"What do we have here?" Coffee in hand, Dylan Wyatt stood just inside the inn's double doors. He was admiring the view, but not of Whiskers' Seaside Inn's picturesque setting. His attention was drawn to a tall, slender man who'd just climbed out of an old, white truck. The newcomer sported a black leather vest over a ragged T-shirt, an unusual combination considering the warm summer weather. 'Unusual' seemed to be an appropriate word for the man, whose hair ran in a thick braid down his back. A large, colourful tattoo wound down one arm to his wrist.
He fills out those worn blue jeans in a nice way. Dylan shook his head in an attempt to clear the thought. He couldn't get a grip on what he found so intriguing. He'd never been attracted to tattooed physiques in the past, but this guy seemed different. An air of--what? Mystery? Danger?--surrounded the handsome hunk like thick fog.
"Hey, daydreamer." The words came from a very short, nearly bald man climbing from the front seat of the truck. "Give us a hand, would you?"
Dylan's head snapped in the direction of the voice, wondering if the guy was talking to him. He quickly realised the driver was speaking to the handsome hunk.
With an obvious sigh, the sexy fellow in tight jeans turned his attention from the ocean and made his way to the rear of the truck.
Dylan bit back a chuckle. The view was incredible, but the guy wasn't there to sight-see. He was one of the men hired to tear down the marquee, tables and chairs brought in for the wedding at the inn the previous day. Dylan's brother, Cade, and his groom, Ethan, had finally tied the knot with a full-scale celebration. Once they'd got past some pre-wedding nonsense, the ceremony had gone off without a hitch, and guests had partied late into the night. Now, the couple were off on their honeymoon, leaving Dylan to run the inn for a couple of weeks. His first chore was to supervise the cleanup.
Dylan noted annoyance on the balding man's face when the hunk, moving at his own slow pace, reached for the armload of strapping he held out. Shorty was obviously in charge. Two other men stood idly by, each bearing a burden of rope or burlap. It wasn't a terribly big job, but it was hot outside, and no one seemed anxious to get started before anyone else.
The wedding paraphernalia had to be removed that afternoon so the garden and yard could return to normal for incoming guests. Logan Emerson, the inn's former cook who had spearheaded the wedding plans, had hired local barkeep, Joe Swanson, and his crew to do the teardown. Dylan eyed the workers, his attention going back to the tall, dark-haired hunk and staying there. The stud's three-day beard growth was nearly as black as his hair. When the hunk turned his back again, Dylan dragged his gaze off the man's ass long enough to realise the thick, braided hair nearly reached his waist.
"Yowzah!" Dylan whispered and sucked in his breath. That'd definitely be something to hang onto during... He pushed that thought aside. The guy was probably as straight as an arrow, so whatever Dylan might dream up, he'd be disappointed.
Nevertheless, he had to go out and talk to this Joe guy. Setting his cup on the nearest table, he pushed his fingers through his own shoulder-length, brown hair and walked out into the sunlight. Joe had stopped the truck at the far end of the parking lot, so Dylan got another look at Mr. Hunk on the way over. By the time he reached the truck, Dylan was tempted to grab a handful of the hottie's hair just to see what would happen. He forced down his lustful thoughts and approached Joe.
"Joe Swanson?" Dylan extended his right hand towards the balding man. "I'm Dylan Wyatt. I'm taking care of the place while the newlyweds are away for a couple of weeks."
Joe reached out and took Dylan's hand, giving it a vigorous shake. "Mr. Wyatt, good to meet you. Logan told me you'd be here to make sure we got this right. The marquee, tables and chairs, that's all you want us to take, right?"
"Yes, that's it. Logan said you'd be able to return the stuff to the rental place on Monday."
"Yeah, the store is just a couple of blocks from my bar. I'll have the boys run everything back in the morning." Joe nodded towards the men he'd brought.
Dylan thought the other two guys looked like they could be twins, blond, beefy and middle-aged, each with a large nose that screamed family trait. The last, but definitely not the least, was Mr. Hunk. Dylan's cock pulsed, and he shifted his stance, hoping that was all that happened. "That'll be fine."