Open Seating

The Open Series: Book One

Seth Wilder lost his partner of twenty years to suicide two weeks before a long-anticipated cruise. Cancellation insurance was never purchased, and Seth can’t get a refund. Bryce McFarland, his late partner’s gym buddy, appreciates his predicament, and when asked, agrees to accompany him on the trip. This way, Seth recoups the money and doesn’t have to cancel his plans. The gesture is unexpected but accepted gratefully.

The two men have nothing in common. Seth is a reclusive romance writer, and Bryce is a hard-core Grindr user with major commitment issues. Out of necessity and despite the seemingly insurmountable differences in personality, they develop a tentative rapport. As they begin their journey through the UK, Bryce helps Seth come to terms with his partner’s sudden death while Seth, in turn, discovers the root cause of Bryce’s phobia.

Shipboard romances rarely work. Sensible men resist, sexual tension notwithstanding. But a full moon and late summer breezes lend themselves to the impossible situation, barriers are crossed, and a love affair is kindled.

Cover Artist: Catt Ford


Chapter 1

SETH CHECKED his watch for the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. Bryce was late, and although he’d anticipated some tardiness—not everyone was chronically early—the recurring fear that one more thing would derail this plan was making Seth perspire profusely. He would be mortified if he ended up with two big wet spots underneath the sleeves of his new Faҫonnable shirt, one of six Mark had insisted he buy when Nordstrom had their last big sale. It was an extravagance, to be sure, but neither of them had splurged in a while, and a three-week trip exploring the British Isles to celebrate twenty years of partnered bliss was as good an excuse as any to splurge.

Just thinking about his late partner made Seth’s stomach clench, and he pulled out the roll of Tums he carried in his pocket, popped one out, and crunched it mindlessly. The relief was almost immediate, and taking one last look at his watch, he ran up the stairs to the master bathroom. He reached for a washcloth and held it underneath some running water, squeezed it out, swiftly pulled his tucked shirt out of his waistband, and sopped up his pits. Then Seth grabbed the stick of deodorant he’d left on the counter earlier and swiped it around the offending sweat glands, hoping it would work this time. Maybe Bryce could recommend something different. Seth had been using the same brand of deodorant for years and realized there were probably twenty new and improved versions he’d ignored in favor of the tried and true.

He rinsed the washcloth, hung it, and tucked his shirt back into his distressed jeans, another new purchase he’d allowed for Mark’s sake. He lifted his arms and was happy to see that the pink cotton shirt was bone-dry. At least he’d been able to save this potential disaster.

Back in the bedroom, his gaze veered toward Mark’s bed. It had been stripped, waiting to be picked up by Goodwill, but between one thing and another, Seth had run out of time and rescheduled the pickup for when he returned from his vacation. The room would look a lot bigger once they removed the second queen bed, which had been bought in an act of desperation last year. Mark’s tossing and turning had gone completely off the rails and kept Seth from a sound sleep. He couldn’t function on less than seven hours a night, and it had become more and more difficult as his partner’s insomnia grew worse.

Bittersweet memories of days long gone when they’d fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms and actually stayed that way throughout the night perforated the shaky walls he’d erected around his heart in the days following Mark’s death. He clenched his teeth and blinked back the tears that were close to the surface. It was too soon to go back in time and relive the good old days. His job was to move forward, get through the next three weeks without falling apart, and more importantly, try to stop blaming himself.

A horn blared, causing him to start in surprise. He raced down the stairs, set the alarm, picked up his two suitcases, and walked out his front door. After double locking, he turned to see the limo driver standing by the open trunk, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette instead of rushing up to take the luggage. Seth murmured an expletive but continued down the pathway. When he got to the limo, he waited and was relieved the driver finally got a clue, stubbing out his cigarette on the sidewalk and placing the two suitcases in the trunk.

“Thank you,” Seth said automatically.

“You’re welcome, sir.” The driver didn’t even bother opening the door for Seth and went straight to his side and got in.

Shaking his head, Seth opened his own door and slid inside.

“Hey,” Bryce said, looking a little frazzled.

“You’re late,” Seth said stonily.

“Don’t start,” Bryce said. “I had shit to finish up at the office. We have plenty of time to get to the airport.”

“You know how I am about punctuality.”

Bryce took his eyes off his iPad for a second. “Really, Seth? We haven’t left town yet and you’re already busting my balls.”

Seth couldn’t help noticing that Bryce was smiling, amused by his neurosis instead of being sympathetic. The beautiful ocean blue eyes, fringed in sooty black eyelashes, were practically sparkling with mirth. The guy was sickeningly handsome, and Seth wanted to slap him for some reason. Mark would never torture him by being late. It just wasn’t fair.

“Stop making fun of me,” Seth snapped.

“Chillax,” Bryce warned. “You promised to give me space if I agreed to come along on this trip.”

“I did, but it didn’t include a personality change. I’ll never be as easygoing as you.”

“You should really make an effort to lose that stick up your ass.”

“What stick?” Seth said in outrage. “I want to make sure we get to our destination on time. What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, man,” Bryce said. “You should hear yourself sometimes.”

“Why?” Seth asked. “Am I getting on your nerves?”

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