Page 38 of Oz
I look at my watch and curse. “Is that the time already? It isn’t a date.” I open my diary and thumb through the pages. “Okay, we’ve got honey, local candles, and the pottery from Boscastle. We’ve just got to put the book order in for the shop from the wholesalers. Anything else?”
He looks down at his list. “I think that’s it for today. Don’t forget that we also made the deal for those hand-carved walking sticks. And it is totally a date.”
I elbow him gently. “No, it isn’t. He’s my boss and you and I have a fond memory of why that isn’t a good route for me.”
He makes a scoffing noise and I stare at him. “Oh, please. I never met your ex, but Silas isn’t that wanker you were going out with before. If you can’t see that, then you’re an idiot.”
I stare at him. “Where is all this coming from?”
He gives an embarrassed smile. “I like you, Oz,” he says in a low voice. “You’re my friend, even if your mentoring skills aren’t fully developed.” I shove him gently and he smiles. “I just think Lord Ashworth really likes you and you’d be good for him.”
I rub his arm. “Was that uncomfortable?” I ask sympathetically.
He gives a big sigh and grins. “Sooo uncomfortable. Can we please move onto the not talking about feelings portion of the day?”
I laugh. “Okay. Are we done here, because I need to get a seat for the horse racing.”
“It’s children’s horse jumping, not Formula One.” He nods. “See you tomorrow. I’m going to ask for samples from the handmade chocolate stall.”
“But we don’t need them.”
He smirks.“Weknow that.”
“See, my mentoring skills are actually pretty good,” I shout after him as he disappears into the crowd. “Get me some,” I add as an afterthought.
I look down at my watch and curse. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry. Looking at the signs, I take a path to the right and follow it, dodging around the slow-moving crowd. I pass stalls selling cheese and scented candles and rather incongruously a steel drum band made up of very enthusiastic old ladies.
When I arrive at the showground the horses and their riders are just coming out. I look around and then see him as if he’s got a spotlight on him. He’s leaning against the fence sipping from a plastic cup. His navy polo shirt pulls across his wide shoulders and his navy shorts cup his arse lovingly.
A man leading a horse stops to say something to him and he throws his head back and laughs, and I stare because he’s so beautiful.
At that moment he looks up and catches my gaze before I can shutter it. Surprise spreads across his own, along with something that looks like happiness. Then he smiles at me and the feelings have gone, leaving only his tanned open face and his eyes which are almost green at the moment and still with a vestige of that warmth lingering.
Becoming aware that I’m not moving, I make my way towards him. “Sorry I’m late,” I say, edging past an old couple who tut at me as I squeeze in next to him.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says easily, handing me the twin of his cup.
I sniff and smile. “Cider?”
He grins. “Cornish cider.”
“Well, I suppose I must, if it’s tradition.”
He laughs, and we turn to face the arena which is now filling with small children on sleek-looking ponies. I watch one little girl walk her horse past us. Her helmet is on too far forward, giving her a truculent look. I look at her horse who’s trudging after her and snort. He looks at me enquiringly and I nod towards them. “Don’t they say you start to look like your pets after a while?”
He grins. “It’s actually truer than you think.” He turns to me. “Who do you think I look like?”
I stare at him and smile evilly. “Probably Chewwy.”
“Why?”
“You’re both hairy people pleasers.”
He laughs loudly, and I smile at him. I look around as the first competitor is announced and begins his assault on the brightly coloured jumps. The air is full of the smell of horses andleather. “I suppose this is what you grew up with,” I say idly. “Did you or your brother compete?”
He laughs. “You must be joking. I could barely manage a car. Who the hell would put me on a fucking horse?” He pauses. “Henry liked the outfits, but he couldn’t stay on a horse for more than ten seconds, so an equestrian career was ruled out pretty early.”
I grin and look around as the Tannoy splutters into action announcing the next competitor. We watch as a young girl sits slumped on her horse who looks pissed off, to put it mildly. At her urging the horse canters slowly and reluctantly around. She aims his nose at the jumps and we watch open-mouthed as he proceeds to annihilate the entire course, balking at some rides, riding blatantly round jumps or kicking his way through the others.
