Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jake closed his eyes and hummed in appreciation. When was the last time he’d eaten something this good?
Ru’s quiet chuckle brought him back from the edge of chicken stew induced ecstasy. “Bet now you’re glad I insisted on cooking.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. Was Ru looking… smug? “It’s hot and there’s chicken. What more can I say?”
Ru’s eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise, before he tutted. “Faint praise, but I’ll take it.”
They carried on eating, the silence not awkward for a change but easy and companionable.
“I, erm, couldn’t help but take a look at your bookcase, and photos.” Ru looked up at Jake through the hair that was forever falling across his eyes. Jake said nothing, knowing what was coming. “You’re ex-army. Suppose I should have guessed.”
“Why’s that?” Jake put down his spoon, his head quirking to the side. He was putting Ru on the spot. It was a bit mean, but watching Ru getting flustered was more than a little enjoyable. As was seeing the deep flush on his cheeks.
“Well, you know—”
“Do I? What should I know?” Jake leant back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Erm, the general air of competence. With the storm. And wood chopping. That kind of stuff.”
“Stuff?” Jake arched his brow. Should he really be enjoying watching Ru tie himself into knots so much?
Ru peered at him, and huffed. Jake had been rumbled.
“Stop being an arse.”
Jake laughed. “Guilty as charged. On both counts. I served for fifteen years, ten of which were spent in the SAS. And before you ask, I’m not at liberty to talk about my experiences in the service.” Which was mainly true.
Too many of those who tried to pump him for details had overdosed on trashy all-action hero novels, or had consumed one too many of the so-called ‘true accounts’ which, from Jake’s reading, rarely rang true at all and which he doubted had been written by those who’d served other than in their imagination.
“Then tell me about Whitby Survival. Your courses look pretty intense.”
Jake just about stopped himself from letting out a long sigh of relief. His business, which he’d built from scratch. They were on safe and solid ground, which didn’t threaten to shift beneath his feet.
“They are. I started it when I returned to civi street. They’re not your typical glamping with a side of wilderness skills that most offer. I focus on real survival techniques, the kind that might actually save your life someday.”
He found himself warming to the topic, his usual reticence fading as he described the various courses he offered. Ru listened attentively, asking intelligent questions and showing genuine rather than polite interest.
“Most of my clients are involved in search and rescue teams, or are expedition leaders. People who can’t afford to make mistakes.
But lately, I’ve been getting quite a few corporate enquiries, who think it’s all about team building.
Which it is to an extent, but not how they understand it.
They think a weekend of roughing it will somehow transform a bunch of accountants’ bean counting skills.
” Jake couldn’t quite keep the disdain from his voice.
Ru grinned. “Let me guess. City boys show up expecting to dab on some war paint then run around for a bit before a session in a hot tub followed by a gourmet dinner where they brag about their heroics?”
“Got it in one,” Jake confirmed, surprised by Ru’s insight. “But a night in a tent, experiencing a proper storm, usually sorts them out.”
“I can imagine. This kind of weather must be quite the wake-up call for the unprepared. I’ve got to say, I’m glad I’m not sleeping in a barn, or trying to put up a tent in howling winds in the middle of Dartmoor.
Plus, I’ve got an expert looking after me.
” Ru’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Not that I’m expecting you to look after me.
I just meant you know what you’re doing. With the generator and everything.”
“And chopping wood, and stuff?”
Ru tutted. “And that, too.”
They carried on eating, the only sound an occasional howl of wind against the windows. Outside, darkness had fallen completely, intensifying the sense of isolation, just the two of them in the warm kitchen while the storm raged beyond the walls.
“Well, it’s all a long way from what I do for a living. I’m an illustrator, mostly for kids’ books.”
“And that pays the rent? Ah, sorry, that—”
“Came out wrong?” Ru cocked a brow, but there was no resentment in his voice or on his face.
He smiled, sudden and bright, and it was as though the sun had burst through storm clouds.
“It does. I’ve worked hard at building a name and a good reputation.
I’m actually in demand and end up having to turn down work because I’m so busy.
But I know I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve just signed the contract for a big commission.
I won’t be getting down to it properly until later in January.
Decamping to Bobblecombe, however, was going to give me time to start thinking and planning, as well as keeping me at arm’s length from all the distractions back in London…
” Ru looked away as a shadow passed over his face.
Jake wanted to ask, itched to ask, about what those distractions were, but no way would he dig for information that wasn’t freely offered.
“What are you working on?” Jake asked instead.
“It’s a series.” Ru’s face lit up. “I pour myself into every job I take, and love every one, but there are some where I find just a little bit more passion, I suppose.” He leant forward, eyes shining.
Jake’s heart fluttered. He got it. That feeling of finding your place in the universe that made you want to give every drop of yourself. The army had been his place, once, until—
“… believe so hard in this project. It’s vital that kids should learn about the natural world.
The publisher wants illustrations that are scientifically accurate but still appealing to children of primary school age.
” He smiled ruefully. “It’s harder than it sounds, finding that balance between realism and cuteness. ”
“I can imagine,” Jake said, catching up. “Must be challenging to make a badger both accurate and cuddly. They can be vicious bastards.”
“I was hoping to observe some wildlife in Bobblecombe. Books and reference photos only get you so far.”
“There’s a sett in the woods on the edge of the farm though the badgers aren’t massively active in the winter. You’ve more chance of spotting the foxes, once the storm’s passed.”
“Really?” Ru’s face glowed with such genuine enthusiasm that Jake felt an unexpected warmth spread through his chest. “That would be amazing. I’ve seen plenty of urban foxes in London, but they’re not exactly in their natural habitat, scavenging through bins outside kebab shops.”
Jake was no stranger to seeing that himself, when he’d been on leave and out with the lads, all of them with too much beer in their bellies, staking out a rank kebab or burger at the end of the night. He smiled at the bitter-sweet memory.
“No kebabs around here, but plenty of wildlife. Foxes, rabbits, birds of prey.”
“I’d love to see them,” Ru said wistfully. “Maybe I could sketch them from a distance, if you showed me where to look.”
“I could do that when the weather clears a bit.”
What the hell?
As soon as the weather broke Ru would be out and on his way, and he’d be returning to his grey, solitary existence.
Jake’s stomach knotted. Wasn’t solitary just another word for lonely?
He wanted to grab the offer back, but like the genie emerging from the bottle, it was too late.
Ru was gazing at him with undisguised enthusiasm.
“I’ve got trail cameras set up too. I use them to teach tracking. Could show you the footage sometime.”
What. The. Fuck?
“That would be brilliant.” Ru’s smile was so bright it put the sun to shame. “Thank you.”
Jake nodded, and redirected every shred of his focus back to the food.
But he could no longer taste a thing as his mind raced.
He’d got himself into a mess, and it had been so damn easy.
He was supposed to be maintaining distance, not planning woodland excursions.
Not making promises that suggested Ru’s stay might extend beyond the absolute minimum.
Yet, as he carried on going through the motions of eating, a tiny voice asked him if it really would be such a bad thing if Ru stayed a little longer?
In the background water hissed from a tap, joined by the clatter of the dishwasher being loaded.
Jake looked at the place where his bowl had been and found it gone.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
This was dangerous territory he was entering.
The increasingly easy companionship, the growing awareness.
He needed to remember Ru was no more than a temporary presence in his life, not someone to connect with, not someone to reveal himself to.
Not someone to want.
Yet as he listened to Ru moving about in the kitchen, Jake found his defences begin to crumble, like the logs slowly turning to embers in the iron wood burner.