Page 23 of Oz
I shift slightly at that low sound, my cock filling.What would it sound like if we were lying naked together?I push the thought quickly away and busy myself with grabbing the stuff I need from the fridge.
He prods the papers on the table. “Are these keeping you awake?”
I groan. “It’s a mess. I can’t lie.”
He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
“I did employ him.”
“Did you know him from before?”
He nods. “He’s a friend’s little brother.” He pauses. “Which has gone down as well as can be expected.” I grimace and he nods. “Still, you make your bed.”
“Seems to me he didn’t help with the making of it or the tidying up in the morning.” I shrug. “He’s gone. We’re here. This is the mess we have to deal with.”
He looks startled. “Okay. That’s blunt.”
I smile at him as I fry the potatoes. “It is as it is. If I was nobility I’d have that as my heraldic motto.” I pause. “What’s on yours?”
He looks almost embarrassed. “Duty and love,” he mutters, and I pause with the spatula held up. I don’t know him well but already that seems like something he would try to live by. He has a very honest and earnest air about him. An air of capability and strength. I mentally shake myself.
“Shame it doesn’t read, ‘Ashworths. Making the money rain for centuries’.”
He laughs. “That sounds like an insurance ad. Or a stripper’s business card.” He picks up one of the plans. “I was very impressed with you this morning.”
I look up startled and feel a flush on my cheeks. I had no idea he was listening until he appeared and I’d spent a few hours afterwards trying to remember if I’d said anything outrageous. After that, I’d shrugged and accepted the fact that I probably had.
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Because Barry–” He shoots me a glance and I grin. “Barry is a very tough customer. He’s a really good builder but a shit judge of character, and the leader of the project on his side is his future son-in-law.”
“Shit!” I say with feeling. “I’m amazed he gave in.”
He laughs. “I don’t think he had much choice with your not-so-veiled threat to chat shit about him all over Cornwall.”
“Just South Cornwall,” I protest. “And then only the pubs on a bus route. I can’t drive.”
His head shoots up. “You can’tdrive?”
“I also can’t shoot aliens and ride unicorns if you want to say that in the same disbelieving tone.”
He tries to stop his smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just I thought everyone drove.”
“Out here probably,” I say mildly, dishing up his very early breakfast and placing it in front of him. Chewwy immediately sits up in an interested fashion and I shake my head at him. The frittata looks colourful with peppers and tomatoes gleaming like tiny jewels. “But we didn’t have the money for either driving lessons or a car when I was of age so I never bothered. Besides, it’s so expensive to have a car in London, and where would I keep it? It’d only have wheels for a few hours where I live.”
A troubled expression crosses his face so I shake my head. “Don’t feel sorry for me, for God’s sake. London transport is cheap, and although not cheerful, it’s plentiful. I don’t need a car.”
“You might struggle out here.”
“You mean I haven’t got my own chauffeur?” I ask, opening my eyes wide.
He laughs. “Of course. It’s just that he’s at the pub at the moment.” He takes a bite of the frittata and moans under his breath. “Christ, this is lovely.”
“I know,” I say modestly.
He grins at me as I pour us both a cup of tea. “It’s like a miracle. It’s not cold or greasy and it even looks like food.”
