Page 11 of Persuaded

On a sultry afternoon at the end of June, Finn Callaghan stuck to the shade of the garage as he finished up his work.

Charles Newton had a passion for classic cars and a garage full of them at his home in the small coastal town of New Milton, and they all needed maintaining. Not fixing; they were all pristine. But Newton liked them polished and tuned and then returned to their place in a garage that, in Finn’s opinion, was more like a museum.

What was the point of owning a car—or twenty—if you didn’t drive it?

Still, the guy was paying him good money to spend the summer giving his classic car collection the TLC he felt it needed and Finn wasn’t complaining. He’d take any job he could get, and this was a good one. It even came with a little trailer he could live in at the edge of the estate. More important, it would help him earn those last few bucks he needed to get out to LA and the new life he could feel unfurling now that it was just him and Sean.

Fuck their dad. Finn had no time to grieve for that deadbeat drunk. He was choosing life.

He’d been working at the Newton house for three weeks already and was making steady, meticulous progress. There was no rush; Newton had told him in his emails that he wanted the job done right, not fast. And that suited Finn just fine.

Not least because of Josh...

And wasn’t that a bolt from the blue? Talk about blindsided. But the moment the guy had ambled into the garage in his Zeppelin shirt, guitar in one hand and a notebook tucked under his arm, Finn had felt the world tilt.

“I sometimes like to play here,” Josh had said, glancing around the garage, all languid curiosity. “Do you mind?”

Finn had raised an eyebrow, taken in the shock of dark hair and too-blue eyes. “Depends, I guess. Who are you?”

“Oh.” He’d smiled awkwardly and offered a hand. “I’m Joshua. Newton, of course. The black sheep.”

Finn had taken his hand, noting the slender musician’s fingers, and said, “I’m Finn. Callaghan, of course. Prodigal son.”

Josh had smiled, suddenly, as if the expression had been startled out of him, and the handshake had lasted a good few beats longer than necessary.

After that it had taken three days of Josh hanging out in the garage, of appraising looks and slow smiles, before Finn had asked him if he wanted to take one of the cars for a drive. They’d found themselves stretched out beneath the sun in a little hollow in the dunes overlooking the bay. And although Finn had never had the guts to actually touch a guy before, when Josh propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at him with those intense blue eyes Finn had felt his whole world opening up wide and new.

They didn’t speak. Josh just leaned in with slow, deliberate intent and kissed him. And just like that everything had clicked into place. Finn had realized that he’d been looking for love in all the wrong places and that God, or fate, was showing him the error of his ways.

If he could have, he’d have fallen to his knees in gratitude. Instead, he’d just laid back, slipped his fingers into Joshua’s thick dark hair, and pulled him into his arms.

Three weeks later, Josh was stretched out on the back seat of his father’s ’65 Mustang convertible, scribbling music in the notebook he always carried. It was a steamy day with storm clouds heavy on the horizon and his dark hair curled damply around his ears as he hummed to himself.

Finn felt an unutterable fondness blossom in his chest just looking at him. “We should go to the beach,” he said, touching a hand to Josh’s bare ankle. “Take a swim and cool off.”

“Mmm,” Josh agreed, still writing. “And then we should go to bed...” That stopped Finn in his tracks, because they hadn’t—yet. Josh glanced up, less nonchalant than he was trying to appear. “That is, if you want to?”

“I—Yes,” Finn said. “I do.” Hereallydid. It was just that he never had, not with a guy.

“Don’t worry.” Josh smiled, setting aside his music. “It’s not so different. I’ll show you.”

While Finn locked up the garage, Josh leaned against the wall next to him and stared across the lawn at his father’s house. Finn couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his sunglasses, but when he touched his wrist Josh came back to him with a smile. “Let’s swim,” he said.

Hanworth Hall’s manicured garden was separated from the cliff by a fence and a gate, and beyond them a footpath ran along the cliff top as it sloped down toward New Milton Bay. You could walk all the way to town that way, if you wanted, and from there up to the hotel on the opposite headland. Or you could climb over the rocks and onto the quiet end of the beach where the dunes gathered. Finn liked the dunes best, the places where he and Josh could hide away together.

They walked in silence until they’d left the grounds of Hanworth Hall and Finn felt Josh relax the moment the gate shut behind them. They made their way down the path to the beach sharing smiles, shoulders brushing and fingers windingtogether. The heat was thick, despite the rising onshore breeze. By the time they’d scrambled over the rocks at the base of the cliff and jumped down onto the sand, Finn was sweating and eager for the cool of the ocean.

Without hesitation, Josh stripped off his T-shirt, kicked off his flip-flops, and set his sunglasses with them on the rocks. Lean, sinewy muscle, a scattering of dark hair on his tan chest, swim shorts slung low enough to reveal the sharp cut of his hipbones: Josh was gorgeous and Finn was utterly spellbound.

“Come on.” Josh grinned, giving Finn’s shoulder a playful shove. “Last one in the water’s a dirty fag...”

Finn laughed and they raced across the sand toward the ocean, Josh outpacing him at the last, and flung themselves into the cool water. It felt delicious against his hot skin and he whooped with pleasure, leaping into the waves and letting them pull him under and tumble him over. Standing, shaking water out of his ears, he turned to find Josh. He was sweeping back his wet hair, water streaming across his shoulders and chest, and despite the chill water Finn felt himself growing hard just at the sight of him. Finn glanced around, but even at this end of the beach there were too many people to risk any public display of affection. So he did the next best thing and tackled Josh—in a red-blooded way—sending them both under the water again.

Josh surfaced, laughing and feigning outrage, and they wrestled for a while in the surf. Just two guys horsing around until the rub of sleek wet bodies together became too much for both of them and they broke apart, panting.

“Your trailer,” Josh said breathlessly. “Let’s go to your trailer, Finn.”

His trailer was on the edge of the Hanworth estate, parked behind the house and hidden from it by a stand of trees. They walked up wet from the beach, T-shirts slung over shoulders, not saying much but both aware of the hungry anticipationbeating between them. Finn wondered if people could tell, just looking at them, how much they wanted each other. By the time they reached the lawn, the rising wind behind them was driving the first fat raindrops ahead of the storm and in the distance thunder rumbled.

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