Moored Heart (Catalina Dreams Book 1) Read online

  Moored Heart

  Catalina Dreams Book 1

  I.M. Flippy

  Copyright © 2020 by I.M. Flippy

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: Janna Urbanski

  Editor: Fading Street

  Check out IMFlippy.com and sign up for Flippy’s newsletter for exclusive content and updates, including a free novella.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  1. Jason

  2. Charlie

  3. Jason

  4. Charlie

  5. Jason

  6. Charlie

  7. Jason

  8. Charlie

  9. Jason

  10. Charlie

  11. Jason

  12. Charlie

  13. Jason

  14. Charlie

  15. Jason

  16. Charlie

  17. Jason

  18. Charlie

  19. Jason

  20. Jason

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Honeymoon Gambit

  1. Todd

  2. Eric

  Acknowledgments

  Also by I.M. Flippy

  Author’s Note

  This book features a love interest who is a retired police officer. He’s no longer on the force, so policing doesn’t feature heavily in the story.

  At the time of writing it, I already had strong feelings about racial justice as it relates to policing in the real world.

  I only feel more strongly now, writing this note in June of 2020. I’d never considered too deeply how this particular view might affect my fiction and have always enjoyed cops in stories. Now I feel differently.

  That’s why I’ve decided to donate twenty percent of the royalties for this title to Black Lives Matter-Los Angeles for the first 90 days of its release, and why I’ve decided this will be the last time I write a love interest who was or is a police officer.

  Please enjoy.

  1

  Jason

  This is the worst best decision I’ve ever made, Jason Winters thought for the hundredth time. His fingers slipped through the bowline knot with ease and he wrapped the thin rope around his wrist as he let it slack bit by bit, allowing his inflatable dinghy to fall back into the water from where he’d hitched it at the bow.

  It was eight o’clock in the morning, and Jason was out of coffee. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run out of coffee, only that stocking up again had never involved taking a small sea voyage before.

  This was the biggest drawback to yacht living, from what Jason had experienced so far. Every time he needed something from the store, he had to take the dinghy out and fight through the hordes of tourists. He had his own golf cart he kept parked with all the others at the pier. He tried to use it only when necessary. It had taken some getting used to the golf cart, and he still felt ridiculous at forty-two years-old motoring around in a golf cart on the narrow streets of Catalina Island, even though lots of people did it. He’d picked up an electric model his second day on the island. There was a giant sunflower painted on the hood. That didn’t make him feel secure in his manhood either.

  The boat was a 2001 Carver 396, and it was squat and a little tall. It looked as if someone had taken a bigger boat and smooshed it, giving it a snub-nosed appearance. It had a small stateroom on the upper deck behind and below the cockpit where Jason could slide the screens back and grill and get sun, and a much larger stateroom on the lower deck he’d half converted into an office. There was a kitchenette and a breakfast nook and a bedroom with cabinets and shelving built into the walls where Jason slept every night, gently rocked by the current.

  Jason bought the boat with the proceeds of his house sale after divorcing Alyssa and deciding he needed a fresh start. His best friend, Cal, had called this the weirdest and worst financial decision he could have made. Jason just laughed.

  The yacht’s name was Morty. It wasn’t what Jason would have named a boat, but he liked that his new home came with its own name, even if Morty seemed like an odd one.

  It was a chilly morning and Jason blew into his hands as he steered the dinghy to the little dock where there was plenty of room to park for once, it being so early. He tied off and climbed out to the dock and then up the metal ramp to the big pier where the old-fashioned fish and chips place and all the little shops were just starting their day.

  Jason slipped on his aviators and shoved his hands in the pockets of the baggy shorts he wore with an oversized hoodie. He felt little out of place seeing the other rich types from the yacht club on their way to breakfast as he headed out to the main drag on Crescent Avenue. It didn’t make much sense, since he owned a yacht himself. But that was different, a fluke. He wasn’t a real yacht person. He was a casual yacht person.

  Jason decided to walk instead of taking the golf cart. It was a short walk to Jet’s, his favorite coffee shop on Crescent Avenue, and it would do his sore leg good.

  He planned to wake up with a strong, dark roast. Then he’d go grocery shopping. Then he’d go back to his boat and start writing. For sure. It was still early. There was an entire day to devote to writing.

  Jason turned on his sandaled heel and began making his way down the street.

  He was an imposing figure, even with the subtle limp that interrupted his gait. He was a retired homicide detective on disability, and he looked like an aging superhero. Since the shooting, he’d stopped working out so often and his muscles were still there but less defined. There were softer parts on his body now, but he was solid in a way that still intimidated. His hair was dark blond and buzzed close to his scalp. He also had a week’s beard growth that he liked to keep on top of before it raged out of control. He had a square jaw, bright blue eyes, and had never wanted for attention.

  He kept meaning to exercise more. It was difficult to work out on the boat, beyond arm days. But he swam a lot and there was a good gym behind Crescent Avenue. He’d vowed to make it there a few times a week if he could.

  Jason had only been living on the island for two weeks, and he had already made several vows.

  I vow to write three thousand words a day.

  Well, that vow was already broken.

  I vow to find a venue for making a few new friends in town.

  Nope. He hadn’t even attempted that yet, and he didn’t know where to start.

  I vow to call Alyssa and let her know how I am, so things don’t get weird between us.

  Good job, buddy. Nope. He hadn’t done that either.

  It was too bad he hadn’t vowed to make vows, he thought. He strode down the quaintly decorated sidewalk, smiling tightly and scooting around early rising tourists. Somehow it gave him a thrill to be doing something as regular as going to get coffee and tasting the ocean on his tongue. Maybe that was because he’d grown up in Wisconsin. He was twenty-seven the first time he saw the Pacific Ocean after moving to L.A. All for Alyssa. Oops.

  Jason spotted a group of attractive young men who appeared to be three gay couples if their clasped hands and casual kisses meant anything. Jason swallowed.

  “Hey, daddy,” one guy said to Jason, tossing him a wink. He had his arm around another guy. The other guy didn’t look jealous either. He was smiling slyly.

  Jason only nodded and walked on. He quickened his pace to the coffee shop. His leg was feeling good about the walk and that made him smile. For a while, after getting shot, he’d thought he might never walk more
than a block in a day. Swimming seemed to help. Everybody had told him sea air would do him good. He couldn’t think why. It sounded like an old-fashioned sentiment; “take him to the sea for his gout.”

  He’d take a gunshot wound over gout. Depending on the wound.

  “Need a ride?” A pedi-cab rode up to him, peddling slowly beside Jason as he walked. The guy on the bike looked young, not more than mid-twenties. He was giving Jason the once over. Jason glanced at him through his shades. The guy had a charming smile. His bright white teeth gleamed from beneath laughing eyes and a slightly crooked nose. He had warm brown skin and a mop of messy dark hair.

  “I’m good, thank you,” Jason said. He tried to smile genuinely.

  “You need directions or anything?” the guy said, tilting his head. Jason wondered if he was angling for a tip in exchange for advice. “You’re not a tourist,” the kid declared.

  “No,” Jason said. He stopped, sticking his hands in his pockets, and the pedi-cab pulled up beside him. “How d'you know that?”

  “I can always tell.” His eyes sparkled when he grinned, like he had a secret. “It’s like gaydar. What’re you looking for?”

  Jason tittered and took off his shades to rub his eyes. “Coffee. And lots of it.”

  “Wow, you have really pretty eyes,” the kid said. He was giving him that look. It was the same look that Jason got so often from guys. Jason cleared his throat and tried to look more heterosexual. “Coffee!” The cabby clapped his hands. “Okay, well don’t go to Jet’s at the end of Crescent—”

  “No?” Jason frowned. “That’s where I was going.”

  “Right, because it looks cool from the outside, and it has comfy chairs. But the coffee sucks. Don’t tell Jet I said so. The sandwiches there are good, and they have good lemonade and desserts. So, go there to eat, but not to drink coffee. Coffee, you want to go to Big Boba.”

  “Big Boba?” Jason repeated.

  The cabby pointed at a small white Spanish Colonial bungalow that was an art gallery on the next corner. “It’s behind Avalon Gallery. The chairs aren’t as comfortable, but the coffee is fantastic. So is the boba. They should be open.”

  “Wow.” Jason nodded. “Thanks, man. Your name is?”

  “I’m Andy,” he said, tapping his chest. “Andy Molina at your service.”

  “Jason Winters,” Jason said, shaking his hand.

  “Mmm. Of course, you are.” Andy grinned, his tongue trapped between his teeth, and he threw a wink on top of it. Jason cleared his throat again.

  “Thanks for the help,” Jason said. “I’ll catch a ride next time.”

  Andy’s eyes seemed to glaze over slightly just as Jason heard the innuendo in his own words. “Oh! I didn’t mean it like… that way… Jesus.”

  “Mm.” Andy clucked his tongue. “Wish you had meant it that way. So long, daddy.”

  Andy peddled away, and Jason glared after him.

  Somehow this had never been a problem in Los Angeles. Not most of the time. Not unless he was working on the Westside. Apparently, Catalina was full of guys who wanted to bone him and call him “daddy.” And they all looked so young. He didn’t know how to feel about it. And he was tired, and he was sure there was sand in his ass. And he needed coffee.

  “Big Boba,” Jason muttered, and spun on his heel to head up the little street toward the coffee.

  Big Boba turned out to be a kiosk painted orange. But there was an eclectic collection of patio furniture in the yard surrounding the kiosk and it sat on a steep incline behind Crescent Avenue. There was a pleasant view of the ocean from the outside seating.

  Andy failed to mention they had donuts. Jason’s eyes lit up at the sight of crullers. He ordered two, plus a large coffee, and groaned when he finally took a sip, before sinking down into an Adirondack chair painted pink.

  Jason sat back in his chair with his long legs folded up a little awkwardly.

  His cop friends had always teased him for his stereotypical love of donuts. This always struck him as unfair. The younger guys always seemed much more worthy of mocking than him, with their kale smoothies and acai bowls.

  Jason hummed in delight and smacked his lips as he ate his donut and drank his coffee. He was already feeling cheerier. The morning was warming. The sun was bright. He could taste the sea on his tongue and that didn’t taste half bad combined with a cruller.

  Two years ago, a serial killer had shot him in the leg just before capture, and that was followed by a divorce he never imagined happening (at least it had been amicable). Now he was eating donuts on an island. Life was odd, he thought, as he nibbled and gazed out at the glimmering sea.

  “You like that donut, huh?” The voice was nasal and sardonic, but there was a laugh in it. Jason’s ears perked up, and he turned his head, one sugared finger still in his mouth.

  The guy was sitting down, but he seemed tall. He was slim, but broad shouldered. He hunched over a little in his seat. He had close cropped dark brown hair and a square and narrow jaw. His brown eyes laughed at Jason.

  “I mean no offense or anything, man,” the guy said. Jason wasn’t sure if he was laughing at himself or Jason. “I’ve just never seen anyone enjoy a donut so much before.”

  Jason blinked, swallowed, and said, “It really is a good donut.”

  The guy was holding a plastic cup full of something thick and pastel orange. He drank from his straw and said, “That’s because it’s from Selkie Sugar. I don’t want to say they’re the best bakery in town, but they’re the only bakery in town.”

  Jason snorted a laugh at that. “Not sure I followed that.”

  “Neither did I,” the guy said wryly. “Have you tried the boba?”

  “I…” Jason took the last bite of his cruller. He chewed and swallowed before he said, “What is a boba?”

  His new boba friend laughed and slapped his knee. He was wearing jeans, a thin T-shirt with an owl on it, and a cardigan. “I’m not going to tell you what a boba is,” the guy said slyly. “You should just experience it for yourself.”

  Jason laughed at that. “I don’t think I should trust you!”

  “Oh, you definitely shouldn’t trust me.” His eyes bugged out as he shook his head. “Why would you trust me? You just met me a minute ago at a boba place on an island. What kinda freaks live on islands?”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Jason said. “I live on a boat just offshore like a totally normal person.”

  “Ooh, a boat dweller!” His eyes grew large again. “I always hear about you guys, but I never meet you. I don’t know where you keep yourselves.”

  “Well, you have to dinghy to shore,” Jason said.

  “Uh huh.”

  “It’s really annoying.”

  “Aw, you pour soul.”

  “I know,” Jason said, nodding sorrowfully. “We lead sad lives.”

  The guy grinned at that and bit on his wide straw. “I’m Charlie,” he said.

  “Jason.” Jason shook his hand. He couldn’t help but notice that Charlie had very long fingers, and they clasped his own with determination, like he was truly pleased to be meeting him. Jason felt his shoulders drop slightly as Charlie shook his hand.

  “Jason,” Charlie said again, and his eyelids lowered slightly. “And you’re a local now…?”

  “As of two weeks ago, I’m a local,” Jason said, nodding.

  “And you live on a yacht—”

  “Technically. I’m a retired cop. Trust me, I’m not a billionaire or anything.”

  “Um, no,” Charlie said, tittering. “Cop or no, there’s no technically with a yacht unless it’s infested with eels or something. Is it infested with eels?”

  “Not at the moment. I’m just saying the word ‘yacht’ has a lot of baggage.”

  “Oh my God, you really have it rough with the dinghy and the yacht baggage.” Charlie clucked his tongue. “What can I do for you? How can I help you? Your life clearly needs to be easier.”

  Jason covered his mouth, stifling another
laugh. It had been a long time since somebody had fucked with him. The guys at the precinct used to fuck with him all the time until the shooting and then they’d handled him with kid gloves, another thing that had upset him and which he’d never admitted to anyone.

  I think I made a friend, he thought. He might even count Andy as one. That was one vow taken care of.

  “I’m sorry, man!” Charlie laughed and grabbed Jason’s arm. “I’m totally messing with you and you’re just trying to drink your coffee.”

  “No, no!” Jason shook his head. “It’s a relief, actually.”

  “Oh, well in that case I could kick the shit out of you if that would also help—”

  “It might, it might,” Jason said, and took a sip of coffee.

  Charlie glanced at his phone then, his straw poking sideways into his mouth as he held his cup, as if he were maybe thinking about someday taking a sip. “Aw, shit. I gotta go. Too bad, I wanted to see you experience boba.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jason said. “I’ll wait ‘til the next time I see you.”

  Charlie positively beamed at that, and Jason didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked down his body and up again.

  Ooh.

  “I’m counting on it,” Charlie said, standing. He tossed Jason a wave. “See ya around, Cap’n.”

  “Sure,” Jason said. He watched Charlie go and sat back in the Adirondack again, suddenly feeling a bit edgy. The patio at Big Boba seemed deathly quiet after Charlie walked away.