loudly. “We haven’t quite got that far yet, Heather. Nicky—” The glare Nick threw him would have frozen a lesser man in his tracks. “Apologies, Nick here is playing a little hard to get. But I think he’ll warm to me sooner or later.” Owen offered his arm to Heather who took it with a wise smile. “Can I offer you some refreshment? I think we have another couple of beers or there’s always a glass of wine or some ginger ale. And I just love that hat you’re wearing by the way. It’s very fetching.”
Heather preened at his words. “Wine sounds lovely.”
Nick trailed moodily behind.
Owen was enjoying himself greatly. Strange to think only a short lifetime ago he’d been in the ocean praying to die. Until he’d met the man who now followed him into the kitchen looking like a thundercloud.
Owen busied himself pouring drinks. Socks greeted Heather with an excited chattering and she laughed at his enthusiasm.
“Hello, cutie pie! It’s good to see you, sweetie. Are you looking after these two lovely men?” Heather chatted away to the monkey, which had ensconced itself on her shoulder, but she noticed Nick’s mood.
“Now come on, Nicky,” she chided gently. “You know I’m teasing you. I think it’s good that you have some company out here. You know I worry about you.” She leaned in, kissing his sun-browned cheek softly. Socks reached out and tweaked Nick’s hair. Nick sighed. He seemed to have given up on telling her not to call him Nicky. Owen thought he was probably better off that way as it was obviously wasted effort with this woman. He himself thought the name Nicky was cute.
“I know, Heather. But really, I’m fine.”
Heather’s eyes shadowed. “How are the nightmares—still having them?”
“Only now and then,” Nick muttered.
Owen raised an eyebrow in his direction. “A little more than now and then, Nick.” He turned to Heather. “And he won’t let me in his bedroom to see that he’s all right. He locks his door at night. He’s scared of little old me.”
He knew he’d gone too far when Nick paled and his lips pressed together. Without a word, he turned on his heel and marched out of the door, picking up his shirt off the back of the chair and disappearing into the garden. Owen heaved a deep sigh, guilty of pushing Nick’s buttons once again. Heather regarded him wryly. Socks sat solemnly as if sensing Owen’s mood.
“I seem to make a habit of saying completely the wrong thing where that man is concerned,” Owen murmured. “He’s so bloody touchy. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”
Heather laid a soft, white hand on his arm. “Just have patience with him. He needs a good friend.” She stopped, no doubt seeing the gleam of speculation in Owen’s eyes.
“He hasn’t told me anything about himself,” Owen admitted. “I’ve seen the scars on his body, heard him screaming when he has nightmares, but I don’t know why.”
Heather shook her head. “And I’m not going to tell you anything. That’s for him to tell you when he’s ready.” She took Socks off her shoulder, placing him on the kitchen table as she sat down. Owen idly peeled a banana from the fruit bowl, breaking a piece off for the monkey. Socks took the fruit and scarpered up the curtain to eat it on top of the rail.
Owen nibbled the rest as he sat down next to Heather. “I’m never going to get to the bottom of the pit that’s Nick Mathers at this rate. He’s a bloody moody git too. I never quite know where I am with him. How do you know him anyway?” he asked.
Heather hesitated. “We’re friends. And that’s all you’re getting, handsome. So stop batting your eyelashes at me and get me a drink.”
“I am so not batting my eyelashes at you,” Owen said indignantly. He stood up to finish pouring a glass of white wine, handing it to Heather.
She took it, looking at him appraisingly. “So, you and Nick are old friends? He says you’re getting over some
Heather preened at his words. “Wine sounds lovely.”
Nick trailed moodily behind.
Owen was enjoying himself greatly. Strange to think only a short lifetime ago he’d been in the ocean praying to die. Until he’d met the man who now followed him into the kitchen looking like a thundercloud.
Owen busied himself pouring drinks. Socks greeted Heather with an excited chattering and she laughed at his enthusiasm.
“Hello, cutie pie! It’s good to see you, sweetie. Are you looking after these two lovely men?” Heather chatted away to the monkey, which had ensconced itself on her shoulder, but she noticed Nick’s mood.
“Now come on, Nicky,” she chided gently. “You know I’m teasing you. I think it’s good that you have some company out here. You know I worry about you.” She leaned in, kissing his sun-browned cheek softly. Socks reached out and tweaked Nick’s hair. Nick sighed. He seemed to have given up on telling her not to call him Nicky. Owen thought he was probably better off that way as it was obviously wasted effort with this woman. He himself thought the name Nicky was cute.
“I know, Heather. But really, I’m fine.”
Heather’s eyes shadowed. “How are the nightmares—still having them?”
“Only now and then,” Nick muttered.
Owen raised an eyebrow in his direction. “A little more than now and then, Nick.” He turned to Heather. “And he won’t let me in his bedroom to see that he’s all right. He locks his door at night. He’s scared of little old me.”
He knew he’d gone too far when Nick paled and his lips pressed together. Without a word, he turned on his heel and marched out of the door, picking up his shirt off the back of the chair and disappearing into the garden. Owen heaved a deep sigh, guilty of pushing Nick’s buttons once again. Heather regarded him wryly. Socks sat solemnly as if sensing Owen’s mood.
“I seem to make a habit of saying completely the wrong thing where that man is concerned,” Owen murmured. “He’s so bloody touchy. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”
Heather laid a soft, white hand on his arm. “Just have patience with him. He needs a good friend.” She stopped, no doubt seeing the gleam of speculation in Owen’s eyes.
“He hasn’t told me anything about himself,” Owen admitted. “I’ve seen the scars on his body, heard him screaming when he has nightmares, but I don’t know why.”
Heather shook her head. “And I’m not going to tell you anything. That’s for him to tell you when he’s ready.” She took Socks off her shoulder, placing him on the kitchen table as she sat down. Owen idly peeled a banana from the fruit bowl, breaking a piece off for the monkey. Socks took the fruit and scarpered up the curtain to eat it on top of the rail.
Owen nibbled the rest as he sat down next to Heather. “I’m never going to get to the bottom of the pit that’s Nick Mathers at this rate. He’s a bloody moody git too. I never quite know where I am with him. How do you know him anyway?” he asked.
Heather hesitated. “We’re friends. And that’s all you’re getting, handsome. So stop batting your eyelashes at me and get me a drink.”
“I am so not batting my eyelashes at you,” Owen said indignantly. He stood up to finish pouring a glass of white wine, handing it to Heather.
She took it, looking at him appraisingly. “So, you and Nick are old friends? He says you’re getting over some
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