Page 20 of Animal Instincts
“You do seem to need someone.”
Joss ran a finger around the inside of his own pint glass. Mesmerised, Oliver watched as Joss gathered up the froth on his finger tip and sucked it into his mouth before running the wet tip of his tongue along his lower lip… His very plump, damp lower lip. Another gather of froth, another long suck… Oliver swallowed hard, unable to pull his gaze away, as he followed every slow, hypnotic glide of Joss’ tongue. The muscles deep in his stomach pulsed and…
Oh, god…
So did his dick. He shifted in his seat, but his dick responded by pressing harder against the zip on his jeans.
What the hell was Joss playing at…? But Joss wasn’t playing at anything. Joss wasn’t even looking at him. He was lost in his own thoughts as he stared down into his glass, his brow fluttering in thought. He pulled his finger away, sucked in his juicy lower lip, and levelled his clear gaze at Oliver.
“I’ve, erm, got an idea. Which might work. Or not. I don’t know. And you don’t have to make a decision now. And if it’s a no, don’t be afraid to—”
“One chicken, one steak and onion. Chips and peas with both, and a side of onion rings.”
Heaped plates were set down on the table. There was enough food for a family of four, with extra for a doggy bag.
“Thanks, Lou.” Joss smiled up at the middle-aged woman who couldn’t be anybody other than Ryan’s mum, and Eva’s daughter.
Lou planted her hands on her hips and gave Joss a mock glare.
“I heard the deal you made with Ryan. Don’t you dare stop your gran from doing Mum’s hair. She really looks forward to her regular appointments, and a catch up with Doreen. Regardless of the results. Mum also wants your gran to do her make-up for a wedding we’re going to.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes as he studied Lou. She’d twitched, he was sure she had…
“Gran, doing Eva’s make-up. Jesus,” Joss muttered as soon as Lou left, grabbing up his glass and gulping back his beer. He coughed and slammed the glass back down, wiped his wet eyes as he shook his head, and cut into the pie. Whatever he’d been about to say, before the food arrived, had been forgotten and Oliver turned his attention to his own food.
“Ohhhh.”
Flavour exploded on his tongue. He closed his eyes, giving himself up to the moment of savouring homemade food. Low, soft laughter dragged him out of his flavour induced stupor. He snapped his eyes open and stared into Joss’.
“Glad you said yes?”
Oliver swallowed, and nodded. Joss’ lips curved up into a soft smile, as soft as the warm lights picking out the buttery blond in Joss’ heavy hair. Yes, he was glad, gladder than he’d been about anything for so, so long.
Oliver coughed, and cleared his throat. “What was your idea? Before the food arrived?”
“Oh, never mind. It was nothing, really.” Joss bent his head over his plate, the fall of his hair obscuring his face.
Oliver frowned. Joss had been gearing himself up to say something that was more than the nothing he was now claiming.
“No, go on, I want to hear.” He put down his knife and fork, waiting for whatever it was Joss was now avoiding saying.
Joss sat back and levelled his gaze at Oliver. It was direct, confident — until the frantic turn and turn of the tomato sauce bottle revealed his nerves.
“You need help and I need a route into a career working with animals, ideally in a city centre practice in time. I’ve got experience volunteering at an animal sanctuary, but what I really need is hands on experience in a veterinary surgery. You get the help you’re looking for, and I get the experience to help me run away and join the circus. Well, not literally, but you know what I mean. Could be a win-win.” His lips quivered in a wonky, nervous smile.
“You’re asking me for a job? Are you serious?”
Joss jolted back in his seat, his eyes widening as his cheeks began to pulse with heat.
Oliver swore silently. His reaction was surprise but it had come out wrong — very wrong, because Joss looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. Guilt, contrition and a sudden and urgent need to put it right grabbed him tight, and shook him.
“I’m sorry, Joss—”
“It’s okay, really. I said it probably wasn’t a good idea—”
Could this really get any worse? From the agonisingly embarrassed scrunch of Joss’ brows and the hunching of his shoulders, yes it could.
Oliver took a deep breath. He needed and wanted to put this right.
