Page 22 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Was trying to give Kenny a little of what he’d had in Crete.” She smiled at him. “Was it as good?”

Kenny twisted the stem of his wineglass and propped his arm on the back of his chair. “Yeah. Just as good. There was a little place on the harbour where I had it three times.”

“Jack said you went up Mount Ida?” Fraser said, dipping forward. “In forty degree heat?”

“I did.” Kenny laughed. “Not my only mistake.”

“Why, what other mistakes happened?” Dom arched an eyebrow in suggestion.

One was going at all. Three weeks of sun, sea and solitude where all he thought about was Aaron Jones hadn’t been the medicinal time off he’d hoped. Two was going to a club when he was there, finding no one as striking as Aaron and leaving swiftly after downing a whisky. Three was having so much time to think he’d convinced himself that staying away from Aaron was the right thing to do, allowing Aaron a normal student experience with hisboyfrienddespite it killing Kenny’s very essence.

“Tried so hard to speak the language, but failed miserably,” heoffered instead. “Asked for directions to some monument thing, can’t remember which now, and the man thought I was asking for the toilets. Ended up in some public restroom in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh, God, do you remember Italy?” Jack’s smile, bright and eager to tell a new story, proved how much wine he’d had. He’d forgotten where he was and who they were with to mentionthatminibreak. “The cab driver in Florence? You butchered Italian so badly he charged us double.”

Jack laughed, and Kenny widened his eyes, trying to catch his gaze.

“You two went to Italy together?” Dom asked from across the table. “When was that?”

Jack flushed, realising what he’d inadvertently let out of the bag. To everyone else, people believed Jack and Kenny had been merely old work buddies, rekindling an old friendship that had died from Jack having left for Scotland eight years ago for a transfer from Ryston police to the Glasgow force. But no one knew the extent of their relationship and why Jack had fled so eagerly.

“Uh, yeah…Conference.” Jack grabbed his glass of wine and knocked some back. “Rained every day.”

Kenny said nothing. The rain hadn’t been an issue. He’d enjoyed being locked inside a hotel room with Jack. Sightseeing hadn’t been the reason they’d wanted to get away. It had been to see if they could talk about something that wasn’t psychopathic killers.

An awkward silence settled, so Kenny stood, gathering plates. “Let me clear up.” Heather went to help, but Kenny shook his head. “I’ll do it. You cooked. Finish your wine.”

Kenny made his way to the kitchen, dumping the plates on the counter and taking in all the mess. Heather was a chaotic cook. If this had beenhiskitchen, he’d have an aneurism. So he switched on the tap, filling the sink with soapy water to clear upwhat couldn’t go in the dishwasher, using the moment to escape the subtle tension from the table. And in his head.

Scuffling from behind made him peer over his shoulder. Fraser entered, carrying a few more dishes. “Thought I’d lend a hand,” he said, setting them down on the counter beside Kenny.

“You don’t have to.”

“They’re all talking aboutStrictly. That’s not my thing.”

Kenny snorted, stuffing his hands into soapy water to wash up the glassware. “Not a dancer?”

“Not really.” Fraser propped himself up against the wall opposite, folding his arms to make his bulging biceps strain his T-shirt, crossing one ankle over the other.

Kenny could feel him assessing him. Working out what it was Jack saw in him. How they differed, and what that meant for him.

“Jack says you’ve not decided on a honeymoon destination yet?” Kenny asked to keep up the friendly chatter, and to start small, knowing Fraser was here for ulterior motives and easing him in gently.

Kenny could tell a lot in the man’s stance and his behaviour of having left the dining table to watch him clear up. It didn’t take his PhD to read Fraser’s mind.

“Not yet. It’s all down to when Jack can get time off. He’s overworked at the moment.”

“He’ll always be overworked.” Kenny grabbed a tea towel, wiped his hands, and turned to face him. “You married police.”

“Ha. Yeah. Guess so.” Fraser tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “You and Heather…are you…?”

“Just friends.”

“Right. Sure. So no holiday romance for you? Woman? Man?”

Kenny arched an eyebrow. Fraser was taking his time in plucking up the courage to ask what he’d come in here for, settling for small talk. “No.”

Fraser nodded, staring down at his shoes.

---