Page 28 of Animal Instincts
SEVENTEEN
Joss stood on the hill overlooking the village. The wind whipped around him, dragging his clothes tight against his body, and throwing his hair around. He leaned into the gusts, closed his eyes, and stretched out his arms either side of him. All he could hear was the buffeting of the wind and his own heartbeat, slowing now after the slog up the hill.
Today had been a café day, rather than an Oliver day, and after being cooped up it was good to get lungfuls of sea-laden air. It was funny, he never felt cooped up in the practice. An unexpected pang twinged in his chest. He’d miss this, when he moved away.
He’d miss Oliver.
When he moved away…
He was going to do it, he’d been planning it for… Joss couldn’t quite remember, it felt like he’d always been plotting his escape. The animal shelter and now working with Oliver, getting the solid experience he needed to get himself accepted on a course, it was all a step in the right direction. But those steps seemed to have faltered recently, the hard tug no longer quite so strong and insistent.
“That’s a very Kate Winslet look.”
Joss dropped his arms and spun around, a shiver racing across him that had less to do with the wind than the deep, steady voice he knew so well.
Oliver was only a few steps away, close enough for Joss to see the sparkle in Oliver’s eyes and the faintest shadow of dark scruff. He breathed in deep, the tang of the sea replaced with the tang of citrus cologne.
Oh, man…
Another rugby shirt, gold and black stripes this time, but the same dark jeans, wrapped tight against long legs… Like him, Oliver wore loose scrubs at work, hiding all that tantalising detail.
“Fancy being Leonardo Di Caprio?” Playing Jack to Kate’s Rose, pressed up tight against her back… Had hereallysaid that? Oh fuck. “What are you doing here?” Joss said quickly, when Oliver didn’t answer.
“Hmm… Rhythmic gymnastics? Competitive ironing? Cheese rolling?”
Joss tamped down on the smile itching to lift his lips. “They do that in Gloucestershire. Cheese rolling, that is, and probably the rest, too. Devonians prefer to chuck scones, usually across the border at the Cornish.”
Oliver huffed, and shook his head. “I should know better than to try and make jokes.”
Why? I like it, because you smile…
“The walk we did, to High Top. It was a timely reminder of why I moved to Love’s Harbour. Or one of the reasons.” A small V furrowed Oliver’s brow, but it was gone before it had time to settle and take root. “Do you mind if I walk with you? Unless you want to be on your own, of course?”
“No, to both questions.”
The brief cloud of doubt that had fallen across Oliver’s face lifted, and floated into the clear, early evening sky.
They set off, following a rough path. On one side, the sea glittered beneath the fading sun, while on the other lay rich green grass, dotted with sheep. They walked in silence, and what could have been awkward was easy and companionable. The path rose higher before it dipped down and took a turn inland. The wind dropped, everything silent except for the twittering of farmland birds.
“It really is beautiful in this part of the world. I used to dream about views like this when I was stuck in London.” Oliver looked around him, taking it all in.
Joss followed his gaze. “Rural living’s not the idyllic, rosy life people from cities think it is.”
Oliver turned and raised a brow. Joss winced.
“That wasn’t meant to be as sour as it came out.” Joss wasn’t so sure that was strictly true.
“What don’t you like about living here? Obviously, I know you’d like to make the move to somewhere bigger, to further your career, but there must be more to it? Sorry, I’m intruding,” Oliver said, when Joss didn’t immediately answer.
“No, it’s okay. It’s a combination of things, really, some from way back when I was a kid.”
Joss caught Oliver’s eye, and shrugged.
“You’ll probably find it hard to imagine, but it wasn’t so many years ago the Harbour felt like it was sitting at the world’s end. It was difficult to get here because the roads were bad, and the bus ran once a week when it was market day in Exeter. In the winter the snow would cut us off for days on end. It made the village self reliant because it had to be. But it also made it inward looking and insular, and that’s not great if you’re a bit different to everybody else.”
A gust of wind, edged with a hint of chill, was the signal to get walking again.
“There’s nothing wrong with being different to the common herd but, yes, it can make things difficult at times.”
