A Bit Grown Up
“Sending my boys off to their first ball. That’s not an experience I ever thought I’d have.” Gareth stretched out on the sofa and sampled the peat- and smoke-laced burn of his current favourite whisky.
“You never thought you’d have children?” Jack was too edgy to relax.
He was even too edgy to drink just in case he needed to go rescue people or knock heads together.
Having the boys alone at a ball bothered him more than sending them to school or to one of their afternoon jobs—as if balls were a wilderness brimming with unspecified dangers.
“I’m sorry I was so utterly useless getting them ready,” he grumbled, voice rough and cheeks hot with feelings of inadequacy.
“Balls and romance are not in my wheelhouse.”
“You’re doing just fine for someone whose mum didn’t drag him to balls and teach him old-fashioned manners,” Gareth told him.
“Your mum didn’t do that!”
“She did. It wasn’t fun, I can tell you that much.”
Jack didn’t believe it. While he’d researched ball etiquette, Gareth had taken Daniel shopping for suits that matched their partners’ dresses and had told the boys to find small gifts for Jess and Carol.
He’d even coached Nico on what to say when he picked Carol up from her home.
Gareth loved the whole romantic hullaballoo and had ensured their evening felt special, even when none of the teenagers looked forward to the ball.
“My mum’s started having words with people,” Gareth said, proving once again that he was turning into a mind reader.
“Baxter told me the same. He put the video into the system and flagged it to the right people. There should be extra eyes on Manville soon.” The problem with these things, of course, was how long they took if one went the legal route.
It would be so much faster—not to mention more satisfying—to drag Manville into an alley and teach him a lesson.
Not that it would end the matter. In Jack’s extensive experience, leopards didn’t change their spots. Not even after a beating.
“Hey. Do you need a distraction?”
Gareth’s palm moulded to Jack’s cheek and his thumb brushed Jack’s lower lip, the light movement suggestive and distracting.
His lover wasn’t offering that kind of distraction, though.
Gareth’s smooth, unbothered expression hid the same worries that kept Jack from relaxing.
A roll in the sheets might pass the time.
It wouldn’t soothe either one of them until they had Nico and Daniel home and safe.
Jack settled his hand over Gareth’s and dredged up a smile. “I like the way you think. How about you cook, and I watch, and we save your distraction for dessert?”
Feeding Jack had helped Gareth keep his own worries under wraps.
They’d settled on horseradish mash and beef stew—comfort food for Jack.
While that had been easy to come by thanks to his well-stocked freezer, he’d also made a quick apple tart and a jug of thick vanilla custard.
Appreciative, Jack had worked hard to put himself in a food coma, and Gareth’s anxiety had dropped another notch.
Jack had a nose for trouble, and so far, it hadn’t even twitched.
They were reading—Gareth in his favourite armchair, Jack stretched out on the couch—when the crunch of tyres on gravel had them both sitting upright.
“It’s not even midnight yet,” Jack said as Daniel and Nico came tumbling into the living room.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” Nico yawned and fell backwards into an armchair.
“Truth.” Daniel settled on the couch.
“So, you didn’t enjoy the ball? Did anything happen?”
“It was okay,” Daniel said. “Jess looked amazing.”
Gareth’s eyes met Jack’s and found his own thoughts reflected there. Neither boy was hurt or in distress, so he continued asking. “Want to tell us about it?”
“Hang on.” Jack ducked out of the room and returned moments later with water, lemonade, and a bottle of wine on a tray. While Nico and Daniel reached for the water, Jack uncorked the wine and poured himself a glass.
Gareth was glad to see it. While a stressed-out Jack could be fun to level out, he hated seeing Jack anxious and worried.
“Right,” Jack said after he’d taken a sip. “Tell all. How did the girls look? Did they like their gifts?”
Tired nods answered both questions.
“They had a buffet with finger food,” Daniel volunteered after a while. “Mini sausage rolls, and tiny Yorkshire puddings, and such.”
“I thought there was going to be proper music, but they had a DJ,” Nico added. “A DJ who played waltz and tango. That was weird.”
“No weirder than Jess asking him to play the Charleston.”
“That was the dress.”
“Or that it’s the only dance she’s good at.”
Gareth chuckled. Daniel noticed the food, Nico paid attention to the music—and the day ended in y. “I thought the ball was running longer,” he said.
“We ducked out as soon as we could,” Nico said. “Manville didn’t stop moving all evening. Keeping eyes on him was tricky. And hanging out on the dance floor for hours on end was tiring.”
Gareth really, really wanted to hit someone. Barrington Manville, preferably, for making the kids’ first ball an exercise in anxiety. Fortunately, he had a Jack, and Jack had it covered.
“Well, I hope you’ll enjoy tomorrow’s ridotto a little better.”
“Oh my god, is that tomorrow?”
“It is. And here’s something Skylar left with me before he buggered off to Japan.” Jack handed over two bags and leaned back in his chair. And as Nico and Daniel unwrapped the tissue paper from four stunning half masks, he smiled for the first time that night.
“These are amazing!”
“Jess will have a cow!”
Gareth hid his amusement when Nico and Daniel disappeared up the stairs with a perfunctory wave and comments about hanging up their suits. “The masks went down a treat.”
“Yeah.” Jack’s fingers flew over his phone. “I’m letting Payne know he scored a hit.”
“All the kudos,” Gareth agreed. “We should take photos for him tomorrow.”
“Oh, definitely.”
Gareth sipped his whisky. He watched as Jack’s tight muscles unwound a little more with each sip of wine and breathed out his own tension in a long rush of air. He’d never regretted rescuing two scared kids from a nightclub, nor had he regretted a day since. But some days were harder than others.
He started when Jack dropped into his lap without warning and wound his arms around his neck. Their kiss was a mix of berries and smoke. It held no urgency and only a hint of heat, was as comforting as it was familiar.
Gareth could have stayed like this for the rest of the night, content to have Jack close.
Jack had other ideas. Mischief sparkled in his eyes when he ended the kiss and touched their foreheads together. “Remember our discussion about dessert?” he said, voice low and a touch rough. “How about it?”
“I’m so glad I skipped lunch,” Jack said as he spread another scone with rose petal jam. Jam made from flowers had never come his way, but he knew two people who would relish a challenge if he but asked. Though they’d probably make him murder roses.
Jack sipped his coffee and let his gaze roam the ballroom.
The mix of pillars, palm trees, and gold-accented walls could have come from a documentary about the Roaring Twenties, as could the elegant guests in half-masks dancing to the music played by a small orchestra.
The four teenagers sported genuine smiles, and in his line of sight, Gareth waltzed with Jess’s mother as if this was the most natural way to spend a Sunday.
Jack was in full agreement, even if he paid more attention to the tiered stands of slim-cut sandwiches, scones, pastries, and trays of handmade chocolates than the dancing.
“I’ve never attended a tea dance,” Jess’s father said, choosing his next treat from the tray of pastries, “but I’m grateful you suggested it. Jess is so much happier today.”
The music changed from a waltz to the Charleston, and the number of couples on the dance floor diminished. Jack could waltz, tango, and jive, but the Charleston was outside his repertoire. He watched Jess, who was fiendishly good at it, and who even looked the part.
“Where did Jess find that dress?” Jack asked, while he wondered if he had room for another scone or should take a spoon to the dish of jam.
“At a vintage fair, if you can believe that.” Jess’s father shook his head.
“Glorified car boot sale, if you ask me. We were coming back from Cornwall and got stuck in traffic. My two spotted the sign, declared they needed a bathroom, so we pulled in. An hour later we hauled her out of the place with dress in tow. No idea if it’s genuine. ”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s making it look the part.”
“That she does.”
Jack wondered if he sounded as fond when he spoke of Daniel and Nico. Gareth sat down beside him a moment later, and Jack handed him the rose petal jam—explanations superfluous.
“We have to do this again.” Tara and her husband re-joined the table, both flushed from dancing. “I’ve not tried to do the Charleston since before we had Carol. And look at the kids—don’t you just love watching them have fun?”
“Those masks were fabulous. Did you take photos?”
“Did you see Jess do the Charleston?”
“You couldn’t keep up!”
“And my feet are killing me!”
“I want to frame a photo for Carol. You should do one for Jess, too. And maybe send some pictures to Skylar.”
“This was so much fun!”
Gareth couldn’t get a word in edgeways, but he had no intention of interrupting the happy melee.
While the adults had spent the afternoon enjoying food, conversation, and the occasional dance, the four teenagers had barely left the dance floor.
They’d had fun experimenting with their new skills without Manville’s shadow hanging over them, and nobody had had the heart to stop them.