6
Matthew
Something was wrong. It wasn’t something that was easily defined or immediately evident, but it prickled in the back of Matthew’s mind like a barely there splinter, and it was starting to drive him crazy. Whatever it was, it defied his attempts to uncover it. In the half hour Matthew had spent trying to figure it out, all he’d come up with was that it was about Damien.
Frustrated, Matthew pushed a groan through his teeth and dug his heels into the sand. What a waste of time. Why was it that the harder he tried to think, the more he spun his wheels? He’d be inclined to blame his heat if it hadn’t been for the fact that since he’d taken his blocker, he was feeling much better. There was no reason he should be so scatterbrained. None at all.
Nope.
Not one.
Especially not the memory of the way Damien’s lips had quirked to the side like he was up to trouble, or the hunger in his eyes when he’d looked Matthew head to toe, gaze lingering in all the right places.
Matthew closed his eyes and crossed his legs, shielding his embarrassing erection from the drooping palm tree he sat beneath. It wasn’t like him to lose his mind over a man, but… nngh. Damien was to man what freshly ground coffee beans were to instant coffee, and Matthew, who was chronically exhausted, had just caught a whiff of what Damien was brewing.
Damien. Damien.
Stormy eyes. Dark hair. Confidence.
In a bid to distract himself, Matthew pinched the sand by his thigh, forming a small hill with concave sides. There was no point in getting hung up on a man so far out of his league. Not only was Damien significantly older, but he was the kind of guy who deserved someone without baggage—someone young, fun, and carefree.
Of those three things, Matthew was only one. Damien would figure it out soon enough, and when he did, he’d move on.
If he hadn’t already.
The thought twisted Matthew’s stomach into a knot. He pinched the sand again, building the hill higher. What did it matter if Damien wasn’t thinking about him anymore? It wasn’t like Damien owed him anything. One flirtatious exchange while on vacation meant about as much as a potential employer taking your business card at a job fair.
But still, the thought churned in Matthew’s mind. What had Damien said? That he was here for another week? If that was the case, then—
“Hey.”
Matthew jumped, almost wiping out his hill of sand in the process. For a fraction of a second, he’d been convinced that the person who’d spoken was Damien, but the tone and cadence were off. It was, however, someone he knew—Shep Biernacki.
Shep stood about a foot away, his hands jammed in his pockets, and his shoulders overly tense. Auburn hair swept across his brow, partially obscuring his eyes. Matthew remembered him as a skinny guy who liked to hide behind baggy hoodies, but when the wind caught his graphic tee and pulled it taut against his frame, an inkling of definition appeared. The same wind carried a familiar scent—alpha.
That was new.
Low-grade paranoia crept along Matthew’s spine like a long-legged spider picking its way over fat drops of dew. Even though he was feeling better, he recognized that uncomfortable feeling as a symptom of heat, which was weird, because his blockers had always done a great job at helping him stay sane.
“Shep!” Matthew swallowed the fear that had risen in his throat and sat up a little straighter, embarrassed that he’d been spooked. “Hey. Um. Wow. I didn’t know that you were coming. It’s been a while.”
Matthew had met Shep about a year ago. At the time, Shep had been accompanying his nephew, Parker, to keep an eye on him during the Single Dad Babysitting Ring exchange. It hadn’t taken Matthew long to learn that Shep trusted no one and had taken it upon himself to make sure none of the Single Dads or their families were out to hurt his loved ones. Since Matthew was only a few years older than Shep, they’d formed an acquaintanceship over video games, but had never quite managed to take their friendship any further. Being a single dad had shaped Matthew’s life in ways that Shep couldn’t relate to, so while their interactions had always been polite, there was still a barrier of formality between them.
Now that Shep had manifested as an alpha, that barrier thickened.
Could he smell Matthew’s heat? God, would that be embarrassing. Matthew pressed his thighs together and shifted the way he was sitting, hoping it might help.
Shep tapped the side of his canvas shoe in the sand, then looked out across the ocean, seemingly desperate to look anywhere but at Matthew. “Yeah. Jayne hooked up with some rich guy with a trust fundandhis boyfriend, so we’ve got money now… or whatever. They asked if I wanted to come along because my other brother Simon was going to be here, so… yeah. I said yes.” Shep cleared his throat. “But all of them are doing their weird Single Dad bonding stuff, so Evie and I are kind of kicking it on our own right now. You mind if we come sit with you? It’s cool if you want to be alone, but Jayne told us that we’re the only group on the island, so I figured I might as well ask if you wanted company before we go off and do our own thing. I don’t want you to feel like we’re ignoring you, cuz we’re not.”
Matthew opened his mouth to reply, but the words never came. Realization dawned instead.
The only ones on the island?
“The… the only ones?” Matthew furrowed his brow and searched Shep’s face for an answer he already knew. It wasn’t news to him—itshouldn’thave been news to him—but it blindsided him regardless.
“Yeah. No one told you?” Shep unceremoniously took his phone from his pocket and flicked at the screen with his thumb, seemingly firing off a text. How he had reception was anyone’s guess—since Matthew had arrived, his bars had been in a sad, sad state. “After everyone clears out today, the island is ours. xV booked the whole place. I’m pretty sure at this point there’s only a couple of guests from last week who still need to GTFO. Pineapple or coconut, by the way?”
“Pineapple.” Matthew’s mouth had gone dry. The splinter that had been jabbing the back of his mind was gone, but a chilling truth had taken its place, spreading through Matthew’s head like menthol.
