Page 52 of Second Story

“Yeah. Converted ones. More like a little cottage. A home just for us.” It’s all I wanted for so long, but I can’t be mad at Lenny for dragging his feet. I show Joe what Ruth sent me, and he cradles my phone, hands curled as if around something precious.

“Nowthat’sa smile.”

“Isn’t it? I sent it to Mum. Hope she gets to see it.” It’s impossible to tell what will make it through the prison screening process. “He’s settled in so fast.” I have to be honest, even if it dims Joe’s own grin. “But he isn’t quite there yet, so I really don’t have too long until I’ll have to head back, and I didn’t tell him you were coming. Couldn’t risk rocking his boat at bedtime. You’ll be busy with Noah tomorrow at his farm, so Lenny wouldn’t get to see you?”

He nods. He also looks around before touching me again. Only with a single finger that he uses to tilt my chin up to meethis eyes while he also gets honest. “But I could be here for a while soon. I mean, I do need to focus on Noah and his family this time, but I have a decent length gap in my court schedule coming up, so I?—”

“Sent Luke some kind of proposal?”

This smile is smaller and comes with forehead furrows. He’s worried, like Luke was, about the same subject. “Yeah. The bones of a proposal, at least. I wondered if he’d give you a heads-up. I said he could if he wanted. That I wouldn’t mention it at all if he sent back a flat no. He didn’t reply yet, so…”

“Here you are with ideas about how to stick around.”

I could get used to seeing Joe’s smile widen and to hearing him admit, “Kinda want to finish what I started. Whatwestarted, Isaac. See where it goes.” He repeats his last text to me. “No pressure.”

I exert some pressure of my own until we’re back in the position I’m starting to think I was built for. He’s perfectly on my level. We’re eye-to-eye and closer than two men usually get in public unless they’re sparring. I don’t even try to fight this feeling. “How about you tell me what you’re planning?”

Joe nods, then he stops and starts, stuttering over plans that could bring him back for longer. He rolls his eyes at himself and huffs, “Such a fucking wordsmith. I’ll need to do better in front of your boss.”

I laugh. I can’t help it at seeing Joe flustered for a first time. Those seagulls in my gut swoop again at him wanting to convince Luke so much that he stutters. I grin the whole way through his explanation.

“A programme of workshops with guest speakers is just an idea. A good one, I think. But I told him I’d forget it if it got in the way of you and Lenny preparing.”

My grin slips. “Preparing?” Every single seagull plummets. “You heard something?”

“Only that wheels have started to turn. Listen to me, yeah?”

I always did. Now I do that even harder.

“You two deserve a chance to catch your fucking breath. I’m not getting in the way of that. I’ll only flesh out my plans for Luke if having me around works for you.”

I don’t care if anyone sees us. They can fucking fight me. I have to kiss him again, it’s that plain and simple. So is telling him what I want next. “Get in the van.”

I don’t slide the side door open for something hot and hurried this time, although I’m pretty sure that’s where this is headed when he gets in the front with me and speaks up over the coughing rattle of the engine. “I’ve got a room at a pub not far from here in Porthperrin.” His hand finds mine on the gearstick. “How long have we got?”

Not long enough.

That hits hard once we’re outside a pretty harbourside pub with a perfect view of a sunset over sparkling water. It’s rustic inside. Romantic, I guess, once I spy tables for two in the dining room while waiting for Joe to check in.

He returns with a room key dangling from his fingers. “We’ve got an hour, yeah?”

I nod. Sixty minutes should be just long enough to take the stairs up to his room, then get him wet and naked in a bathroom until all that hot chocolate is rinsed off. We’d need to hurry like last time. I stare at his hand, locked in on that dangling room key, and I almost suggest that quick repeat until he slides his hands into his pockets.

He hides them from me. Hides the scars he told me potential dates would dance away from. I can’t help making a different suggestion. “Have dinner with me?”

He blinks. “You want to eat?”

I nod firmly.

Joe still blinks as if waiting for a catch.

I cross my heart. “Promise I won’t say I’m going to the bathroom, then leg it.” It’s worth joking when he laughs.

I like that sound. Like too that the table we’re shown to has both a candle and a view over all that sparkling water. Most of all, I love that he’s suddenly shy, a side of him I didn’t expect from someone who spoke up for me so often in meetings. Now he’s silent.

Because he doesn’t usually get to do this.

Neither do I.

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