Chapter 7

Luca stepped into bustling Harbour Coffee, the best and most popular café in the village, and immediately the tension leeched from his shoulders.

Troublesome, difficult guests. Wherever the hotel, however many star ratings and rave reviews, there would always be troublesome, difficult guests. Or in this specific case, a troublesome, difficult mother and daughter who from the moment they’d crossed over the threshold to the moment they had crossed back, had been a pain in the arse.

They had left in spectacular style, leaving in their wake a receptionist in tears and a disputed bar bill. They weren’t worth the trouble. He’d written it off and had told them, using a different form of words teamed with a bland, professional smile, to piss off and never come back. With peace restored, and the receptionist soothed, he needed a breathing space from the hotel for an hour or two.

At the counter, Declan, the senior barista, was leaning forward talking to and smiling at Charles, the café’s owner. Their attention was fixed on each other and Declan’s smile turned dark as Charles gave his arm a quick squeeze as he said something, before he turned and left, Declan following him with his eyes until Charles disappeared up a narrow, winding stairway. Luca smirked. They might just as well have hired a plane to fly over the village, trailing a big rainbow banner declaring Declan and Charles Forever.

“Hi, Luca. Flat white?” Declan grinned, and Luca sighed.

“Please. I didn’t realise I’d become so predictable.”

“I know what all the locals like.”

“So I’m a local now?” The thought was… not unwelcome.

Declan laughed. “Take a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

Luca’s gaze swept across the busy café. There, tucked away in a corner in one of the many nooks and crannies, the edge of a small table poked out. Making his way over, ready to put down the paper bag he carried, he stumbled to a halt.

Adrian stared up at him. A pile of papers littered the table, ignored, as his large hands all but strangled his mug of coffee. His usual gruff exterior seemed even more impenetrable today, his furrowed brow and posture tense and rigid.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise this table was taken.” Luca looked around. Other than opposite Adrian, there wasn’t a spare seat to be seen.

Adrian shrugged. “Sit here if you like because I’ll be going soon. I hope.” He stacked the papers into an untidy heap.

Luca bristled, but with no other available place and with Declan already crossing the café floor with his coffee, he had no choice but to take the one spare seat.

“Any news yet?” Declan set the coffee down, all his attention on Adrian.

“No. They’ll call me as soon as they’re done. I was advised to go home, but I couldn’t. I prefer to hang around in the village, so I can get there quickly.”

Declan squeezed Adrian’s shoulder, his face creased in sympathy. “He’ll be okay because he’s in good hands. More than good, the best. Let me know when you hear back, okay?”

Adrian nodded, his face tight. “I will. Thanks, Declan.”

With Declan’s departure, a heavy silence took a seat at the table.

He? A brother or friend? A lover?

Adrian looked up, his eyes dull and heavy. Dark smudges stained the skin beneath his eyes, visible beneath his tan. He looked like he’d not slept in weeks.

“My dog, in case you’re wondering. Spud. You saw him at the farm.”

Luca nodded. That charged, tense visit to Ladywell Farm. The collie, who’d gazed up at Adrian with adoration in his eyes, as Adrian had petted him, his spiky, touchy manner softening and bringing a bright, warm smile to his face.

“Yes, I remember. Is he ill? I’m sorry.”

“He is. They’re running some tests. I brought some paperwork with me. Thought it might stop me brooding, but…”

Worry etched deep in Adrian’s face. Beneath the tan of a life lived outdoors, his face was pallid, his scruff a dark shadow. Adrian rubbed his eyes, and Luca’s fingers itched to ease Adrian’s hands away as a pang of sympathy twisted in his stomach.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luca said, his voice softening. “I had a dog a few years back. Pickles. He was very unwell for months. It was tough.”

“Pickles?” One of Adrian’s dark brows arched high.

Luca gave a quiet chuckle. “I know it’s a twee name, but it was perfect. He was always getting himself in a pickle. He was a miniature dachshund, dopey as they came, and had a talent for getting wedged into small spaces. He could get himself in, but never out.”

Adrian huffed out a laugh, but it was replaced with an awkward silence as he stared into his coffee. Over the rim of his cup, Luca scanned the café for a free table, but nobody was going anywhere.

“Is everything going well with the deliveries to the hotel?” Luca already knew the answer, but he had to say something to fill the gap.

“Yes, everything’s as it should be.”

“Good.” It meant he and Adrian wouldn’t have to meet again. Which was fine by him.

“Love Books.”

“Sorry?”

Adrian nodded to the bag Luca had placed on the floor beside his chair. “I always loved reading, but since taking over the farm I never seem to find the time.” Adrian’s mouth twisted up in a regretful smile, and his gaze snapped from the bag to Luca.

Luca’s hold on his mug tightened. Such beautiful eyes… Deep, dark green, the colour of forest, flecked with gold and warm honey tones. This close, it was like he was seeing them properly for the first time… Too busy being irritated with each other, that’s why…

“What? Oh, yes. Of course. I can understand that. Managing a hotel, especially one as prestigious as The New House, it’s the same. The job doesn’t just come first, it becomes all consuming. So much gets pushed to the side, it all but disappears. It’s not the healthiest of attitudes, but it is what it is.” Luca took a sip of coffee to push down the lump that had formed in his throat at all those things he’d shoved to the side over the years, to make room for his career. Hobbies. Friends. Family. A lover.

Luca glanced up, the pull of Adrian’s gaze unavoidable. Serious, thoughtful. Regretful.

“That’s true,” Adrian said slowly, as though tasting the words. “There are some things that have to take priority. Doesn’t mean that won’t or can’t change. But some people can’t or won’t see beyond that.” He broke their gaze and nodded at the bag. “So, what are the books? Sorry.” He frowned. “Not my business.”

Luca shrugged, picked up the bag and pulled out the three books that he didn’t know when he’d get time to read. A couple of gritty thrillers from big name authors, and an English translation of a ‘serious’ book Alex had recommended.

Adrian picked up the translation. “I read this a few years ago, but in the original version.”

In Spanish… Their bad tempered meeting at the farm prickled over Luca’s skin.

“I’ve got a working knowledge of a few languages, but not enough to tackle reading something like this.”

Adrian smiled, both brightening and softening his features; something knotted deep in Luca’s stomach. “Then you’re streets ahead of most people. Languages always came easy to me, so I studied them at university.”

“You studied modern languages? Not agriculture?”

Luca felt the burn in his face as Adrian held his gaze. “No. Not agriculture,” he said slowly, carefully, not for one moment looking away. “I didn’t pick farming. Farming picked me.”

Luca said nothing. He felt lightheaded and disorientated, much as he’d felt on the farm. Adrian had told him something important, he felt it in every sizzling nerve ending. He didn’t know what it was, but he wanted to know with a sudden, sharp ferocity that clawed in his gut. He opened his mouth to ask the questions that were none of his business, but Adrian beat him to it, as he placed the book back on the pile.

“Being able to say soft leafed herbs or hay in half a dozen languages isn’t much use on a small farm in the middle of Devon, although swearing at the sheep in Catalan can be very satisfying.” Adrian picked up his coffee, and glared into the empty mug.

Luca felt in his pocket for his pen. Taking the top book from the pile, he opened it up and began to write his name and date on the fly leaf. He stopped, feeling Adrian’s eyes on him.

“I’ve always done this. When I buy a book, I put my name in it along with the date.” Whoa, too defensive… He made his way through all three books, self conscious under Adrian’s scrutiny.

“This book belongs to Luca, aged nine and three quarters.” Adrian snorted.

Luca’s jaw clamped so tight his teeth hurt, and he packed his books away. “I should get?—”

“Sorry. That was?—”

“Rude?”

“I was going to say it was me being a twat. But I’ll take rude.” Adrian’s lips twisted in a resigned, tiny smile, loosening the tension holding Luca tight.

“I’m going to have another. Would you like one? By way of an apology?” Adrian’s gaze was intense, almost as though he were issuing a challenge.

Luca hesitated. He should get back to The New House. All he’d done was come into the village to take a much needed short break, and to pick up the books he’d ordered. A mountain of work awaited him, a million and one things needed his attention. He shouldn’t be here now, because he didn’t have time for?—

“Thank you, I would.”

Adrian got to his feet. His long legs were wrapped in close fitting jeans which, teamed with the white T-shirt hugging his torso beneath the black leather jacket, hinted at an undefined danger. Staring down at him, Adrian pushed his dark hair back from his brow. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head to the side, and all that undefined danger heated Luca’s blood and sent it south.

Oh, fuck.

“Well?” Adrian waited for the answer to a question Luca couldn’t remember him asking.

“Oh. Yes. Flat white, please.” Luca cleared the rasp from his throat.

Adrian stalked over to the counter, and Luca sagged in his seat, his cheeks golf balling as he exhaled.

His gaze slid across to the counter and settled on the man’s broad back before trailing down to his muscled arse encased in those tight jeans. He yanked his attention away. Adrian was supplying the hotel. They had a business partnership and that meant boundaries that would never be crossed. He shifted in his seat. Not that he had any intention of crossing them, and especially not with a touchy, grouchy farmer. Who wasn’t being quite so touchy or nearly as grouchy. Still rude, perhaps, and more than a little sarcastic, but…

Adrian arrived back with the drinks. Setting them down he looked at his watch, a shadow of worry scudding across his face.

“As Declan said, he’s in good hands.”

“I know, but Spud’s such a lovely dog. A pet, now, I suppose. The bloody mutt’s got under my skin.” Adrian picked up his mug, two patches of red on his cheeks that Luca didn’t think had much to do with the hot drink.

Adrian’s mobile rang, the sharp tone cutting through the silence, and he fumbled it from his pocket.

“Speaking,” Adrian barked, his face tense.

Luca said nothing, only casting glances towards Adrian, who did little other than grunt into the phone.

“Okay, that’s great. I’ll be along very soon… No, I’m camped out in Harbour Coffee… I know you did, but… Thank you, thank you so much.” Adrian clattered his phone on the table, the rigidity leaving his body and making him flop back into his seat as though the wires holding him up had been cut. “Thank god,” he groaned, as he ploughed his fingers through his hair. Turning his attention to Luca, he smiled.

It took everything Luca had not to gasp, as Adrian’s wide bright smile bathed him in warm sunshine. Adrian’s eyes shone, the scowl that always seemed to hover over his features was nowhere to be seen. A short phone call was all it had taken to transform him. The man looked carefree, younger even, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Luca couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good news, I take it?”

Adrian nodded, once more running his fingers through his hair, leaving little dark peaks behind.

“Yeah. An infection, which should respond well to a course of medication. I was thinking… something else. Because he’s old, I guess.” He rubbed at his eyes, and when his hands fell away, the whites held more than a tinge of red. “I was up half the night worried sick.” He offered a crooked smile, disarming yet embarrassed, as though aware he’d exposed a part of himself he kept hidden. The urge to lean forward and take Adrian’s strong looking hands and squeeze them tight made Luca’s fingers itch; he gripped his mug harder.

Adrian gulped back the rest of his drink, and stood. “I’m going to pick him up and get home.” He hesitated for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was gruff yet quiet. “Thanks for the company, I appreciate it. I needed it more than I realised.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I was of some help. You’re right about Spud, he’s a lovely dog. And I know he’ll be fine.”

Adrian quickly gathered his papers together, all but throwing them into a small backpack before he stuffed his phone into one of the hip pockets on his jeans. Instead of rushing out, he lingered as he stared down at Luca, a small frown puckering his brow. It wasn’t the grouchiness Luca had come to recognise, but more as though Adrian was working through something, a question he wasn’t sure how to ask. The frown disappeared, and he slung the backpack over one shoulder.

“Thanks. See you around.”

“Yes. Let me know how Spud gets on.”

Adrian’s mouth twitched a quick smile, before he turned and disappeared.

See you around…A tingle ran the length of Luca’s spine. Three little words that had sounded more like a question than a statement. Sipping his drink, Luca stared towards the door, long after the man had gone.