At Long Last

maybe living there with the man he loved. Preston would never love him. Not ever.
    "Hi, Mr. Trask."
    "Hi, Kimberly. You can call me Scotty."
    She smiled and sat at the empty chair at the table. "I'm on a short break."
    "Join me in a glass?"
    "Can't. The staff isn't allowed to drink the free wine. Where's your girlfriend?"
    Scotty took a large swallow of wine. "I don't have a girlfriend." He paused. "I'm here with a man."
    "Oh." Kimberly nodded, and then, to his relief, grinned. "Oh. Okay. Boy, that old cliché is right though."
    "Cliché?"
    "The cute ones are either married or gay." Kimberly laughed.
    Scotty laughed, too.
    "So, then, where's your boyfriend?"
    "He's not really my boyfriend, but we had something of a fight. I sort of left him down by the shops."
    "Ah, lovers spat? Shouldn't have one of those on such a beautiful day."
    "Probably not." He drained the rest of his wine. "Anyway, I think it was probably a mistake to come here with him."
    "He doesn't like the beach?" Kimberly wrinkled her nose.
    "Doesn't like me."
    Kimberly stood up. "Well, then he's got bad taste, that's all I can say. Want another one of those?"
    "Yeah."
    About an hour or so later, Scotty finally forced himself to head back down to the embarcadero area. He knew he wasn't being fair to Preston. It was so new to him. And he didn't want to be gay, that much was obvious to Scotty. Anyway, he should be more understanding. It hurt, no doubt about it, but not everything was about him.
    He found Preston sitting on an old wooden bench between shop buildings looking out to sea. The breeze blew his dark hair. Scotty's heart skipped a beat. The man was beautiful.
    He sat down and smiled at Preston. "Hi."
    Preston stared at him warily. "Hi. Feeling better?"
    "Yeah. A couple of glasses of chardonnay did wonders."
    Preston's mouth curved. "For a headache?"
    "Something like that. You hungry? I know a great restaurant on the top of the hill there." Scotty gestured with his shoulder behind him. "Great views, fabulous food. Been there for years. It's my favorite place. Want to have dinner with me?"
    Preston's gaze met his and held it for several seconds. "Scotty--"
    His heart thumping wildly, Scotty said, "Yeah?"
    "Never mind." Preston shook his head. "I'd love to have dinner with you."
    They stood up and headed back up the hill to the restaurant. Scotty didn't miss at all that they walked several feet apart.

Chapter 7
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    Scott sighed and stretched dramatically when they returned to the motel room. "Boy, am I bushed. Think I'll go to bed."
    Preston frowned, watching him head into the bathroom and close the door. The younger man was holding back. At dinner he'd been ridiculously reserved. Not at all the usual Scott.
    He'd hurt him. Preston knew that. Knew it as soon as he practically ran from the gift shop. He hadn't meant to hurt Scott. The woman coming upon them holding hands had startled him. Hell, he hadn't held hands with his wife since they'd dated.
    Preston blew out a breath and removed the disgusting motel bedspread and stuffed it in the corner of the closet.
    The truth was he just wasn't like Scott. He could never be. In fact, he'd decided after Scott had gone back to the motel earlier that this crazy attraction to the other man would end and soon. While he wandered the town by himself he'd seen happy little families made up of a man, woman, and children. That's what he wanted. What he had wanted since he was just a kid. He wasn't going to suddenly change.
    After coming to the realization he would have to tell Scott things were over when he saw him, Preston had sat on the bench and played over and over in his head how the conversation would go. He figured it was similar to the conversation one had when breaking up with a woman. Let's just be friends, he would say. Maybe going away with Scott had been a good idea because it got the whole wanting Scott out of his system.
    The hell it did.
    The minute Scott had sat next to him on the bench, his soft violet blue eyes puppy-dog sad, vulnerability and sensuality screaming off him, Preston couldn't end it. Couldn't make himself say the words, I don't want to be with you. I'm not gay. Sorry.
    Over dinner, Preston had been transfixed by every move Scott made. Every time his mouth opened to speak, Preston stared at his full, too kissable lips. His cock sat stiff and erect under the restaurant table.
    Preston sat on the edge of the bed and removed his athletic shoes and socks. Scott was not out of his