Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
There were photos of a very young Calgary Wilde winning a 4-H prize for best photo in the nature conservancy category, more recent photos of him standing next to a couple at a bar opening in Hobie, and photos of him as a teenager grinning like a goofball in front of a colorful sailboat with a bunch of other teens. He was smaller than his peers, but he had a big attitude. He wore a sailing T-shirt that said, “If you can’t keep it up, don’t take it out.” The photo caption mentioned a fundraiser regatta at Campside Cove in Hobie, Texas, benefitting a camp scholarship program for underprivileged youth.
He was so cute, so full of life and energy. Even in an online photo, I could feel his charisma. People enjoyed being around him which must have been quite a gift to the sailing camp.
I looked up different variations of “sailing camp in Hobie” until I found the website for Campside Sailing Academy in Hobie. The site was filled with pictures of kids and adults learning to sail, colorful rigged boats, and smiling faces. Cal was in lots of them, but I also saw the woman he thought of as a second mother. Annie’s face was lined with age, but she had the same easy smile Cal did, and it was clear she loved her work as much as he did.
There was a press inquiry tab on the site that led to a list of articles written about the academy and camp. While the facilities seemed due for a much-needed upgrade, the reputation of the program itself was top-notch. Graduates of the program had gone on to sail for elite college teams, and there were even two current World Cup winners from the academy.
I could see why Cal had worked so hard to be worthy of the program and why he’d been knocked so far off course after learning there was no longer a place for him there.
On the Contact page of the website, Brian and Sharon Rastall were listed as the current managers. I did a little more digging into the husband-and-wife team and discovered Brian had most recently been a youth pastor, real estate appraiser, and city council member in Denton, Texas, and Sharon had worked in the administrative offices of the Denton Independent School District. I wondered if they’d fully relocated to Hobie to run the camp or if they were staying in Denton and hiring someone else to handle the day-to-day operations. Maybe if they stayed in Denton, they could hire Cal to run the programs.
I wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until Julo appeared to offer me a fresh beer and set down a tray of appetizers.
“Your man came through a few minutes ago and went to the stateroom,” Julo said. “He didn’t want to disturb you, but I think maybe you want to be disturbed.”
He walked away without another word, and it took me about half a second to translate his words into the image of a naked Cal Wilde stepping into the shower. I grabbed my laptop and hit the ground running to the sound of Julo’s chuckle.
When I entered the stateroom, I could hear the sound of the shower going and Cal singing Christopher Cross’s “Sailing.” I stripped off my own trunks and approached slowly so I could listen first.
… Just a dream and the wind to carry me…
I couldn’t help but smile. He was still that happy kid, easily transported by wind and water. I wanted to learn how to let go the way he seemed to be able to do, find the joy in simple things and take each day as they came.
“Is there room for one more?” I asked carefully, trying not to startle him.
“Only if you have a penis and you’re not afraid to use it,” he quipped back without missing a beat.
I looked down at my hard length, already throbbing for him. “Yep. Got one of them. I found it in a bin of rarely used odds and ends.”
I stepped into the marble shower behind him and slid my arms around his chest, leaning down to kiss and nibble at the back of his neck. It still tasted faintly of salt and sweat, and I chased the taste down his spine.
“How did your work go?” he asked, leaning back into me. “Your conference call.”
I’d forgotten about the call in my deep dive into all things Cal Wilde and Hobie, Texas. “Oh, great. I’m flying to California to meet with them in a few days to talk next steps. They have some very promising reports about the market opportunities.”
Cal reached back and grabbed my hips, pulling me closer until my dick pressed against his lower back.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
“Mm, sounds like a good plan. Here or out there?” He stood on his toes and wiggled his ass back and forth until my erection slotted between his cheeks.