Page 74 of The Fete of Summer

“Where…you?”

“Hang on, Raul,” he shouted into the phone, walking even farther away from the stage. “Let me see if I can get a better signal. Hang on.”

Once he had moved out and stood in front of the darkened merry-go-round that Ken had suggested in the first place, he leant his back against the wooden fencing and tried one last time.

“Hi, Raul. I’m back. Can you hear me now?”

“Much better. Loud and clear now. What were you asking?”

“I was asking when our date is going to happen.”

“How about right now?”

But the voice didn’t come from the phone. The tone—strong and familiar—issued from a figure standing beneath the covering of a stall, a tall shadow that broke away from the darkness and moved with self-assurance towards Nathan. Astonished, Nathan dropped his hands to his sides.

Jaymes Wynter stepped up and pulled a slack-jawed Nathan into a powerful hug, squeezing the air from Nathan’s lungs before pushing his stubbly chin into Nathan’s ear. After a second he stood back, took the phone from Nathan’s hand, and spoke into the earpiece.

“Well played, Raul. I owe you big-time. But I’ll take it from here. Let us know as soon as you hear the good news. Yes, mate. We love you too.”

Popping the phone into his jacket pocket, Jaymes reached out and pulled Nathan back towards him. This time, instead of a cosy hug, their lips met, and Nathan felt tears brimming at the warmth and softness and familiarity, something he had forgotten just how much he’d missed. Strong arms wrapped around his back and a solid body crushed up against his, and suddenly Nathan felt the world make sense. Jaymes’ kiss tasted of fresh minty toothpaste, and he smelt of a unique citrus shower gel, almost masking his usual musky body odour and distinctive aftershave. Coming up for air, Nathan pulled his face away.

“How can you be here? I only spoke to you this morning?”

“At two-thirty in the morning, your time. I was just boarding the flight to Heathrow. Got into London around half four this afternoon. Ken picked me up and drove like a madman to his place so I could shower and change before the auction. Look, I know you don’t like surprises, but—”

“Maybe I need to qualify that. I don’t like unpleasant surprises. But I’ve decided I love good ones, and this is the best I’ve ever had. Who was in on this whole covert operation of yours? Clifton?”

“No. We didn’t even tell Polly because she can be a little—uh—”

“Indiscreet? Uh-huh. How are you feeling?”

“It’s a long flight. I watched a couple of movies and got quite a bit of work done but didn’t eat or sleep much.”

“You must be really tired.”

“A little. But not that tired. Not for what I want.”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner can wait. I have something far more pressing in mind.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Return

Something in Jaymes had changed in the two months he had been away. Carefree, uncaring, light-hearted Jaymes appeared to have been replaced—at least temporarily—by a darker, more serious version. An urgency, a hunger, filled him on their hasty return to the flat, frequently stopping them every few hundred yards for him to take Nathan into his arms and press their bodies together, to kiss him, as though he needed reassurance that Nathan still existed, had not changed, and still desired him. The few questions Nathan asked as they hurried along were met with almost curt answers.

“Jay, you still have Arlene’s phone in your pocket.”

“My phone.”

“Your phone?” The phone looked familiar, but he hadn’t made the connection. “Was she in on this?”

“No. Hell, was your place always this far?”

“So how on earth—?”

Jaymes turned and pushed Nathan’s body up against the nearest wall, their mouths joining hotly, Jaymes’ tongue tracing the ridges of Nathan’s ear.

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