Page 275 of Labor of Love

So I had no choice. I decided to start over in Key West, and even if the heat killed me—and with the way I was sweating it just might—there was no way in hell I was going back to Chicago.

Betty’s beringed fingers waved in front of my face. “Milo? You okay, kiddo?” I blinked and focused on her face and she lovingly patted my cheek. “I lost you there for a second.”

“Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.” I set my half-full glass of champagne on the counter, celebratory bubbles suddenly the last thing I wanted.

She twisted her lips to the side. “Well, you need to let whatever it is you were thinking about go. No one should look that sad, and if I find out who put that look in your eyes, I’ll murder them myself. I can do wicked work with a metal nail file.”

The vehemence in her tone made me smile. If Key West as a whole was anything like Betty, I might be half in love already. Maybe she was right and I needed to get out and do some exploring.

“If I wanted to see the very best of the city, where should I start?”

She tutted. “Not where, angel fish. When. And the answer to that question is sunset. Watching the sun set over the ocean is the best place to start. I guarantee they didn’t have sunsets like ours in Chicago.” She patted my arm. “Head down to the marina and take a peek.” She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, then headed for the door. “I can’t wait to see what you do to this place. I know it’s going to be amazing.”

She had the door open before I realized she’d left the champagne and her sexy merman glasses behind.

“Wait. You forgot these.” I picked up the flutes and started for the door.

“Oh, no. The bubbly and the glasses are for you. A gallery-warming present if you will. Enjoy.” She waved and slipped out the door, sliding on a pair of oversized sunglasses as she turned down the street to where her little red sports car sat at the curb.

After she sped away, I studied the glasses in my hands, noticing the intricate details in the craftsmanship of the mermen. Maybe I should take a walk and check out theChristmas Shoppe, but Betty said I should start with the sunset, and suddenly, that sounded like a great idea.

2

NOAH

Iloved Tuesdays, even though most people I knew thought Tuesday was the worst day of the week. Monday offered the opportunity for a fresh start. Wednesday was the middle of the week. Thursday was Friday eve, and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were the weekend, which left Tuesday with nothing going for it. But for me, Tuesday meant the late afternoon dive tour followed by Taco Tuesday at the Ice House, my friend Magnus’s bar. There was nothing better than spending three hours leading a dive around the reef and one of my favorite midlevel wrecks and capping off the night with chorizo tacos and a key lime margarita.

I could almost taste the spicy heat of the meat and the creamy coolness of the cocktail as I turned the boat back into the marina, heading for the slips owned by my family’s dive company, Captain Cove’s Dive Charters.

My brother, Caspian, jumped off the bow of the boat and grabbed the mooring lines as I slid us into the slip. He started gathering and checking the gear while I thanked our customers and answered any last-minute questions. They’d been a good group tonight, more experienced than some of the tourists I took out, and we’d been able to go to a slightly deeper wreck than Ihad originally planned. But the conditions had been right and we had the appropriate gear, and the divers had loved it. One of the women had brought an underwater camera and was exchanging information with several other divers so she could share the pictures she’d taken.

“Thanks, Noah. That was a great dive.” One of our regulars, a young guy named Sean, held out a hand for me to shake. He was some kind of investment banker from New York or something, and he traveled to Miami a lot for work. Whenever he was in Florida, he made the drive down to dive with us.

“My pleasure.”

“I’ll see you next month when I’m back in Miami for work.”

“Sounds good, man. See you then.”

He picked up his gear—he usually brought his own, everything but the tanks—and started up the dock.

Cas was unloading the gear from the deck onto the dock. “Noah, can you give me a hand with the cooler?”

“On my way.”

On our longer dives, we always brought a huge cooler with water and snacks. Today, no one had partaken in the offerings so the cooler was still fully stocked and heavy. Cas hoisted it up onto the side of the boat, and I grabbed it from there, lugging it back up the dock while Cas went ahead of me with the gear. The sun was just starting to set, and like it always did, it took my breath away. The water sparkled in shades of crimson, gold, and orange on the water, the masts of several sailboats shadows in the distance. The view belonged on a postcard and never got old, and I was so distracted, I didn’t realize there was someone else on the dock until the cooler collided with them and they let out a small yelp.

I looked up in time to see a gorgeous man I didn’t recognize windmilling his arms as he tried to keep himself from falling off the dock into the water.

“Oh, shit!” I dropped the cooler, water bottles and ice flying, and reached out to grab the man, grabbing his arm before he could hit the drink.

The second I touched him a spark of awareness jolted through me, and I took a stumbled step backward, making the already unsteady man fall against my chest, and his scent filled my nose.

He carried the lavender notes that marked him as an omega, but beyond that there was a woodsy green scent that made me think of pine forests and mountain springs. It was so clean, and crisp, and pure that I wanted to bury my nose in the stranger’s neck and never come up for air. I could live all the rest of my days inhaling his scent and never get tired of it, and if I could smell him while I watched the sunset, I would never want the evenings to end.

And, what the actual fuck. Where the hell had any of those thoughts come from?

Tuning back into my body, I realized I had my arms wrapped too tightly around the stranger, and even though I didn’t want to let go, he was steady on his feet again. Reluctantly, I let my arms drop, then bent down to pick up the scattered water bottles and stuff them back in the cooler so I wouldn’t be tempted to pull the stranger against my chest again.

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