Barging In (16 page)

“The wanderer returns! I was hoping you’d be back soon. This is nearly read—”

Robin covered Dan’s mouth with his own, kissing greedily. Dan kissed back, then pulled away, brandishing the greasy spatula like a weapon.

“Oh no you don’t. This is my mum’s specialty, and I’m not willing to burn it just because you’re feeling horny.” Robin looked down into the frying pan to see a sizzling mix of bacon pieces, potato cubes and slices of onion. Dan stirred it up again, and Robin contented himself with just resting a hand on the swell of that tempting rear as Dan threw in crushed garlic and a generous handful of fresh parsley.

“Your mum’s a good cook, then?” Dan hadn’t spoken much of his family other than to say he was the youngest of five children.

“The best. She was a dinner lady at my primary school and even managed to make school lunches edible.” Dan smiled affectionately, and Robin tried to imagine what it would be like to have a dinner lady for a mum, rather than a “lady who lunched”.

“You get on well together?” he asked.

Dan’s gaze flickered to him, then back to the pan. “Yeah, I mean, we don’t live in each other’s pockets. I pop round for tea every Sunday when I’m not working, but she doesn’t call me all the time like your mum does. She’s great, though. Not got a bad word to say about anyone.”

“Definitely not like my mum, then.” Robin brooded as Dan stirred the hash. “Does she know about you?”

“What about me? My secret life as a superhero, rescuing stray cats?” Dan quirked an eyebrow at him, one cheek dimpling.

“You know what I mean. Have you come out to her?”

Dan laughed. “Do I strike you as someone who’s hiding in the closet, babe? Of course she knows. She knew before I did. Said she used to catch me making my Action Men snog each other.”

“And she doesn’t mind?” Robin rested his chin on Dan’s shoulder, watching the deft movements as he stirred and flipped over the potato pieces, exposing the crisp golden undersides.

“No. She’s cool. Dad was a different matter, though.”

“Was?”

Dan was quiet for a long moment.

“He died when I was nineteen. Never had time to get over his disgust at having a ‘shit-stabber’ for a son.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dan gave a tight smile. “Not your fault, was it? Anyway, Mum’s fine with it all, even if she does keep hassling me about when I’m going to bring a boyfriend home to tea. Can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea that it’s not gonna be like that for me. I’m never going to do that whole monogamy thing. Don’t reckon men are any good at it.”

Robin tried to ignore the way his guts twisted at this pronouncement. “They can be. If they’re in love.” But he didn’t really want to dwell on that. He remembered his own coming-out speech instead—not really necessary after his mum had blundered in on him and Jamie in his bedroom with their hands down each other’s pants. “My mum kept going on about grandchildren, how I’d regret it if I never had kids of my own.”

“Yeah, well, my mum already had eight grandkids by the time I came out, so she didn’t need any more. Christmas was expensive enough already.”

“You’ve got eight nieces and nephews?”

“I’ve got eleven now, and I don’t reckon Sarah’s had her last yet. I should probably start thinking about Christmas shopping myself. Ooh, speaking of shopping, I got you a present today. Hope you don’t mind, but the bed sheets were getting a bit crusty.” Dan’s nose crinkled in mock disgust. “Go take a look in your bed cabin while I finish cooking. You’re a distraction in here.” Dan wiggled his arse, and Robin grudgingly removed his hand.

His curiosity piqued, Robin made his way to the bed cabin. Everything looked the same, but when he pulled back the quilt, he saw that the bed had been made up with new sheets, the creases from the packet still visible. He ran his hands over the deep blue brushed cotton, admiring the quality. He’d grown up with expensive bed linen and knew this was a world away from his old set of cheap, supermarket bedding, which had worn into scratchy bobbles around his feet. He’d been meaning to get down to the launderette earlier but had allowed himself to get absorbed by his woodcarving, and the day had run away from him before he’d realised.

What did all this domesticity mean? Robin didn’t want to read too much into it, but it didn’t seem like the actions of a heartless slut only after a quick shag. Then again, maybe the meal and the fresh sheets were as much about Dan looking after his own creature comforts as they were about Robin’s. He shook his head. It wasn’t like it mattered. They had a few days together and then it would end. Best just to enjoy it while he could.

And a good meal, a couple of beers and some hot, sweaty sex to christen the new sheets sounded like the perfect way to spend his evening… So God knew why he still felt twisted up inside.

Dan woke from a dream about trying to outrun an earthquake to discover his bed really was shaking. The groan of the earth ripping apart was the deafening roar of the engine which sounded like it was slap-bang under his pillow. He could smell diesel and there was a definite draught coming in from the ventilation shaft in the wall above his head.

Dan rubbed his bleary eyes, sat up and tried to make sense of the boat’s rocking. A loud thudding sounded right above his head. He cringed, but it was only Robin’s footsteps on the roof. As the engine’s noise changed pitch, the boat rocked some more, and the queasy sensation in his stomach told him they were on the move. He pulled out the blind in the porthole next to him and watched the reeds drifting past.

Jesus Christ, it was too early for this. A dim memory surfaced of agreeing to cruise somewhere even more deserted—Robin had never mentioned anything about it being at the crack of dawn, though. Shivering in the cold, Dan staggered across the tiny hallway to the wet-room, located his watch and saw that it was quarter past six in the morning. Bloody early risers and their antisocial ways. He much preferred the way Robin had woken him the last couple of mornings, fondling and kissing him into awareness before ravishing him. Robin fucked like he’d been starved of sex for an eternity and wanted to gorge himself on Dan, over and over. It was thrilling—Dan could get used to that ravenous gaze boring into him, promising he was about to be eaten alive.

He looked down at his chest and saw evidence of Robin’s hunger written on his flesh in red marks. Just looking at them heated his blood. Funny, he’d never found that sort of thing appealing before—had always thought it rather spoilt the unblemished look he was going for. Now, though, seeing the effect they had on Robin—the way the guy just about exploded with lust when tearing off Dan’s clothing to expose the bites before adding some more—well, maybe he was kinkier than he’d realised.

Or maybe it was just something about Robin.

The thought was unsettling, and between that and the wandering around naked in the cold, he managed to stave off his morning wood. Dan went in search of his clothing, discarded in the saloon the previous night. He really needed to bring over a few more changes of clothes from his boat, since it didn’t look like he’d be sleeping there for the rest of the week. He found his jeans and T-shirt neatly folded next to a set of red, ribbed thermal undies. There was a small piece of paper on top, with “Come outside—U can were these—its cold” printed on it in an uneven hand. Grinning to himself, Dan stood in front of the crackling fire—Robin really had thought of everything—and suited up.

The long johns were a little too lengthy in the leg and the thermal vest was baggier than Dan’s usual, skintight attire, but when he lifted his arm and inhaled, the fabric exuded a delicious, Robiny smell—all smoke and maleness. It felt as if he were wrapped in a warm hug, the sensation remaining even with the rest of his clothing over the top. Once he’d shrugged on his leather jacket and donned his trainers, he felt brave enough to open the front doors.

Frigid air washed in over him, stinging his eyes and making him gasp. But the canal! There had been a frost overnight, and all the grass and dead stems along the banks sparkled like they’d been dusted with glitter. The water steamed slowly, mist rising in lazy curls that hung diaphanous in the damp air. Dan looked out over the valley, a sea of mist with the tops of trees rising out here and there like islands. He popped his head up to wave at Robin—who appeared to be wearing some kind of knitted monstrosity on his head—and ducked back inside for his camera.

Half an hour later, Robin had turned the boat in the nearest winding hole so that they were heading towards Bath, and most of the mist had evaporated in the morning sun. Dan’s fingertips and ears smarted with cold. He realised the dull throbbing at his temples was a caffeine-withdrawal headache coming on. Who would have believed he’d be up this early, working, without the aid of his morning cuppa? Maybe if you spent long enough on a boat, these early nights and mornings just became natural. He waved to catch Robin’s attention and made a T shape with his hands—receiving a thumbs-up—and headed in to make them both a drink.

It was only once he had the two steaming mugs of tea in his hands that he realised he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get one of them to Robin. Maybe he could persuade him to pull over so that he could run along the bank and drop one off with him. Stepping up onto the front deck and placing the mugs on the roof, Dan pondered his options. He couldn’t yell—Robin was fifty feet away, and the engine was deafening down at that end of the boat. Dan looked at the gunwales—the narrow shelves that ran along each side of the boat where the hull met the top. They were about four inches wide and looked alarmingly slippery in their glossy black paint.

He’d seen Robin walk along them without any qualms, but could he do it? Could he make his way to the back of the boat, clinging one-handed onto the narrow wooden rail at the edge of the roof? Above all that water? No, that wouldn’t work. The roof was another possible route, but it was piled high with logs, sacks of coal, coils of rope and, bizarrely enough, a wheelbarrow. The idea of scrambling over a frosty obstacle course on the top of a moving boat did not appeal. Not with a plunge into icy-cold water as the penalty for any misstep. He still found it hard to believe it was shallow enough for him to stand up in.

Robin beckoned, then pointed insistently towards something on the roof. Dan held his hands out in a “What?” gesture, then looked down the side of the boat to where Robin was now pointing. Of course, there were the two side hatches down at the far end of the boat; the ones in the passageway that divided the wet-room and bed cabin. Okay, he’d be almost there if he could open one of them. Maybe he wouldn’t have to risk life and limb scrambling around outside at all.

The passageway flooded with light as he opened the hatch, and the view was spectacular. Dan climbed the steep stepladder and carefully lifted the full mugs up onto the roof of the boat. When he finally stuck his head out and caught Robin’s warm grin directed his way, he realised how close he was to his goal.

Close, but not close enough.

“Come on, then. You’ll have to bring it to me,” Robin shouted over the drone of the engine.

That was easy for him to say, but how the hell was Dan going to do it? There was about ten feet of gunwale left to inch along. He looked up again, about to protest, but when he saw the teasing glint in Robin’s eyes, he rebelled against his fear. There was no way he was going to let a man in a bobble hat with ear flaps laugh at him. Especially not when it was a bright orange one with pom-poms on the end of the ties.

The first step was the hardest as he had to simultaneously twist his body so he faced the boat, leaning against the side and gripping on to the pallet stacked with logs. Rough splinters scratched at his palms. As his racing heart began to slow, he eased his grip, gaining confidence in his secure footing. He’d be fine so long as he didn’t look down at the water. He looked at Robin instead, surprised to see the mischief had been replaced by concern.

“You okay?” Robin asked.

Dan gave him a nod. Yeah, he could move his head, no problem. It was the rest of his body that was going to prove difficult, especially as his stomach was doing its best to convince him that he was plummeting from a great height. He took a deep breath and let go of the pallet completely, transferring his right hand to the rail while his left scooted the mugs along the roof. As soon as both hands were on the rail again, he attempted a shuffling step sideways, moving like a decrepit crab. Why the fuck wasn’t he wearing a life jacket? Hadn’t the hire company told him he should? Mind you, a life jacket wouldn’t be much help if the shock of being swallowed up by freezing water stopped his heart beating. He wondered if Robin knew any first aid.

“Dan? Just keep moving. You’re nearly here.”

Dan lifted his gaze, grateful for the distraction of Robin’s face. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching those handsome features. He pushed the mugs along and took another step sideways. There were lines of concern on Robin’s brow, but his gaze locked onto Dan, pulling him inexorably closer.

Just two more steps.

Just one.

And then it was done. Dan’s foot found the relatively wide expanse of the back deck, and Robin’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close for a hug. He let himself fall against Robin, his bones liquefied by the ordeal. Even with the tiller arm intruding between them, he felt more comfortable than he would ever have imagined possible. Dan nuzzled into Robin’s neck, breathing in deeply to try to find his scent. It was there, hiding beneath the diesel fumes, and as he breathed in Robin’s unique smell, he felt safe, even though he was still standing on a tiny platform over the water.

Robin’s bristles grazed against the side of his head.

“Your ears are freezing. You okay?” Robin’s voice rumbled through him, the vibrations rivalling those of the engine below them.

Dan nodded again, raising his head to prove it with a weak smile. “They don’t feel cold. They feel like they’re on fire.”

Robin chuckled softly, his breath burning Dan’s cheek. “You went white for a minute there. Thought I was gonna have to rescue you.”