Home to Danger

By S.C. Wynne

Jason Sinclair grew up with an eccentric father and an unloving emotionally damaged mother. He bolted at seventeen and hasn't been home much in four years. When he discovers his mother is dying of cancer, he grudgingly returns home to say goodbye. He plans on doing his duty, and then selling the property so he can go back to his old life.

Adam Trent is the new sexy grounds keeper. Jason has an immediate attraction to the mysterious gardener, but Jason is horrible at relationships. However, Adam is persistent and impossible to ignore, so Jason gives in to his desires.

Most people in town assume Jason will sell the property the minute his mother dies, and run back to LA. Frankly, that was his plan until he became involved with Adam. But when his connection with Adam grows, he actually consider staying in Laramae Bay to explore his budding relationship with Adam.

When bizarre things start happening, it soon becomes obvious someone wants Jason's land, and they don't care what they have to do to get it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wynne Wynne Publishing
• Release date: May 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393397250

S.C. Wynne

S.C. Wynne has been writing MM romance and mystery since 2013. She’s a Lambda winner, and lives in California with her wonderful husband, two quirky kids, and a loony rescue pup named Ditto. www.scwynne.com

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

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Copyright (c) 2015 by S.C. Wynne

Home to Danger

By S.C. Wynne

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t go home again.

Chapter One

I was still pissed.

Yes, I know it’s such a cliché for the gay kid to be mad at his mother. I was embarrassingly aware of that little fact. Yet here I stood, twenty-one years old and still fuming about hurtful things said long ago.

She’s dying.

That simple truth was supposed to make it all okay. It was time to forgive and forget. You’re not allowed to hate a person who’s dying. Everyone knows that.

The front door of my childhood home opened abruptly, returning me to the present, and I froze like a rabbit. I’m not sure why, really. I wasn’t going to scurry into the underbrush, no matter who it was. Belinda hobbled outside and began to shake the throw rug clutched in her hands as if she were performing some sort of exorcism. She coughed against the cloud of dust that wafted back into her grimacing face.

Can I help you? A deep voice out of nowhere addressed me. A guy about my age stood in the shade at the corner of the porch. I hadn’t seen him when I got out of the cab. He was watching me with eyes narrowed. Did he think I was here to run off with the silver? He was shirtless, and annoyingly my gaze wandered over his muscled biceps and smooth chest before it occurred to me not to.

I’m good. Who the hell was this guy trying to chase me off my own property?

Is that right? His tone was challenging.

Meanwhile Belinda must have caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye because she stopped short and her mouth dropped open. Jason?

I raised my hand. In the flesh.

From this distance she appeared almost the same: plump with ruddy cheeks and a rumpled, flowered apron. As I closed the space between us, I could see some wrinkles around her weary brown eyes and patches of gray at the temples. She dropped the rug once she realized I wasn’t an apparition, and grabbed me in a warm hug permeated with the scent of lemon polish.

I can’t believe it. She held me at arm’s length. On the phone it sounded like you weren’t coming.

I managed a sheepish smile. I wasn’t. But then I changed my mind. Belinda had always been more maternal toward me than my actual mom. She’d been our housekeeper for as long as I could remember. Whenever my mom had been in one of her dark moods, Belinda kept me in an affectionate cocoon, tucked away in the kitchen with her nearby, peeling potatoes for dinner and humming a little tune under her breath.

You’re Jason? The guy from the shadows had ventured toward me. He was even nicer to look at in the sunshine. Raven hair, sky blue eyes, and full lips. Sexy.

Yep.

He held out his hand. Sorry if I came off like a jerk. I’m Adam.

I wasn’t sure what to say. No problem? I took his hand and enjoyed the feel of his smooth, warm flesh against mine. I caught a whiff of sweat and soap.

We’ve had a lot of trespassers lately, Adam added when I didn’t speak. His cheeks were flushed and he dropped his gaze to the ground.

I shrugged. It’s cool. You didn’t pull a gun on me or anything.

Belinda grinned suddenly. I’m so happy you’re here.

It’s great to see you too, Belinda. I couldn’t quite manage enthusiasm for being home just yet, but I really was happy to see her. You never seem to age.

Oh I do. Believe me. And at warp speed these days.

How’ve you been?

I’ve been all right. Other than my ass growing bigger every year, things are pretty much the same. She squeezed my arm. You’re really here, right? I’m not hallucinating?

I gave a worried glance toward the old house. I probably shouldn’t have come at all. I could feel Adam’s gaze on me, but he stayed silent.

Disapproval fluttered through her eyes. Nonsense. She’s your mother, for better or worse.

I picked up my suitcase and laptop that I’d set down before we hugged. Pretty sure that’s something only married couples have to suffer through.

Adam laughed, so he went up a notch in my book.

Belinda patted my cheek roughly, ending in a firm smack, and a fond smile played around her thin lips. Same old cynic you always were. She turned and grabbed the rug from the ground with a grunt. Get your butt in here, kid.

I followed her obediently, squashing one last desire to turn and run. The house smelled like chicken soup and dust. In the years since I’d left, the old gray couches with worn tapestry pillows seemed to have never been moved from their original spot. The same velvet Conquistador painting still hung over the baby grand piano in the corner, and the floor-to-ceiling burgundy curtains held their place in front of the bay windows.

Did time stop in here? I asked in awe. I can’t believe she still has the same furniture.

You know how your mother is. Not a big fan of change. She fluffed one of the pillows on the couch as she eyed my suitcase.

I’m going to go wash up. Adam excused himself and I made a point of not watching him walk out of the room, no matter how tempting.

How long are you staying?

You mean if she doesn’t toss me out on my ear right away? I asked dryly.

She wants you here. Belinda released a heavy sigh. You have to believe me.

I rubbed the back of my neck. Then I guess I’m staying as long as I need to.

You know you only live an hour away. I can’t believe you’ve only come home once in four years, she grumbled. I stood awkwardly in the foyer, and now that she was accustomed to my arrival, she was studying me more attentively. If her dour expression was anything to go by, she didn’t seem completely thrilled with my appearance. You’re mighty thin. And you could use a haircut.

I wasn’t sure why she said that. My hair wasn’t very long, maybe a little shaggy, but I knew she had a point about my weight. I’d just split with my boyfriend of two years, and I’d dropped a few pounds. It’s my new diet: coffee, beef ramen, and more coffee.

She tsk-tsked and moved toward the kitchen. "Your mother is napping, so go put your bag in your old room quietly. I have lunch already started for me and Adam."

Yes sir, madam.

She laughed. Just get your skinny ass back down here pronto so you can tell me all about your fancy life in LA.

I sighed and headed up the narrow stairs, taking the steps two at a time. I reached the faded-carpet landing, and a mix of stale air and rubbing alcohol met my nostrils when I passed my mother’s room. The door was closed and it was silent inside, so I tried to be quiet as I entered my old sleeping quarters.

My room hadn’t changed any more than the rest of the house. The same fuzzy, navy bedspread and tall pine dresser from my teens occupied the large space. I dropped my bags and fingered the silver metal frame of a picture of me and my dad on a fishing trip when I was a kid. I remembered that day so clearly. It had been hot and humid with swarms of mosquitoes nibbling on us. My dad dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn, and we didn’t catch a damn thing. Even so, my dad was grinning from ear to ear in the photo, but I looked like the world was ending. That fishing trip was one of the last for him and me. He died a few years later.

I put the photograph face down and went to unpack. I’d loved my dad. His smothering hugs and booming laugh made up for the chilled tolerance shown to me by my mom.

I had to be careful I didn’t fixate on his death too much or I became bitter. Instead I shoved those feelings down. Did that make me a cold, heartless person? Maybe my ex, Tom, had been right, and I was dead inside.

I returned downstairs to find Adam already seated at the table and eating. He’d put on a shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He paused midspoonful and set the utensil down with a clatter, then looked embarrassed when it made so much noise. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. Sorry. I should have waited but I was starving. His voice was husky and warm. I get shaky when I don’t eat.

No problem. I was still unclear who Adam was. Do you rent a room from my mom?

He grinned, showing straight white teeth. No.

Belinda chimed in as she set a bowl of steaming vegetables and broth down on the table in front of me. Adam’s the new groundskeeper.

What happened to Joe?

Belinda clucked her tongue at me. Jesus, the poor man’s in his eighties. He retired, of course. There’s eight acres to take care of here. It’s a young man’s job. She scooted her chair next to mine. Adam is Joe’s grandson.

That surprised me. I couldn’t see any resemblance whatsoever.

We met once, Adam volunteered. When I was six or so, my granddad brought me along to help out. He was watching me for a response.

I stared at him, blinking. I’ll have to take your word for it.

He smiled again, not put out by the fact that I didn’t remember him. I don’t think we liked each other much. He went back to eating, and I just kept chewing on the tough crust of my bread.

Impossible. Everyone loved you as a boy, Jason. Don’t listen to him. Belinda frowned, rubbing my back. I guessed old habits died hard, and she was still my protector.

Adam held my gaze as he spread a healthy portion of butter on his bread. Nope. It was mutual. We got in a little tussle, and my granddad had to separate us.

What would we have been fighting about? I asked, curious about his recollection. At that age, the only things I cared about were my toy trucks and building blocks.

He arched his brows. You didn’t want to share as I recall.

That seemed about right. Whether you were talking about toys or feelings, sharing wasn’t my strong suit. Who won the fight? I asked.

Well, it was mostly just crying and slapping each other until you bit me. He dunked his bread in his soup and took a bite, and a little dribble of liquid trickled down his chin. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away sheepishly. Sorry. I promise I wasn’t raised in a barn.

I eat ramen noodles for breakfast. Who am I to judge? I finally took a taste of my soup, feeling less self-conscious since he didn’t seem to be concerned with etiquette. I can’t believe I bit you.

I have a scar to prove it. He pulled his collar open and a tiny white puckered mark at the side of his smooth, tanned throat was visible.

Holy crap. I stared at him aghast.

Anyway, hopefully we’ll get along better now. Adam shoved the last little piece of his sourdough into his mouth, still watching me intently.

Keep your hands off my Tinkertoys and we should be good, I warned, holding back a smile.

I’ll try to feed him well while he’s here so he isn’t tempted to nibble on you, Adam. Belinda laughed, nudging me with her elbow.

I was a little embarrassed about the images her words conjured up in my imagination. Nibbling on Adam. Hmmm. What a tempting idea.

We sat in silence for a moment, all of us concentrating on our meal. After having been away so long, I found it oddly familiar to be sitting here with Belinda by my side. I eyed the bright yellow walls and crisp white curtains. The kitchen didn’t have the same dingy-museum feel the rest of the house seemed to have. This was Belinda’s territory and I could sense her warmth and generosity in the cozy details.

Obviously I’m disappointed you haven’t visited much in the last four years. Belinda pinned me with her brown eyes, one brow lifted. Why haven’t you?

I felt the heat creeping into my cheeks under her reproving stare. I guess I let those kinds of things slip.

She shook her head. Those kinds of things, as you so eloquently put it, are what make life meaningful.

I grimaced. I knew the main reason I didn’t come home was I didn’t want to be around my mother. Belinda had to know it too. It was always so stilted and awkward between my mom and me. But maybe this wasn’t the time or the place to go into that. If it makes you feel any better, I think about you all the time.

A sigh escaped her lips. So long as it’s accompanied by crushing guilt, I guess that will have to do.

I grinned and went back to my soup.

So you’re a writer, Jason? Adam asked.

Yep.

Nice, Adam said, with a gleam in his pale eyes. Velma says you write mysteries?

I shrugged. Mostly.

He nodded politely. Cool. He cleared his throat. And you’re just back now because of Velma’s illness?

Yeah. I was a little irked I’d had to drop everything and come out here on such short notice, all because my mom had kept the news of her cancer from me until now. A part of me wondered if the reason she’d hidden her sickness was because she hadn’t wanted me here.

Or if she’d just kind of forgotten I existed.

Thank God your father didn’t have to see how you turned out.

I swallowed against the memories that bubbled up. If she had told me about her illness sooner, would I have raced to her bedside like a good son? I honestly wasn’t sure.

Belinda interrupted my thoughts. So you said on the phone you work all the time?

I glanced at Adam, wondering if he found that odd. I don’t do much of anything but write and edit and then write some more. Just ask my ex. Tom had had some crazy notion people in a relationship should want to spend time together. If it wasn’t for the trust fund Dad set up for me, I’d be starving.

Are you still with Ted? she asked innocently.

My cheeks heated up about ten degrees at that question. I shot a quick look toward Adam and he didn’t look repulsed, which was a good sign. I wasn’t ashamed to be gay, but I didn’t usually waltz around announcing it either. His name is Tom, and no.

Really? I would have sworn his name was Ted.

I think I would know.

I’m sorry it didn’t work out, honey. Belinda patted my back. Well, there are lots of fish in the sea, as they say.

I’m fine with being single. My tone was more defensive than I would have liked.

Of course you are. She sighed. But no one really wants to be alone.

Why is my love life one of the first things you always ask about? I grumbled. I found it embarrassing to be discussing this stuff in front of Adam. He was sitting quietly, not saying a word, just taking it all in.

I ask because I care.

If you say so, I said skeptically.

"After all, amour is what makes the world go round." She attempted one of the worst French accents I’d ever heard.

Actually, I think you’re getting that confused with money, I mumbled.

It’s so sad that you think that. Besides, it was a harmless question. No need to get your briefs in a bunch. Her tone was reasonable.

I rolled my eyes. There were no innocent questions about your love life with motherly types.

The good Lord never saw fit to bring me a husband, Belinda added wistfully. Then she turned her bright gaze on Adam, and her tone was again a little too casual. What about you, Adam? I can’t remember if you said you were single or not.

Now Adam looked uncomfortable. All at once he seemed to have trouble swallowing his food. He pounded his chest lightly with his fist, and cleared his throat to speak. Sorry about that. It almost went down the wrong pipe.

I noticed he didn’t answer the question. Belinda noticed too.

"I don’t think you’ve taken a day off in the six months you’ve been here. I can’t imagine if you do have someone they