Page 56 of Twice Shy

“Another one.” Ollie nudged Joel’s arm. “Getting to be a habit.”

Joel watched him, pink-cheeked and smiling. “Yeah,” he said, with more honesty than was wise, “I guess you are.”

Ollie grinned, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, their cycle helmets clashing. Joel felt that kiss all over his body, like a static shock making every hair stand on end. Not just the warm lips on a cold day, or the frisson of sexual excitement, but the fact that Ollie had kissed him here—outside, where people could have seen. It excited and terrified him, leaving him mute.

“Lead on,” Ollie said, settling back in his saddle. “It’s getting cold.”

Joel led on, what else could he do? There was no going back now.

As the trail broadened, they came to ride side-by-side and since it was flat and paved they had breath enough to talk as they rode. Joel heard a little more about Jules, Ollie’s sister, and their mom who’d made a career for herself with the USAF audit office. “Good pension,” Ollie said. “When she retires, she’ll really be able to enjoy it.”

Joel smiled at that good sense coming from a face that, in this fresh morning light, looked even younger than its twenty-four years. “What about your dad?” He didn’t recall Ollie ever mentioning him.

“Wasn’t around. He left before I was born. He, ah—” He cleared his throat. “Something of a rolling stone, I guess. Who knows how many wild oats he sowed?”

“Really?”

Ollie shrugged. “Apparently.”

Joel’s own upbringing had been so staid and ordinary he couldn’t imagine living with that kind of uncertainty, not even knowing your own father. “Do you know his name?”

“I, um— Oh, hey, is that the lighthouse up there already? Cool.”

Sure enough, the lighthouse was looming in the distance, it’s white paint peeling but the gray blocky building with its squat octagonal tower still appealing in the sunlight. “That’s it,” Joel said, aware that Ollie had changed the subject but happy to let it go. However casual he might sound, it was clear the matter of his father was sensitive. Obviously, it would be sensitive. And Joel had no intention of prying. “You can’t go inside, but it makes a nice photo.”

“Bet the views would be great from the top.”

“You’d probably be taking your life in your hands.”

They cycled on, the day warming enough that Joel undid the zipper on his jersey. Up ahead, there seemed to be activity at the lighthouse, which was unusual. And a little disappointing; he’d hoped for some splendid isolation. But no, there was a truck there and a couple of guys walking around the building: one in a suit, the other more appropriately dressed in jeans and boots.

“Looks like someone’s going inside,” Ollie said as they freewheeled along the track.

Joel lifted his hand to wave as they passed and got an answering wave from the guy in boots and a brief glimpse of a handsome face and dark glasses. The truck had the National Park Service logo on the side. “Maybe the park service is taking it over? Would be great if they could restore it, huh?”

“Very cool,” Ollie agreed with a smile. “It’s a beautiful building.” They’d reached the end of the spit of land and Ollie climbed off his bike and stretched his legs. “Man, I’m out of shape.”

“Look pretty good from where I’m standing.”

Ollie laughed and pulled off his cycle helmet, running a hand through his damp, tangled hair. Joel glanced back toward the lighthouse, but the two guys had disappeared around the other side of the building, so he took the opportunity to push a few stray curls out of Ollie’s eyes. He wanted to tell him how much he loved his hair, the wild tumble of it, but that would be silly and sappy and premature. So he just smiled. “This is fun,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

“It’s beautiful out here.” Ollie pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, squinting in the bright light. “Thanks for bringing me, it feels like a vacation.”

“For me too.” And since when had he needed a vacation from his new low-stress life?

At the seaward side of the lighthouse, the trail ended with a decrepit old wooden bench facing out to sea. In the summer, Joel had sat there and lost himself in the view. But today, despite the sun, it was too cold to stop for long. Even so, they leaned their bikes up against the bench and walked across the scrubby grass to where the low cliff turned into boulders that tumbled down to a stony beach. The tide was in, waves frothing and hissing through the rocks. “You can climb down onto the shore when the tide’s out,” he said.

“Nice place for a picnic in the summer.”

“It would be.” They shared a smile and Ollie laughed, pink and self-conscious as he turned to look back out to sea. Those curls Joel was so obsessed with fluttered back from his face in the sharp breeze, and Joel felt an almost irresistible urge to stand behind him, wrap him in his arms and pull him back against his chest. But resist it he did. This thing—relationship; whatever you wanted to call it—was barely a week old and Joel was not intending to come out to the whole town on the strength of one week.

Ollie rubbed his arms. “Getting cool,” he said.

“Yup. Want to head back and grab some lunch?” He considered that Ollie might not have the budget to eat out, so added, “I have fixings for sandwiches at home if you like?”

Ollie made a play of faux concern. “But whatwillwe find to do at your place all afternoon?”

“I have Scrabble…”

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