Cole

The long summer days were giving way to later sunrises and earlier sunsets, and the woods behind Owen's house were turning fiery and golden. Autumn was right around the corner, and it dawned on me that I hadn't paused to admire the passing of a season since childhood. These days, I couldn't miss it. Everything about my life—our life—in this quiet town was tuned in to the nature's every turn.

I used to think I knew what I wanted, and I knew where I wanted to be. The brightest, most forward-thinking mind in Silicon Valley. The dominant force in my industry. People hanging on my every word. Big house, fast cars, influential friends. More money than I'd be able to spend in a hundred lifetimes.

Somewhere along the way, the operative features of my life lost their relevance.

Being demoted had something to do with it, but losing my way in the North Atlantic and sailing to Owen and the Cove claimed a large share of the responsibility. After six weeks here, I knew it to be true. If I hadn't found myself here, I would've spent a few weeks on the water, raging my way from one seasonal town to another while I cooked up a plan to retake my company.

I would've done it. Abandon the boat, fly back to California, storm into the office, and argue the shit right out of my replacement. I would've screamed, thrown things, caused a dreadful scene. And for several precious moments, I would've felt better, too. Vindicated, even.

But that tantrum wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference. It would've only confirmed for my board of directors that they'd made the right call.

Now, from the comfort of Owen's guest room, I was thankful for the upheaval I'd experienced this summer. I was no longer resentful of the board's decision to remove me as CEO. With my fingers flying over my keyboard as I blew through line after line of the best code I'd constructed in years, I appreciated their decision. They saw everything I wasn't willing to accept—my inability to care about every little financial indicator, my fraught relationship with strategic decision making, my curious management style—and enacted changes I never would've made on my own.

Most of the time, I was the smartest guy around. I was used to that. It'd always been that way. There was nothing I couldn't accomplish if I worked hard enough, stretched my skills, learned something new. Knowledge was my belief system, and the one that convinced me I could do anything and everything.

The only trouble with knowledge was that it never stopped to ask if I wanted to do everything.

I didn't, and recognizing that truth was like taking my first deep breath in decades. My head cleared, my senses sharpened, and my heart pounded with the promise of my man's unyielding affection. This was where I belonged, and I wanted to celebrate that. Get out of the house, go places, see people, let them see me. See us.

For all the time we spent joined at the hip, I wasn't convinced the people of Talbott's Cove saw us as a couple. I meant to change that tonight.

I saved my work and yanked the noise-canceling headphones off. I pushed my glasses to the top of my head and stretched my arms out in front of me.

Once I stowed my gear, I left the bedroom and went in search of Owen. I found him in the kitchen, his hands braced on the countertop while he stood, reading the local newspaper. Instead of standing beside him, I roped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his back, and nuzzled his neck. "Let's go out," I murmured.

"You're rubbing your dick on my ass and you want to go out?" he asked. "Seems contradictory, McClish."

"I want to go out with you," I insisted, my lips sliding under his ear.

Owen barked out a laugh, the sound reverberating through his body and into mine. "You want to take me on a date?" he asked over his shoulder.

I stole the opportunity to drop a kiss on his lips. "We enjoyed ourselves the last time we went out. Let's do that again."

"Are we going on a date?" he asked, reaching back to grip my neck. "Or do you want to get naughty in the woods?"

"Yeah, I want to take you out on a date," I replied with a purposeful roll of my hips against his backside. "And I want to show off my man."

He chuckled, a rough, rich sound that went straight to my cock. "Show me off? Why?"

"I want everyone to know you're off the market."

"What would that involve?" he asked. "I don't think JJ at The Galley would put up with you blowing me on the bar."

I rested my forehead between his shoulder blades, laughing. "I wouldn't blow you on the bar," I replied against his shirt. "I'd do it in a booth. Like a gentleman."

"Good to know," Owen replied, a laugh ringing in his words. "So, we're doing this? We're going on an actual date?"

"A real date with date-ish things," I said. "I'll pull out your chair for you, we'll engage in pleasant conversation, and maybe I'll let you kiss me goodnight at the door."

"By 'kiss you at the door,' do you mean fuck you in the woods?"

I slipped my hand between his legs, stroking him over his shorts. "I see no problem with that interpretation."

He reached back and squeezed my ass. "Go pick out a shirt for me. I want to be presentable for my date."

I nodded against his back but didn't let him go. "Are you sure about this?" I asked. "You don't mind being with me in the village?"

Owen was quiet for a long moment, his fingers still gripping my backside. Eventually, he said, "No. I don't hide who I am, and I don't want to hide you."