Sequel to Open Seating
The Open Series: Book Two
By the time Seth Wilder and Bryce McFarland return to Chicago after their UK cruise, they’re halfway in love. They decide to move in together to see if their feelings can survive in the real world.
Seth receives word that a mandatory autopsy was performed on his late partner because his death was a suicide. The medical examiner’s findings are disturbing and leave some doubt as to the underlying cause of death.
Because of the suicide clause, life insurance benefits had been denied, but in light of these new findings, Seth’s lawyer advises him to appeal. The insurance investigator turns out to be the man who broke Bryce’s heart twenty-five years ago. The guy has fallen on hard times, and when he sees how successful Bryce has become—and how large Seth’s potential payout might be—he decides he wants a piece of the pie. Bryce and Seth’s new relationship is severely tested in this second novel in the Open Series.
Cover Artist: Catt Ford
Chapter 1
BRYCE’S APARTMENT on Lakeshore Drive was nothing short of spectacular. Seth had been expecting a typical bachelor pad with a worn-out recliner, a wall-to-wall flat-screen TV, mismatched tables and chairs, and a utilitarian kitchen where the most valued appliance was the microwave. He had to stop his jaw from dropping when Bryce unlocked the front door and he first laid eyes on the gleaming hardwood floors and the understatedly elegant but comfortable furniture.
The entry opened directly into the combination living and dining room. Seth’s older Lincoln Park home felt antiquated and claustrophobic compared to this well-lit and functional space. It was a corner unit with Lake Michigan easily visible out of one set of windows and the cityscape from the others. Sunlight poured in through the thick panes of glass, and Seth liked the window coverings Bryce had chosen. They were honeycomb shades in the palest taupe. At the moment, they were raised to reveal the views, but he knew they could be lowered for privacy whenever Bryce felt the need.
Bryce turned to him expectantly, and Seth could sense a bit of anxiety in the normally confident man. Was he worried Seth would disapprove of his home and decide not to move in? Eager to set him at ease as soon as possible, Seth threw his arms around Bryce’s neck, and kissed him.
“Your place is gorgeous,” Seth said after they broke apart. “Did you hire an interior designer?”
“Yeah,” Bryce confirmed, looking visibly relieved. “Grier Dilorio. He’s the other half of Lampert and Dilorio, an architectural firm I work with a lot. Nice guy.”
“I like the ambiance,” Seth said, moving into the room. “Minimalist but warm. The brown sectional works great with the red dining room chairs. Your designer must have an eye for color.”
“Colors are his thing,” Bryce said. “You should see his tats.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah. First time we met at a job site, he drove up on a Harley in a black beater showing off full-sleeve tats on one arm. For a minute I thought he was lost.”
Seth giggled. “He sounds hot. Is he gay?”
“You bet. He’s married to the architect, Lil Lampert, and they have a teenage son who’s also gay. Don’t ask me how that happened because I don’t know the whole story.”
“Maybe I’ll hire him to spruce up my house before I put it on the market. It can certainly use a makeover.”
“Yeah, he’s really creative. Watch this,” Bryce said, pulling a round gizmo out of a drawer on the narrow table behind the sofa. He pointed it at the shades and they slid down the window silently. Within seconds the sunny apartment had turned dark and private.
“That’s great,” Seth exclaimed. “You’ll have to give me his number.”
Bryce hit the controller again, and the shades lifted, letting in the sunlight. “I see him and his hub all the time. I’ll set up a meeting if you want.”
“I’d like your opinion on my house before we go that far. Talk about what’s really necessary and what’s not. That way I’m a bit more informed when we sit down with the guy.”
Bryce nodded. “Makes sense. Let me show you the office.” He took Seth by the hand and led him down a hallway, past the kitchen, which was also accessible through the dining room. Seth got a quick glimpse of gleaming stainless steel appliances and a butcher block workstation with an overhead pot rack. Shiny copper pans dangled off the hooks.
“Hold on,” Seth said, stopping dead. “I want to see your kitchen.”
“Later,” Bryce said, practically dragging him back down the hallway. “I’m excited to show you where you’ll be penning your next novel.”
Seth rolled his eyes. “I haven’t written a thing since we went away.”
Bryce turned back to him and grinned. “We’ve been too busy exploring.”
“Is that what you’re calling fucking nowadays?”
“Come here,” Bryce said, pressing him close. He leaned his forehead against Seth’s and whispered, “I thought we were making love.”
“Every time.” Seth settled on Bryce’s warm mouth with a satisfied moan. Bryce tasted like toothpaste and coffee, a strange combination Seth had come to recognize after sharing kisses with him every morning for the last three weeks. His craving for the unique flavor hadn’t diminished one iota; in fact, it had increased with his feelings. Although the words had never been exchanged, he was well and truly in love with Bryce.
What started out as an incongruous friendship had blossomed into a shipboard romance. Their “love boat” had been a cruise liner that traversed the waters around the UK. Bryce’s decision to go on the trip had been a last-minute thing, a charitable offer made to Seth when his partner of twenty years, Mark, committed suicide two weeks before the planned vacation. Now, a little over a month later, they had begun a relationship of sorts based on mutual respect and a solid friendship that had weathered several stormy days.
The physical attraction between them had begun almost immediately and hadn’t waned in the least. Seth had experienced new sensual highs he’d only written about in the past, and each encounter increased his desire. Bryce had become an addiction that upended his orderly and predictable life. Writing habits he’d cultivated for years had been shoved aside, and participating in shipboard activities and taking advantage of as many land tours as possible seemed far more important than sticking to his schedule. Now, though, it was time to hunker down and get on with the business of earning a living.
Toward the end of their trip, Seth had confided that he wanted to sell the house he’d shared with Mark. There were too many memories in the solid brick structure built in the eighties, and although most had been good, they were overshadowed by Mark’s suicide, which had taken place in their bedroom. Seth hadn’t slept there since, and the idea of selling had become more and more appealing—actually, he could think of nothing else. Not surprisingly, Bryce had insisted Seth move into his place and even offered his own home office as Seth’s new writing cave.
Breaking their kiss, Bryce suggested, “Let’s pause while we can, or I’ll have to show you our bedroom first.”
Seth would have gladly skipped the apartment tour and gone straight to bed, but he knew Bryce was excited to show him his office so he gave in. “Okay, hot stuff. Let’s put this on the back burner.”
“I promise to make it up to you tenfold,” Bryce teased.
“Yeah? Care to elaborate?”
“We’ll get sidetracked if I tell you what I have in mind.”
Seth grinned and reached down to adjust himself. “As you can see, your words aren’t falling on deaf ears.”
Bryce laughed. “Tuck that chub away and concentrate on what I’m about to show you.”
“All right already,” Seth said, choking back a laugh. He followed Bryce into a room with a window facing Lake Michigan. It was also bright and cheerful like the rest of the apartment. Seth couldn’t help comparing his own depressing home office to this room. He’d been using it for years and didn’t see much beyond his desktop and IKEA bookcases crammed with reference material. His printer with combination scanner and fax sat on a shelf above his monitor, along with a ream of paper and a cupful of pens and pencils. There were no windows in the room, and the only things hanging on the walls were his book covers in wooden frames. He collected them, and the cover artists he worked with routinely sent him signed originals.
In contrast, Bryce’s cheery home office had custom-made oak shelves lining one wall, and on the opposite side, there was a long wooden bureau with pullout drawers on the bottom and the usual small office equipment on top. The massive oak desk with a computer, phone, and calculator was directly in front of the bureau with a convenient rolling chair, in case he needed to find something in the drawers or use the fax. The third wall had three large windows and a comfy two-seat leather sofa in buttery yellow with a narrow cocktail table in front. Seth assumed Bryce occasionally met with clients here at home, and the comfortable but practical room seemed like a great place to study blueprints and pricing while sharing a good cup of coffee.
“This is lovely,” Seth exclaimed. “But it’s yours. There’s really no room for me in here.”
“We’ll make room,” Bryce said. “I don’t use this as often as you might think, and most of the time when I need to get in here, it’s at night. Didn’t you tell me you like to write in the morning?”
“Very early in the morning,” Seth said. “Of course, you’d never know it since I’ve been slacking off the last few weeks.”
“Do you use a lap or desktop?” Bryce asked.
“Laptop, but I like to write at my desk.”
“This desk is big enough for two. We’ll push my monitor to one side to make room for your laptop. Sync to my printer and you’ll be good to go.”
Frowning, Seth turned to Bryce. “Are you sure? I hate to inconvenience you.”