Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Matt stared at the paragraph he’d been trying to write for the last ten minutes.
The cursor blinked. That was the only sign of life in the barn.
He leaned back from the laptop with a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.
This is hopeless.
Coming to Owen’s barn to work, escaping Jamie, Steggie and the general chaos that accompanied his family? It had seemed like the perfect plan. Instead, he’d written three hundred words, deleted two hundred and eighty of them, and spent far too much time gazing out of the window.
And I’m doing it again.
The pool glittered in the sunshine. Owen lay on one of the loungers in a pair of yellow shorts, a paperback open across his chest. From time to time he reached for his drink without taking his eyes off the page.
A poster boy for relaxation.
Matt returned his attention to the laptop.
Post-war masculinity was frequently characterised by emotional restraint…
Delete.
His gaze drifted to the window. Again.
Why do you keep staring at him? What are you hoping to see?
He had no idea.
Liar.
Two days ago he’d wondered what seeing two men together said about him.
This morning Eric had all but laughed at the idea that he could think his way to an answer.
Sometimes you have to collect the evidence by actually doing things.
Matt had spent years focused on basic assumptions.
You met someone. You either wanted them or you didn’t. End of story. Simple.
Except nothing about Owen felt simple.
Matt already knew he liked talking to him, liked making Owen laugh. Matt could listen to him for hours.
Now, apparently, he liked watching Owen read.
Matt snorted. Well, that’s a new one.
His gaze wandered back to the pool.
Owen turned a page. He didn’t glance up once.
Matt’s breathing hitched, and his ribs felt tight. He glanced away.
Why should that disappoint me?
He’d noticed when Owen looked at him. And now he noticed when Owen didn’t.
That was new too.
Matt closed the laptop. He didn’t have a hope in hell of writing another coherent sentence until he stopped wondering why his attention kept drifting to the pool.
Maybe I just fancy a beer.
Maybe.
He stood, stretched, grabbed the bottle of water he’d packed into his bag, and headed for the door, stepping out into warmth and sunshine.
Owen glanced up instantly. “Finished already?”
He huffed. “No chance.”
“Well, you could always join me.” Owen jerked his thumb towards the pool house.
“There’s beer in the fridge. And a lounger if you want one.
Patio chairs too, if you prefer that.” Owen flashed that disarming smile.
“Have a break. You’ve earned it.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m your escape route, aren’t I?”
Matt chuckled. “Did it show that much?”
The quiet was suddenly shattered by a series of squeals and whoops coming from the direction of Matt’s garden.
Owen smirked. “It could be worse. You could be there.”
A beat later, Matt was laughing.
“Okay, maybe a short break. Then I might do a different kind of work.” He peered at the paving below his feet. “These slabs aren’t going to clean themselves.”
“They’ve waited this long,” Owen said with a smirk. “I’m sure they can survive another half hour.”
Matt smiled. “True.” His gaze drifted back to Owen.
The yellow shorts shouldn’t have mattered. Neither should the easy way Owen lounged in the chair, one ankle crossed over the other, at ease in the sunlight.
None of it explained why Matt caught himself noticing ridiculous things. The silver threading through Owen’s beard. The way his forearms had browned in the sun.
When did I start looking this closely?
Almost as though Owen sensed it, he glanced up, their eyes met, and he gave Matt a warm smile.
One that lingered.
Matt’s chest grew tight.
Would he smile like that at anybody? The question came out of nowhere.
The fact he’d asked it unsettled him even more.
He looked away first. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I think I left my charger at home.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Matt tapped the pocket of his shorts. “I’ll be five minutes.”
“Take your time.”
He nodded, turned, and headed towards the gate, knowing full well the charger was lurking at in the bottom of his laptop bag.
He was going home because, for the first time in his life, he was beginning to suspect the person he couldn’t stop staring at was more than interesting.
And he needed a minute to get his head around that.
By the time he reached his front door, his heart was pounding. He went inside quietly, heard voices in the lounge, and crept upstairs. Once he was in his bedroom, he pulled open a drawer and stared at its contents, momentarily lost.
Jeans? Yeah, no.
Cargo shorts? Way too baggy.
Old football shorts? Absolutely not.
He rummaged through the piles of neatly folded clothing—and then he found them. Another pair of teal shorts, the ones he’d worn on holiday last year. A little shorter than his usual variety.
Matt slipped off his long shorts and stepped into the teal ones, gazing at his reflection in the wardrobe door. They were a good fit. More importantly, they showed the result of all the hours he’d spent in the uni gym without appearing as though they were trying to.
Then he laughed.
What on earth am I doing?
Except he already knew the answer to that. He wasn’t showing off or even flirting.
I’m just…wondering.
He reached for a T-shirt, then paused. His hand drifted instead to the white vest he wore to the gym. He stared at it. Gazed at his reflection. “Oh, this is ridiculous.”
He pulled it on anyway.
Matt had spent most of his life observing other people. For once, he was curious what someone else might observe about him.
He left the house as quietly as he’d entered it, and headed next door.
Owen was still reading by the pool. Matt walked over to him, doing his best not to stare at Owen’s muscled thighs, his bare feet, legs crossed at the ankles.
“Did you find it?” Owen murmured without looking up from his book.
“Hmm?”
“Your charger. You know, the—” Owen turned his head and became very still.
Fuck.
He cleared his throat. “The one you went to fetch.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m really not with it this morning. I think it’s in my laptop bag.”
Owen’s eyes lingered on Matt’s shoulders before drifting lower. Then his gaze snapped back to Matt’s face. “What? Oh, good.”
Matt wandered over to the stack of paving slabs at the deep end of the pool. He nudged one with the toe of his trainer. “Can we talk about these?”
“Those?” Owen cursed himself for the frog that had apparently taken up residence in his throat. “What about them?”
Matt’s lips twitched. “Well, apart from the fact they’re concrete, they’re ugly…”
Owen coughed. “All of which is true.”
“So are you sure you want to keep them?”
“They’re structurally sound, aren’t they?”
Matt’s eyes sparkled. “Can we go back to the ‘they’re ugly’ part?” He laughed. “‘Structurally sound’? That’s the least enthusiastic recommendation I’ve ever heard.”
Owen grinned. “They’re paving slabs. They don’t need charisma.”
Matt shook his head. “Everything benefits from a bit of charisma.”
“You’ll have to work harder than that to persuade me paving does.”
Matt folded his arms. “It certainly would if you were trying to sell it.”
Owen lowered his sunglasses just enough to gaze over the top of them. “Fortunately, I’m not.”
Matt came over to stand beside Owen’s lounger, slid his hand into the pocket of shorts that seemed considerably shorter than the pair he’d been wearing earlier, and took out his phone.
“I found these online.” He bent down, and Owen caught a whiff of sweat and clean cotton.
Far too close.
Hastily, he moved his book lower before peering at the screen. He was looking at light grey square tiles, set in a garden. “Porcelain tiles? Don’t they usually go in kitchens and bathrooms?”
“They also go outdoors.” Matt gestured to the pool. “And they’d look amazing here. Plus they’re weatherproof, easy to clean…”
That smell was tantalising.
“Okay, you’ve sold me. What do we do with all this lot, though?”
“Easy. Lift them up, clean them off, sell them.” Matt crouched down, placing his hand flat on the nearest slab. “How heavy do you reckon they are?”
Owen tried not to stare at flexing thigh muscles. “Heavy enough that I don’t fancy doing it myself.” He paused. “But then again, that’s why I hired you. Because you came with muscles.” Matt glanced up, and Owen blinked. “Manpower. That was the word I was looking for.”
Matt’s mouth twitched.
Owen cleared his throat. “That… that didn’t come out right.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.” There wasn’t even a hint of mockery in Matt’s voice.
That made it worse.
“I’ll go and get the wheelbarrow, then I’ll make a start on moving the extra slabs to the front of the house. You know, get them out of the way. Then I’ll work out how many tiles we’ll need.” Matt strolled in the direction of the shed.
Owen watched him go.
New shorts. That white vest. The fact that Matt had somehow managed to appear older and younger at the same time. And unless he was very much mistaken, Matt had wanted him to notice.
Owen leaned back on the lounger and closed his eyes.
Don’t even think about it.
Matt wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his vest. “Phew. It’s getting warmer.”
Owen uncapped another bottle of water and wandered over. “Hydrate.” Matt took it, and their fingers brushed. Owen let go almost immediately.
Too quickly.
He took two steps backwards before he realised he’d done it.
Idiot.
Matt drank half the bottle in one go before lowering it with a satisfied sigh.
“You’ll thank me more in an hour,” Owen informed him.
He arched his eyebrows. “I will?”
Owen chuckled. “When your back still works.”
Matt grinned. “So now you’re concerned about my body.”
“Your back,” he corrected. “You know, the bit that’s currently engaged in lifting paving slabs.”
Matt’s smile widened another fraction before he went back to work.
This is Jeff’s son. Twenty-five. Straight. So for God’s sake, stop noticing.
Owen picked up his book and read the same sentence four times.
He didn’t absorb a single word.
He watched as Matt lifted another slab. He tried to read another page.
Failed.
Matt was wrestling another paving slab into the wheelbarrow.
“Bend your knees,” Owen called. “That’s not how you lift.”
Matt grinned. “Have you always been this bossy?”
“I prefer ‘efficient.’” Owen smirked. “Callum has other words for it.”
“I can imagine.” Matt glanced at Owen over his shoulder. “I quite like bossy.”
Owen’s brain immediately supplied an interpretation.
Don’t.
He means organised.
He has to mean organised.
“Is that so?” he managed.
Matt nodded. “It saves me making decisions.”
Owen laughed, a fraction too late.
He can’t possibly know how that sounded—Can he?
A heartbeat later he exhaled. Of course not. Matt was simply talking.
Owen was the one hearing things that weren’t there.
Matt straightened, stretching the small of his back. “I’ve reached a conclusion.”
Owen looked up from the book he wasn’t reading. “Indeed?”
“You own too many heavy things.”
He gave a thoughtful nod. “I’ll make a note of that before my next house move.”
Matt laughed. “You say that as though there’ll be another one.”
“There won’t,” Owen replied in a firm tone.
Matt tilted his head. “You like it here?”
Owen glanced around the garden. “I think I’m going to.”
“Time for a break.” Matt kicked off his trainers and sat on the edge of the pool, a bottle beside him, his feet dangling in the water. “When you bought this place, were you picturing all this as a space for your parties?”
He was quiet for a moment. “No. I bought a house, and slowly, I’m turning it into a home.”
“And reinventing yourself in the process.”
Owen wasn’t sure that was an apt description. “Isn’t that what you’ve done?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Matt frowned. “I’ve only ever been me.”
“But that’s not true. You’ve been a schoolboy, a teenager, an undergraduate, a master’s student...” Owen shrugged. “You’re just doing it gradually.”
Matt considered that. “I never thought about it like that.”
“Most people don’t.”
He fixed his gaze on the sunlit water. “Do you think we ever stop changing?”
Owen smiled to himself. “I hope not.”
“Really?”
“If I’d been asked that at twenty-five, I’d have given you a completely different answer.” He glanced at Matt. “Life has a habit of introducing you to versions of yourself you didn’t know existed.”
Matt was quiet.
“Sometimes,” Owen added, “they’re exactly who you were supposed to become.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. The only sounds were the splash of Matt’s feet in the pool and the distant laughter drifting over the hedge from next door.
Owen picked up his book again.
He still didn’t read a single word.
Matt waited a minute before giving voice to his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”
Owen chuckled. “You usually do.”
“You said after Ben died you decided relationships weren’t for you.”
He nodded.
“Do you ever think you might change your mind?”
The question hung between them. Owen didn’t answer immediately.
“No.” The word slipped out quietly. “I don’t think so.”
“Never?”
Owen smiled. “Callum says never say never, but…”
“But?”
“I’d need a very good reason.”
Matt nodded. His heart sank, not that he understood why. Owen’s love life had absolutely nothing to do with him.
He stood, shaking the drops of water from his feet. “Back to work.”
“I nearly forgot. I’ve booked the Savoy.”
Matt glanced up. “Already?”
Owen laughed. “When you volunteered to go to the reunion, didn’t you think to ask when it was?” Before Matt could confess he didn’t have a clue, Owen continued, “It’s next week.”
He blinked. “But… Dad only got the email last week. Surely they give you more notice than that.”
Owen drank from his bottle before answering. “That was possibly the third reminder. I suspect your dad had been putting it off because of your granddad. And if I’m honest, I’d almost decided not to attend until you offered to go in their place.”
Matt stared at him. “Then what changed your mind?”
Owen smiled. “Do you really think I was going to let you walk into a room full of people you’ve never met on your own?” He shrugged. “Coming with you seemed the obvious thing to do.”
Matt wasn’t sure why those words pleased him as much as they did.
Owen pointed towards the wheelbarrow. “Back to work.”
He gave a mock salute. “Right away… boss.”
Owen rolled his eyes, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Matt bent to lift another paving slab. As he straightened, he caught Owen looking, just for a second.
Owen’s eyes flicked away almost immediately, and Matt felt an absurd little spark of satisfaction.
Mr Cool, Calm and Collected wasn’t quite as impossible to fluster as he’d first appeared.
Matt still didn’t know what any of it meant, but he was beginning to enjoy finding out.