Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

In less than twenty-four hours, Colin would have a name and face to go with the body in his dreams.

He wanted some answers too.

* * * * *

“Where are you sneaking off to so early in the morning?”

Colin jumped, then spun to find Tag entering the kitchen through a sliding glass door.

“God, man.” Colin slumped against the counter. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” Tag grabbed a T-shirt off the back of a chair and used it to wipe his face, neck, and chest. His dark hair glistened with moisture, and he rubbed the material through it too. “Just coming in from a run on the beach.”

After opening the fridge, Colin grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it in Tag's direction. “Looks like you tested the water as well.”

“Thanks.” Tag cracked the seal on the bottle and took a long drag, wiping his mouth when he finished. “Didn't plan for a swim, but I couldn't resist.” He stepped back through the open doorway and shook himself off outside. “After running three miles, the ocean wasn't as cool and refreshing as I'd hoped.”

“A nice cold shower ought to do the trick.” Colin slid a glance Tag's way, noticing what appeared to be his perpetual case of half wood. “For a number of reasons.”

Tag openly shifted his dick around in his loose-fitting trunks. “Yeah, but that's all gonna change as soon as I say 'I do.' Meanwhile, you're still gonna be yanking the snake on your own.”

Colin immediately pictured long lines of a thickly muscled, tan body in his mind, and he swore the callused tips of his dream lover's work-roughened fingers lingered on his cock with a gossamer-light touch.

“Well, well, well,” Tag said, pulling Colin back into the kitchen. “What is this little smile for?” He poked Colin in the cheek with his finger. “Did you pick up an island guy already?”

More like picked up a guy with an island. Maybe.

Colin crumpled the note he'd been writing and tossed it in the trash. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Lay it on me.” Tag leaned against the counter and crossed his arms against his chest. “I'll do what I can.”

Taking a minute, Colin silently thanked a higher power for Tag. The man was a typical native Texas son in a thousand ways, all save the one that mattered most to Jordan. He accepted her friends. All of them. Early on, shortly after Tag found out Colin was gay, he had crudely, but also strangely acceptingly, said to Colin one afternoon, “As long as it ain't my ass you're trying to fuck, I don't really give a shit what you are. Now, can you tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do to get Jordan to take me seriously? I really, really like your ball-busting friend.” In the beginning, it might not have hurt that Colin's six feet of height towered over Tag's muscular but compact five-feet-nine-inch frame. Quickly, though, none of that superficial stuff seemed to matter. Colin appreciated Tag's straightforward nature; he'd learned the guy was a closet romantic, and he now considered Tag nearly as good a friend as he did Jordan. They each understood the woman in a way nobody else in this world did.

Colin met Tag's gaze, speaking only after carefully considering his words. “I have to do something on my own today, and I need you to talk Jordan down from inciting a full-on investigation to track my steps and figure out what it is.” Colin knew Tag's ultimate loyalty lay with Jordan—as it should—but the man also understood the inquisitive pushiness of his woman. “It's something I need to do on my own. Right now I can't say anything more, for the simple fact that I don't have all the answers myself.”

“Should I worry about you?” Tag asked. “I won't do anything to help you if you're doing something stupid.”

“You know me better than that.” Colin was a numbers guy, and he liked things orderly and to make sense. He did not work as an investigator in their PI firm; he made sure it ran without a hitch. At the end of the day, it was his job to see that the books always added up, employees and owners alike did the job the client hired them to do, and that they did it as effectively and efficiently as possible. Colin's life had only gotten out of his control once, and he never wanted to experience that kind of pain again. It was also why, now that he knew the house from his dreams actually existed, he felt certain the man did too, and he craved knowledge about them both.

I might finally be able to get some answers to why they're both living in my head every night.

Colin made eye contact with Tag and tried to drill understanding into the man with his stare. “What I have to do could be really important, and I can't have Jordan breathing down my neck today.”

After a long, tense moment, Tag nodded. “Okay, but you need to promise you'll call me at noon to let me know you're all right. I'll flip my phone to vibrate, and you can leave a message or a text so it doesn't rouse Jordan's curiosity. I'll check it discreetly, but I want to see something there from you.” Tag pointed at Colin as he crossed the kitchen. “And be back in time for dinner.”

Colin's ease with this man somehow settled inside him even deeper. “You're going to be a really good dad one day,” he said softly.

Tag dipped his head. “Don't worry about Jordan. You do what you need to do.”

“Thanks.” Colin waved, but Tag had already disappeared into the living room.

Time to go meet my dream.

* * * * *

Colin jumped off the dock and landed on the beach, stumbling as jitters turned his legs weak. He remained kneeling in the warmth of the soft sand for a prolonged moment,