Page 6 of Full Service

“You look…well,” I said after a moment had passed. He didn’t reply, but I thought I saw one side of his mouth slightly lift. If he was going to be a surly bastard, then I wouldn’t give him the benefit of conversation.

After a couple of minutes he indicated and pulled into a little garage I recognised well. I remembered the last time I’d seen Mac. He was 16 and had come home full of hope and determination to put his mother to rights. “Still working here?” I tried to ask casually.

Mac ignored me and got out of the car.

“Fine,” I muttered as I got out. “Be an ignorant bastard.”

Mac already had my bag over his shoulder and he stalked toward the little door on the side of the garage that I knew led to a little flat. I owned the building, but I’d been getting rent from Alun for years since old Steff decided to pack in the business.

As he reached the door and I still stood by the car, I called out. “Hey! Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Shit, yeah. I only drove into town for some milk. Pick it up off the back seat?” Mac pressed the key to unlock the car again. I grabbed the pint of milk, slammed the door shut and jogged to keep up with him. He didn’t hold the door open long enough for me to get through, just let it almost swing closed behind him so I had to grab it. I had no idea why he was being so antagonistic, or why he didn’t seem to have grown up since I last saw him. I followed him through the door and up a set of wooden stairs anyway.

I’d never seen the little studio flat before, though I knew it was there. To the left of the room was the kitchen. There were a few dishes scattered on the surfaces that hadn’t yet been washed. There was a little two person dining table tucked into the kitchen area. To the right was a little 2 seater sofa facing a flat screen TV with a games console.

There were doors to the right of the room which I presumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. Overall, the place gave the impression and feeling of sliding slowly into obscurity. It had been so long since I’d been in the real world away from thetrappings of London comforts, I might as well have been in a hovel.

I placed the milk down on the counter just as Macsen dumped my bags next to the sofa. “You’ll sleep here,” he said. He pointed at the sofa like it was obvious and I almost physically recoiled. It wasn’t like Iinsistedon Egyptian cotton for every hotel I went to, but it was usually pretty high on my list of priorities. I hadn’t slept on a saggy sofa under moth-bitten blankets since my early university days.

“Aren’t you taking me back to the town?” I asked.

“Just been there. No fucking way I’m going back at this time, in this weather. You’re welcome to walk in, or find some other way to get there. Otherwise you can stay here until morning. I’ll collect your car then.” Macsen grabbed a cushion from the sofa and made a show of fluffing it up.

“Fine, I’ll call my uncle. I’m sure he’ll brave the trip…” I patted at my pockets only to realise I’d left my phone in the bloody car. “I’ll stay. Whatever.”

Macsen snorted, and I got the sense he didn’t really take me seriously. “I hope the accommodations are to your standard…your highness. See you in the morning.”

He walked into one of the rooms and slammed the door behind him. I took a second before I went into the other room. The bathroom was just a shower cubicle, a sink and a toilet, all in a very old-fashioned shade of magnolia. I splashed myself with water from the sink and washed my face quickly. I looked around and only saw one towel on the radiator. No way was I drying my face with a towel Macsen used to dry his balls. I took my shirt off and used that to dry my face instead. The Armani shirt probably wasn’t even the most expensive towel I’d ever used either.

I stepped out of the bathroom and almost bumped into the man. I squealed — a very manly squeal, mind — at the sudden shock, and dropped my shirt to the floor.

Macsen was dressed in nothing but a pair of tight white boxer briefs that clung to his muscular thighs. I could see now that the tattoos on his arms reached his shoulders and collarbones but didn’t quite meet in the middle of his chest. Andwhat a chest.He looked like someone had carved him from marble, with a broad, pale chest, and a deep cut between his abs. The only body hair was a happy trail that began just above his belly button and led to a package of intimidating size cupped by his boxer briefs. For one long second it felt like Macsen Lloyd was looking me up and down. Like he wanted me.

“Good night, Hywel.” Macsen pushed his way past me and killed whatever moment I might have imagined. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

I made my way over to the sofa, shucked off my jeans and pulled one of the blankets over me. Despite my trepidations, it was comfortable and homely to snuggle myself under the old blanket. I heard Macsen open the bathroom door, but didn’t look up. The lights went out with aclickand I heard his bedroom door snap shut.

I looked up into the darkness.How the hell have I ended up here?

Chapter Two

Macsen

December 2nd

I stretched out and turned my alarm off. I hated early days, but I’d set it for a reason. It took me a second to remember that reason but then it hit me.Fuck. My brother’s best friend and longtime absolute bastard was sleeping in my living room.

The bedroom was tiny and needed a clean, barely fitting my bed and a wardrobe in it. But I’d only been living above the garage a couple of weeks and hadn’t yet taken pride in my surroundings. I’d have been embarrassed to have a man round if it wasn’t someone I actually disliked.

When did my life come to this?I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got out. I contemplated putting more clothes on, but then remembered how uncomfortable Hywel had looked last night when I was in my boxers. Iwantedthis man uncomfortable. It was delicious to see such an uppity prick squirm when he spent so much of his time acting so prim and proper, so holier than thou. I even thought about switching my boxers for a jockstrap for a laugh, or even going out there naked. But I wasn’t that much of an arsehole. Not quite. And I did not want my body betraying me when I looked at the man. Because I had to admit to myself he wasn’t ugly.

I slipped out of my room quietly. In the darkness I could hear Hywel snoring quietly on the sofa. I flicked on the light switch and then stamped my foot on the bare floorboards.

“Wha-?” Hywel’s head popped up above the sofa as he sat up and he looked around blindly for a second, and I watched him have the same moment of realisation that I’d had. That we were in this crazy, stupid situation together.

I had to admit that there was something about him, especially in the morning before he’d remembered to put on his big business mask and cover up the humanity underneath. His hair, still golden, wavy and not receding even though he must have reached his 30s. His eyes were still just as bright green and beautiful as they had been when I’d harboured my stupid schoolboy crush at 16.

Hywel gingerly got out of bed and stretched, and damn if he hadn’t filled out even better since he was younger. I could tell from his arm muscles that he’d been going to some gym in London that probably cost more than my monthly salary, but from his chest and stomach I could tell that he’d had enough good food in London too. The extra pounds looked infuriatingly good on him. He didn’t need to work out to get a six-pack to be happy in his own skin. He had a covering of golden hair slightly darker than his head all the way from his chest down to his stomach. He was wearing designer briefs that I deliberately avoided looking at. Combined with the way his hair stuck out at all different angles, he looked bloodycuddly. And I did not want cuddly feelings about Hywel Prentis.

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