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letting them sob on his shoulder. But put him in a room full of beautiful, sexy women and he choked. Had no clue what to do or what to talk about. His palms got sweaty, his tongue swelled in his mouth. Couldn’t even fake his way around. It was a wonder he ever snagged Trish. He was lucky and grateful and he tried never to forget that.
    He started to turn back around to watch the hotel door when he noticed a guy walking up the beach with a confident, relaxed stride, deck shoes in one hand and the other casually slipped into the pocket of his long khaki shorts. The hem of his pink button-down shirt flapped in the breeze. He wasn’t stunningly handsome and yet that confident stride turned some heads. The guy looked like he had stepped off the cover of GQ and nothing like a death salesman. In fact, it took a minute or two before Scott recognized him. He certainly hadn’t expected him to come walking up the beach.
    Scott waved at him then felt ridiculous when he didn’t receive an acknowledgment. Instead, the guy simply strolled through the crowd of bikinis and made his way to the barstool next to Scott without even a nod or glance. He was always so cool.
    “What do you have for Scotch, single malt?” he asked the cute bartender, who was already in front of him by the time he settled in his seat.
    “Sorry, no single malts and the best blend I’ve got is Johnnie Walker.”
    “Blue Label?”
    Scott watched the bartender smile with what looked like admiration.
    “No, again, sorry. Black Label’s best I can do.”
    “That’s perfect,” he told her, as if that was exactly what he wanted all along. Then he turned to Scott. “Join me?”
    The attention caught Scott off guard, like a spectator suddenly pulled onto the playing field. The bartender, probably thinking Scott was some total stranger, now seemed even more impressed and she was waiting for Scott’s response.
    “Sure. Thanks,” he managed as casually as he could.
    “On the rocks for both of you?” she asked.
    “Yeah, that’d be great,” Scott told her, pretending it was his preference when he couldn’t remember if he’d ever had Scotch before.
    “Neat, for me.”
    Another smile from the bartender that almost made Scott want to change his order.
    “This place was a great choice, Scott,” the Death Salesman said, and Scott immediately relaxed and felt a rush of … what? It was silly but there really was something about this guy that made you want to please him.
    That’s when Scott realized he needed to calm his buzz down a notch so that he didn’t slip and call him by the nickname in his head. Scott had wondered if Joe Black was his real name from the first time he introduced himself. That was, after all, the name of a movie character. This guy didn’t look at all like Brad Pitt, but he certainlyhad that same charm and confidence. And the irony, if it was not his real name, only garnered more admiration from Scott. Joe Black, the character in the movie, was actually death masquerading as an ordinary Joe. It was probably what triggered Scott into secretly referring to him as the Death Salesman. His new friend—no, that wasn’t right, they weren’t friends, though Scott would like them to be—his new colleague was far from an ordinary Joe.
    “Yeah, it’s absolutely beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Scott said. “You’d never guess there’s a hurricane on its way.”
    The bartender delivered their drinks and this time she brought a complimentary bowl of nuts and pretzels. Perks seemed to gravitate to Joe Black, and Scott was happy to be along for the ride.
    “Are you set up if it hits?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Have extra room if I need some space for a couple of days?”
    “Oh sure,” Scott told him and he sipped the Scotch, trying not to wince as it burned a path down his throat. “One of the first things I did when I bought the place was replace the walk-in. This new one has plenty of space, extra shelves. It’s top-of-the-line.”
    In