Page 60 of Animal Instincts
“A trip away in the summer would be fantastic, and I’d pay for it.”
Just the two of them, their bodies warmed by the sun… He was already packing his bag. But Joss wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t sharing in his mounting enthusiasm. Instead he was biting down on his lip, a small frown digging into his brow.
“No, because I wouldn’t let you. Paying for my study fees, that’s one thing, but for a holiday abroad—”
“But why not?” Hadn’t he paid for plenty of pricey breaks for—
The memories speared him, brought him up short. Yes, he’d paid, in all kinds of ways. But Joss wasn’t Spencer, and never could be.
“I earn my own money and pay my own way. It’s just how I am, I suppose. It’s the way Gran’s brought me up.” Joss smiled, the frown melting from his face. He stepped in closer and placed a small, quick kiss on Oliver’s lips, the rising heat and need of moments ago now just a warm memory. “But I appreciate it, I really do. It was a lovely thing to suggest.”
“I mean it.” Lazy and loose limbed, skin caressed by a sultry breeze… He could almost taste the mojito, smell the sun cream, feel the sand beneath his feet.
“I know, and that’s what makes the offer so special.” Joss placed a hand on Oliver’s cheek and Oliver leant into his palm. “But if you feel the need to treat me, don’t let me stop you from taking me out to dinner on Friday. It’s pie night in The Fisherman’s Arms.”
THIRTY-THREE
Joss, flopped out in the garden lounger on Oliver’s shaded patio, scrolled through his phone. He was warm and drowsy and was tired following a busy day in the café. It’d been his turn to look after the knitting grannies, but they’d behaved themselves, or kind of, and he’d come away with a nice fat tip.
He glanced at the time displayed at the top of his phone. He and Oliver had a date. Joss smiled. It might only be The Fisherman’s Arms, but itwaspie night. But that was later; for now there was plenty of time until they had to leave.
The low rumble of Oliver’s voice drifted through from his home office. Not the little cubby hole in the practice, but one of the spare rooms at the back of the house. An online meeting for a professional association, last minute arrangements for a conference Oliver was speaking at over the weekend. Joss’ stomach clenched. Oliver hadn’t even left, and he was already missing him. But they had tonight, and he’d have fun saying goodbye, and even more when he welcomed Oliver home next week. Joss smiled, as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting the early evening sun kiss his face.
Spring had melted into early summer, and his mind drifted as the bees buzzed amongst the fragrant wisteria clinging to the back wall of the house. Sweet peas overflowed their tubs on the patio, and honeysuckle, spread out along the old garden brick wall, added their own scent to the heady and perfumed warm air. Up above, the ever present gulls cawed, but their harsh cries couldn’t drown out the vibrant song of garden birds.
Life was good. More than good. Just a handful of months ago, weeks really, as winter had faded and spring had come to the Harbour, Joss’ life had felt untethered, unanchored. He’d been so eager to leave the little village — not so little any more — where he’d grown up, to seek out everything he’d wanted. Or thought he’d wanted. Excitement and adventure, wild and unfettered sex. He shifted in the lounger, feeling a self-conscious sting in his cheeks even though he was alone in the garden. Making the escape from Love’s Harbour hadn’t just been about pursuing the career of his dreams.
But everything had changed. Joss sometimes felt the need to shake himself, pinch himself, kick himself, to prove it was all real. The job he’d spent so long seeking, helping to mend and comfort not just the animals but their owners too, had been right here on his doorstep all along. Just like the man had been.
Theman, hisman. Oliver, who with every passing day was filling up all the lonely places in his heart and stitching all the disparate pieces of himself into something whole. The old, unsettled version of himself, was fading away to nothing and slipping out of sight.
Joss’ smile grew warmer than the sun. He spent so much time with Oliver, stayed over so often, he might as well have moved in. A delicious tingle shuddered through him. If Oliver asked him, what would he say? He snorted. What was it Gran said, once, when he’d asked something with a stupidly obvious answer? Oh, yes. Is the Pope Catholic?
Abandoned in his lap, his phone bleeped a message, jolting him out of his warm, meandering thoughts.
An email, from one of the many animal job websites he subscribed to. He really should unsub from them, but he tapped the link anyway, vaguely interested in the job the email proclaimed was a perfect match for him.
And it was. Or would have been, two or three months back. A city centre practice, in Manchester. Subsidised accommodation. Fully funded training. It looked good, and not so long ago he’d already be tapping in his response:Me! Me! Me!He’d have been mentally packing his bags, and looking forward to all of those unfettered nights in bars and clubs. Not so long ago now felt like a very long time ago. What was he doing tonight? Pie night. With Oliver. Then back here, where they could be… unfettered.
At the bottom of the email there was a current vacancies link. Joss opened it up. No harm looking, just out of interest.
Joss arched his brows high as he scrolled through. Where had all these jobs with his name on them been when he’d been looking? Did all the nation’s veterinary practices suddenly need animal care trainees? It certainly looked like it, judging by the long list of jobs going begging.
He stopped on one and took a closer look. London’s West End, and the flagship practice of an elite group. Joss wasn’t exactly sure where the West End was, but thought it was central, and it was ticking all he boxes he’d once so desperately wanted ticked. He scrolled down a little further. The job didn’t just have his name on it, it had his date of birth, shoe size and favourite colour. Or it would have, if he were still looking.
“Joss? Joss!”
“What?” Joss snapped his head around, and winced as his neck clicked. He’d been so engrossed he hadn’t heard Oliver come into the garden.
“You were miles away. What are you looking at? Please don’t say porn. Or do say porn.” Oliver grinned.
“No, that’s later. Just an animal care job site. One of many I registered with ages ago.”
“A job site?” Oliver’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Why are you looking at job sites? Not thinking of moving on, are you?”
Oliver’s tone was jokey, but Joss couldn’t help the scratch at the back of his neck that Oliver wasn’t entirely joking.
“Of course not.” Joss cringed inside; even to his own ears, his words held a self-defensive edge. “No. Why would I want to go when I’ve got everything I want and need here?” Joss offered his phone to Oliver, who took it and scrolled through.
