Worth Keeping (7 page)

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 personal issues and needed some space to think.” She shrugged. “You’ve certainly come to the right place here.”

Owen felt uncomfortable lying to someone as obviously perspicacious as Heather. He opened a beer for himself, muttering vaguely, “Yes, from a while back.” He sat down, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.

“Where did you two meet originally?” she asked, sipping her wine. There was a glint in her eyes and Owen felt a little out of his depth.

“Err, when he came to London some years ago.” He hoped like hell Nick had been to London at some time. It had seemed a safe bet.
Who hadn’t been there at some point in their life?

“Oh, that’s funny. He said he met you eight months ago at a hotel in Poole when he went there for some lighthouse-keeping function.” Heather’s eyes twinkled and Owen knew they’d been made.

Damn the man. Why the hell hadn’t he told him the lie so he could keep it up?

“Oh, it might have been Poole, I suppose and it might have been sooner than I thought.” He tried to keep it casual as he sipped his beer.

Heather chuckled. “You’re a bad liar, Owen. You two aren’t really old good friends, are you?”

Owen kept quiet.

Heather shook her head ruefully. “I can see you want to do the dirty with him. Your face is an open bloody book.” Her voice took on a warning tone. “Just take it easy, Owen. Nick’s not someone you just fuck around with.”

Owen’s beer went down the wrong way and he choked, spitting it all over the floor. Heather thumped him on his back with fists that felt like pistons.

“Do I look like the sort of guy who does that?” he said indignantly.

Heather smiled sadly. “I don’t know you well enough to answer that. But I do get the feeling something’s going on between you two. I know Nick too well.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I’d like it but he’s just not interested. Besides he has his very own personal fu-friend in town.” Owen broke off, not wanting to give anything away on Nick’s “appointment” later. It was still only his suspicion.

Heather looked at him with a sad smile. “He’s told you about Daniel then?”

Owen felt awkward. “No. Not really. But you just did.”

Heather looked panicked. “Oh God, please don’t let him know I blurted that out. He’ll never trust me again. Promise me, please, Owen,”

Owen reached out and laid a long finger on her plump lips. “I won’t say anything to him, pinkie-swear.” Hollowness gripped his chest. “So Daniel and he—they are an item then?” His stomach clenched at that thought, a quick pang of regret that stabbed him to his core.

Heather looked down at her hands and the wineglass she held. “No comment. That’s their business.”

“He shuts me out completely, even though I want to understand what he’s going through,” Owen said, squeezing his empty beer can. “He’s so closed emotionally I just can’t get in.” He stared down at the flat can vacantly. “And when he screams at night, Jesus,” he shivered. “I feel so helpless to do anything. The man is in such pain and he won’t let anyone help him.”

“You seem to care a lot for him,” Heather said gently. “He said you had your own tragedy you were working through. How’s that going for you?”

He shrugged. “I’m okay. And Nick’s been very good to me. But I can’t seem to return the favour.”

Heather patted his hand. “Patience, Owen. I’ve never seen Nick bond with someone like he has with you.”

“I’m not staying here indefinitely,” Owen remarked quietly. “He’s trying to organise a job with Daniel for me so I can move out and he can get his life back.”

Heather looked a little disappointed. “Oh, I see. Well, let’s hope he comes around before that happens. I’ve always been worried about him being alone up here. His dad worries about him too.” She smiled a wide, slow smile that made her round face almost beautiful. “Don is such a lovely man. He worships Nick. I’m looking forward to seeing him next week.” Owen swore she blushed. “He said he might take me to dinner at Rosario’s. That’ll be nice.”

Owen fought back a grin at the look of bliss on the woman’s face as he tried to keep a straight face. He might be an open book but he thought Heather was too. “So you and he are an item then?”

Her blush went from salmon pink to traffic light red. “Good heavens, no. We’re just friends.” Owen nodded sagely, about to make a snarky comment when a deep voice interrupted.

“Don says he’s looking forward to seeing you too.” Nick stood framed in the doorway, his shirt on, his face unfathomable. Socks leapt down from the curtain onto his shoulder with an excited squeal. Nick patted him absently. “He says he’ll be here Monday morning. I just spoke to him.”

He walked over to the fridge, took out a beer can and popped the tab. “I have to be in town in about an hour to meet Daniel and I still have to shower.” He glanced at Owen. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back. It’ll be before high tide at one a.m. anyway.”

Owen’s jealousy surged about what he thought Nick and Daniel were going to get up to. “So you’re not staying over there all night then?” he said, his voice tight.

Nick stared at him expressionlessly. “It’s a chess game, Owen.”

Owen snorted. There was silence for a minute then Heather stood up. She glanced from Nick to Owen with a satisfied smirk. “I’d better get off anyway. It’s a bit of a walk back to town and you men have things to do. I should have called ahead.” She drained her wine glass. “I’m glad I popped in, Nick. It looks like you’re in good hands with Owen here.” She smiled at the monkey. “And Socks too, of course.”

Nick didn’t answer. Owen stood up, throwing his can in the plastic recycling bag he’d put out. Heather kissed Nick on the cheek and did the same to Owen.

“I’ll see you boys when Don arrives,” she called out as she walked down the path. “You two behave now.”

Both men watched the little round figure until it was out of view. Nick turned, disappearing into his bedroom. Socks scarpered after him. A few minutes later Owen heard the shower start and the familiar strains of Eminem wafting out of the bedroom. Nick was addicted to the man’s music. It played whenever he got the chance and Owen was heartily sick of hearing about him “losing himself” and how the man was “cleaning out his closet.”
Huh. Coincidence? Mathers was Eminem’s real surname wasn’t it?

He took another beer out of the fridge and sat down to drink it. He finished it then opened another one, feeling fairly mellow. He also googled Heather’s name on his smartphone and found out she was a well-thought-of clinical psychologist. His brow furrowed.

So she and Nick might have a relationship other than being just friends
. That explained her reticence to tell Owen anything about Nick, with the whole “doctor-patient privilege” thing.

Twenty minutes later the music stopped and Nick appeared. Owen caught his breath.

God, the man cleans up nicely.

It was the first time he’d seen Nick in anything than jeans, sweatpants or tee shirts. His hair hung down wet and shiny to his shoulders, already starting to curl at the ends. Nick wore a dark blue polo shirt, opened to the neck, showing a small peek of chest hair that Owen already knew smelt like sandalwood and sweat. He had on grey, tight-fitting chinos that showcased his arse admirably and a pair of black loafers. He was strapping a watch onto his right wrist. Owen ignored him, drinking his beer, but his groin was having none of it. He was painfully hard.

Nick seemed a little nervous. “Right, I’m getting off. I’m taking my car. I don’t fancy the walk back later. I’ll see you when I see you.” He hesitated.

Owen waved his can at him. “Fine. Have a good time. Tell Daniel I said hello.” His third beer had given him a little bit of a buzz and he remembered he hadn’t eaten much today other than the banana earlier and a slice of toast at breakfast.

Nick regarded him darkly. “I have my key so obviously you don’t need to wait up for me.”

Owen waved his can expansively. “I won’t. Socks and I will watch some telly then I’ll be off to bed. Enjoy your
chess game
.” He drank the remaining beer and belched. “Sorry. Little bit of wind there. Or should I say hot air.” He giggled.

Nick frowned. “Take it easy on those. You haven’t eaten much today. I don’t want to have to scrape you off the floor when I get home.”

“Like you scraped me off the beach, you mean? I’m sorry. I’ll try and behave myself.” Owen winced at hearing the sulkiness in his voice.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick said angrily.

Owen stood up, moving closer to Nick. Nick smelt like Lacoste, mandarin and fruit accents and Owen’s senses swum. He supposed it could have been the beer. Nick’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed.

Owen leaned into Nick’s left ear and whispered. “I just don’t understand why you have to go all the way to town for a fuck when you have me here. I know you’re attracted to me, you’ve proven that once before. So what has Daniel got that I haven’t? Is he bigger than me maybe? Does he fill you up nicely?”

Nick pushed Owen backward, causing him to stumble. He caught the edge of the table to steady himself. Nick’s face was white, his sable brown eyes pure ice. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” He spat pure venom. “So shut your mouth. Christ, I don’t know what possessed me to let you stay here.” He turned, picking up his car keys from the fruit bowl. “I can’t bloody cope with this. Maybe we should reconsider this arrangement.”

He let himself out the door, slamming it behind him. Socks gave a loud cry of fright. Owen stared at the door then went to the fridge to get another beer. He was ashamed of his behaviour. Nick owed him nothing, had promised him nothing but his support and his home. So why the hell was Owen like this, insanely jealous of someone he didn’t really know being with another man he didn’t know. And he might just have been kicked out of the place he was just getting comfortable in.

“I’m a bloody idiot,” he said to himself as he polished off another beer. “That man has gotten under my skin and I’m buggered if I know why.” He sat down with his beer, gazing out of the window into the darkness outside.

Chapter 5

Owen was rudely awakened by ice-cold water being flung in his face. It was as if the sea outside had come in to say hello. He gasped, opening his eyes and retching as the water dribbled into his mouth, covering his eyes and soaking into his skin and hair. He peered blearily at the towering figure standing over him. A familiar pair of loafers stood an inch from his face.

“Well, hello there, sexy,” he managed to gasp out. “What the hell is going on?”

The feet moved behind him and two strong hands gripped his biceps, pulling him to his feet. “What the hell is going on is that I come home to find you passed out on the kitchen floor and all my beers missing.” Nick’s voice was a growl. “So you need to get to bed to sleep this off. I couldn’t wake you up but the water could.”

Owen shook his head, waggling his fingers at Nick as the man held him around the waist and pulled him through to Owen’s bedroom. “I’m sure I didn’t drink them all,” he protested as he was pulled unceremoniously to his bed. “I think I might have left you one.”

“Very good of you if so,” was the dry response and thankfully Owen heard slight amusement. Nick must have had a
very
good night with Daniel.

“Did you have a nice time playing chess?” Owen asked coyly, determined to poke the bear.

I’m a fucking sucker for punishment, too damn mouthy for my own good.

Nick didn’t rise to the bait. Instead Owen was pushed roughly down onto his own bed. He sank back, eyes closed to stop the spinning of the room, his head collapsing onto the pillow as he gave a sigh of satisfaction. “This beats wherever I was lying before you picked me up,” he admitted. “My whole bloody body aches.”

“I’m damned if I’m undressing you,” Nick muttered, lifting the bed covers and placing them over Owen. “You can sleep in your damned clothes.”

Owen chuckled. “Why, Mr. Mathers. Most men can’t wait to get me out of them. You’re a real tease.” He opened his eyes as Nick huffed in exasperation. Owen could just focus on the tall, dark-haired figure standing looking down at him and he groaned pitifully. “I think I hit my head when I fell down. Can you maybe take a look and see if you can see anything wrong?”

Nick sighed in irritation, bending down to run a hand over Owen’s head, his fingers gently feeling his scalp. Owen closed his eyes at the touch, satisfied his plan had worked and with one quick movement, he gripped Nick’s forearm, pulling him down. Nick gave a startled grunt and then Owen’s lips found his in a kiss that made his own toes curl. Nick tasted of coffee, chocolate and rum and his breath escaped into Owen’s mouth like warm, fragrant steam.

Owen fully expected a punch to the head and an expletive that would make the roof blow off with its intensity. He’d decided it would have been worth it just to taste the man briefly again. Instead he got full-on Nick.