Chapter 3 #2
My phone rings. Ashley. I decline the call and turn my phone off.
“Your wife again?” Angus asks gently. “You don’t want to talk to her?”
“What would I say that hasn’t already been said?”
“I don’t know.” He gives me an apologetic glance before focusing on the road once more.
“Do you think you’ll change your mind?”
“About divorcing her?”
He nods.
“She’ll try to talk me into changing my mind.”
“Will she succeed?”
“No,” I say firmly, but quietly. “Our marriage is over.”
We drive in silence for a while, the only sound the rumble of the engine, Angus’ music, and the wind whipping into the car.
Eventually, Angus turns down a dirt track road through trees, which the Land Rover handles with bumpy ease.
Once the trees have petered out, Angus stops the car, puts it into neutral, pulls the squeaky handbrake on, and turns the engine off.
We’re on a hill, overlooking the city. The sky is indigo blue, with darker clouds wisping across it.
The moon is visible, and stars are starting to emerge.
Below us, street and house lights twinkle.
“Wow.”
“The view’s even better outside.” Angus tilts his head towards his door and gets out.
I follow him, joining him in front of the Land Rover. He puts his hands on the bonnet behind him and, with a metallic squeak and crunch, hops onto it and sits with his boots resting on the bumper.
“Join me?”
“Can it take my weight as well?”
Angus pats the bumper. “Yes, she can. Her name’s Elle, by the way.”
“Elle?” I get onto the bonnet clumsily with far too much scrambling to be graceful, and sit beside him, our shoulders grazing unintentionally.
“After Elle Woods.”
I give him a blank stare.
“From Legally Blonde?”
I shake my head.
“It’s a rom-com.”
I rest my forearms on my thighs and loosely clasp my hands between my splayed knees. “So, let me get this straight: you’re a farm boy who studies accounting, lifts weights for fun, and enjoys rom-coms.”
“Yup. And, for the record, there’s nothing straight about me.” He grins and nudges me with his elbow.
My collar suddenly feels too tight, my clothing uncomfortable, and the air around us too hot. I look away from him sharply. “It’s beautiful here.” I stutter over the words like a lust-struck teenager.
“It really is.” He sounds a little awestruck as he gazes at the view.
I wait a few moments until my ridiculous reaction to his sexuality has subsided. “Thanks for tonight.”
“Did having some company help?”
I turn to look at him, my gaze colliding with his. “Yes.”
He smiles brightly. Beautifully. “I’m glad.” He has the most glorious lips. “Let me know when you want me to take you back.”
“Back?”
“To town. Or wherever you’re staying tonight.” His expression falls. “You do have somewhere to stay, don’t you?”
“I’ll find a hotel. There’s plenty in the city. One’s bound to have empty rooms.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
I frown. “What doesn’t?”
“Your wife cheats on you, and you’re the one who ends up in a hotel.”
I shrug. “I walked out on her. Besides, it’s not like I want to sleep in our bed ever again.”
“She—?” His eyes widen. “She didn’t?”
“She did.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”
We chuckle, although the combined sound dies quickly.
“I’m happy here,” I say. “Assuming you are. Feel free to take me back to town whenever you want to.”
Angus rubs the base of his thumb. “I’m good here, too.” He gives me a sheepish smile and then stares straight ahead.
I glance around. “Does anyone else ever come here?”
“Trail bikers during the day, sometimes. I’ve never run into anyone else up here in the evening.”
I glance through the windscreen at the back seats. I imagine you could have a lot of fun on those seats, knowing you weren’t going to be disturbed. I shouldn’t be having thoughts like that.
Angus follows my stare, smirks, and then leans onto his hands and lifts his gaze towards the sky.
He hooks one knee over the other and bounces his lower leg.
He’s mesmerising. His eyes sparkle in the diminishing light.
I trace the profile of his face with my eyes, snagging on his lips.
I trail my gaze down, gawping at his impressive physique.
He must know I’m ogling him. I’m practically drooling.
What am I doing?
I might want a divorce, but I haven’t filed for divorce yet.
Not that I’ve had a chance. Do solicitors work in the evenings?
I’m still a married man. Even if I wasn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that Angus is younger than me and a student at the university where I lecture.
His smirk suggests he doesn’t mind me staring.
It suggests he enjoys it. Does he like me?
“What do you do to relax?” Why did I ask that?
He glances at me for half a second. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Yes.” I’m whispering. Why am I whispering?
He lowers himself so his back is resting against the windscreen and folds his arms under his head. His T-shirt stretches almost to breaking point over his broad chest. His biceps bulge. He’s so powerful. So beautiful. His jeans are as tight as his T-shirt, and hug his thick thighs.
He stares at me and pinches his bottom lip between his teeth before saying, “I find sex pretty relaxing.”
Oh, fuck. This beautiful, sexy man is flirting with me.
“So is working out, and watching rom-coms, of course.”
“Of course.”
“How about you? What do you do to relax?”
I could give a dozen innocent responses—well, maybe half a dozen—but none of them trip off my tongue.
One word settles there, threatening to spill out of my mouth.
Sex. I shouldn’t. I mustn’t. But I want to.
I’m stressed beyond belief, and this gorgeous guy is offering to help me relax.
That is what’s happening here, isn’t it?
I shouldn’t.
I mustn’t.
“Richard? What do you do to relax?” He smiles and laughs his way through the question, nudging me with his leg.
Delightful tingling radiates from the point of contact, flowing through my body, making me temporarily dizzy and breathless.
“Have you lost your voice?”
My mind, maybe, but not my voice. I lean towards him, watching his face carefully as I get closer.
He doesn’t move, just smiles. He’s so relaxed.
So gorgeous. I press my lips to his. I intend to give him a quick peck, which is far too much, but then he reciprocates, and I’m lost. His lips mould against mine, and then he parts them, inviting my tongue into his mouth.
He moans as I oblige him. Blood thunders in my ears and rushes to my groin.
I kiss him harder and run my fingers through his short, golden-brown hair.
I lose myself in the act of kissing him.
For a few, wonderful moments, the tension, anger, and shock evaporate from my body, replaced by need and desire.
Eventually, my lungs complain, making me come up for air.
Angus stares at me, blinking slowly, his pupils blown wide. “You’re an amazing kisser.”
God help me, I almost wish he’d called me Professor Jones.