by Con Riley
How many months had she been ill?
The thought struck him that Susan might have died while he’d been away. It looked as though she’d come close.
Carl watched as he tucked into his meal, eyes darting between Jude and his wife, and Rob who talked her into trying a tiny taste of each of his offerings. And that was what they were, Jude recognised now. Not Rob showing off or pitching the bar too high for average people compared to boutique-hotel clients. No, he’d created a tasting menu designed to tempt a waning appetite. Carl nodded once he saw his wife eating, relaxing enough that he lost his usual gruffness. He finished the bass Jude had prepared and was complimentary. Rob stood and took his empty plate from him.
Susan tapped the back of the seat Rob vacated. “Now come and sit next to me, Jude. Let me catch you up on village gossip.”
Jude did exactly that, listening as he learned of the storm and how many families had left when the tourist trade dried up until someone slid a plate in front of him; a fillet of pan-seared bass smelled fresh and tempting. “Go on,” Rob urged. “Stay and eat while Carl and I go talk business. Catch up on what you missed here.”
Jude watched him leave this room that, now he paid attention, was perfect for private dining, snug in a whole new way. He ate and listened, thinking hard the whole while about what else he might have missed if he’d put off coming home any longer.
“That went well,” Rob said as he cleared dessert plates, almost an hour later.
Jude stifled a huge yawn while chasing the last of his lemon soufflé with the tip of his finger. “Would have been even better if you made the puddings bigger. I could eat at least another dozen.”
“You’d make yourself sick. But I’m glad you liked them.” The tips of Rob’s ears were pink as if Jude’s praise had somehow warmed them. “I forgot you had a sweet tooth.”
“But I do get it now.” Jude collected the stack of platters Rob had used to serve each course to Susan. He followed him back to the kitchen. “I can see why you made each serving so tiny.” It had been eye-opening to witness firsthand just how quickly Susan had run out of steam, only the prettiness of the food encouraging her to eat a few bites more as her appetite fizzled. He yawned again before saying, “It looked about all that she could manage.”
“Reminded me of one of the only times Dad and I got along in the kitchen,” Rob admitted. “Tempting Mum to eat was a big deal to him. When she was very sick, he’d offer her tiny portions. He shut down the hotel, and would get me to help carry these perfect little platefuls to wherever she was resting.” He paused, very still for a moment. “Anything with lemon was her favourite. Said it cut through the bad taste left by her treatments.”
He looked anywhere but at Jude, settling on unbuttoning and taking off his chef whites. Rob stretched after hanging up his jacket, the front of his T-shirt lifting, oblivious, Jude hoped, to the way his gaze fell as if weighted, soaking up a brief glimpse of bare skin that he’d once hoped to see much more of.
“Seemed like it might work for Susan as well,” Rob said.
“It did.” Jude agreed. “Definitely. Didn’t you see how pleased Carl was? I’ve known the man my whole life, but I swear to God I’ve never seen him so happy.” And he had been, positively animated instead of his usual dour and tight-lipped. Seeing Carl that way made Jude try harder as well. “He seemed pleased about how much Susan managed to eat. Did it sweeten your deal with him?”
Rob nodded before blurting, “It wouldn’t have mattered to me if it hadn’t, though. I mean, I know the business needs to make every penny it can, but I’d rather extract that from paying clients than from people who live here. They’ve been very welcoming, the ones who are left, I mean. Quick to help out the minute Louise asks.”
Jude could picture that. “Yeah, it’s one of the reasons I felt she’d be okay before I left. I knew the business would be fine in her hands. Barring storms, as it turned out,” he said tiredly, twisting water from a cloth to clear down.
Rob stopped him. “I can do that.”
“So can I.” Only a day before, he’d been chief cook and bottle washer for a whole yacht. By comparison, wiping the countertops and doing a few dishes here was nothing.
“Of course you can,” Rob agreed as a third huge yawn escaped Jude. He opened the kitchen door and tugged Jude along with him. “Only Louise yawned just like that when I told her about the new deal with Carl, so I’m wondering if you’re both overdue a nap, given that you arrived at dark o’clock this morning. Or,”—he picked up a cardboard box from the bottom of the stairs and passed it to Jude—“if you’re really determined to stay awake, how about we make a start getting these squared away in the boatshed?”
It was easier to follow him than to argue, simpler to set the box down where instructed in the place he’d last seen shadowed in almost darkness, so early that morning.
God, was it still only the same day?
“See, I told you it was nap time.” Rob’s hand low on his back exerted gentle pressure, more guidance than an actual shove that sent Jude to sit on the same bunk where he’d found Rob.
“Lie down. Rest your eyes.”
“No.”
“Catching forty winks won’t kill you.”
“Pushy,” Jude grumbled as he gave in and followed orders. Capable hands slid his shoes off before he could argue. He wiggled toes that had been largely bare for months, and sighed out, “God, that’s better.” That sigh turned into a deep groan. Rob pressed a thumb into his instep, pressure so relaxing that he just lay there and took it. “I know your game.”
“Yeah?” Rob’s hand now looped Jude’s ankle, more a caress than a shackle. His voice was so quiet. “What’s that then, genius?”
“It’s obvious.” The light through the portholes was a bright glare. He slung an arm over his eyes to shield them until Rob reached over him to pull the porthole curtains half closed.
“Is that so?”
Jude drifted, dapples of sunlight heating his chest almost as much as opening his eyes to find Rob’s face right above his did. “You just wanted to get me into your bed.”
“Oh, Jude.” Rob closed his eyes.
From this close, Jude saw every single black lash lower before lifting.
“Please don’t tempt me.”
9
“Why not?”
Rob’s answer was low and gritty. “Because we’re keeping this strictly business, remember? And—” he sat up abruptly, his back turned.
Jude reached out, body twisted as he leaned upon a forearm and pressed a palm against the blade of Rob’s shoulder. He felt something between a flinch and a shiver. “And what?” he asked, quiet even though there was no one there to overhear them. “Come here.” He snagged the bottom of Rob’s T-shirt, pulling the fabric taut until Rob let out a huge sigh and turned. Jude repeated that action, only this time he pulled at the front of Rob’s shirt, saying, “Closer.”
“This is close enough.”
“No, it’s not.” It really wasn’t. The twelve inches or so between them was at least a whole foot too distant. That distance increased as he gave in to tiredness, slumping back onto Rob’s pillows, every cell of his body weary yet strung so tight, expectant, wanting this man who wore the same slight frown as when preparing food for Susan. “And what?” Jude repeated.
It took an age for Rob to answer. “It doesn’t matter.” He exhaled very slowly, frown still in place and deepening. Jude reached up, trying to smooth it away with a brush of his fingers. This serious man wasn’t who he’d left in London. Here, with his back to the portholes, his face cast in shadow, Rob looked nothing like Jude remembered. Gone was any whisper of the casual confidence Jude had witnessed during the contest.
“Spit it out,” Jude said, tired. He’d close his eyes if Rob wasn’t such a sight for sore ones. “And what, exactly? Tell me.”
Rob equivocated, saying, “You must be drunk with tiredness.” He shook his head and added, “Such a lightweight,” but the subtle shift
of his expression was a clear reflection. It showed yet more of the fondness Jude had seen Rob extend so often today to his sister.
Fondness wasn’t what he wanted from Rob right then.
Jude stopped waiting for a real answer to his question, and instead took some action. He pulled, tugged, reeled Rob in, and down, and on him, his arms a knot around Rob’s neck that wouldn’t be easy to unravel. Rob braced over Jude, contemplative in the space between breaths, poised as if faced with a meal, wondering what to taste first. “I must be out of my mind.”
“Why?”
Rob closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them, his pupils dark wells. “Because,” he admitted with a sigh, “I know you’d never do this if your head wasn’t a mess. Lou told me,” he said as he put some distance between them. “So I’m going to go tick a few jobs off her chore list while you both nap.” Jude made to sit up. Rob’s hand landed on his stomach, lingering for a moment, pressing. “No. You catch forty winks. I wasn’t up for half the night like you were.”
It was very tempting to stay horizontal. “What did you mean?” Jude asked. “She told you what about me?”
“That you’d never liked anyone enough to bring them home to meet your family.” His smile was small compared to the wide one Jude preferred. “I think I can guess why, which is why I can’t do this with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not out.” Rob’s frown described confusion. “I don’t get it, but you do you, I suppose. That means I can’t just pick up where we left off, not with what I had planned.”
“You had plans?”
“Of course I did.” Rob’s sigh was long-suffering. “I said I wanted to date you, didn’t I? That’s what I had planned before you left: a whole series of dates to convince you I wasn’t the waste of space you must have thought when you first met me. I wanted to prove that I was someone worth you spending your time with, not some entitled wanker, but I can see that can’t happen.”
“Why not.”
“Because I wouldn’t only want you behind closed doors, like this,” he said, low and honest. “If we dated, it would have to be right out in the open.”
Jude did eventually sleep after Rob’s… confession? Ultimatum? He didn’t know what to call it as he rewound and replayed Rob stating his limits. Him and Rob picking up from where they’d left off—no, going way beyond a first kiss to planning dates together, as though that was doable down here—was a lot to wade through. He drowsed while dwelling on Rob’s last sentence.
Of course, he couldn’t have dated out in the open while living under his dad’s roof. That would have been impossible. He drifted off while the thread of a brand-new thought wound around him—maybe he could now. It tangled as he slept, adding to that knot in his chest, still there when Louise let herself into the workshop and woke him.
“Sorry,” she whispered, a cardboard box in her arms. She put it on one of several stacks that hadn’t been there earlier. “Thought you’d still be dead to the world.”
“It’s okay.” Jude rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I’m awake.” He squinted. “What time is it?”
“Nearly six.” She neatened one of the stacks, a cardboard wall between her and him. “I’m about halfway there with clearing the study.” She cast a look in his direction. “Figured it would speed up the process if I helped Rob move these boxes. Make some room up there so I can get started decorating,” she said as Rob pushed his way inside too, a larger box in his arms.
Seeing him was like poking at a burnt-out campfire only to uncover a glowing ember; Jude was suddenly all too aware that he was still in the bed where Rob had declined to kiss him, and more. He hoped Louise wouldn’t notice how residual embarrassment heated his cheeks. He covered his face as if rubbing sleep away to hide it. “You should have woken me. I could have helped you with that.”
“It’s no bother.” Lou didn’t pay any attention to Jude. Instead, she homed in on Rob. “Honestly, Rob was taking such an age for each trip, it was either carry some boxes down here myself, or we’ll still be going at midnight.”
“I didn’t take that long.”
“Oh yes, you did.”
“I didn’t.” Rob aimed for deflection. He took a few more steps inside, closer to the bunk than to the stack where Louise had placed her box. “Where do you want me to put this one?”
Louise narrowed her eyes, Jude recognising the signs that she was about to tease. It was kind of fascinating to see her aim it full-force at someone other than him. He absently pushed up his T-shirt and scratched at his belly, a smile spreading.
Louise ignored Rob’s question. “You did take forever, Rob, and when I came to find out why, there you were, standing in the same spot you are now, staring. I thought you were having some kind of seizure.”
“I was not staring,” Rob insisted, his gaze dropping to where Jude’s stomach was bare before skittering in the other direction. “Besides, it’s not like there’s anything here to stare at.”
“Apart from Jude,” Louise said, considering. “You want to be careful, Rob.” And her next sentence was all it took to douse Jude with icy water. “There’s a name for people who do that.”
Only Jude noticed the way Rob’s features tightened, and his suddenly clipped tone. “Which is?”
“Edward Cullen.” She chuckled at her own joke, oblivious to Jude’s relieved exhale and Rob’s rigid shoulders. Instead, she crossed the boatshed to remove clutter from the bunk opposite Jude’s. “Although, now that I think about it, you didn’t seem half as triggered by his snoring as me, so you two might as well bunk together.” She was breezy as she left. “Remind me to dig out some clean sheets for you after supper.” The door closed with a click, loud in the sudden silence.
Jude stood, Rob unmoving until Jude reached for him. Then he stepped away sharply. “I can’t do this,” he said.
“Share the boatshed with me?”
“No.” Rob dumped the box onto the bunk Jude just vacated. The lid was askew, the corner of a framed photo visible. “I should have told her right from the start.”
“About you and me?”
“No.” His glance Jude’s way was bleak. “Like I said this morning, there’s hardly anything to tell, is there? We kissed once in London, and once here. For closure,” he added. “That’s it. End of story. But I shouldn’t have let worrying about outing you mean that I ended up back in the closet. Or stuck in a boatshed with you, either.” His huffed laugh didn’t sound happy. “Lou doesn’t deserve lies. Not from a business partner, and not after everything she’s been through. I should have been honest with her, and it’s shitty that I can’t be.”
He turned abruptly, leaving, while all Jude could do was watch him.
By the time Jude dragged on his shoes to follow, Rob had left the boatyard. He wasn’t waiting at the sea wall either. A sole seagull perched there, watching as Jude jogged past, its cries loud and mocking. Inside the pub, all was dead quiet, the kitchen spotless and shining, devoid of the one person he wanted.
And he did want Rob.
Hadn’t ever stopped, despite thousands of nautical miles between them.
Back then, wanting Rob had been an idle wish, a simple case of opposites attracting, a spark of interest that he’d assumed was one-sided right until Rob had kissed him. Maybe all Rob’s talk of first dates meant he’d imagined them leading up to meeting each other’s families, but what Louise had told Rob was the real truth: there was no way in the world that Jude could ever bring home a boyfriend. Even thinking that word seemed wrong here. He let out a deep breath at the thought of bringing Rob home, if things had been different, his exhale a rush of air that again seemed never-ending.
If things had been different was a train of thought that led him nowhere. He went upstairs to his dad’s study where he found Rob standing by the desk. He held a framed graduation photo of Jude that used to have pride of place above it. “You went to catering college in London?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
>
“Yeah.”
“You studied there the whole time?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t go to a local college first, then top up in London?”
That was a more usual pathway, Jude guessed. “No, I—”
Rob answered for him. “You wanted to get away from here as soon as you could.”
Jude nodded, finally letting out the whole truth. “Yeah. As fast as I could and for as long as I could.”
“Because you weren’t out.”
It was a statement, not a question, but still begged some explanation. Jude crossed the room to another wall still covered in framed photos. He lifted one from its hook. Although faded with age, it could have been taken of him, only it was his dad in the photo. He stood on the deck of a ship, squinting into the sunshine with an arm slung around another sailor’s shoulder.
“Is that your dad?” Rob stood closer. “Wow, you are the spit of him.” His gaze flicked between the photo and Jude. “Right down to the suntan. How old was he in this picture?”
“Then? The same age as me now. He’s in his sixties now.” Jude heard his use of the present tense, unable to make himself correct it.
Rob pointed at a similarly faded snapshot, this time of Porthperrin, the Anchor in the background. “Did he grow up here as well?”
“No. He grew up in the heart of England. The only time he got to see the sea when he was younger was when his family came to Cornwall every summer.”
“Here? He stayed in Porthperrin?”
“Yeah. His family camped here.” Jude was silent for a moment. The loss of the campground was more than geographic. Part of his family’s history had washed away with all that bone-white sand. “It’s where he met Mum. And it’s why he joined the Merchant Navy.”
“How come?”
“He was an engineer. The Merchant Navy paid much better than he could ever earn in one of the local factories, particularly for longer voyages. He said signing a five-year contract was the quickest way to amass the kind of cash they needed if they were ever going to afford a place like this. The bonus at the end would be their down payment.”
