Chapter One

In Aiden’s defense, he had never used Airbnb before. Sure, the mechanics were simple. Enter your desired destination into the search bar, find a place you liked, and trust that some random person wouldn’t screw you over. It was a lot like online dating. Which, admittedly, he had minimal experience with. But his friend Daire had spent hours explaining, in great detail, the trials and tribulations of the modern dating scene. Through that vivid picture they painted, Aiden figured that he was pretty much an expert.

What he wasn’t an expert in, however, was navigating what to do once he actually reached the property. Shepherding himself through three different airports and a painfully long layover was nothing in comparison to this. His taxi driver was no help, either, speeding back off down the dirt road the moment that Aiden had coughed up the cash and taken his bags out of the trunk. There was no sign of a lockbox or Ryan himself to show him around.

Zero. Zilch. Nothing.

Just Aiden and his bag of duty-free booze and cologne.

At least the house was as advertised, Aiden consoled himself as he lugged his suitcase behind him. Sleek, modern, and plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows. A private suntrap in the middle of the baking Brisbane sun, but undoubtedly with refreshing AC on the inside. AC that Aiden couldn’t wait to submerge himself in. Jeans were fine for long flights, less fine for this level of heat.

Dragging the back of his hand over a sweat-soaked forehead, Aiden took a breath. Maybe this was the sort of place where people left their doors unlocked. He had distant relatives back home that did that. Granted, they lived in the Irish countryside with no one around for miles. But there were comparisons to be made here.

Figuring that it wouldn’t hurt to at least check if the door was unlocked, he ventured forward. Something about this felt off, like he was trespassing. His first night in a new country was going to be spent in a hot cell, which Aiden doubted would have any AC.

He’d better knock first, just in case.

Knuckles rapped against the glass pane of the front door, He listened for the telltale sound of footsteps. Nothing.

Maybe he was supposed to let himself in. Aiden tried the door handle. Success! It was unlocked. He stepped inside and was immediately enveloped in the cooling embrace of the hallway.

If a small sound of relief escaped Aiden’s lips, then he sure didn’t pay any mind to it. The only thing that could top this would be a cool shower, washing off the hours of travel and essence of airplane embedded into his very being. Yeah, a shower could take priority over unpacking. Leaving his suitcase in the hallway for the time being, he explored the house. One bedroom, as quoted on the website, but spacious enough that it gave the impression of being more. Along the walls, leading right into the open-plan living room, were large photographs that displayed various Australian wildlife and the coast. Fingers barely dancing over the framed pictures, Aiden figured that whoever designed this place had a stroke of genius. The interior seemed miles out of his league, with white pristine surfaces and marble countertops.

The luxury.

Just as Aiden was admiring the kitchen, he heard a clanging noise from farther inside the house.

This could be his suitcase falling. Or maybe he was in the wrong place and that fleeting thought of an Australian prison was very much about to become a reality.

Fuck.

Aiden scrambled, unsure what to do. But surely feeling up the countertops was not something he wanted to be caught doing while he was trespassing. Should he sneak back out? Try the patio door behind him? There were options, but none of them were inviting enough to tempt Aiden to choose.

Leaving through either of those doors meant stepping back out into the afternoon inferno, and he was not about to do that. No, he’d made his bed (or broken into it); now he was going to deal with the consequences. Aiden ran his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to tame the admittedly greasy strands, and took a breath. Okay, this was him being an adult. He was twenty-eight. He could do this. He could admit that he’d wrongfully come inside, that he’d assumed incorrectly and—

Aiden stalled. Was that humming?

Low and offbeat, a tune that Aiden couldn’t quite place but most definitely knew. He wasn’t sure if the confirmation that someone was indeed there was better or worse, but the humming did nothing to settle his nerves.

Maybe some serial killer was on the loose. The sort that staked out unlocked Airbnbs, waiting for unsuspecting and confused travelers to step inside.

“I hope you had a nice flight,” the killer would say, weapon wielded high in the air. “I’m the Airbnb Axe Murderer.”

Aiden shook that thought off. Serial killers that didn’t want to be detected didn’t hum. Least of all to the Bee Gees.

Swallowing down whatever reservations he had left about making himself known, he tentatively stepped closer to the room with the source of the noise. After a moment, he leaned forward and stole a peek inside.

Aiden couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath at the sight he was met with.

Just under the sink, flat on his back in a large puddle of water, lay a man.

His gray shirt—short sleeved and doing nothing to conceal the broad shoulders and bunched muscles as he worked at the pipes behind the sink—was soaking wet, hanging heavily to his frame. From where Aiden was standing, he couldn’t quite see his face, just his long (ridiculously long, come to think of it. How tall was this guy?), sprawled-out body.

Aiden’s mouth had gone dry, but he knew the last thing he should be doing was gawking. Breaking in and now being a creep. That was not how Aiden wanted to present himself. He was going to tiptoe right back outside, knock on the door as loudly as he could, and make a half-decent first impression with this absolute unit.

But life had other plans. Upon his retreat, his foot knocked against a toolbox that had gone previously unnoticed. A toolbox that was open and loudly slammed shut upon impact.

“Aw fuck,” a deep voice groaned out. “Someone there?”

Aiden could make a run for it, pretend that something just fell over and he was never there in the first place. But that wouldn’t get him any closer to checking in, and Aiden was pretty frozen to the spot. Adult thoughts, adult actions. Own up, apologize for the misunderstanding, and move on.

Maybe offer the man some ice for his head, if it came to that.

“Yeah, sorry.” Aiden stepped into the doorway of the bathroom. The impossibly long guy was now propped up on his elbows, squinting at him dubiously. Aiden stilled, heart seizing in his chest. Dark hair, closely cropped at the sides and longer at the top (just long enough to thread his fingers—no; his thoughts were not going there), matched with dark stubble over an angular jaw, a nick of a scar on warm beige skin beneath his eye, and Cupid’s bow lips.

And he was staring at Aiden like he was expecting something from him.

Aiden’s brain kicked back into gear a moment too late, realizing that the guy was waiting for him to speak further.

“Right.” Aiden extended a hand that the guy couldn’t quite reach without pushing himself up from the ground, so he quickly took it back. “I’m Aiden, I’m—”

“The guest,” he said with a wry grin, laying back down with a grunt. “I’m almost finished up.”

“Right. Yeah. The guest.” Aiden nodded, arms hanging uselessly by his sides as the guy went back to work. “Can I help you or something?”

The man glanced back over to him, and suddenly Aiden felt incredibly scrutinized by this impossibly good-looking guy. His mouth dried up, and his hands felt clammy. Easily explained away by the current climate, but that was a flimsy excuse.

Aiden, on a good day, could pass as cute. But he felt anything but cute at the moment. Hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet. His current state was dire, and he wanted to shrink into a corner and hide until this man left. Then he could deal with the embarrassment and scream into the void.

“My mam was a plumber,” Aiden explained, if only to fill the silence. “I could maybe—”

“I’ve got it,” came the responding grunt, and his head was back beneath the tap once again. Aiden nodded slowly to himself, lips smacked together.

“Got it.” Aiden continued to stand there like a schoolkid waiting to be dismissed from assembly. What else was he supposed to do? He’d already been a complete busybody and explored. The least he could do was stand there for a few moments and behave while Mr. Shoulders finished up. But then he shifted, and Aiden could see what he was doing. Wrench around the valve, just ready to twist.

Aiden opened his mouth to offer a warning. “Hey, I wouldn’t do that if I were—”

The order that things happened wasn’t quite clear. Whether he’d started to move before the water shot out with a fury or after. All he knew was that there was a wrench in his hand, and he was getting a freezing cold burst of water to the face as he frantically moved to fix the issue.

And when the aggressive spray turned into a depressed dribble, Aiden found himself leaning over the man’s soaked form—chest heaving and curled hair stuck flat against his forehead. Droplets of water rolled down the man’s thin lips and gathered in the elegant swoop of his eyelashes. Aiden’s cheeks warmed.

“The valve,” was all Aiden could manage to say, breathlessly. “It just needed to be tightened.”

“Yeah. I’d gathered that,” the man replied, voice no more than a rumble. Aiden couldn’t tell if he was pissed off, or if he had a naturally handsome resting bitch face. And considering their close proximity, he didn’t care to find out. He was already exhausted and flushed—having ideas about a good-looking guy on a bathroom floor was not on the agenda for today.

“Right.” Aiden cleared his throat and awkwardly offered the wrench back. “Can I—?”

“How about you wait in the kitchen?” the stranger suggested, cutting through Aiden’s second offer of help. Yep. He was definitely pissed off. There was an edge to that rumble of a voice, one that Aiden could just tell he was on the wrong side of. Even the manner that he took the wrench just screamed irritated.

But instead of doing what he was asked (because when did Aiden ever make life easy for himself?) he responded with a smart, “A thank-you wouldn’t go amiss.”

The smug sensation of a clever comeback quickly dissipated by the time he’d reached the kitchen. He’d wanted to go in with a somewhat positive impression, hadn’t he? Where had that intent gone? Clearly washed away with that final blast of water. He should apologize, right? For barging in and acting like a bit of a know-it-all. Aiden drummed his fingers against the cool marble countertop, worrying at his bottom lip as he waited for the stranger to emerge. Luckily, Aiden didn’t have to stew in his self-inflicted guilt for long.

The decidedly-not-Airbnb-Axe-Murderer sauntered into the kitchen, and Aiden immediately straightened as though caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Which very well may have been ogling, but at least he was discreet about it.

Mostly.

Aiden opened his mouth, an apology on his lips. “Hey, I should—”

“Tour,” he said, swiftly cutting Aiden off with a clap of his hands. “That’s where Ryan said to start.”

Aiden frowned, trying to remember where exactly he’d heard that name before.

“My brother,” the stranger filled in with a slow drawl, as though he expected for a lightbulb to go off in Aiden’s head. It didn’t, and he totally blamed it on the jet lag. “The owner. Who is on a road trip with his mates. He did tell you all this, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Aiden nodded slowly, the pieces gradually falling into place. A flash of a brief conversation over text informed him that, yes, Ryan had said exactly that. This was off to a great start. “So that would make you…?”

“About ready to start this tour,” he filled in with a tight-lipped grin. “Outside’s as good a place as any to start.”

Maybe Aiden was overthinking it, but he sensed the implication that outside should have been where he’d stayed. Like a polite house guest. The very same polite guest that followed his pseudo-host outside without a word of complaint.

Aiden was led to the back, toward a large pool that immediately inspired the image of doing a languid backstroke through the crystal-clear water.

“So this is it.” He gestured somewhat awkwardly at the pool. It was clear the man hadn’t given a tour of the house in years, if ever. “Pump’s a bit buggered, but it’ll hold out for your stay.”

Aiden spoke before he had the chance to evaluate his words. “Like the tap?”

The pool was suddenly the most fascinating thing on earth, as Aiden turned toward it, pretending to inspect it further. Really, he was just looking to narrowly avoid that sharp glare he could feel boring into the side of his cheek.

But, mercifully, he didn’t say a word and dropped the look. Hands perched on narrow hips, his soaked shirt steadily drying in the afternoon sun. Maybe Aiden should keep looking at the pool, take his mind off of ogling the unenthused brother of the host.

Aiden kept his mouth shut as he was shown the rest of the property, hands clasped behind his back and the occasional polite hum as he vaguely gestured toward areas of interest. The barbeque, extra lounge chairs. Aiden eyed up the latter with interest, almost urging this tour on so that he could have a cold shower and promptly pass out on one of the chairs.

“If you want to have a party,” the man piped up, leading Aiden back inside toward the welcome embrace of the AC, “go right ahead. Just clean up after yourself.”

“I don’t think I’ll be having a lot of parties,” Aiden admitted, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them into the collar of his shirt. The glasses were probably the only weather-appropriate thing Aiden was wearing, currently sweating through his jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. His guide had no such discomfort, his board shorts snug around muscular thighs.

“That’s unusual,” came the response.

“It is?” Aiden asked. “Canlaroy didn’t exactly strike me as a party town.”

In fact, that was one of the big reasons he’d picked here. How quiet it sounded, away from the hustle and bustle of the city nearby. A place where he could be away from any sense of obligation and people. To just…reset.

“Big house in the middle of nowhere? No neighbors to complain about the noise? Kind of ideal for buck weekends.”

At that, an ugly bark of a laugh escaped Aiden’s lips. He raised his fist, weakly coughing behind it to play it off. His host did not look convinced.

“Yeah, no. No stag parties here. I am very alone.” Another laugh that Aiden didn’t even try to disguise this time. “And very single. So, uh. No wedding. Zero.”

“Right,” he said slowly, expression annoyingly impassive.

Aiden turned increasingly red, and not because of the heat. More like the complete ass he’d made of himself.

“I should go. You look tired.”

Aiden didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, but it was a close thing.

“My number’s on the fridge in case of any emergencies,” he continued to say, hands shoved in his pockets as he backed up toward the door.

“Listen—” An apology was right there on Aiden’s lips, but he couldn’t quite bring the words to fruition. After declaring that he was super single, he didn’t want to give any further implication that he was trying to get in this guy’s pants. (He wasn’t; they were just very nice pants.) And apologizing after such a length of time could be seen as sucking up.

Was Aiden overthinking? Completely. But he was reluctant to get thrown out on his ass and away from this beautiful home.

“—thanks for everything. I’ll take good care of the place,” Aiden said instead.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” For the first time, Aiden was offered a slight smile. Nothing that completely transformed his face. His dark eyes were still intense, still stern. Aiden’s heart still stuttered in his chest. “Ryan hasn’t managed to burn the place down yet. It’ll survive you.”

With those as his parting words, Aiden watched as the stranger left. It was only when those broad shoulders were out of sight that Aiden realized that he’d never asked for his name.

Which, okay, he could not be blamed for. Aiden had been operating on autopilot for the last two weeks. Forgetting social niceties was the least of his concerns. The fact that he successfully navigated himself across the globe was a miracle in and of itself. Now, alone, Aiden could stop and breathe—take stock of everything since it all happened.

Since he saw Dan—

No. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Aiden came here to have a good time, to take the next step in his life, to do something for himself for once.

If he dwelled on the past, he was going to get stuck there.

To quote Ryan’s email, he had a month in this “absolute paradise.”

And it was a form of paradise, almost right out of a travel catalog that he would wistfully flick through while he got a haircut. He’d never let himself do something like this before, had only gone on holidays overseas twice. And one of them had been with his family when he was twelve.

With his parents on the cusp of a divorce and his sister in the middle of her “now that I’m fourteen I’m way too cool to be associated with you” phase that she never really grew out of, it wasn’t exactly a fond memory.

But here? Aiden would like to think he could really make some.

The house wasn’t overlooked, tucked away at the side of a hill—the coast within walking distance, or so he’d been told. The small town of Canlaroy was over an hour’s drive away from Brisbane, a quiet place for Aiden to clear his head and relax.

When was the last time he’d actually had time to himself? It didn’t bear thinking about.

That night, Aiden took his sweet time in the luxurious pressure shower that he might just sell his soul to get back home, then collapsed into bed without setting an alarm.

Really, he was spoiling himself.

And no matter how brief this moment may be in his life, no matter if it was just a blip through the years—Aiden could pretend that he belonged in that moment. The one feeling that he’d grappled with for so long.

He’d thought he had it. Found himself a slice of life that was waiting for him, a place—someone—he could call home.

What a load of rubbish that all was.