Chapter 17

So much for stepping down. Adrian suppressed a groan. He’d not only retained the biggest veg in show contest, but was now the senior judge of the — what was it? The pet agility test? The cuddliest pet in show? The fluffiest moggy? He had no bloody idea because he’d not been concentrating. How could he, when Luca was sitting opposite him in after hours Harbour Coffee, their gazes landing on each other’s, before flitting away like nervous butterflies.

“So, I think that’s everything.” Eva beamed at the attendees, and Adrian got ready to push himself up to standing, just as the woman sitting next to Eva, and just as elderly, put down her knitting, leant in, and whispered something to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doreen my love. Don’t know how we missed this. Before you all rush off, I’ve another, and very important, agenda item.”

Adrian slumped back into his chair.

“As part of the grand raffle and in the spirit of The New House offering spa day vouchers, Doreen, of our very own Hair by Doreen mobile styling services, is generously donating three vouchers for a cut, colour, and blow dry. Note that down, Joss. The good ladies — and gents — of Love’s Harbour will be fighting over these.” Eva patted her piled high, backcombed hair, today the colour of an over ripe tomato, as next to her Doreen preened, her own tightly permed mop the yellow of burnt scrambled egg.

“Three vouchers? Three? Are you sure, Nan?” Joss stared at Doreen, stricken faced, as his fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“I can offer a couple more if you think?—”

“Er, no Nan. I think three is, erm, enough. Really, more than enough.”

Silence fell over the assembly as Joss recorded his nan’s offer in the minutes. Adrian cast a quick glance around the table; everybody was taking an all-consuming interest in their fingernails.

As the meeting finally concluded, Joss, slipping his laptop into its bag, spoke up.

“I hope you can all join me and Oliver for a drink in the pub — it’s another nail in the poor old boy’s coffin.”

Everybody laughed, including Oliver, who tried and failed to look mortified. They were a smaller group than before, with no Beryl. And no Jonathan. As everybody headed for the door, Adrian hung back.

Cancel the date, say it’s not a good idea, he’ll be relieved, he’ll understand?—

“Did you get back okay? The other morning, I mean.” Christ… these were not the words he’d meant to say.

Luca fished his keys out of his jacket pocket. Car keys. So Luca was heading straight back, not joining the rest of them for a drink. The twist in the pit of his stomach really wasn’t disappointment.

“Yes, I did. Thanks.” Red flooded Luca’s face, and he looked away as he thrust his fingers through his hair, messing up its pristine grooming.

The memory of Luca, messed up and undone, burst behind Adrian’s eyes. He ran a hand down his face. It didn’t matter how much and how often he told himself he didn’t want to get involved with this man, a laughing voice whispered in his ear and called him a liar.

“I’m going to head back to the hotel.”

“Luca. I’m sorry for not calling?—”

“Good night, Adrian.”

“Wait. I mean it. It’s just that, the more I thought about it, the less sure I was… Oh, fuck it. Please, come across to the pub with me.” The words he hadn’t meant to say burst from him, stopping Luca in mid turn.

“Adrian. You don’t need to explain. To be honest, I think it’s best you didn’t call, and probably best I don’t accompany you this evening,” he said quietly.

“Hey, you two.” They both jumped apart — how had they got so close? — as Declan grinned at them. “Get yourselves over to the pub and we’ll see you there. We’re locking up now.”

Adrian followed Luca outside. They were alone on the harbour front. Adrian rubbed the back of his neck, as awkward and stiff as a clueless teen. He nodded over towards the pub, warm and inviting looking. “Are you sure you won’t come across? Because I’d like you to.”

Luca jangled his car keys, the metallic sound loud in the quiet of evening as he looked at the pub. “What happened between us, and then the suggestion?—”

“That we get together?” When I asked you for a date.

“Yes, that.” Luca swung around, his eyes meeting Adrian’s. He looked sure and confident, but the hard swallow and the bob of his Adam’s apple told a different story. “It was all in the heat of the moment. I understand that, but I honestly don’t think it’s a wise move to go beyond what happened.”

Adrian bridged the small distance between them. All the words he meant to say, should say, could still say, drifted away on the breeze.

“Why not?”

In the gathering gloom of evening, Luca’s eyes shone dark; the pupils blown, their blue was nothing more than the thinnest rim of colour.

“Because we have a professional relationship. Adrian, please.” Luca looked down, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his cool professional manner deserting him.

“You’re right, it isn’t wise. Maybe there are even rules in your employee handbook about not fraternising with fruit and veg suppliers. But it doesn’t stop me wanting to see you again, even if it’s just for birthday cake in the pub.”

Luca’s lips twitched into an almost smile. “I honestly do need to get back, but…” Luca glanced towards the pub again, and Adrian grabbed the advantage of Luca’s wavering resolve.

He leant forward. “I hear it’s chocolate.”

Luca laughed, the sound light, rupturing the bubble of awkwardness they’d found themselves in. Adrian was helpless to stop his own smile.

“Well, in that case, how can I refuse?”

Inside The Fisherman’s Arms, the committee attendees, and a small handful of others, were gathered around three or four pulled together tables in the corner, Oliver and Joss taking centre stage.

Ryan made his way over with a tray crowded with filled glasses. “Get yourselves a drink.” He nodded towards the bar. “The first round’s on the house.”

Luca claimed a place on a small Chesterfield on the edge of the group and Adrian went to the bar, waiting his turn behind a press of customers. Finally served, and a couple of steps short of the Chesterfield, he stumbled back as Jonathan shot in front of him, blocking his path.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t attend the meeting,” Jonathan announced to the group, as he peeled off his jacket. “Work, I’m afraid, all very last minute. Luca,” he said, smiling, “I’m sure you can fill me in? Perhaps over dinner?—”

“Excuse me.” Adrian smiled, tight and hard, as he angled past Jonathan, resisting the urge to shoulder him out of the way, and sat down next to Luca. “GT as ordered.”

Luca took it with a mumble of thanks.

“I can make a booking for us at Le Bistro.” Ignoring Adrian, Jonathan scrolled through his phone.

“Sorry, Jonathan, but not this evening. I’m only staying for one, for Oliver’s birthday. I really do have to get back to the hotel quite soon.”

“Really? I was hoping we could have a quiet evening together.” Jonathan threw a glance at Adrian, who grinned up at him, not caring that he was being an arsehole.

Adrian’s grin was starting to hurt as he leant forward. “In your absence, you were nominated to run the meat raffle.”

Jonathan spluttered. “Meat raffle? What in god’s name?—”

“Hmm, you know. It’s a raffle. To win meat. Piles and piles of it. Always very popular. Last year, somebody won a whole pig carcass.”

“I am not pulling out raffle tickets for somebody to win sausages, chops, or any other portion of a dead animal. I’m a committed vegetarian. And I certainly wasn’t aware that we’d be doing something like that.”

Adrian shrugged. “Best speak to Eva.”

“Luca? Did you know about this?”

“Well—”

“My understanding was that I’d take on the key role as liaison with the restaurants.”

“Ryan’s doing all that,” Adrian cut in. “Seems sensible, given that he’s lived here all his life and is in the hospitality business. He knows all the restaurateurs well. Including the owners of Le Bistro.” Adrian shrugged. “Meat’s still food, and it’s a popular part of the fête. Sorry, I mean festival. It’s a remnant of the rough and ready rural event it used to be. Being meat master’s an important job. Cheers.” Adrian raised his glass in salute.

Ticket sixty-six for two pound of sausages, a dozen chicken legs, four pound of liver, and a couple of trotters goes to…

“I’m not happy about this. Not at all. I’ll speak to Eva privately.” Jonathan swung around and made for the bar.

“He’s so bloody pompous.”

“No, he’s not. And it was rather dumped on him in his absence. I’ve told you, he’s very?—”

“Nice. Yes, you’ve said. Is that what you want? Nice? Oh, I’m sorry,” he said when Luca glared. “Am I being a dick?”

“Yes. Totally. You’re off the scale.”

“I don’t like the way he seems to see it as his right to?—”

“To what?”

Adrian’s gaze settled on Luca’s, seeing the question in his eyes. “To make some kind of statement about you. And him. You said he’s not your boyfriend, but he still wants to claim you as his.”

Luca’s eyes widened and his lips parted. Adrian’s gaze dipped to Luca’s mouth, the muscles deep in his belly tingling as the taste and feel of those lips flooded his brain and stoked a fire in his blood.

“Jesus, Adrian.” Luca’s voice was as unsteady as he looked, his glass shaking in his hand. “He doesn’t have any claim on me. Nobody does.”

“Then you should let him know. Every time the guy so much as looks your way his tongue’s hanging so far out of his mouth it’s almost licking his boots.”

“Oh, come on, that’s?—”

“Eva claims she’s too busy to discuss this ridiculous meat raffle idea, even though she seems perfectly happy to gossip with that hair dresser woman.”

Adrian swung his head around so fast he winced at the crack. He’d been so focused on Luca, so focused on a conversation that had been taking place in a silent bubble of their own that he’d not noticed Jonathan come their way.

Grabbing a spare chair, Jonathan set it next to Luca, so close that when he sat down their knees rested together. Adrian clenched his teeth hard, threatening to break them.

“Perhaps as soon as we’ve given Oliver our best wishes you’d like to come back for a light supper? I promise not to keep you too long. I’ve a mushroom and truffle paté that’s to die for, and a rather wonderful Tokay that will match it perfectly.”

“Really, Jonathan, I can’t. Not this evening. Even finding time for the meeting was tricky.”

“I see.” Jonathan did his best not to look crestfallen, and Adrian couldn’t help the pang — the very small, weedy pang — of sympathy. It crumbled away as Jonathan threw him an icy glance, accompanied by an icier smile, before his attention switched back to Luca. He leant forward, all but blocking Adrian out. “I’ll call you tomorrow and perhaps we can make arrangements?—”

Whatever arrangements Jonathan wanted to make were cut short as Joss clapped his hands, bringing them all to attention.

“Thanks for coming over to wish my wonderful fiancé Oliver a happy birthday, even if he is one year nearer his pension and closer to losing his hair. And teeth.”

Everybody laughed, full of good humour, as Oliver smiled and shook his head. His eyes, like his smile, were soft and brimming with love and adoration, as they locked on the man who shared his life, everybody and everything else seemly forgotten as he placed a small, soft kiss on Joss’ lips which was met with a sigh, and a good natured round of applause.

The cake was distributed, and a plate was thrust into Adrian’s hands. He looked down at the cake he didn’t want. In a crowd, yet he and Luca were alone. Jonathan thank god, had found Eva.

“I don’t give a damn whether it’s wise or not. I want to see you again.”

Luca nodded, just a tiny movement. “Yes,” he said, so quiet it was little more than a breath.

“Then I’ll call you.” He got up, and glanced over at Jonathan, battling hard but losing the war with Eva, and grinned. “If you’re lucky, I might be able to rustle up a paté to die for and a nice little Tokay.”