Page 20 of Best Man
I shrug. “Sorry. I don’t normally get nervous, but I don’t usually stay in places like this either.”
“Not even with customers?”
I shoot him a glance. “I seem to spend more time digging people’s gardens and getting their shopping. I haven’t done a pretend-boyfriend gig in ages, apart from the funeral incident.” I narrow my eyes at the suddenly blank expression on his face. “Why is that?” A horrible thought occurs to me. “Oh my God, is it because I’m too old?”
He shakes his head, a funny smile playing on his full lips. “You’re twenty-four, Jesse. No danger of a card from the Queen yet. And here you are being a pretend boyfriend. Your youth is assured. Rest easy.”
I frown at him. “I can’t help but think you’re taking the piss out of me, Zebedee.”
He glares. “Please don’t ever call me that again. What the fuck?”
I start to laugh. “Time for bed, Zebedee.”
“You’re far too young to have ever watchedThe Magic Roundabout.”
“But my eldest brother wasn’t, and he had the DVD.”
“I feel old,” he bemoans. “I remember the original.”
“Never mind, Grandpa, we’ll get you a nice cup of tea and you can tell me about the war.”
He shoves me, laughing, and my breath catches at how handsome he looks with that wide, white smile and the sun playing in the tangles of his hair, catching the red strands in there and seeming to kindle it.
“Zeb,” comes a shout from behind us and immediately the smile is gone, replaced by his usual unsmiling exterior. He stiffens all over, and I know who it is without turning. Patrick. I rub Zeb’s arm, and for asecond when he looks at me it’s as if he’s forgotten who I am. It’s surprisingly unpleasant. Then his expression clears, and he grips my fingers for a second before his hand falls loose, and he turns.
“Patrick,” he says, and I turn and watch the man who was with Zeb for five years walk towards me. Viewed dispassionately, he’s gorgeous. He’s tall and wide shouldered with a head of blond hair which shines expensively in the sunlight. He’s wearing jeans and a purple polo shirt that hugs his muscled torso.
I look at Zeb. They must have made quite the pair, I think, as Patrick comes to stand in front of him. Dark and light. The devil and the angel. I look at Patrick and mentally shake my head. No angel, this. His full mouth has a discontented pull to it, and he looks as if he could succumb to petulance at any minute. He looks spoilt and expensive.
“Zeb,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Of course,” Zeb says abruptly. “You invited me, didn’t you, and I replied yes. That is the normal way things happen.”
I bite my lip to prevent a smile as Patrick looks slightly askance. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says quickly. He looks Zeb up and down and something kindles in his eyes. “Very glad.”
I shift my position, and both men start as if woken from a deep sleep and turn to face me. “Oh, Jesse,” Zeb says, sounding surprised and making me want to punch him. “Pat, this is Jesse.”
“Jesse? Do I know that name?” he says thoughtfully. Zeb stiffens, but Patrick shakes his head. “Sounds a bit like someone from a Bon Jovi song.”
“Rather than someone from an Irish folk song,” I say very sweetly, holding my hand out and forcing him to shake it. His grip is loose and disinterested, and he drops my hand quickly and turns back to Zeb.
“I didn’t realise you were bringing anyone.”
“The invitation said guest,” Zeb says coolly. “And Jesse is my guest.”
Patrick eyes me coldly before turning back to Zeb. “I’ll have to ask at the desk for them to prepare another room. We only asked for the one. You’ve got a lovely suite. I picked it out specially. It looks out over the lake with a balcony.” He winks. “Remember it?”
Zeb stiffens, and I instantly know they’ve stayed in it before.
“Sounds lovely,” I say happily and slide my arm around Zeb’s waist. His muscles are rigid under my fingers, and I pinch him lightly. He starts imperceptibly and, obeying his cue, he slides his arm over my shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll be very happy there. A balcony, eh?” I say, nudging him. “Oh, the things we can do on a balcony, lover.” His eye twitches slightly, and he shoots me a quick warning glance that makes me laugh.
Patrick’s eyes turn cold as he looks at us, seeming to linger where Zeb’s arm touches me. I reach up one hand and tangle my fingers in Zeb’s, and luckily he doesn’t jump like a startled goldfish or stand like a fucking statue. Instead he seems to get with the programme and draws me closer. However, that’s my undoing because now I can feel all his long warm body against mine. I can smell the faint scent of oranges. He’s taller and bigger than me, heavily muscled, and somehow I feel safe under his arm.
“So you two are together?” Patrick says, gesturing at us and bringing me back to the conversation.
“Deeply in love,” I say cheerfully. “Youbetwe are.” Zeb tightens his grip on me, and I bite my lips to contain my smile.
“We are,” he says in a very stern way. “So in love sometimes that all I want to do is spank him.”
