Suncoast Society

  Numb as a Statue

  Rom is an admitted control freak due to a life-shattering event that changed his world forever. He doesn’t believe in pretty words—he wants a guy he can trust, who shows him how he feels, not simply says it. But the gorgeous artist is a literal freaking Adonis…and Rom wants him.

  Colton has faced heartbreaking rejection in his life and isn’t willing to settle for less than a guy who’s willing to take charge and not destroy his delicate trust in the process. In Rom he sees a quiet confidence with no need to prove anything to anyone. But Colton wants to prove to Rom he’s his forever guy.

  Take two beautiful but wounded, fragile hearts, mix in one meddling matchmaker…and see what magic follows. Just hold the peanuts, please.

  Genres: Alternative (M/M, Gay), BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 32,404

  NUMB AS A STATUE

  Suncoast Society

  Tymber Dalton

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Numb as a Statue

  Copyright © 2018 by Tymber Dalton

  ISBN: 978-1-64243-527-6

  First Publication: November 2018

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at legal@sirenbookstrand.com

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  For Hubby, and for Sir. He knows why.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tymber Dalton is the wild-child alter-ego of author Lesli Richardson. She lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC award winner and part-time Viking shield-maiden loves to shoot skeet and play D&D with her friends. She’s also the bestselling author of over one hundred and fifty books and counting, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.

  She loves to hear from readers! Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for her newsletter to keep abreast of the latest news, snarkage, and releases. You can also find all of her Siren-BookStrand releases under all four of her pen names on her author page on the BookStrand site.

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  Author’s Note

  This is book 85 in the Suncoast Society series. You do not have to read all the books before this one to understand the plot or characters—most of the books in the series are standalone.

  Kent, Tim, and Paul are first featured in Through With Love.

  Some of the characters in this book appear in or are featured in previous books in the Suncoast Society series. While most of the books in the Suncoast Society series are standalone works which may be read independently of each other, the recommended reading order to avoid spoilers and to not miss any backstory can be found on the Suncoast Society series page, along with character information and other trivia, on my website at:

  http://www.suncoastsociety.com/

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  NUMB AS A STATUE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  NUMB AS A STATUE

  Suncoast Society

  TYMBER DALTON

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  “So why can’t I close out the account? It was my sister’s account, and she’s dead. I have her death certificate.”

  Rom hoped his smile looked right. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tried explaining it to the blue-haired elderly woman again. “Because, ma’am, you aren’t a signer on the account. We’re not allowed to release funds to someone who isn’t a signer on the account, or without a notarized power of attorney, or without a court order. That’s why you’ll have to talk to your attorney about the probate process, and—”

  “I already told you, I ain’t payin’ no attorney. All they’ll do is eat up money that isn’t there.”

  “Then you might want to call to see if there’s any pro bono legal assistance for people in your situation, but I’m afraid I can’t give you access to her account.” So far, his Monday morning was starting out rather shitty.

  She was only his second customer.

  The woman slapped the checkbook she’d dropped onto the counter. “Fine. If I can’t close it, then I want to make a withdrawal. How much is in there?”

  He took a deep breath and forced himself not to roll his eyes. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, I can’t give you any access to the account. Not without a court order after it goes through probate.”

  She glared at him, her gaze narrowing. “You can bet I’m callin’ the Sarasota TV station about this.”

  He nodded and somehow managed not to laugh in her face. “If you feel you need to do that, ma’am, I certainly understand. Unfortunately, without the proper authorization, I’m unable to help you today. If you’d like to call the main branch and talk to our head of accounts—”

  “Y’all are a bunch of thieves. That’s my money now.” She snatched the checkbook off the counter, whirled around, and stormed out the door.

  Well, toddled, because she looked like she was in her late eighties, and she wasn’t very steady on her feet. She almost hit another car when she’d first pulled in nearly half an hour before they opened.

  Damn. Glad my car’s safely parked in back.

  He was actually shocked she was driving.

  At the station next to him, Denise smirked. “Better you than me,” she said just loudly enough for him to hear it, but too low for the customers waiting in line to hear. She also had double-duty today manning the drive-through lane, so she was in the process of handling a deposit for a customer there. He was actually supposed to be at his desk today, but they had one teller call in sick that morning—which he believed, because Renee had looked like crap on Saturday, and he’d sent her home early—and another was in the hospital after she’d gone into premature labor over the weekend, meaning they were short-handed.

  “Thanks, buddy,” he snarked back, earning himself a laugh from Denise. He finally smiled for real as he waved to the next customer waiting in line. “I can help the next person.”

  God, I hate Mondays.

  * * * *

  Later, Rom was sitting in the break room and eating his lunch when Denise walked in. She affected a fake Southern accent. “I wanna know if I can close my ex-brother-in-law’s cousin’s roommate’s account, and I don’t wanna pay no dang lawyer to do it, neither!” She punctuated that with a curt nod.

  He nearly snorted Diet Coke out his nose and started choking and coughing as he laughed. “Spew warning, please,” he said after he stopped choking. Somehow, he’d managed not to get any on his tie.

  The accent disappeared. “Gawd, how do you always end up with the wackadoodles?”

  “Just lucky, I guess. Heavy is the head that wears the senior teller name tag, I suppose.” Although technically he wasn’t the senior teller any longer, he was their senior account manager, but with the head teller out sick, he had to step back into the role.

  She snapped him a salute over a playful grin. “Yes sir, Mr. Quinn, sir.” After grabbing her lunch from the fridge, she pulled out a chair and sat on the other side of the small table. “Any idea when we’ll get some extra help?”

  “The Venice branch has someone who can work here tomorrow. She lives in Nokomis and volunteered to drive up. They couldn’t let her come up today, though. They’re short four from food poisoning. They all went out to eat together last night at a new place.”

  “Yech.” Denise shuddered. “I guess I shouldn’t complain, then. And please don’t ask R
enee to come in tomorrow. I don’t need her kidlets’ germs any more than she wants to pass them around. Let her heal up another day or two, first.”

  “Don’t worry, I plan on it. We don’t need even more people out sick.”

  “Agreed. So what’d you do this weekend?”

  “Nothing fun. Cleaned my apartment, washed my car, and shopped around for cheaper auto insurance.” He twirled a finger in the air. “Whoopee.”

  Which was actually a lie of omission.

  But like hell would he tell her he’d spent Saturday night up in St. Pete, at the Toucan, a resort that catered predominantly to gay men.

  Oh, he was out and open as gay, that wasn’t the problem.

  But he had no desire to out himself as a kinky Top to his co-workers. Which was another reason he tended to head to St. Pete, instead of spending a lot of time at Venture, the local BDSM club.

  “Aren’t there dating apps or something?” she asked. “I mean, it can’t be that hard to find an eligible gay man in Sarasota.”

  “I’ve never had much luck with those.” That much was the truth.

  But he couldn’t exactly tell her he’d blown a couple of loads with a couple of different cuties that weekend, either. Getting laid wasn’t the problem.

  Finding someone to settle down with in a permanent relationship was proving tricky.

  Finding someone he could trust, that was.

  * * * *

  Come four o’clock that afternoon, Rom let out a relieved sigh when the branch manager locked the front door and flipped the sign from open to closed.

  Denise started counting out her drawer. “Plans tonight?”

  “Yeah, to put a dent in the alcohol in my fridge. Holy cannoli, what deity did we piss off today?”

  “Right?”

  The elderly woman that morning was tame compared to the afternoon insanity he had to deal with. Including a man pissed off because his wife had left him and opened a new bank account and they wouldn’t give him access to it, followed by a woman who demanded they tell her how much her parents had in their savings account, because they were refusing to help her pay for a car, and a woman who had all the proper paperwork she needed but who sat and sobbed at Rom’s desk for the better part of an hour as he helped her move everything from her husband’s name into hers, because he’d just been diagnosed with dementia. They’d been married forty years, and he’d handled all the finances. Now, she was overwhelmed and stressed out.

  An hour later, Rom was heading home, tie loosened and radio cranked as loud as he could stand it and blaring Feist, because he needed to chill the hell out.

  What calm he’d recovered for himself Saturday night had dived head-first out a window after today’s events.

  He was a few minutes from home when his cell rang, pausing the music.

  Chad, his older brother.

  He answered it. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Rommy. You want to come over for dinner tonight? Ina’s making a roast.”

  Rom had to stop for a red light and gave serious thought to accepting his brother’s offer, until he remembered the unopened growler of IPA he had awaiting him in his fridge.

  “Not tonight, thanks. I had a rough day and just want to collapse.”

  “You sure? It’s been a couple of weeks. You know how she gets when she doesn’t put eyes on you for a while. If you’ve got a guy coming over, tell me now so she doesn’t try to drop in and bring you dinner and interrupt anything.”

  “I don’t have company coming over, but warn her I’m getting naked when I get home, and I’m not putting on pants for anyone, not even her. It was just a really long, bad day at work.”

  Chad laughed. “I’ll tell her, but expect a call or text from her. You know how she is.”

  “I know. Tell her I love her for it.”

  “Will do. Love you, Rommy.”

  “Love you, too, bro.”

  Well, at least he had that going for him. A loving older brother and sister-in-law to miss him if he died or disappeared or something.

  I’m going to be twenty-eight in a month. You’d think I could find an honest guy I’m attracted to, who’s a bottom, and who wants to be in a long-term, monogamous, committed relationship.

  So far, either he’d found guys who wanted him to be a full-time bottom—hard nope—or guys who he wasn’t attracted to, or guys who he caught in enough lies to know he couldn’t trust them.

  While his weekends up at the Toucan were fun for fucking, it wasn’t likely to lead to a life-long relationship, either.

  By the time he got home, Rom also had a text from Gary, one of the guys he’d hooked up with that weekend.

  Hey. ;)

  And nothing else.

  Rom sighed as he read the text…which was as lacking in substance as Gary was. The ginger had been hot, sure, but they’d had nothing in common besides what they’d enjoyed doing to and with each other.

  Yeah, that was another problem with many of the guys he hooked up with at the Toucan—they were usually hot, good in bed, and delightfully subby.

  Unfortunately, it seemed the ones he’d hooked up with were also usually dumb as brick shithouses, and horrible in the interesting conversation department. Which was fine for a fuck, but definitely not relationship material.

  Just my luck.

  It seemed the decent guys who did it for him both intellectually as well as physically were taken.

  Of course.

  Rom waited until he was inside his apartment to respond.

  Hey. How are you doing?

  He’d played with the guy Saturday night, then saw him at breakfast Sunday morning, so it wasn’t like he’d neglected to check in with him. The guy had been fine, already moved on to someone else. Which Rom didn’t begrudge at all.

  It was kind of a relief, actually.

  Over the next twenty minutes, Rom stripped, made himself a salad, cracked the seal on the growler and was working on his first pint of it, and hadn’t made a damn bit of progress in his bland text conversation with Gary.

  He was sitting on his couch and working on his salad when his cell phone chirped at him again, this time a text from Ina.

  You want dinner? I’ll bring it over.

  He smiled and responded.

  I’m already naked. :)

  Which he was. He kept a sheet tossed over his couch, which he removed when people were coming over, but it was his apartment, he paid the bills, and dammit, he’d run around naked if he wanted.

  Which he did.

  He spent most of his life dressed up in business respectable clothes. At the Toucan he usually wore a snug pair of swim trunks that weren’t much more than a Speedo with a few extra inches so he wasn’t constantly digging it out of the crack of his ass, but it still left nothing to the imagination.

  This was also why he didn’t want a roommate. He preferred his small, one-bedroom apartment in the quiet complex. No outside maintenance to take up his time, and they had a nice pool where he could relax in the sun when he felt like it.

  For that, of course, he wore a pair of regular swim trunks. There were families in the complex and he wasn’t going to be an asshole.

  Other than reading, the Toucan, and his morning run…he really didn’t have much in the way of hobbies. He’d worked his ass off in college to put himself through college, and now he was working on building up his retirement savings. With the current housing market, he was better off building his savings instead of dumping money into a house he didn’t need.

  Ina actually called him. “I could ding-dong-ditch you.”

  He laughed. “It’s okay. I already made myself a salad. I’m actually eating right now.”

  “Ah, okay.” She hesitated. “You doing all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just a long, bad day at work today. We’re short-handed. I’m good, Mom.”

  “Hey, I’m only twelve years older than you.” But he could hear the smile in her voice despite her protests. “A friend of mine was saying her brother’s recently single.”