age sixty-seven, had been a very successful commercial mortgage broker, who had worked night and day. The one pleasure he’d indulged was his love for sailing, which he’d passed along to his only son. Garner’s own insecurities probably accounted for the rest of it. That and a need to make his ambitious parents proud.
As AquaTherapy made her way down the coast, the old familiar feelings of anxiety and inadequacy snuck back in. When he’d gone off to college, he’d been almost obsessed with his education. He’d put everything on the back burner, including his love for sailing and his family and friends. His only goal was to succeed. And as luck would have it, his sacrifice and commitment hadn’t gone unrecognized. He’d graduated at the top of his class and was immediately hired by Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York City. After only four years, his Ivy League education, strong work ethic, and unmatched dedication earned him the title Head of Psychiatry, the youngest doctor ever to hold that coveted position. But as with all positions of power, it wasn’t without its drawbacks and its costs.
Garner cringed when he thought back to the grueling schedule that had left him absolutely no time for a personal life. That, combined with his extremely independent personality meant any sort of relationship was a disaster waiting to happen. He’d tried a few times, but after his last boyfriend told him where to shove his job, he’d given up and decided it wasn’t worth the headache—or the heartache.
By the end of his eighth year at Mount Sinai, his career had definitely been on track, but the pressure and stress were finally starting to take their toll. He’d barely survived that year and went into his ninth battling severe burnout and exhaustion.
Garner felt the stab of a residual sadness when he recalled that February morning when he didn’t get out of bed. That morning had stretched. For two weeks. He’d been so overcome with neglected depression and exhaustion he’d simply shut down. The minute he was on his feet again, he’d started the process of early retirement.
A smile quickly replaced the sadness as he remembered how free he’d felt when he‘d sold everything, bought AquaTherapy, and set out to find new winds to fill his sails.
Joy, freedom, and a sense of finally being in control of his own destiny had overtaken him when he’d pulled out of New York harbor and rounded the point at Sandy Hook, New Jersey. He’d felt as free as he did right this very moment. After spending an incredible couple of months on the water, taking his time meandering along the eastern sea
board, exploring the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays, and picking up the Intracoastal Waterway in Norfolk, VA, Garner had finally started to discover who he really was and not who he’d forced himself to be.
“You and I are a good team,” he said out loud, patting AquaTherapy’s hull. “Except for that little delay in Savannah, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, it’s been smooth sailing for the both of us.”
Picturing Hank and Thompson’s handsome faces, Garner smiled. He’d been temporarily derailed when his engine failed in Savannah, Georgia, and he’d had to be rescued by a very handsome BoatUS Captain named Hank Charming. He was towed to the Thundercloud Marina, where the marina mechanic uncovered a manufacturer’s error that couldn’t be repaired. His boat required a new engine, and that came with a six-week lag time.
After the initial shock of being stranded for six weeks wore off, Garner tried to figure out what he was going to do to keep himself entertained. Luckily, he didn’t have to wonder too long. The day before he’d been towed in, the owner of the marina, Thompson Gray, had lost his dockhand and was in dire need of a replacement. Following a brief meeting, Thompson offered him the job, and he gladly accepted.
After working with Thompson during the day and dating Hank Charming at night, Garner realized the guys had a very strong emotional connection to one another. He soon learned they shared a very complicated past, an even shakier present, and little or no chance for a future. They interacted on a daily basis when needed, but their past was clouded with misconceptions and untruths that were slowly eating away at both of them. In the end, with Garner’s help, Hank and Thompson were able to find their way back to one another and were now happier and stronger than ever.
Garner suddenly realized he missed his new friends. While acting as their unofficial therapist, he had become very close to them both, and that had surprised him. Much to his astonishment, he’d left Savannah with mixed emotions and a heavy heart. He’d never planned to stay—he had a horizon to chase—but that didn’t make leaving them any easier. On the morning he’d pulled out of the marina, they’d all promised to stay in touch, but Garner knew only too well that life sometimes gets in the way of the best intentions.
Garner sighed and looked up at the powder blue sky. “And here I am. Sailing along with no complications. Just the way I like it.”
WITH AQUATHERAPY now cruising along on autopilot, Garner put all these old feelings out of his mind and focused on what was ahead of him. He stretched out in the cockpit and basked in the Florida sunshine anticipating the future. He listened to the latest NOAA weather report on his VHF radio; the weather was going to be clear and picture perfect for the last couple of days of his journey. Suddenly very eager to get to Key West, he decided to sail straight through the night and make it to his destination by tomorrow morning.
“Just one more day,” he said to the ever-present dolphins dancing alongside his boat. “We’re almost home free, boys and girls.”
WHERE HAS the day gone? Garner sipped a glass of Sancerre, watching the spectacular sun hover above the western horizon. The yellows, oranges, and magentas were all blending into one magnificent blur that danced on the water, and then slowly sank into the abyss.
After dusk, with his GPS and radar set to alert him to any imminent danger, Garner sailed through the night, the bright moonlight shimmering like diamonds as it reflected off the deep, sapphire-colored water. He dozed every now and then, tweaked his sails as needed, but mostly gazed at the billowy blue velvet sky against the distant lights of the Florida coastline.
When the morning sun peeked above the horizon, Garner smiled and thought of Hank and Thompson back in Georgia, probably watching the same sun rising over Savannah. He kissed his index finger, held it up in the air, and wished them a heartfelt good morning.
By seven thirty, Garner was almost giddy. He was only five miles away from Key West, so he radioed ahead and received his docking instructions from the harbormaster. With sails furled and AquaTherapy motoring along at five knots, he pulled into the Conch Harbor Marina, sporting a smile as broad as the dawn.
Following instructions, he pulled along a T-head pier and, with the help of a dockhand, secured his boat and connected the water and electricity.
By eight thirty, Garner had traded the fleece, blue jeans, and boat shoes he’d worn overnight for shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes. He was on the dock barefoot, rinsing the dried salt off his boat, when he saw someone walking down the dock in his direction. As the stranger got closer, Garner could see that the man’s head was shaved and he was wearing low-hanging black jeans, but no shirt or shoes. His skull, as well as every other part of his exposed body, including his feet, was covered in brightly colored tattoos.
As the man continued toward him, Garner could see that he appeared to be pierced in every visible orifice, sporting a stainless-steel nose ring, a loop in his left eyebrow, studs up and down both of his ears, and a bar with balls on either end in his bottom lip. Garner did his best not to stare, but he couldn’t help it; the man reminded him of a pierced and tattooed Mr. Clean.
Looking farther down, Garner saw that the stranger’s nipples were pierced, as was his bellybutton. A chill ran the length of Garner’s spine, and he shuddered when he thought about what else might be pierced that he couldn’t see. And just to push the entire look over the edge, the man wore silver-dollar-sized solid black discs in his stretched earlobes.
Garner started to feel uneasy, and his heart rate began to increase. He quickly looked for any other boaters milling around the dock who might offer a little support if he needed it, but there was no one to be seen.
His next thought was of some sort of weapon. Garner doubted he could hose the guy to death—should the need present itself—but anything else he could possibly use for a weapon was aboard AquaTherapy.
When the guy was about ten feet from him, Garner’s felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins at breakneck speed. He didn’t make eye contact but tightened his grip on the hose and held his breath. Shit! He’s coming right at me. Calm down, you sissy. You lived in New York City for how long?
Garner spread his feet apart and moved the hose to his left hand, fisting his right. I might go down, but not without a fight. Just four feet away. Three Feet. Two feet. One foot.
When Garner could finally see the figure in his peripheral vision, the scary dude lowered his head and walked right past him.
Garner exhaled with relief and willed himself to calm down. He nonchalantly turned his head and followed the stranger with his eyes, but the guy kept on walking until he reached a fishing boat named ReelCrazy three slips down and hopped aboard. Appropriate name!
Chapter 2
HAWKEN “HAWK” Bristol slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to bring something, anything, into focus. Where in the fuck am I? He turned his head to scan the room and felt a stabbing pain that started at the base of his neck and quickly consumed his entire skull. Shit, that hurts!
He instinctively licked his dry lips and decided he would kill someone for a glass of cool water to quench his cotton mouth. And man do I have to pee. But before he could think about any of that, he had to figure out where he was.
While trying to scan the room without moving his aching head, Hawk gingerly reached up and turned on the lamp beside the strange bed. He instantly froze when someone—or something—stirred next to him. He turned his head carefully and blinked a few more times, attempting to bring the object into focus. As his vision slowly cleared, he saw a man lying on his back, naked except for a leather harness, and covered in someone’s dried come.
Fuck, Hawk! What did you do this time?
He studied the burly figure intently, struggling to jog his memory, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing concrete came to mind. After a while he thought he vaguely remembered the man’s face but certainly didn’t know his name or how in the fuck they’d ended up here. Wherever the hell here was.
He gently laid his head back down on the pillo
w and closed his eyes, trying to recall the events of the night before. Stopped for a quick drink on the way home. He remembered that much. So far so good, Hawk—nothing wrong with that. Then he remembered some nice older bear of a man buying him a tequila shooter. That’s when all the trouble started. Holy shit! Slowly, the events of the night started to unfold.
Hawk squeezed his eyes tighter against the vivid memories, but they forced their way in anyway. The Ja¨germeister. Stripping on the bar. And… oh hell no! The back-of-the-bar blowjob came rushing back to him. Oh crap, Hawk. You did it again!
No longer able to ignore his overflowing bladder, Hawk sluggishly sat up in the bed to begin a search for a bathroom, doing his best not to wake the man lying next to him. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced at an unexpected stab of pain. Fuck! My ass hurts.
Once upright and relatively steady, he checked around for his clothes. Clothing was strewn everywhere, including a leather jockstrap and leather chaps hanging from a curtain rod. Those aren’t mine.
Hawk finally spotted his red T-shirt on the floor next to a chair with an empty bottle of lube and a box of condoms sitting on the arm. That’s why my ass hurts. He quietly crossed the room, picked up the red T-shirt, and silently cursed when half of it remained on the floor. He reluctantly dropped the piece of cotton, shaking his head in disgust as he flashed back to the shirt being ripped off him.
Appalled at himself, Hawk looked around for anything else he might recognize. He spotted a familiar black, silver-studded belt on a pair of black jeans hanging on a doorknob across the room. Mine! He tiptoed over to get his pants and was relieved when he glimpsed a bathroom through the half-open door. Hawk lifted his jeans off the knob, silently slipped in, and closed the door behind him. He checked his pockets for his keys, wallet, and cell phone and was relieved when they were all there. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes.