“That’s a borrowed blanket,” Ariel said as he wiped the sheep poop off his bare foot on a tuft of grass. “Jesus, I had no idea! That’s revolting!” He glanced around nervously, realizing that the sun was up and the fog had begun to thin. “What time is it?”
“A bit after six, probably,” the photographer said. “Say, people will start showing up in an hour or so. Many like to get handfastened here, and it’s...”
“Valentine’s Day,” Ariel groaned just as Wade had said the same words with a wexed expression in his handsome face.
“I’ll get dressed,” Ariel said. Then, overcoming shyness in favor of curiosity, he said, “Can I see the photos before you erase them?”
“But of course.”
The man sounded so quintessentially British. He was sexy, like Benedict Cumberbatch, even though he looked nothing like him. Well, his hair was curly and wild, but he had a closely trimmed beard, and he wasn’t nearly as pale. He seemed older than Cumberbatch, which made him a few years older than himself.
As Ariel struggled into his cold, fog-dampened clothes, he wondered about the photographer. Who was he to be out here, taking photos with such a fine camera, at this hour?
Once he was decent and once he had shaken out the blanket and folded it, he turned to the man, and offered his hand.
“My name’s Ariel. I haven’t had breakfast yet, have you?”
“Wade.” Wade’s handshake was firm and warm. “I take it you’re not from around here. If you’d like to follow me to a nearby village, there’s a lovely inn where they’ll be happy to feed us something warm.”
“An inn! That would totally rock,” Ariel said with a sigh. “Too bad I didn’t see it last night. I had to sleep in the car since all the hotels were packed because of...”
“Valentine’s Day,” they groaned as one.
Then they laughed.
“Can I just follow your car? I hate to admit it, but navigating these little roads isn’t a strength of mine.”
“It would be my pleasure. And my treat, too.” As Ariel put up a habitual protest, Wade put up his hand in a warding gesture. “No, no, I insist. I disrupted your morning meditation. Your warrior yoga thing. And you’re not from around here, which, um, which makes you a guest, and now you’re my guest.”
Ariel watched him stammer and expound with interest. Wade was sweet.
“In fact, you’re in England now, and we treat guests in a certain way here, so please do follow me.”
Wade was also kind of hot. Even though he had pretended to be stone, and even though he had scared the bejeezus out of Ariel only ten minutes ago.
WADE GLANCED IN HIS rearview mirror to make sure Ariel parked in a legal spot. Then he rounded up his camera bag and got out of his car.
Ariel gave him a wave, uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure whether they were still on for a hot breakfast. He saw him shiver.
“Come along, now,” Wade said as he caught up with him. He pressed on his upper arm, steering him to the wooden doors with their big, brass door pulls. “It’ll be warm inside, and there’s coffee.”
“Coffee,” Ariel sighed. “And thank you for getting me out of there. That was... crap, if I never drive through another hedge maze, it will be too soon!”
They barreled in through the double-door vestibule.
Ariel halted. “Wait,” he said. “I was here just last night and they had no more rooms.”
“Are you sure it was here?” Wade tried not to sound disappointed. He wanted to introduce Ariel to the Bull Inn all by himself.
Ariel gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, I remember the details. They have good food, and I bet my tablet still remembers their wi-fi password!” He pulled his tablet out of a small backpack, and activated it. “Yep, right here, see?”
“But you haven’t had their full breakfast,” Wade said. “And they have just opened. You’re in for a treat!”
They enjoyed the eggs, bacon and sausage and the fresh pastries. Ariel tried the black pudding with trepidation, but it mixed surprisingly well with grilled tomatoes. “The fried bread is way over the top,” Ariel said with a discreet burp. “This could feed a small village!”
“A full English breakfast,” Wade said. He grinned over a cup of coffee that had never smelled this good. “We’re lucky to get here early. You won’t find a table later this morning, considering it’s Valentine’s Day.
To Ariel’s surprise, he grimaced. “Not a fan of the infamous D-day?” he asked.
“Not a bit.” The fleeting expression of pain that crossed Wade’s face had Ariel’s chest fill with warmth and sympathy.
“Me neither,” he said. “It’s gotten too commercial and just generally awful. And the pressure to meet someone special is immense!” He hesitated. Should he confide? But he’d never see Wade again, so there was no harm in it. “I got dumped by my boyfriend,” Ariel said slowly. “One of his requirements had been the full treatment on Valentine’s Day. Nothing I ever did was good enough.”
Wade raised his coffee cup in a salute. “I got left at the altar on V-day by mine,” he said, trading war stories. “I’d never enter into a relationship on a day as cursed as this.”
“Never,” Ariel nodded in agreement. Their common loathing of Valentine’s Day took a lot of pressure off his shoulders. Wade was easy on the eyes, and despite his intrusive photographic tendencies, his company was a pleasure. Nothing would happen, though. Ariel could just relax and talk.
They wer both protected by the knowledge that nothing good would come from as much as hooking up on Valentine’s Day.
Relaxed, warm, and with his belly full, Ariel now talked about his work and the way it tied in with his last night’s adventure. “You really need to know where you’re going around here,” he said. “I got lost in the hedge maze between here and London.”
A twinkle of amusement lit up Wade’s eyes. “I don’t know where you’ve been, but your petrol tank’s got to be near empty by now. There are no hedge mazes between here and London!
Ariel’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Well then. I’ve been through some scary hedge mazes and they seemed close to London to me.” He recalled his Dr. Willoughby’s words, and added, “By the American standard, maybe. Where I live, driving for a few hours isn’t considered a big deal.”
“That would take you across England,” Wade said with a nod.
“Although it’s too bad I never made it to Bath,” Ariel continued. In a conspiratorial voice, he leaned across the table and whispered. “I’ve seen the photos of the old Roman ruins and that perfectly blue pool in the middle! Wouldn’t it be just the thing to sneak in at night and have a little swim?”
Wade almost choked on a bite. “Not hardly,” he said once he put himself in order again. “Aside from getting arrested for desecrating a historical site, that water is blue because it’s poisoned. The Romans used lead. And that blue is some other metals...” He thought hard, trying to remember.
“Copper sulfate, probably,” Ariel groaned. “I should’ve thought of that myself! It just looked so... so tropical! So inviting.” He shuddered.
“Are you cold?” Wade asked. “I have a house just around the corner. If you’d like, there’s a lovely old bathtub we can fill for you.”
Ariel’s eyes brightened, but then he shook his head. “I couldn’t impose. But you’re very kind to offer.” He glanced at what was left of their demolished meals, then back at Wade. “This is very nice. I’m glad I ran into you.” Not once did he mention those photographs.
Wade vacillated. He could pretend they forgot... but that wasn’t ethical, and Wade could never submit them to a proper competition without a model release. If he showed them to Ariel, he might be able to convince him of their worth. Of their uniqueness.
“Those photos,” Wade said, thinking hard. “They will be easier to see on my computer setup in the cottage. You can have your bath and get your feet all clean and I can work while you do that. Then we can go through them and you can decide upon their fate
.”
CHAPTER 6
Wade’s voice was somber as he had brought up the issue of the photographs, and for the first time it had occurred to Ariel that Wade might be onto something. If they were really good, and if he wasn’t recognizable as a crazy naked person in a public space, then maybe there was no harm in them. Plus, now that Wade had mentioned cleaning his feet, the offer of his bath was irresistible.
Ariel nodded. “Very well. And thank you. I hope it’s not inconvenient for you. You do realize I can drive back and use the convenience apartment the company is still paying for, right? I’m not without resources.”
“That’s good to know.” Wade’s relief seemed genuine. “But it’s not an inconvenience at all.” His eyes warmed with pleasure. “I enjoy your company, and the cottage is too empty with just one person in it. It’s newly inherited, and Aunt Rose’s things are still around, so...”
Ariel’s heart flooded with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.” He gently placed his hand over Wade’s, and squeezed. “It’s... it’s hard to lose people we love. If that’s the situation, keeping you company for a while would be both my pleasure and my honor.”
Wade paid up just as he said he was going to and waved off Ariel’s offer to pitch in.
“Next one’s on me, then,” Ariel said, realizing that he was making plans to see this random stranger again. It didn’t alarm him, and even Wade smiled at the prospect.
They walked out to the parking lot in the square. “Take your things out of the car, we’ll walk,” Wade said. “This town is old and the streets are narrow. You’ll see.”
He did. Ariel was charmed by the stone houses clustered in a neat row and by the flags fluttering in the breeze. Even on a dreary February morning, he caught a glimpse of empty flower boxes under windows, and he could just imagine the street in a riot of color it would be later this year. He didn’t doubt that this neighborhood was a site of some massive competitive gardening.
They turned a corner, and a few houses down Wade waved him through a shared doorway. The convoluted path had to make the issue of property lines complicated, with the walls being built at odd angles, but the shared passageway let out into a lovely little garden with a flagstone path.
Wade pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. “This is the kitchen entrance. We hardly ever use the door to the street. It lets the heat out.”
Following Wade’s example, he walked through the foyer and into the kitchen, and took off his shoes. The kitchen was simple and small, with just counters and cabinets and a ruffled pink valance over the kitchen window that matched the faded pink wallpaper. That must’ve been Aunt Rose’s touch.
“Come follow me, the bathroom’s upstairs,” Wade said. “And watch your step, the staircase is ancient and the wooden steps are slippery with only socks on!”
“How ancient?” Ariel asked as he looked at the dark wood ceiling beams, the stone fireplace in the faraway living room, and the plaster walls that were just a wee bit crooked.
“Over four hundred years. Aunt Rose had a whole write-up on it for guests, if you’re interested later. She used to let the place out to visitors.”
This was his dream come true, Ariel realized. He had wanted to see a bit of the English countryside, he wanted to see the quaint places and the old things, and here he was with Wade, in a house older than the United States. He was, in fact, about to have a bath in it.
Life was strange. This was all because of his naked yoga at the henge.
HEARING THE WATER RUN made Wade’s mind fly back to other times, other days. He’d been younger and the cottage had bustled with life back then. Aunt Rose’s kitchen had smelled of delicious scones and the sausage Mr. Mortwick had made at a nearby farm. Now it was Mortwick’s daughter who made the sausage, and Mr. Mortwick was having tea with Aunt Rose somewhere in the great beyond.
He hoped they were happy together, finally out of sight of their gossiping neighbors.
Wade smiled. The memory inspired him. He had a guest now, and if he was to hold up family honor, he better come up with a bit of hospitality. Except he had made scones only a couple of times, and he had not stocked up the refrigerator much since Aunt Rose had passed on.
And they just ate. Still, though.
Wade pulled Aunt Rose’s cookbook off the shelf and flipped through it. There was Irish soda bread, and the ingredients were in the house. He had a wedge of Cheddar cheese and... let’s see... apples, probably flown in from New Zealand this time of the year, and a can of Spam.
He grinned. Spam was the best as long as one didn’t read the ingredients on the label. Like most canned lunch meats, it was chock-full of salt and all kinds of fats and animal organ meats. But it fried up well and there wasn’t much to ruin.
While he was messing around with flour, Wade noticed how little usable counter space he had for spreading out his ingredients. Something to amend later. The slightly sweet, sticky dough had a scent of its own, and so did the preheating electric oven. He struggled the ornery mass into a buttered and floured loaf pan, patted it down with his wet hand to even it out some, and set it to bake.
Now for the prep work. A cast-iron skillet, a sliced block of Spam, and three apples in a bowl. The cheese was warming up on the cutting board, so he put up a pot of fragrant Earl Gray and took the few steps over to the sunken dining room. He pulled his old, beat-up laptop out of his bag, fired it up, and plugged it in.
Just about when Wade was done downloading the photos off his card and mentally calculating when he’d be able to afford a new computer, the crooked staircase above him creaked.
“Watch out, the steps are slippery,” he called out to Ariel the way he always called it out to every guest ever since he’d been a teen. The staircase was narrow and crooked and its carefully restored wood gleamed in its uneven glory, but he loved the character it gave the old place.
Ariel descended, dressed in a pair of stretchy, athletic running pants that showcased his toned legs, and a long-sleeve T-shirt. He was holding a pair of running shoes and socks. “That bath was divine,” he said. “Thank you so much! And that room? Wow. I’ve never been to a place like this before.”
“Do you plan to go running?” Wade asked. Those legs, with muscles playing under a layer of spandex, were hard to ignore.
“I should,” Ariel said. “Actually, I’d love to. I’ve been stuck at work for too long. The hotel has a gym and a treadmill, but I like this place.” He waved his empty hand around, including the village and the countryside. “It would help me reset after trying to sleep in the car like a college kid.” He grinned.
Wade grinned back. “Well then. I have bread in the oven, snacks ready to go. Once the bread is baked, if you’d like me to follow you on my bicycle, we could look at the photos after we got out a bit. Would that suit?”
Ariel nodded with visible relief. “I was just going to go through town, to places where I couldn’t get lost. Not like last night.”
Which was how Wade ended up pumping up the tires of his bike for the first time in over a year. He squirted a bit of oil on the chain and checked the brakes while Ariel walked around the garden and admiring the old “quaint” walls and the pergola over the outdoor dining area, the trees trained against the walls, and everything else he could think of.
It was delightful, really, to have such an expressive guest.
“Let’s go then,” Wade said. “I’ll adjust my speed to yours.
WHY DID WORKING OUT together feel like a date? Why did running next to Wade’s ancient bicycle amount to a romantic gesture of some kind? As much as he’d been looking forward to exploring the local sights, Ariel found that he had a hard time soaking it all in.
Thatched-roof cottages, check.
Cobblestone streets, check.
Sheep in the pasture, check.
And the sky with its formerly fluffy sheep-clouds had changed into wind-swept streaks of cirrus clouds, indicating a weather change. Of course, this was England. There was bound to be the famous rain. He h
ad been planning on enjoying it all, from the smell of the sheep to the whiff of diesel in the air, from the sun to the rain.
But it was Valentine’s Day, the dreaded holiday of no love, and he was caught in a horrid and painful struggle of loving Wade’s company, and fearing that having anything resembling a date on this accursed day would do nothing but jinx anything that might otherwise develop between them.
And develop it might, because Ariel wasn’t blind. He had noted the way Wade’s covert gaze had run over him before, and the weight of that assessment had not been all about the male form and artistic composition. No, Ariel was quite aware that Wade had been checking him out.
The checking-out bit was mutual. In Ariel’s eyes, Wade had an infectious smile, a twinkle in his eye that spelled trouble of the best sort, and strong-looking, pleasant hands Ariel would love to feel on his back, on his sides.
He leaned into his stride, running faster. The only way to stop mooning over Wade was to utterly exhaust himself.
Forty-five minutes later, when they were in a country lane between fields greening with thin and short crops barely emerging from the ground, Wade called for a break. “I hate to admit it, but I haven’t been cycling in quite a while and my arse hurts.”
Ariel coasted to a stop, then walked around in circles as Wade dismounted his bike and began to fiddle with his seat position. The admission surprised him. “Really? I thought all Englishmen bike.”
“Not hardly,” Wade said with a chuckle. “Maybe before everyone had a car. Now, the roads are cluttered and biking can be downright dangerous. You saw the roads, right? The hedge maze? There’s no way to allow for a cycling-only lane.” He finished up and put away his multi-tool into the utility bag that hung under the seat. “There are a few safe roads, but you need to know exactly where to go, and also when. Time of day is critical.”
“Would you like to turn back?” Ariel asked. Last thing he wanted to do was hurt Wade’s ass. The thought brought naughty images to his mind, which he promptly banished.
Escaping Cupid: International Affairs Page 3
