dad. He’s coming down here next week to visit, by the way, but I’ll take the couch and he can have my room.” He smiled fondly. “Don is an old git and he’ll never last on the couch. His sciatica will kill him.”
“You can give him my room and I’ll sleep with you if you like. I assume he knows you’re gay?” Owen tried it on a step further.
Maybe he’d get lucky.
Nick’s eyes glinted. “No, that’s fine. The couch will do me. And yes, he knows I’m gay.” A shadow passed over Nick’s face and Owen was frustrated that this man shared nothing.
“How long have you known Don, then?” Owen asked idly.
Nick stiffened, gazing over at his fence handiwork. “Since I was thirteen,” he said shortly. He raised the bottle, drinking again.
Owen pushed the issue, wanting to get more of a reaction from Nick. “Is that when he adopted you?”
“No.” The answer was curt, Nick’s tone a warning.
Owen ignored it. “Oh. So you knew him before. How did that all come about then?”
Nick scowled and swung round to face Owen. “What’s with the inquisition? Don’t you understand I don’t want to talk about stuff? You can be pretty obtuse, can’t you?” He took a deep pull from his bottle, finishing the beer off and tossing it into a black dustbin a couple of feet away.
Owen regarded him mildly. “Aren’t you supposed to recycle those?”
Nick glared at him and Owen stared back, unfazed. “You can certainly be a bit of a brat,” Owen observed with a wise nod.
Nick’s jaw dropped and Owen was satisfied that he’d managed to shake the man’s composure. They were interrupted by a loud shout from the bottom of the hill.
“Hello there, Sexy Pants times two!”
Nick groaned. “Oh. My. God. I don’t think I can cope with her right now.” He turned to watch as a portly, rather alarming figure made its way up the path to the cottage. It was a woman, that much Owen could see, attired in what could only be described as a brightly coloured muumuu, with what looked like a tea cosy of flowers on her head. His eyes widened and he looked at Nick curiously. “Who the hell is that?”
Nick sighed resignedly. “Heather Brisket. She’s kind of a friend of mine from town.” He grimaced. “Be careful. She’s bloody terrifying.”
But Owen saw the fond smile on Nick’s face as he wandered down the path to meet her. The woman reached for Nick and pulled him close against her in a fierce hug. Owen chuckled. It looked like a sparrow hawk towering over a fat, short pigeon. The woman ran her hands admiringly down Nick’s chest and he caught her hands, moving them away with a low laugh. Owen didn’t blame her. He’d wanted to do the same thing many a time. The couple turned as they walked up toward him. Heather’s eyes gleamed when she saw him close up. She was older than Owen had imagined, probably in her late forties.
“Well, aren’t you just too bloody gorgeous,” she exclaimed. Owen grinned at her compliment. He liked her already.
The woman smiled lasciviously. “I can see why you’ve kept this one to yourself, Nicky, my lad. He’s absolutely delicious and I wouldn’t want to share him either.”
Owen took the hand he was offered, raising it to his lips, kissing it gallantly.
Heather’s face beamed. “Well, look at you. Such a bloody charmer.”
“I try my best,” Owen said deprecatingly. “But Nicky here doesn’t seem to appreciate it.” He threw Nick a wicked grin.
Nick stared at him fiercely. “He’s not mine, we’re not a couple and you are totally out of line, Heather,” he said through gritted teeth. “How many times do I have to tell you Owen is just a guest here for a short while? And stop calling me Nicky. You know I hate it.”
Again Owen got the baleful evil eye from his friend. Heather waved a hand. “Pshaw. You’re an idiot if you haven’t bedded this one, Nick. I bet he tastes just yummy too.”
Nick’s face went rosy as he glanced at Owen, who chortled
“You can give him my room and I’ll sleep with you if you like. I assume he knows you’re gay?” Owen tried it on a step further.
Maybe he’d get lucky.
Nick’s eyes glinted. “No, that’s fine. The couch will do me. And yes, he knows I’m gay.” A shadow passed over Nick’s face and Owen was frustrated that this man shared nothing.
“How long have you known Don, then?” Owen asked idly.
Nick stiffened, gazing over at his fence handiwork. “Since I was thirteen,” he said shortly. He raised the bottle, drinking again.
Owen pushed the issue, wanting to get more of a reaction from Nick. “Is that when he adopted you?”
“No.” The answer was curt, Nick’s tone a warning.
Owen ignored it. “Oh. So you knew him before. How did that all come about then?”
Nick scowled and swung round to face Owen. “What’s with the inquisition? Don’t you understand I don’t want to talk about stuff? You can be pretty obtuse, can’t you?” He took a deep pull from his bottle, finishing the beer off and tossing it into a black dustbin a couple of feet away.
Owen regarded him mildly. “Aren’t you supposed to recycle those?”
Nick glared at him and Owen stared back, unfazed. “You can certainly be a bit of a brat,” Owen observed with a wise nod.
Nick’s jaw dropped and Owen was satisfied that he’d managed to shake the man’s composure. They were interrupted by a loud shout from the bottom of the hill.
“Hello there, Sexy Pants times two!”
Nick groaned. “Oh. My. God. I don’t think I can cope with her right now.” He turned to watch as a portly, rather alarming figure made its way up the path to the cottage. It was a woman, that much Owen could see, attired in what could only be described as a brightly coloured muumuu, with what looked like a tea cosy of flowers on her head. His eyes widened and he looked at Nick curiously. “Who the hell is that?”
Nick sighed resignedly. “Heather Brisket. She’s kind of a friend of mine from town.” He grimaced. “Be careful. She’s bloody terrifying.”
But Owen saw the fond smile on Nick’s face as he wandered down the path to meet her. The woman reached for Nick and pulled him close against her in a fierce hug. Owen chuckled. It looked like a sparrow hawk towering over a fat, short pigeon. The woman ran her hands admiringly down Nick’s chest and he caught her hands, moving them away with a low laugh. Owen didn’t blame her. He’d wanted to do the same thing many a time. The couple turned as they walked up toward him. Heather’s eyes gleamed when she saw him close up. She was older than Owen had imagined, probably in her late forties.
“Well, aren’t you just too bloody gorgeous,” she exclaimed. Owen grinned at her compliment. He liked her already.
The woman smiled lasciviously. “I can see why you’ve kept this one to yourself, Nicky, my lad. He’s absolutely delicious and I wouldn’t want to share him either.”
Owen took the hand he was offered, raising it to his lips, kissing it gallantly.
Heather’s face beamed. “Well, look at you. Such a bloody charmer.”
“I try my best,” Owen said deprecatingly. “But Nicky here doesn’t seem to appreciate it.” He threw Nick a wicked grin.
Nick stared at him fiercely. “He’s not mine, we’re not a couple and you are totally out of line, Heather,” he said through gritted teeth. “How many times do I have to tell you Owen is just a guest here for a short while? And stop calling me Nicky. You know I hate it.”
Again Owen got the baleful evil eye from his friend. Heather waved a hand. “Pshaw. You’re an idiot if you haven’t bedded this one, Nick. I bet he tastes just yummy too.”
Nick’s face went rosy as he glanced at Owen, who chortled
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