Seb’s Summer by K.C. Wells

Chapter Ten

 

Seb glanced at his phone. It was already eight-thirty. He’d stayed way longer than he’d intended at Marcus’s place, and it had been a real wrench to leave. Seb had been telling him stories about Grammy, such as the time she’d caught him stealing apples from the tree in the back yard, and had taken a broom to his ass. Or the time he’d stayed over, and she’d threatened to cover his mouth with duct tape because he and Levi had been talking till the early hours and they’d made far too much noise.

Marcus had laughed his ass off, they’d drunk a few beers, Seb had changed back into his own clothes, and had left in a good mood, despite the earlier rejection.

Hey, look at me, the grown-up.

There were other stories he could have told, but Seb was in no mood to share them. Marcus didn’t need to hear how Grammy had cuddled him on the couch, fed him cookies, and wiped away his tears. His throat still tightened when he remembered her words.

“We don’t get to choose our family, more’s the pity. So all I’ll say is this. If that culch of a mom of yours wants to be number than a hake and not see you for the shinin’ boy you are, that’s her loss. You got family under this roof, y’hear?”

Then he recalled how he’d gotten onto the topic of Grammy in the first place, and he speed-dialed Levi.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Levi demanded. “Don’t you have to be up at the crack of dawn?”

Seb snorted. “I’m usually on the water by the time dawn shows her sorry ass. I need something from you.”

“I am not driving over there to give you a massage, you got that? Ask the hot guy who might not bat for our team to give you one.”

“Yeah, about him…” It had been a week since he and Levi last spoke, and Seb needed to bring him up to speed.

Levi made a choking sound at the other end of the line. “Fuck. He’s gay, isn’t he? I swear, if you fell into a septic tank, you’d climb out of it smelling of roses. How do you do that? Just happen to run into a hot daddy who turns out to be gay? You’re not getting any sleep, are you?”

“Whoa there, Usain Bolt. Not so fast with the assumptions, all right? And can I just say…. Septic tank? Ew. Yes, Marcus is gay. But… he’s not interested, okay?”

Crickets.

“Levi? You still there?”

“I take it Marcus walks with a white stick, or a dog. Because why the fuck would he not be interested in you?”

Seb smiled. “You’re great for my ego, you know that?”

“How do you know he’s not interested?”

“Because I made a move and he turned me down. Not sure what’s going on with him—because something is—but right now, nailing my ass is not on his agenda.”

“Sure he doesn’t just need more persuading?”

Seb rolled out a heavy sigh. “I’m backing off, okay? No more flirting. Because if my best moves got me nowhere, I’m flogging a dead horse. Now… remember that recipe of Grammy’s for mackerel?”

Levi went quiet for a moment. “You called me to get a recipe? Now it all makes sense. Who are you, and what have you done with Seb?”

He laughed. “I took Marcus fishing today, and we caught a shit ton of mackerel. I wanted to give him the recipe. I always love that meal whenever Grammy makes it.”

“I’ll get it off her tomorrow and email it. She’s asleep.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Another pause. “You like this Marcus, don’t you?”

Seb never could hide shit from Levi. “Yeah, I do. Because apart from the fact that he’s hot as fuck, he’s also a really nice guy. I’m sorry it’s worked out this way, because… dayum… but he needs a friend.” And not even one with benefits.

“You’re good at that.” Levi’s voice was warm. “And for the record, I know how tough it is when you’re really into someone, and they don’t want to know. At least, not in the way you’d like them to.”

There was an ache in Seb’s throat, and he yearned to ask who it was that Levi burned for, but he didn’t dare. If Levi wanted to share that, he’d come right out with it.

“So… what are your plans for next weekend?” Levi’s bright tone felt forced.

“This weekend still has a few hours left. Not that I’ll see ’em.”

“It’s the Fourth next Saturday, you doofus. You’re not working, are you?”

Seb snorted. “Are you kidding? The wharf is gonna be swarming with tourists.”

“You could always come here. You know you’d be welcome.”

Yeah, Seb knew. “Thanks for the invite, but to be honest? I think I might just veg out on the couch and watch TV. A couple of days chillin’ sounds awesome right now.”

“And speaking of chilling… you need to sleep, so I’ll let you go to bed. Sweet dreams, dude.”

“Thanks, Levi.” Seb knew exactly what to do to ensure he fell asleep within seconds, and it involved lube, a towel—and thoughts of a sexy guy with silver hair at his temples and a sultry gaze that made Seb go weak at the knees.

See you in my dreams, Marcus.

If he was lucky.

 

 

June 30

Marcus peered at his shopping list. He wasn’t buying a lot of groceries, just making sure he had the basics for when the hordes descended. Mom and Dad were due the following day, then more would trickle in over Thursday and Friday. He’d spent most of the day cleaning, not that the house was dirty in the first place, but he knew his definition of clean differed widely from his mom’s.

If she couldn’t eat off it, it wasn’t clean.

He stopped by the produce and scanned the available fruit. If memory served, Mom preferred to keep the fruit bowl overflowing, rather than buy snacks.

We’re going to need a lot of fruit.

“So what’s the deal with green bananas?”

He turned to find Seb standing behind him, grinning. “I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu.” There was no suggestive tee this time, only a plain white one under his plaid jacket. Marcus pointed to it. “How very… Maine.”

How does he do that? Seb could wear something as plain as jeans and a tee, and yet be a poster boy for Sexy AF.

A boy you don’t want, remember? Looking at Seb’s slim frame, Marcus was finding it difficult to recall his excuses for turning Seb down. Because he did want him.

Seb’s eyes twinkled. “Have they started arriving yet?”

“Mom and Dad drive up tomorrow. I’m not sure when Jess is getting here. And no one else has been in touch. They’ll just turn up.”

“But how many is ‘they’?

Marcus rolled his eyes. “I wish I knew. There could be as many as thirteen adults and two kids under that roof if they all show up. Which is why the washer and drier have been running nonstop all day. Every piece of bedding in the house has been through them.” He affected a heavy sigh. “I’m worn out. I’ve been trying to work out who sleeps where, but I gave up. They’re all going to have to double up, that’s the only solution. And they can fight it out as to who they share a bed with.”

Seb laughed. “You can’t fit fifteen people around that dining table.”

“Ah, but there’s another table in the garage, and more chairs. Big family gatherings?” He waved dismissively. “We’ve got this.” Except the nearer he got to showtime, the more nervous he became.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It had been a while since he’d been around so many members of his family. They were an intuitive bunch, so Marcus couldn’t afford to let his guard slip. He knew Mom and Dad would have questions, and he wasn’t sure how to handle them.

“If it all gets too much, you can escape to my place,” Seb said suddenly. When Marcus blinked, he held up his hand. “It’s just an idea. There’s a huge couch and it’s comfy. The place is small, but it’s peaceful. Any time you wanna get out of the house, call me. Or text me the word HELP and I’ll call you and make it sound like an emergency, if you need an excuse.”

Marcus tilted his head to one side. “Do I look as if I need an escape plan?”

Seb nodded, his eyes bright. “Man, you’ve got panic written all over you. I thought your family was okay?”

“They are,” Marcus protested. “Just… not in huge numbers.” A comfortable warmth surged through him. “Thanks for the offer. If it gets too much, I might take you up on it.” He sighed. “I’d better get going. Right now it feels like I’m about to feed the five thousand.”

Seb’s eyes lit up. “Oh. I’ve got that recipe I told you about. The one for mackerel.” He grinned. “If you’re gonna feed the five thousand, what better than fish, right? I’ll text it to you. It’s real easy.”

“Thanks, Seb.” What impressed Marcus more than anything was the complete lack of flirtation, even when Seb had offered his house as a refuge. He promised he’d back off, and he did. Respect was a very appealing trait.

“You’re welcome.” Seb grabbed a bunch of green bananas and put them in his cart. “I’ll let you get on with your shopping. And Happy Fourth of July, for when it gets here. Yours will be a damn sight busier than mine.”

Marcus squeezed Seb’s shoulder, unable to resist the urge to connect with him. “It was good to see you.”

Seb’s eyes were warm. “Ditto.” Then he walked away, heading for another aisle. Marcus drank in the sight of those long legs and that firm butt.

Maybe I’ve got this all wrong. What harm would it do? It would just be sex, right? And he wants it as much as I do. No strings, just for the summer.

Then he shoved down hard on such thoughts. He couldn’t think about sex with Seb when his parents and the rest of the Gilbert menagerie would be upon him before he knew it.

That offer of an escape route was such a temptation.

 

 

July 1

Marcus opened the front door as soon as he heard a car engine. Mom waved at him from behind the wheel, and he gaped. “He let you drive?” Dad never let Mom take the driver’s seat. Then he got a good glimpse at his dad, and his chest tightened.

Dad seemed tired.

Marcus dashed out to the car and opened the door for him. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Dad waved a hand. “Don’t you start. I’ve had enough of that from your mother. I only let her drive to shut her up.”

“Did it work?”

Dad rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” He inclined his head toward Mom. “She keeps saying I need to think about stopping driving. Hell, I’m only seventy-five.”

Mom walked around to Dad’s side. “He’s being stubborn, as usual. He saw the doctor yesterday, and the diagnosis was he needs to stop doing so much and slow down. Stupid old fool never listens though.”

Marcus couldn’t miss the love in her voice, however, which wasn’t bad going after almost fifty years of marriage.

“What’s he been doing?”

Dad glared at him. “I am here, y’know. And all I’ve been doing is gardening.”

Mom snorted. “All, he says. He only decided to re-landscape the entire yard, and it’s almost an acre. I told him to get someone in to do the job, but did he listen?”

Marcus held up his hands. “Okay, can we cease hostilities for a moment?” He turned to Dad. “You are not going to lift a finger while you’re here, all right? You’re going to sit out in the yard, read, sleep, eat—and relax.” Then he gave Mom a hard stare. “And you are going to do exactly what he does. We are all old enough and big enough to take care of ourselves, and you two.”

Mom blinked, her mouth opened and closed, but she said nothing.

Marcus gave a satisfied smile. “Now we’ve got that settled, let me get your bags.”

“I’ve popped the trunk,” Dad told him.

“I don’t suppose you know who’s coming?” Marcus inquired as he walked around to the rear of the car.

“Robert called last night to say Josh couldn’t make it. He’s gone camping for the weekend with friends from his college days. I think it’s some kind of reunion. And Robert’s not coming either.”

“Aw. That’s a shame.” Marcus liked his cousin Robert. He had fond memories of flying a kite with Robert one summer, when Marcus was about eight years old. Robert had just graduated from college, but had found time to play with his young cousin.

“Matt called to say he can’t make it either. Apparently he has a new girlfriend, and her parents have invited him to spend the weekend with them.” Mom’s eyes sparkled. “I say new—they’ve been dating almost a year now, so I think it’s serious.” She darted a glance at him, and Marcus steeled himself for The Question. ‘So are you seeing anyone?’ When nothing else was forthcoming, he grabbed as many bags as he could manage, and headed back inside. Dad followed, and Mom locked the car.

The moment she crossed the threshold, she sniffed. “You’ve been cleaning. I can smell that lavender furniture polish.” Dad went into the living room and immediately opened the French doors to the back yard.

Marcus put down the bags and kissed her cheek. “Does it pass inspection?”

Mom arched her eyebrows. “How long did you spend cleaning the place? I was imagining three months’ worth of bottles and God knows what else.”

He wasn’t listening—he was preparing a list in his head of all the room permutations. “You and Dad are in your usual room. Do you have any idea where you want to put everyone?”

“We’ll take a look at the room situation when I’ve made us all some tea.” She peered at him expectantly. “There is—”

“Yes, there’s tea. I got Earl Grey, chamomile, peppermint, and green tea. Oh, and there’s breakfast tea too.”

Mom stroked his cheek. “Thank you.” She went into the kitchen, and Marcus picked up the bags and carried them into the master bedroom. All his belongings had been packed into his suitcases and bags, ready for the move to the summerhouse. Although the total number of adults had been whittled down to ten, it still made sense for him to sleep out there.

“Marcus?” Mom appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Why is my freezer full of mackerel?” Her lips twitched.

“Ah. Yes. Well… I went fishing.”

She widened her eyes. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “A friend took me out, and we caught a striped bass. What you see is what’s left of the bait.”

Mom raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “A friend? Here in Cape Porpoise?”

“I met him a couple of weeks ago. He’s staying here to haul lobster for his uncle who had an accident.”

“And does this friend have a name?”

Marcus bit his lip. “You might be retired, but you haven’t lost that teacher voice, have you? He’s called Seb. And he’s also a teacher when he’s not working on a lobster boat.”

“What’s he doing for the Fourth?”

Marcus didn’t think Seb was doing anything except chilling. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I thought you might like to invite him to join us for dinner on Saturday,” she said nonchalantly.

Marcus wasn’t fooled. “He’s just a friend.”

Her eyes widened again. “Did I suggest he was anything other than a friend?”

He didn’t deign to respond to that. “He might have plans,” he protested.

“Then why don’t you call him and find out? It’s not as if one more mouth to feed would be a hardship.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve already decided on dinner for Saturday, thanks to you.”

Marcus had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was coming. “Oh?”

She smiled. “Mackerel, seeing as there’s enough to feed a small army—or a house full of Gilberts.”

“Seb sent me a recipe for mackerel.”

“Excellent. Then if he agrees to join us, he can help you cook it.” That smile grew sweeter. “Well, you did say I wasn’t to lift a finger this weekend, didn’t you?”

Damn, she’s good.

“Fine, I’ll call him.”

“Do it now. Strike while the iron’s hot.”

Marcus shook his head. “And you say Dad is stubborn?” He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and glanced at the time. Seb would be done for the day by now. He hit Call. Mom didn’t move from the doorway.

“Escaping already? Wow. That was fast.”

Marcus laughed. “Hey. My mom would like to invite you to dinner on Saturday, but before you say anything, there’s a catch.” Mom gave him a mock glare.

“Uh-oh.”

“You know all that mackerel we caught, gutted and cleaned? She wants us to cook it.”

Silence.

“Seb?”

“That has to be the most unusual invitation I’ve ever received. Well, almost, but you don’t wanna know about that. Okay. Thank your mom, and tell her I’d love to. One thing—just how many people are we cooking for?”

“Including you? Thirteen, two of which are children.”

“Good thing I’m not superstitious then. What time Saturday?”

Apparently his voice carried. “Tell him to come over as early as he likes,” Mom said. “That’s in case he needs to escape from something.” Her eyes glittered. Then she turned around and walked away.

Aw shit. At seventy, Mom’s hearing was as sharp as ever.

“Oops. Did I just drop you in it?”

Marcus chuckled. “Forty-four years old, and she still makes me feel as if I’m just a kid. You sure you want to do this?”

“Hey, I’ve got nothing else to do, and your mom sounds like she’d be a lot of fun.”

It wasn’t the first word that sprang to Marcus’s mind. “In that case, I’ll see you Saturday. And if you call to say you can’t make it because a mutant lobster bit off your foot, I’ll say bullshit.”

Seb laughed. “Damn. I’d better think of another excuse. See ya.” He disconnected.

Marcus pocketed his phone, smiling.

Guess who’s coming to dinner?