Page 15 of Blown

At the same time, something wasn’t right. Jake was as pink and dewy as if they were working hard in the hot shop. Or doing something else that would overheat them. Rafe wanted to throw his arms around him, but not necessarily to hug him. He felt like he needed to pull Jake together before he launched.

“Where is this boxy hill anyhow?” Jake asked, glancing around as Rafe started walking back through the parking lot to the hill. “What kind of boxes did they make it out of?”

Rafe couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. He didn’t answer the question. Jake would see for himself in a few seconds.

They left the parking lot, crossed the road, and there it was, the most astoundingly beautiful view in England, as far as Rafe was concerned. Jake must have thought so, too. He caught his breath and pushed a hand through his hair, eyes wide as he stared out at the vista.

“Whoa!” Jake said. “This is amazing!”

Rafe grinned in pride, glancing from Jake to the magnificent view as they walked down the discreet stairs to the path that ran along the crest of the hill.

“You can literally see for miles from here,” Rafe said, taking Jake off the path to where clusters of people were sat on blankets or just in the grass, some with picnics, some just staring. “There’s a guide back there that will tell you what you’re seeing.You can see Gatwick if you look hard enough that way.” He pointed off to one side.

“It’s beautiful,” Jake said.

Rafe turned to stare at him. His tone of voice had changed completely, and his puppy dog energy was gone. In its place was an expression as rich with emotion as it was with anxiety. Jake drew in a shaky breath as he glanced out over green vales, trees, and a few houses and hamlets here and there. They were lucky to have a deep blue sky with artfully puffy clouds meandering through the sky.

“This is England,” Rafe said, admiring the view again. “Forget London and its congestion and wall-to-wall tourists. This is what it’s truly about. People have stood on this hill for centuries, looking out over the verdant countryside and the blue sky. There’s a peace here that you’ll never find inside the M25. You can feel the calm here, you can fill your lungs with the same air that has been here for a thousand years.”

Jake drew in a deep breath, though whether that was because Rafe told him to or because he was so moved, it was hard to tell. Rafe watched him, puzzled by the change that had come over him. Suddenly, Jake was lost and emotional instead of being a loud, happy-go-lucky American. His blue eyes were tired, and Rafe could practically see the weight pressing down on him. The armor Jake wore was gone, and what lay underneath was deeply vulnerable.

It was hot as hell. He was probably wrong to think that, but introspective Jake was exactly the kind of man that Rafe wanted to wrap himself around, kiss and pet, then pound into the mattress until they broke the bed.

A heartbeat later, Introspective Jake was gone and the puppy returned. He glanced at Rafe, flashing an American smile, and said, “Can we roll down the hill?”

All the heated, sexy feelings that had started to draw Rafe to Jake like a magnet flattened again.

“No, you cannot roll down the hill,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s fine up here, but it gets steep quickly. You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself and it would be a disaster.”

“I know what that feels like,” Jake muttered, so low Rafe almost didn’t hear it.

Rafe looked at him for a moment, wondering if Introspective Jake would return, but that ship had sailed. “Come on,” he said instead, gesturing for Jake to walk with him.

A short way along the path, there were a few sets of benches. They were probably for pensioners who needed a sit-down and not able-bodied men in their thirties, but since one of them under a spreading tree was free, Rafe and Jake helped themselves to the seat.

“Mum and Dad used to bring us here for picnics when we were kids,” Rafe said, crossing one ankle over his leg and stretching his arm along the back of the bench, touching Jake’s shoulder lightly. “I have so many good memories of the entire, mad lot of us, both branches of the Hawthorne family together, chattering away, running around, and generally disturbing the peace.”

“Both branches?” Jake asked, screwing his face up in distaste.

Rafe noticed the gesture and frowned. “Yes, Mum and Dad had seven kids, and my dad’s brother had seven, too. We all grew up together for a while when Hawthorne House was being renovated after the school closed.”

“God,” Jake said, crossing his arms tightly. “That must have been an absolute nightmare.”

Rafe fought the urge to stroke Jake’s shoulder, since his hand rested so close, but stopped himself. “What do you have against my family?” he asked.

Jake’s expression pinched through several emotions as he stared out over Surrey. Rafe didn’t think he would answer, but he finally glanced his way and said, “Families have always been bad news for me. My own family was about as dysfunctional as you could get. I don’t talk to them anymore. I’m sort of in touch with my sister, Beth, but she’s been refusing to answer my calls since I told her I’d flown over here.” Clearly, there was more to that relationship and it was hurting Jake.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said. “I know I’m extremely lucky to have been raised in the family I have.”

“Yeah, I guess you are, although the jury is still out on whether it’s possible for any family to truly be good,” Jake said.

A burst of sadness and disappointment hit Rafe right in the chest. “That’s not true,” he said. “I might have mixed feelings about being back at Hawthorne House instead of setting the world on fire with my glass, but my family is wonderful.”

Jake hummed. The odd, kinetic look that sometimes came over him was suddenly there.

“I do have some good memories of my family,” he said. “There was this one time my dad took me fishing on Lake Michigan. We sat out in the boat all day, waiting to catch something. Dad was really good about teaching me how to put a worm on the hook and how to cast. But then it started to rain and we had to quickly paddle back to shore. Dad did the paddling while I had to bail water out of the boat with our bait bucket. I threw all the worms into the water, and when I looked, a whole bunch of fish were following us. So many that Dad just took the net we had, scooped it into the water, and came out with half a dozen fish.”

Rafe had no idea what to say. Nothing about the story seemed plausible. And Jake stared out at the countryside instead of looking him in the eye as he told it.

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