Page 11 of Viking Ink

“He’s all yours.”

The grin that spread across Rhys’s face was priceless and I knew I’d done the right thing.

Chapter 4

RHYS

I pulled the warm jacket closer around me, pulling the collar to my nose. I got a faint whiff of Simon’s aftershave. I don’t know why I did it, but the smell filled my nose and calmed my nerves as we walked up the hill towards Liz’s Café.

Simon hadn’t pushed to know more about my life after we spoke, and I think he sensed my reluctance. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, it was just that I didn’t think I was ready to speak about what went on back home. It was strange hearing about how accepting Simon’s dad had been, and it made me wonder what my life would have been like if my own dad had treated me with even a tiny bit of kindness and acceptance.

I still felt a little unmoored after our talk this morning. Simon had given me a pile of warm clothes—all slightly too big for me and obviously his. Wearing his clothes had the weirdest effect on me. It was like wrapping myself in a warm blanket, surrounded by Simon’s scent. How was this man so nice? He didn’t even bat an eyelid when I forgot I was holding Ted. I was so used to being put down or teased for my love of stuffed toys and colouring books. They were my escape, my place to feel small and happy like I did when Mum was alive, but Dad and my stepmother just saw it as another weakness.

Simon walked beside me, lost in his own thoughts, and I wondered why this gentle giant of a man wanted to help me. Honestly, how had I been so lucky to find a friend like Simon? I thought about my new bear and my chest felt tight. Not in a bad way, but like I had so many new and wonderful feelings that they didn’t know where to go. Simon had been my secret crush since the day I’d first seen him. I’d always imagined he’d be kind, and the reality was proving even better.

I made my decision. If Simon was really okay with me staying with him, I would. I’d gladly help out in the shop, and maybe find a job. Maybe I could finally settle somewhere. It was just the worry that Dad would find me that put a hint of uncertainty in my decision. But I couldn’t keep running. I was a grown man starting my own life, and my dad had no say in it.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I turned to Simon. We’d reached the café, its twinkling fairy lights casting a merry glow in the early morning gloom.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to accept your offer, if it still stands.” I played with the buttons on the front of my coat, fixing my gaze on the smooth wooden rounds, away from Simon’s face and his reaction.

“Oh, that is good! I’m glad.” Simon sounded happy, and when I risked looking at him, I saw the large grin on his face. I resisted the urge to reach out and smooth down his beard. It was like a big orange cat had taken up residence on his face, and it looked wonderfully soft and messy.

“Have I got toothpaste in my beard again?” Simon ran a hand down his beard, and I had to stifle a giggle.

“It’s just very, umm, bushy this morning,” I answered.

Simon ran his hands down his beard grinning. “Bushy, eh?”

“Like a big orange cat,” I said, trying very hard not to laugh but the face Simon was pulling was making that very hard.

“Didn’t oil it today,” Simon said, opening the door to the café.

“You oil your beard?” This was new information to me. All I knew about beards was that I couldn’t grow one. A few stray hairs on my chin and what resembled peach fuzz on my cheeks was the best I could manage.

“I comb it through each morning.”

Looking at his beard again, I had the urge to run my fingers through it—and against my better judgement, I did just that. Simon’s eyes crinkled in the corner as I reached out and gently touched it. It was remarkably soft. I drew my fingers away.

“It’s a magnificent beard,” I said, my cheeks hot.

“With a great beard comes greater responsibility,” he said sagely. I shook my head, trying to stifle a laugh as we walked inside.

Simon followed as I walked to the booth at the back of the café. It had the best view, overlooking the bay below, and sometimes it was possible to make out the seals basking on the rocks near the old lighthouse. It was that view that had made me want to stop my aimless travelling. It had been here that I had first seen Simon hunched over a brew, fingers toying with his hair while he read something. He’d looked so rugged and masculine, so confident, I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and when I’d seen the ink on his skin my thoughts had taken a turn that had had me blushing into my hot chocolate that day.

“You seem lost in thought.” Simon spoke from across the scuffed table.

I flushed. “Just remembering that it was here the first time I saw you.”

Simon sat back against the booth’s padded backrest, smiling, “I’m shocked you didn’t run away screaming, with this scary mug and unruly beard?”

“You’re not going to drop the beard thing, are you?” I sighed, looking up as the waitress came to our table.

“What can I get you boys? Coffee to start?” Lottie asked. Her eyes widened when she saw my bruised face, but thankfully she didn’t ask. Still, the warm concern in her eyes made me feel good. Maybe Simon was right, and people in town did like me.

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