CHAPTER 4
REID
REID waved in passing at a couple locals across the street as he made his way to the local Thai restaurant, The Wild Rose. The afternoon had grown unseasonably warm, so Reid had opted to stay in a simple T-shirt and jeans, though he had changed into his nice jeans and a sage-green shirt Sasha said brought out his eyes.
Not that he was hoping to impress Harris at all.
Thinking back to earlier in the day, Reid couldn’t believe he had actually agreed to have dinner with Harris Brewer. Though he received dinner invitations frequently, Reid turned each of them down. He had learned his lesson early on in his career with the restaurant when a couple of dinner dates had ended in unrealistic expectations and hurt feelings. He didn’t know what had come over him in that moment. It may have had something to do with those large doe eyes, but for some reason, he had found himself agreeing. Really, what he should have done was torn up the receipt right there in the walkway of Changing Tides and left, but that would have been rude. And his mother had raised him better than that.
So, if Harris wanted dinner, Reid could give him dinner.
But Reid also made it his personal goal to talk Harris down to a normal tip amount by the end of it.
Reaching the restaurant, Reid pulled open the door and headed inside. He looked around for Harris, letting out a relieved breath when he saw he wasn’t there. He had purposefully arrived a bit early, so he could ground himself before Harris showed up.
Sharon waved at Reid from the front counter as the door closed behind him with a happy sound of bells. The restaurant was tiny, with only ten tables, but they served meals fast and had a high turnaround rate. Reid nursed a healthy amount of jealousy for that kind of production, which he knew had more to do with the type of food served than anything else. Still, The Wild Rose had always been a favorite of his, even when he had worked here.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Sharon said as she sauntered his way. If Reid had been straight, he had no doubts that the two of them could have had some fun. She stood tall and curvy, with thick blonde hair that fell pin straight to the middle of her back. Her light green eyes always sparkled with kindness whenever she saw him.
“Come to steal more trade secrets?” she asked with a wink.
“No, not this time,” Reid said with a soft laugh. “Came to eat, actually. Been a while since I’ve had some of that yellow curry.”
“I’ll get that started for you. Pick a seat anywhere you’re comfortable,” she said.
“Thanks. Um,” Reid felt heat rise up his neck. Not for the first time, he cursed his Irish heritage for allowing him to blush so easily. “I’m actually meeting a friend. Can I take a couple of menus, and you hold off on that curry until he shows?” Reid asked.
Sharon’s sweeping eyebrows rose in surprise. “A friend?” she asked. “Or a date?” She gave him a knowing smile.
“Just a friend,” Reid said, turning his head back to look out the window for Harris, mostly to hide his deepening blush. She probably wouldn’t believe him anyway.
When Reid came out during high school, he had been surprised by the show of support in the town. He had no doubts that most of that was due to his mother and her role in the community. She had accepted him, loudly supported him, and others had followed suit. Seaside was a small town, but that didn’t mean they were small-minded. Lots of diversity flowed in and out of that town every year, and if the locals harbored any negative thoughts or feelings toward tourists, they were usually gone before it ever became an issue. And it was good business sense to let it be, or else Seaside wouldn’t keep its friendly reputation. Reid knew he was one of the lucky ones and did his part in the community to ensure others would have as safe of a place as he did.
“I’ll let you get away with it this time, Colburn,” Sharon said, giving him the side-eye. “But one of these days, you’re going to have to give a girl some details. Oh, that reminds me!” She gave his shoulder a light punch. “We need to do some shopping in Portland. I still have that gift card to Nordstrom’s from last Christmas.”
“Yeah, let’s do it. Before the season picks up.” Reid gave her a warm smile as he wandered to a table for two by the front window. Being on prominent display with Harris would get the gossip mills running, but Reid didn’t want to worry about that tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time he put the kibosh on rumors involving him.
Surprise filled Reid when, only five minutes later, he spotted Harris walking down the street.
Reid took the opportunity to drink in the sight Harris made. He looked good, dressed in jeans that clung to his narrow hips and thighs and a red sweater that did wonderful things to his lightly tanned skin. His hair was just as artfully disheveled as it had been the night before, and Reid had to clench his fists against the tingling in his fingers. He wanted to play with the hair, to see if Harris would stretch up into his hands and purr like a cat.
Then Reid realized Harris was waving at him, and he startled, feeling his face flush once again. Reid raised a hand in return and pointed to their table in front of him, immediately feeling like an idiot. Of course, Harris would be able to put two and two together that this was their table. Reid wanted to melt into the floor.
It looked like Harris huffed a laugh, his lips spreading wide over straight, white teeth. The goatee caught Reid’s attention, and he couldn’t help but wonder what that would feel like against his own lips. His neck. His chest.
Christ, Colburn. Pull it together. This isn’t a date.
Harris disappeared from view, and Reid heard the jingle of the bells at the door. Reid took a moment to suck in a deep breath and get his shit together. He clenched his fists tight, digging his nails into his palms, the pain grounding him for a moment. Then Harris turned the corner, and Reid’s breath caught.
“Hi,” Harris said easily, sliding into the seat in front of Reid before Reid could even stand in greeting. He picked up the menu in front of him. “Smells good in here.”
Reid struggled to move his tongue, suddenly stuck to the roof of his mouth. This was such a huge mistake.
“Yeah,” he finally managed, forcing a smile out. He hoped it was a smile at least. It could have been a grimace. “I used to work here, back in the day. I highly recommend the curry, any of them, or the Pad See-Ew. Really, anything’s good here.” Reid bit his lip to stop himself from babbling, feeling the heat rush up his neck. Then he realized he hadn’t said hello. “And hi. How was your day?”
Harris’ eyes crinkled at the corners, the deep brown of his eyes reflecting the light. “It was good. Well, boring, but fine overall. I went for my run and stayed on the beach for a few hours. I never realized the ocean could be so…” He waved a hand in the air over his menu.
Reid nodded. “I know what you mean. Sometimes it’s the only thing that will stop my brain from going a million miles an hour.”
“Exactly. Then I got lost on a drive, ended up in Cannon Beach, I think, found an art gallery that I think my assistant would love to see. Oh, by the way, I need to know the name of the artist whose work you have up in your restaurant.”
“Why?” Reid said, blinking at the sudden change in topic. He had spent a lot of hours on those paintings. There hadn’t been much else to do while his mother had been in the hospital, and he had been going stir-crazy. They were personal. Emotionally charged. He almost hadn’t hung them until Linc and Sasha had stolen them and hung them up without his knowledge one night. He hadn’t had the heart to take them down. And most of the locals seemed to enjoy them.
“I don’t like art,” Harris said. Reid felt his back snap tight. “But I like those. They caught my eye. Art never catches my eye. My assistant, an art fiend, needs to see them. And to talk with the artist about commissions or maybe setting up a show in L.A.”
Reid felt the wind fly out of his sails, replaced by pure shock. “Wow. Um.” Making a quick decision, Reid smiled. “I’ll let him know and see if he’s willing.” He didn’t like being deceitful, but it would give him more time to think the whole thing over. He had a feeling that if Harris knew those paintings were his, he’d never get a moment’s peace while Harris was in town.
“Good. Thank you.” Harris went back to his menu. “What are you having?”
“Yellow curry,” Reid said. “My favorite.”
“Nice. I’ll get the Pad See-Ew, and we’ll share?” He winked as he asked the question. Reid felt his stomach tighten.
This is not a date.
“Sure,” he said, unable to come up with a good excuse otherwise.
Sharon walked up and took their orders. She winked at Reid when Harris suggested an extra couple of plates so they could share. Reid could practically see the rumor mills spinning ruthlessly.
“If you’re looking for more art, I know of a couple places nearby that you might want to look at,” Reid continued.
Harris shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a list. I’ll just to pass on to Maggie, my assistant. It’s really her thing.”
“You have an assistant? What do you do?” Reid asked. He had never met anybody who had a personal assistant.
“I’m a cardiac surgeon.” Harris said it so simply that Reid thought he had misheard for a moment. “Mostly challenging or difficult cases, but I do a routine cardiac bypass or stent implant here or there. Maggie just helps keep the other half of my life in line. I’m usually too busy with research and surgeries to actually take care of myself.”
“Oh, wow,” Reid said. His life suddenly felt so small in comparison. He didn’t know what else to say, to even talk about. The fact that Harris had liked his artwork at all was a miracle.
“It pays the bills,” Harris said with a shrug. “It, uh, can be a bit tough sometimes. Like, I just lost a patient. And I can’t believe I just told you that.” Harris grabbed his water glass and gulped down its contents.
Reid’s heart broke a little for him. He couldn’t imagine being saddled with that kind of responsibility and pressure. He owned and operated a restaurant. The most he had to worry about was if there was a fire or if somebody didn’t like the food. He didn’t have to worry about saving people’s lives on the daily.
“I’m so sorry, Harris,” he said softly, reaching out for Harris’ other hand, which had clenched into a fist on the table. He covered it, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Harris stared at Reid’s hand covering his fist before he put the glass down. He shrugged again, looking out the window. “It wasn’t really my fault, though that’s easier to say than to believe. The patient had a secondary condition I didn’t know about, though we’re still waiting for the autopsy reports to confirm that. I knew it the second his BP started dropping, but it was too late by then. Maybe it is my fault, for not seeing it sooner. And this conversation doesn’t leave the table. Mags would kill me if she knew I was telling you this.”
Reid nodded as he squeezed Harris’ fist again. He didn’t quite know what to say, so he remained silent for a moment, watching Harris gather himself. It was evident the death had taken its toll on Harris. And for the first time, Reid found himself grateful that he was there, with Harris, offering some small semblance of comfort.
“Sorry,” Harris said with a heavy sigh. He took another sip of water.
“No, don’t be,” Reid said. He withdrew his hand, feeling the moment pass. “That’s why Seaside?”
Harris nodded. “A friend of Maggie’s, something that starts with a J, recommended it as a place I could get away and focus on myself. Maggie took care of it, and here I am. Wow. That makes me sound like a terrible person when it’s all laid out.”
Reid shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it speaks of a human who needs to recover. And the fact that you have someone to help you means you’re one of the lucky ones.” He remembered all too clearly what it had been like when he had lost his mother. He had had lots of help from locals and friends, but in the end, he was still a grieving young man who had to face all the legalities and reality of death on his own.
“How long have you lived in Seaside?” Harris asked, deftly changing the subject.
Sharon interrupted them to place their food on the table, already split onto the extra plates. Reid gave her a friendly glare as she once again winked his way. Harris thanked her and began to dig in. He moaned around the first bite, which sent a bolt of heat straight to Reid’s lower abdomen.
“Um,” Reid cleared his throat, trying to remember the question Harris had asked. “I’ve lived here all my life. My father was a naval officer and my mother a nurse. He died when I was very young, and Mom decided to stay. This community really helps one another when we need it. I never saw the point in leaving.”
“And Dylan, he’s a family friend?” Harris asked between bites. “He makes a mean breakfast.”
Reid grinned. “Yeah, he does. I taught him everything he knows, of course.” Harris laughed, and Reid felt his chest tighten at the sound. “But yeah. Dylan was the neighbor kid. After my dad died, my mom would need a man to help fix things around the house. I was too young to do it, but Dylan was just about a teenager at that time, so he would come over and help. Or he would bring his dad if it was a bigger project. He taught me more about taking care of a house than I taught him about cooking, that’s for sure.”
“He’s fond of you,” Harris said. “Can see it when he talks about you.”
Reid felt that familiar heat bloom across his face. He didn’t know why but he liked the idea of Harris asking Dylan about him.
Harris polished off the rest of his meal, groaning in appreciation. “You’re right. That curry was amazing. Thank you for sharing with me.”
“Anytime,” Reid said, finding that he meant it. And he really shouldn’t. Harris was here to recover from a loss. Who would Reid be to capitalize on a weak moment like that?
When Sharon came by with the check, Harris held out his credit card without a word before Reid could even attempt to reach for his wallet.
“Harris –” he began in protest.
“No,” Harris shook his head, passing the card off to Sharon, who took it without comment. She did give Reid a pointed look as she passed, though. “You won’t take my tip, so I’m buying your dinner. It’s the least I can do.”
Reid shook his head, letting it go. If that’s what Harris felt he needed to do, then so be it.
The check handled, Reid stood. Dinner hadn’t taken very long at all, true to form. But instead of feeling relieved that they could say goodbye and go their separate ways, Reid found himself reluctant to leave Harris’ company. Especially after hearing about Harris’ reasons for being in Seaside in the first place.
As they walked outside, Reid noticed the sun had lowered, bathing the town in twilight. Catching sight of a sign down the street, Reid smiled, an idea forming in his head.
“Come on,” he said in lieu of a farewell. “Best ice cream on the coast is right down here. And best waffle cones.”
“That’s a pretty bold claim,” Harris said with a laugh but fell into step beside Reid. “I’m going to have to try a lot of ice cream around here to corroborate that statement.”
“Such a hardship,” Reid said, deadpan. “Seriously, these guys have a small dairy farm not too far from here. They supply most of their product to Tillamook down the coast, which if you’ve never been, you should, but they keep enough to make their own ice cream and run this shop. The line is usually down the block a ways during the summer. Worth it, though.”
They entered the store, the heavy smell of sugar tickling Reid’s nose.
“Hey, Reid,” a young woman with deep, dark red hair that fell in large waves down her back called from behind the counter. “I was wondering if I would see you in here today. It was a warm one.”
“Sure was,” Reid said, giving her a little wave. “Harris, this is Ava. One of the Wilkensons. Owners of everything perfect and good in this world. Ava, Harris. Out-of-towner.”
“You wound me,” Harris gasped, throwing a hand over his heart. “Just for that, you’re buying the ice cream.”
Reid grinned. “Deal.”
Harris wandered up to the glass case housing all of the flavors of ice cream. While he perused the selection, Ava made eye contact with Reid and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Reid narrowed his eyes and shook his head in response, feeling the blush creep up into his face already. She gave him a knowing grin and nodded her head. Reid gave up, joining Harris at the display case.
In the end, Harris stuck with the classic mint chocolate chip, and Reid went with lavender. Both in freshly made waffle cones.
“Bold choice,” Harris commented, taking a big bite of his ice cream as they left the shop. Reid stared at the light green cream that dusted the edges of his goatee, feeling the urge to lean over and lick it off. To distract himself, he focused on steering the two of them down the next street toward the ocean.
“Want to try?” Reid asked, holding out his cone.
Harris crinkled his nose a little. “I won’t turn into a hippie, will I?” he asked.
Reid laughed, loud and long. “No, you won’t. Trust me. It’s good. It’s mostly sugar anyway.” He held the cone out.
What followed was something straight out of one of Reid’s unacknowledged fantasies. Harris leaned forward and took a bite of the cold cream, slowly, his eyes never leaving Reid’s. Reid’s breath caught, heat burning through his veins and up his neck. And Reid knew that Harris knew what he was doing in that moment. But he couldn’t stop it.
He didn’t want to stop it.
Harris leaned back, licked his lips. Reid watched the pink tongue leave a wet trail behind, wondering what it would feel like against his skin. Then Harris crinkled his nose again.
“You know, every other suggestion you’ve had for me since last night has been phenomenal. Except that.” Harris pointed an accusatory finger at Reid’s cone.
Grateful for the reprieve, Reid resumed their walk down the street. Twilight darkened, and a bright orange glow reflected off the windows in nearby buildings. Sunset.
“Well, can’t get them all right, I suppose,” Reid said with a shrug, taking another bite of his ice cream, trying not to think about how Harris’ mouth had touched it not ten seconds earlier.
“No, I suppose not.”
They walked in silence down the street. The ocean came into view over the small hill in the road, the tide further out than it had been earlier that afternoon. It still had a while until official low tide, but it was low enough for folks to start razor clam digging. People crowded the beach, all turned toward the setting sun, which made a pretty picture of bright oranges and pinks as it settled low over the horizon.
“What are they doing?” Harris asked as they drew near to the beach.
“Clamming.” Reid didn’t hesitate to bring Harris out onto the sand. This may not be a date, but the sunset was still too amazing that evening to pass up. As a local, Reid had more than his fair share of pretty sunsets. He had even grown immune to them over the years. But something about this sunset, and this evening, spoke to Reid in a way that hadn’t happened in years.
“I’ve seen clamming before. People bring little buckets and shovels to the beach. What’s that?”
Reid bit his lip to contain his laughter. “Razor clamming. Razor clams are deeper in the sand, so folks use clam guns to dig ‘em up.”
“How do they even know where to look? Or do they just dig up a whole bunch of places and hope to get lucky?” Harris asked.
“Have you ever been clamming before?” Reid asked.
Harris shook his head. “Nah, I wasn’t one to get my hands dirty as a kid. And look what I do for a living now.” He gave a self-depreciating laugh.
Reid smiled warmly. “Well, clams need to breathe, believe it or not. So, you look for what we call a clam show. See everybody out there stomping around or hitting the ground with a stick like that man over there?” Reid pointed.
Harris nodded. “Yeah.”
“They’re disturbing the ground enough that a clam will withdraw its neck from the surface to avoid a predator. This makes a little hole or a ripple in the sand that’s pretty distinctive. The larger the hole, the larger the clam. I’ll show you sometime, if you want,” Reid offered before he thought better of it. Then he bit his lip. He really shouldn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to withdraw the invitation.
Harris brightened. “That sounds like it could be fun sometime.”
They walked further out onto the sand, watching as one couple dug up a razor clam and held it out to inspect between themselves.
“You should see this place around New Year’s,” Reid said. “It’s a tradition for a lot of folks to go razor clam digging at sunset. The place turns into a zoo.”
“Never been one for traditions,” Harris confessed, crunching into his waffle cone. Then he closed his eyes and moaned. Reid found himself having a real problem reacting to that sound. “But I could make one for these cones.”
Reid chuckled, hoping it didn’t come out sounding uncomfortable. “No traditions, huh? What do your parents do now?” he asked.
“They’re dead,” Harris said, point blank. Reid flinched and opened his mouth to apologize, but Harris waved it away before he could. “They died a long time ago, before I even went to college. Car accident.”
“Oh,” Reid said, feeling dumb. Way to ruin the conversation.
“Tell me about the town,” Harris said abruptly, taking another bite of the cone, his gaze fixed out on the horizon. The colors of the sunset seemed to make his skin glow, as though it were made for sunsets.
Reid itched for his watercolors and a canvas.
“Well, it’s just like any other tourist town, I suppose,” Reid began.
Harris snorted. “I’m from L.A. Let me tell you about a tourist town.”
Reid laughed. “Point. How about ‘small tourist town’?”
Harris looked over at him and smiled. “Go on.”
“The winter months are quiet, except around the holidays. Things really pick up during spring when schools go on break, and again for the summer. Lots of families. Lots of lovers. We get all kinds of folks, most of them from somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Some local businesses close up shop for the winter, since it could cost more to stay open than they would profit from it. I’ve been lucky enough to be able to stay open for the most part, though I do have shorter hours.”
“Lucky me,” Harris said, shooting Reid a wink.
They finished up their ice cream cones while they walked toward the water. At one point, Harris pulled out a sleek and thin smartphone and snapped a couple of pictures.
“Mags would kill me if I didn’t send her a picture of this,” he said in explanation. Then he added, “So, what do you do for fun around here? As a local? I can imagine the bumper cars and tiny shops full of cheap gift items gets old after a while.”
Reid snorted and gave a nod. “When the weather’s good and warm, several of us like to do some boogie boarding or body surfing. Some days, if we’re feeling daring, us locals will go for some actual surfing.”
“Now that I’ve got to see,” Harris said with another flirtatious wink sent Reid’s way.
Reid felt like he should put a stop to this. Though, to Harris, it was probably just some harmless flirting. And Reid didn’t want to make things more awkward between them than they already were. And it wasn’t as though Reid wasn’t giving off his own mixed signals, going on this not-date with Harris, buying him ice cream, and going for a walk on the beach at sunset.
After this, Reid would distance himself, and he knew Harris would figure it out.
But until then, Reid could allow himself to enjoy the moment.
The sun eased down below the horizon as Reid regaled Harris with stories of him and his friends playing in the surf and finding other things to occupy their time in a small town.
Then Reid walked Harris back to The Changing Tides Inn. When Harris peered up at him with dark eyes through even darker lashes, it took all Reid had within him to step back, say goodnight, and walk away.
But oh, how he wanted in that moment.
And it wasn’t until Reid made it back to his apartment that he realized Harris never revised his tip.