Page 56 of Best Man
“Not likely,” I say briskly. I wink at him. “I just had a bit of a job navigating my way around the huge parcel that arrived today.”
For a second he looks mystified and then I watch in fascination as a tide of red floods over his face. “Oh erm,” he stammers, and I take pity on him.
“Do come in. Watch out for the gigantic expensive picture though.”
He edges his way into the flat, and I shut the door behind him, suppressing a smile as he tries to look anywhere other than at the six-foot picture of pink peonies that’s propped against my lounge wall. IvoAshworth-Robinson’s work looks rather incongruous in my drab lounge with the peeling paper and beanbags. Like a very expensive racehorse sitting in a cow shed.
I fold my arms and look at Zeb. He’s wearing white jeans with a faded denim shirt and leather deck shoes, but I’m particularly loving the way he’s accessorised with a severe case of the fidgets.
“It looks very nice,” he finally says in a slightly high voice.
“It certainly does,” I say blandly. “Notquitethe setting it’s used to though.”
For a second we stare at each other and then he breaks. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, running his hand through his hair. “It’s just that you loved it so much in the gallery, and I wanted you to have it.”
“I love Ryan Reynolds too. When is he arriving?”
“Not for a while. We ran into problems with Customs.” I laugh, and he shakes his head. “He couldn’t cope with you anyway,” he says dryly. “He’d be checking in for mental health care within twenty-four hours.”
I laugh again and tug on his shirt to pull him closer. I can see the flare of nerves in his eyes, and I welcome it because they’re a twin to the flutters in my belly.
“Thank you. I love it so much. It’s the nicest present I’ve ever had,” I breathe and bridge the gap between us to kiss him. For a second he’s still and our mouths rest against each other almost in astonishment that we’re here. Then he’s in movement, pulling me close, his hands on my lower back as he licks into my mouth. I open my mouth, moaning under my breath as his hands slide lower, grabbing my arse and tugging me sharply into him so I can feel the weight of his big cock against mine.
He moans, and I push my hands under his shirt, feeling the satiny hot skin underneath the sun-warmed denim. I rub my hands there, and I’m just pushing his shirt up further when I hear a key in the door. We break apart almost guiltily as the front door opens and Charlie appears.
“Afternoon,” he says. He looks between us. “Oh sorry, have I interrupted a work meeting? Are you having an appraisal?”
Zeb looks at me in a panicked way, and I try to stop myself but burst out laughing anyway.
“He’s joking.” I snort. “Your face.”
Zeb sags. “You know?” he says to Charlie, and Charlie shrugs.
“The expensive artwork kind of gave the game away,” he says, smiling. “The last gift he got off a bloke was a voucher for a McDonalds breakfast.”
“Nice to know the bar is set low.”
“It’s buried so far beneath us the kangaroos will find it soon,” I say slightly mournfully.
Zeb looks at Charlie. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you properly,” he says, holding his hand out to shake, and we both stare as Charlie immediately backs up.
“Better not, mate,” he says. “I’ve got cat piss all over my hands.”
“Ugh,” I say, and Zeb blinks.
“How lovely,” he says faintly.
Charlie shakes his head crossly. “A customer brought her library books back today covered in it. Then she had the nerve to say she shouldn’t have to pay for them because they were still readable.”
“What did you say?” Zeb asks, staring fascinated at Charlie.
He shrugs. “I told her just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. I mean, I’m dateable, but it doesn’t automatically follow that Henry Cavill is going to take advantage of that.”
“Henry,” I say slightly longingly, and we both sigh before recalling ourselves. Zeb is watching us with a wry look on his face.
“So what happened?” he asks.
“She paid. But one of the volunteers then spent the whole afternoon trying to sponge the books clean so we could use them again.” He pauses and shrugs. “Council cuts,” he says to Zeb, who nods. “Anyway, to cut a long cat-pee-scented story short, she failed, but not until everyone smelt like an old lady’s front room.”
