Rick, Love at the Haven 2

By Stella Shaw

A gift of a man for one night. A promise of so much more.

When Rick Thatcher’s beloved aunt leaves him the run-down Haven Hotel, he’s amazed to find a group of young men running an escorting business out of it. Intrigued and impressed, he allows them to stay. But sacrifices have to be made to keep the hotel running. The hotel is always short of funds, and the guys... they’re sexy, they’re fun, they’re loyal friends. But they can also be a bunch of trouble. Rick has no time left for romance.

Until the night Eliot Walker arrives at the Haven, naïve but brave, looking to discover what it’s like to be an openly gay man at last. He wants to spend the night with a man, one who can excite and guide him. But an escort? He’s nervous of what he’ll find.

He finds Rick. Just the kind of man he’d choose to have his first experiences with, if it was possible. And from Rick’s point of view – on this one special night, and for this one special man he can’t take his eyes off – why shouldn’t it be?

If only this could be more than one night. But their potential happiness and the Haven’s security may already be under serious threat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stella Shaw
• Release date: Mar 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9780463636367

Stella Shaw

Stella Shaw is a pen name of the best-selling author of MM romance, Clare London. Stella's series of Rent Boy romances, Love at the Haven, launched in January 2021.See all the details at her website stellashawauthor dot comJoin her newsletter at bit.ly/stellashawNewsand find her at:Facebook: stellashawauthor + Facebook Group /stellasstarsGoodreads: /stellashaw + Bookbub: /authors/stella-shawInstagram: /stellashawauthor/

Book preview

LOVE AT THE HAVEN 2

A RENT BOY ROMANCE

STELLA SHAW

Copyright 2021 / Stella Shaw

Smashwords Edition

A gift of a man for one night. A promise of so much more.

When Rick Thatcher’s beloved aunt leaves him the run-down Haven Hotel, he’s amazed to find a group of young men running an escorting business out of it. Intrigued and impressed, he allows them to stay. But sacrifices have to be made to keep the hotel running. The hotel is always short of funds, and the guys… they’re sexy, they’re fun, they’re loyal friends. But they can also be a bunch of trouble. Rick has no time left for romance.

Until the night Eliot Walker arrives at the Haven, naïve but brave, looking to discover what it’s like to be an openly gay man at last. He wants to spend the night with a man, one who can excite and guide him. But an escort? He’s nervous of what he’ll find.

He finds Rick. Just the kind of man he’d choose to have his first experiences with, if it was possible. And from Rick’s point of view—on this one special night, and for this one special man he can’t take his eyes off—why shouldn’t it be?

If only this could be more than one night. But their potential happiness and the Haven’s security may already be under serious threat.

All Rights Reserved

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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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Contents

1 - RICK

2 - ELIOT

3 - RICK

4 - ELIOT

5 - RICK

6 - ELIOT

7 - RICK

8 - ELIOT

9 - RICK

10 - ELIOT

11 - RICK

12 - RICK

13 - ELIOT

EPILOGUE

The Love at the Haven series

About Stella

1 - RICK

They say Fate has her wicked way with you when you least expect it.

There was no one but me in the Haven Hotel lobby that Friday evening. Early arrivals had been and gone, and all our escorts were now booked into their evening sessions. Sitting behind the desk in my favourite old leather chair—one of the few that had moulded to my heavier size and shape—with the latest pile of household bills in front of me, I tried not to feel guilty at enjoying a rare hour of quiet. It was difficult at the best of times to decide which invoice I settled first—or which would have to wait until I mustered up more funds from somewhere—but it was a hell of a lot harder to keep my growing panic under wraps when everyone was coming and going. I hadn’t realised just how deep the pile was this month. The hotel’s finances were shaky.

And that was getting to be the default position.

I glanced at the appointments ledger on the top of the desk, each room with a man’s name marked against it. The guys all came here to earn a living, and I didn’t have a single problem with that. It was their choice, and there was always money in the oldest profession, right? Today wasn’t the first time I’d considered joining them, though, to supplement my own.

Then the front door opened and the traffic noise from Earls Court commuters escaping a busy London working week burst through. So did the lowering, sharp-white sunlight and frosty street air—it had been a chilled, early spring day.

And so did the handsome young man.

He blinked a couple of times, then shook his head like a dog coming in out of the rain. Walked up to the counter with a steady stride, full of outward confidence, gaze fixed straight ahead, and arms easy at his sides. Tall and slim, mid-twenties I guessed, dressed in smart trousers, shiny shoes. He’d slipped open the top button of his dress shirt, and an inch of patterned fabric peeked out of his jacket pocket, which I guessed was a discarded tie. He wore his curly, dark blond hair attractively long against his collar. Serious grey eyes, a generous mouth. Someone more poetic than I was might describe it as lush.

If I were an escort… I thought suddenly, amazed at the thrill that ran through me. If a client looked as cute as this…

A deep and previously dormant need stirred in me.

I’m here to make a booking, he said.

He had a great voice. It was firm but light, and with a warm lilt as if he was ready to be amused at any time. How sexy was that?

I tucked my paperwork into the drawer and reached for the ledger, my gaze still on him. I felt a little shaky, God knew why. We don’t usually take drop-ins, but we may have a vacant room this evening. Would you want to go ahead right now?

He blinked those big, stormy sky-coloured eyes and for the first time, his confidence seemed to falter. I thought… well, I have a card. It was a gift. I don’t know what the procedure is, I guess. Sorry if I’ve misunderstood.

He smiled ruefully, his whole face brightening with it, and… fuck. It was like a spotlight sparked awake inside me. No, a hundred of them. The sleepy feeling in my gut jerked wide awake.

No, you’re good, I said, realising too late that could be taken a whole different way. Maybe you’d like a drink first?

His neck looked flushed, and there was a drop of sweat on his temple. He was in control of himself, but perhaps bravado only took him so far.

Should I… I mean, is that how it goes? His voice wasn’t as firm as before.

I smiled back. There’s no set approach. You’re the client. We can register the card now, or later. Take your time.

Something about that phrase made him catch a breath and relax a little. He glanced at the desk. There was nothing there except for a stand with our plain introduction cards, a desktop phone, a jar of mints. Oh, and the bowl of condoms in all flavours and types.

Yes. I think I would like a drink, he said, and looked back across the lobby. He’d be able to see our small bar through the archway, opposite the desk. It was cosy, but not hidden away. The Haven Hotel wasn’t ashamed of anything it offered. The bar was there for our guests to have a drink, or if they didn’t want to be seen there, they could go straight to a room. But this guy looked like he needed a moment to get his shit together.

That’s fine, I said, stepping out from behind the desk. Over by the elevator doors, Arne crossed the hallway on his way to the kitchen, a tray of used glasses balanced against his aproned chest. He caught my eye, and raised an eyebrow. Did I need him to step in?

My decision was made quickly, but with my whole heart. I have this, my look in return said. Arne nodded and tilted his head towards the desk. He’d take over for a while.

I gestured for the young man to go through ahead of me, and he seemed startled when I lifted the hinged flap of the bar counter and went behind to serve him. Which beer would you like? Or something else?

He pointed at a popular bottled beer and nodded thanks when I picked it off the shelf. You do the bar as well?

I chuckled as I poured it into a glass for him. We don’t need many extra staff. We’re mostly prior bookings.

He perched himself on one of the stools, raising his eyebrows as if pleasantly surprised at the comfortable cushion. I nearly missed you altogether. Tucked up the side street like this. No name on the door, just a plaque with an HH logo on it.

We’re discreet, I said.

He blushed, and a few freckles sprang up darker across his nose. My own skin got hot, though not from embarrassment.

Yes, of course you are. Sorry.

Hey. No need to apologise. I filled up the bowl of fruit and nut mix on the bar. He’d already chomped through half of it. I don’t think he realised what he was doing, just wanted something to do with his hands. They were slim and well-manicured. Office worker hands. A few freckles on his knuckles, just like the ones on his face.

Sitting over in the far corner of the bar, two men clinked glasses in a toast. They were the only other patrons at the moment, and I heard Tom’s breathy laugh. He was one of the regular men who rented rooms here, but could make himself sound like a new boy every time. He would have personally served his guest, like I was doing.

How’s your week been? I asked my companion.

He gave a half-smile, as if he knew I was trying to put him at his ease, yet he was grateful for the small talk.

It’s been crap. That’s why I’m here, actually. I didn’t want to go straight home after work tonight.

I murmured in an understanding way and carefully put both my hands on the top of the bar, fingers spread. I was inviting him into conversation. Didn’t want to look grabby.

Do you know what you want, instead? Are you ready to talk about it?

His laugh was more of a bark. Do I still look like I’m confused?

Yes, I thought, but didn’t say. It’s just that I find it’s better to be frank. Practicality clears the air. Lets us all know where we are.

Practical. Yes. I guess that’s what this place is. What the whole… thing… is.

I nodded again. Because it was.

He took a slow breath and seemed to settle. Well. I’d like someone experienced.

Most of us are.

Oh. God, yes, I’m sure. I mean, someone who’s mature. Calm about it all. I’m not looking for melodrama. Nothing out of the ordinary.

God, he was gorgeous. So serious, so sensible, talking about what his body needed, what he might be craving. His gaze was steady, but the flicker in his eyes was incendiary. So bloody needy, even if he didn’t admit it to himself.

Any preference as to age? Looks? Ethnicity? Build?

He swallowed. His gaze ran quickly, guiltily over my forearms. I’d rolled up my sleeves while I was helping Arne in the kitchen earlier, and never bothered to smarten myself up again. My muscles were thick, I knew. I was proud of them. But I’d loomed over him as we walked into the bar, like some hulking bear beside a more graceful, fragile creature. My hands must be half again the size of his.

Well, maybe, he said, his voice low. Someone who will… Oh, shit.

Just say it. You can’t shock anyone here, believe me.

Someone who’ll spend time with me. I know what I want to happen, but…

You’d like some courting.

What an old-fashioned word. But, yeah. He looked ridiculously relieved. I haven’t… well, that’s a kind way of putting it.

We don’t throw you on a bed and ravage you, I said, but gently, so I hoped he saw the joke. Unless you ask for it, of course.

He chuckled. "I know. I mean, someone told me this was a safe space. A