Worth Keeping (6 page)

“It’s better that way,” Nick muttered. “I value my privacy and I don’t need you drawn into my problems.”

“Oh, of course,” Owen said sarcastically. “Heaven forbid you should actually rely on someone to help you, you obstinate bastard. Mr. Sphinx, that’s you.” No sooner were the words out Owen wanted to take them back.

Nick’s face darkened and he whirled around and walked out the door into the sunshine.

Owen sighed heavily. He was such a fucking idiot. Why he kept prodding at Nick’s sore spots he had no idea. He seemed to bring out the worst of him in that regard. But the man was all kinds of fucked up—inscrutable, moody and damned infuriating. It was probably better he give him a little space for a while in case he put his foot in it again.

Later that day Owen groaned in sheer sexual frustration as he watched Nick working bare-chested in the sunshine, hammering nails into struts of timber making up a new fence he was erecting around the private residence. There’d been such a severe storm the previous night that the old ramshackle fence had blown down in the strong winds. Despite the sunny weather, the cold wind still blew hard and Nick’s hair whipped around his face as he worked. He resembled an Indian brave with the bandanna around his forehead holding some of his dark bronze hair in place. Owen thought he’d never seen anything sexier. Nick was incredibly toned and the sight of his muscles straining as he worked was enough to make Owen as horny as hell. It seemed to be a by-product of living with the exasperating man.

“But I do like living here,” he muttered to himself as he stroked Socks’s head. “It’s an amazing place to stay.”

The cottage was attached to the larger eighty-foot-high octagonal structure that was the actual lighthouse situated about fifty feet away. Owen found the lighthouse a fascinating structure, having been given a guided tour around its inner workings in the past week. He’d walked up what seemed like hundreds of stairs to the very top, to the Lantern Room where the lens was housed and seen the Watch Room where everything else was kept: ropes, various bits of old nautical equipment that had probably been there years. It had been a glimpse into the past, and looking out from the top across the sea to the vast expanses beyond had been a humbling experience. Nick’s studio at the bottom of the lighthouse looked interesting but Nick had declined to show Owen much of it as they passed through. It was scattered with covered canvases in various shapes and sizes, tables of tubes of oil paints in various quantities, brushes and the pervasive smell of thinners and paint. Owen had tried to lift the corner of one canvas to see beneath it only to have a sharp slap delivered to his bicep and a scowl from Nick.

Owen watched as Nick effortlessly hammered posts into the ground. He shivered. “Socks, I have no idea how that man manages to survive the chill out there without a shirt. I mean I like the look of his nipples and all but he must be bloody freezing.” He looked down at his own attire, one of the new pullovers he’d bought in town, a dark blue wool sweater that wrapped around him snugly. “I’m not partial to cold weather. I prefer sunshine, sand and cocktails, with hunky men in Speedos flexing their muscles. All of them.”

Seated on the kitchen table, Socks chittered in apparent agreement as he ate a piece of apple Owen had given him. The monkey didn’t look as if he had any desire to be outside either.

Just then, Nick looked over and his brow furrowed as he mimed drinking. He seemed to have forgiven Owen his comment of earlier. Owen grinned, taking the bottle of beer that he held to its thirsty recipient. The monkey stayed inside.

Nick took the bottle, taking a deep swallow. Owen watched Nick’s Adam’s apple bob as he drank. He wanted to kiss it, press warm lips to it and taste the other man’s scent of sweat. He’d been like a randy teenager being around Nick and he’d also grown desperate enough in his need for sexual release to get the young but legal Mikey Grey to give him the occasional hand and blow job when he went into town, behind the hardware store. He shifted slightly at the memory of those fast and furious releases.

“Are you nearly finished then?” Owen gestured at the new fencing. “It looks like you’re almost done.”

Nick nodded as he drank from his bottle. “Yeah, I’ve a couple more to do then it should be sorted.” He grinned. “I managed to salvage that piece of wood you snapped when you stood on it and also found all the nails your clodhoppers scattered everywhere.” His eyebrows rose fractionally in amusement.

Owen scowled. “I was trying to help. I couldn’t help it you left that box of bloody nails on the floor for anyone to knock over. And wood has no business lying about waiting for someone to tread on it.”

Nick laughed. “Owen, you’re a DIY man’s worst nightmare. A well-meaning novice.”

Owen’s lips curled petulantly. “I have other talents.” His voice lowered and he gazed at Nick suggestively.

Nick’s face flushed. “I’m sure you do,” he said drily as he took another swig of his beer. “Anyway, I’m nearly done for today. I’ll tidy up then I’m going to get cleaned up and go meet a friend in town.”

Owen’s heart sank. “Oh? Anyone I know?” He wasn’t sure why he felt so pissed off that Nick was going out. Owen wasn’t usually this possessive.

His conscience sneered.

Mikey Grey’s been blowing you, you arsehole, so you’re a fine one to talk.

Nick’s eyes were wary. “A guy called Daniel. We play chess together. I blew him off last week when you arrived, but it’s time we got together again.”

“I didn’t know you played chess. And the blowing off sounds like fun.”

Nick shifted, looking uncomfortable, almost furtive. He ignored Owen’s jab about the blowing. “I enjoy a game every now and then and Daniel’s a good bloke to play with.” His face flushed a little at his last words and Owen had a sudden sick thought.

This was the fuck buddy Nick had mentioned, he was sure. What the fuck was wrong with Owen meeting Nick’s needs?

It was obvious both men were attracted to each other. There was no missing the flare of Nick’s nostrils when Owen got close or the glances he threw his way when he thought Owen wasn’t looking. Not to mention the occasional bulge in Nick’s groin, which he tried to conceal.

So why the standoffish attitude?

Owen became aware Nick was speaking. “You were saying you wanted a job too. Well, Daniel’s looking for someone to help him in his garden and landscaping business. He seems to think you might fit the bill. So perhaps he can give you a job and then you can maybe afford to get your own place if you intend on sticking around the area.”

Owen nodded. “I see. Well, that sounds like a fair deal. Thanks for thinking of me. I guess I will need to do something if I decide to stay here in Pebble Cove and I have to move out.” He heard the faint hurt in his voice, hating it.

Nick looked at him. “I’m not pushing you out, Owen. You said yesterday you wanted to stay here in the cove. Your family haven’t tried to contact you that I know of or pitched up on the doorstep so I assumed they’re giving you the space you need to figure things out. But sooner or later you need to make your own way.” His voice became apologetic. “You can’t stay here forever.”

Owen nodded. “I suppose not. And I have no intention of going back home to Kent anytime soon. My family and Jules’s family know that and respect my wishes even if Mum was upset. I’ve sorted out my finances and I’ve got more than enough to get by on for a while. And as we’ve
discussed
”—his tone was sarcastic—“I can contribute to the household expenses if allowed to.”

Nick’s face darkened and he ignored the jibe. “You’re lucky to have family, Owen. You should cherish them.”

“You have no family at all, Nick?” Owen tried to pry something out of the man.

Nick stared at him evenly. “Just Don, my adoptive dad. He’s coming down here next week to visit, by the way, but I’ll take the couch and he can have my room.” He smiled fondly. “Don is an old git and he’ll never last on the couch. His sciatica will kill him.”

“You can give him my room and I’ll sleep with you if you like. I assume he knows you’re gay?” Owen tried it on a step further.

Maybe he’d get lucky.

Nick’s eyes glinted. “No, that’s fine. The couch will do me. And yes, he knows I’m gay.” A shadow passed over Nick’s face and Owen was frustrated that this man shared nothing.

“How long have you known Don, then?” Owen asked idly.

Nick stiffened, gazing over at his fence handiwork. “Since I was thirteen,” he said shortly. He raised the bottle, drinking again.

Owen pushed the issue, wanting to get more of a reaction from Nick. “Is that when he adopted you?”

“No.” The answer was curt, Nick’s tone a warning.

Owen ignored it. “Oh. So you knew him before. How did that all come about then?”

Nick scowled and swung round to face Owen. “What’s with the inquisition? Don’t you understand I don’t want to talk about stuff? You can be pretty obtuse, can’t you?” He took a deep pull from his bottle, finishing the beer off and tossing it into a black dustbin a couple of feet away.

Owen regarded him mildly. “Aren’t you supposed to recycle those?”

Nick glared at him and Owen stared back, unfazed. “You can certainly be a bit of a brat,” Owen observed with a wise nod.

Nick’s jaw dropped and Owen was satisfied that he’d managed to shake the man’s composure. They were interrupted by a loud shout from the bottom of the hill.

“Hello there, Sexy Pants times two!”

Nick groaned. “Oh. My. God. I don’t think I can cope with her right now.” He turned to watch as a portly, rather alarming figure made its way up the path to the cottage. It was a woman, that much Owen could see, attired in what could only be described as a brightly coloured muumuu, with what looked like a tea cosy of flowers on her head. His eyes widened and he looked at Nick curiously. “Who the
hell
is that?”

Nick sighed resignedly. “Heather Brisket. She’s kind of a friend of mine from town.” He grimaced. “Be careful. She’s bloody terrifying.”

But Owen saw the fond smile on Nick’s face as he wandered down the path to meet her. The woman reached for Nick and pulled him close against her in a fierce hug. Owen chuckled. It looked like a sparrow hawk towering over a fat, short pigeon. The woman ran her hands admiringly down Nick’s chest and he caught her hands, moving them away with a low laugh. Owen didn’t blame her. He’d wanted to do the same thing many a time. The couple turned as they walked up toward him. Heather’s eyes gleamed when she saw him close up. She was older than Owen had imagined, probably in her late forties.

“Well, aren’t you just too bloody gorgeous,” she exclaimed. Owen grinned at her compliment. He liked her already.

The woman smiled lasciviously. “I can see why you’ve kept this one to yourself, Nicky, my lad. He’s absolutely delicious and I wouldn’t want to share him either.”

Owen took the hand he was offered, raising it to his lips, kissing it gallantly.

Heather’s face beamed. “Well, look at you. Such a bloody charmer.”

“I try my best,” Owen said deprecatingly. “But
Nicky
here doesn’t seem to appreciate it.” He threw Nick a wicked grin.

Nick stared at him fiercely. “He’s not mine, we’re not a couple and you are totally out of line, Heather,” he said through gritted teeth. “How many times do I have to tell you Owen is just a guest here for a short while? And stop calling me Nicky. You know I hate it.”

Again Owen got the baleful evil eye from his friend. Heather waved a hand. “Pshaw. You’re an idiot if you haven’t bedded this one, Nick. I bet he tastes just yummy too.”

Nick’s face went rosy as he glanced at Owen, who chortled 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.”