Page 54 of The Himbo and the Lord

“Can a punt even hold that many people?” he demands, looking skeptically at the river Cherwell.

“I was assured it can,” I tell him calmly, then take his bicep in my arm and put a little force into my pull. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” I cajole, and though he doesn’t look convinced, he doesn’t resist or protest until we’ve spent two minutes on the seriously tiny boat.

Noah... bless his heart.

Even sitting down he can’t keep his balance, and he just slides off the damn thing. I’m too stunned to react at first, but everyone else shouts and moves around so the boat doesn’t overbalance and take us all down with him. But Noah—who was the one who gave me the damn date idea—doesn’t even look surprised when he surfaces. He just starts swimming after us and actually tries to climb back in until the sweet man who’s guiding us shouts at him to swim to the bank of the river.

It’s a disaster.

And not even fifteen minutes into the hour-long activity we all have tears of laughter streaming down our faces when, looking like a drowned rat, Noah climbs back into the little punt and sits next to a bent over Carter.

I look at Ru in that moment and mentally pat myself on the back when I see how relaxed and happy he seems. Thelordpersona is nowhere to be found right now, and his playful side comes out for the rest of the boat ride.

After a simple pub meal filled with more stories and laughter, I get another secret, hot-as-fuck kiss from Ru in the back alley, and then I have to wait for another week to see him.

He goes back to London to work, and I get back to studying for the math camp I signed up for before classes start in a month.

I see Noah every day, and like he’s been from the start when he told me Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons was the fanciest and most exclusive restaurant around here, he’s invaluable for my date planning. He helps me convince a very nice man to let me use his secluded field—which has an amazing view of the sunset—for my third date with Ru.

It’s priceless, seeing Ru’s face when we get to the farm and I tell him we have to walk for a bit. He looks crestfallen and like I just deeply offended him, but again, with a bit of cajoling he follows me.

It’s even better when we get to the open-air theatre I set up for him. The awe in his face, the pure emotion I can practically feel pouring out of his skin... I’m pretty sure that’s the moment when I first actively love him.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Ru

When I seethe white screen and projector set up, my breath catches in my throat and I turn to Nate. Is he for real? Then I look at the screen again and let out a burst of laughter.

“What is it?” Nate asks, frowning, and I turn to him, giving him a grin.

“It’s perfect.”

“Oh.” He only looks slightly mollified and I feel I ought to explain. “When you mentioned theatre, I thought you meant an actual theatre, like plays. I was expecting to have to sit through Shakespeare or something. Not that I’ve got anything against Shakespeare, if that’s your thing...” I trail off as he’s laughing now.

“I promise there’s no Shakespeare.” He gives my hand a little squeeze and releases it. I feel its loss immediately.

“Be right back,” he says, and darts off towards a stone building I hadn’t noticed before in the corner of the field. Well, hardly a field, a paddock really, but it is lush with meadow grasses, and the hedges that surround it must be at least eight feet high. It’s like a little secluded oasis. The projector springs into life and it’s then I notice a long cable leading back to the building. A few seconds later Nate appears, his arms filled with cushions and blankets and a basket hooked over one arm.

We spread the blankets out and Nate tosses the cushions on top so it looks comfy.

“What’s in the basket?” I nod towards it.

‘Wine and popcorn.” Nate says proudly, and he should be, it’s a perfect combination.

Once again, like the previous two dates, I marvel at his ingenuity and the lengths he’s gone to. Not only to make them special but also so that they’re discreet, or camouflaged within a friends group, even including Jenna and Alice. Jenna has called me several times since, to give me her views on my boyfriend. Is he my boyfriend? We’re dating, so I guess so. Or rather, Nate is dating me. I haven’t done anything so far except show up and enjoy myself. I haven’t planned anything myself or asked him out, and that makes me feel—well, even the thought of it makes my chest tighten and I can’t breathe. To have a boyfriend, to ask him on dates, that requires a shift I’m not sure I can make. It’s not about commitment; that doesn’t scare me. I can’t think of being with anyone but Nate. But to acknowledge that, both to myself and to the world... I’m not sure I can do it.

“What’s wrong?” Nate’s question cuts through my thoughts and briefly stops them whirring out of control. I release a sigh.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, his green eyes filing with concern.

“You did everything right, Nate, but?—”

“Oh please, you can keep your but.” His head drops and I catch his hand. I’m not being fair to him. I need to explain; I owe him that. I pull him down onto the cushions, and he sits but he still looks worried. I don’t let go of his hand.

“Nate, I’m finding this hard. Not you. Being with you is incredibly easy. I felt that from the first time we met. Okay, maybe not the first time, but I wasn’t finding anything easy that night. But the time we’ve spent together... I’ve never felt so authentic in my life. I’ve felt freedom, to be who I am, who I want to be.”

I link our fingers. “To be able to love who I want.”

---