Page 24 of Short Stack 3

There’s a very long, protracted silence, and then, slowly, Asa turns to face me. “Howinteresting,” he says silkily and then spoils the effect by breaking into laughter.

I shove him, trying to fight my own smile. “Motherfucker,” I say slowly. “We could have stayed in bed and looked out of the bloody window.”

Fifteen minutes later, we disembark. Asa stops to discuss something else with the captain, and I stand to one side. I’m wet and cold, with water dripping off my hood and trickling downmy neck. I scrub my hand down my face and eye Asa as he says goodbye and turns back to me.

“Got anything else you need to know about him?” I say archly.

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t talkthatmuch.”

“Oh, really? When’s his birthday?”

He grimaces. “The third of January,” he says promptly, and I break into laughter. He shakes his head. “I can’t help it,” he says, a smile playing on his full lips.

I grab his hand. “It’s actually very hot,” I inform him. “I love a man of the people.”

“That makes me sound like an MP,” he observes. He eyes me. “How hot?” he asks, his eyes falling to my mouth.

I bite my lip. “Exceedinglyhot,” I say huskily. “As in, I’m thinking we should go back to the cottage and not come out again until we need to leave.”

“Good plan.”

“Well, that’s me,” I say modestly. “I’m a planner. Everyone says so.”

He laughs. “Literally no one haseversaid that.”

I ignore him, and we walk quickly and with purpose out of the square, falling in amongst the tourists as we wander down the narrow street with shops set all along it. The rain eases up, and I look around with interest. Fowey is so pretty, and I’d love to come back in the summer.

The people around us start to move slower as we come to a small Christmas fair set along the street. Brightly coloured stalls display the usual street fair things—hot drinks, food, and craft stalls filled with artwork and Christmas decorations. It has a bustling air now that the rain has stopped, and people have started to shop again. We walk past one booth decorated in royal blue, and I eye it. It’s very striking, with an array of pretty,coloured glass bottles and a big banner advertising a local farm and its award-winning potato vodka.

I’ve just opened my mouth to suggest we buy a bottle to take home and to bed when a very familiar voice hails me.

“Well, Jude Bailey, as I live and breathe.”

I come to a standstill, my mouth falling open as I stare at the figure of my ex-hook-up. He appears to be operating the stall, which is rather startling as the last time I saw him, he was a supermodel. You don’t tend to find many of them working at Christmas markets. I blink and rub my eyes, but when I open them, it’s still Malachi Booth running a vodka stall.

He raises one of his eyebrows, the usual wicked expression on his face. “Cat got your tongue?” he asks.

“What?” I shake my head. “What are youdoinghere?” I finally manage.

He pouts playfully. “Oh, dear. Is that a trick question? You know how I am with things like that, Jude. I’m an alarmingly literal sort of person.”

“You’re an alarming person altogether,” I correct him.

He smiles, tossing his chocolate-coloured hair back. His eyes are very bright. “Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” I mutter, but he’s not listening, as he’s noticed Asa standing beside me. A worrying look of delight immediately crosses his face.

“Oh, Jude, you’ve brought your daddy out for a bit of fresh air. Howareyou, sir?” he says, over-loudly and slowly enunciating his words. “It’s a lovely day today, sir.”

“Fuck off,” Asa says, clearly remembering their last encounter in Ireland when Malachi had been trying to pick me up.

Contrary person that he is, Malachi just laughs. “You older people and your lack of filter,” he says, playfully wagging his finger at Asa.

The man standing next to him finishes serving a couple and turns to face us. “Mal,” he says warningly. I blink. The man is very good-looking, but that isn’t the surprise. It’s the fact that he winds his arm around Mal’s waist. I wait for Mal to roast him. He’s always hated being petted and lectured. However, as if an alien has taken over his body, Mal just melts into the man, smiling up at him with a besotted look on his face.

“What’s going on?” the man asks.

“Oh, this is Jude Bailey,” Mal says carelessly. “And his older lover, Asa.”

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