Page 24 of Sparring Partners
“Lots of things aren’t your business but they don’t seem to stop you from asking.”
“Ouch. But point taken.”
Luca’s lips twitched, thawing his frozen features. He blew out a long breath. “I both wanted and needed to move on. From my job. From London. From… a personal situation.”
Luca’s shoulders slumped and his blue eyes lost their shine. They looked dull and flat, as though a light inside of him had been switched off. Sad, so damned sad. Something clenched hard in Adrian’s chest. He moved closer, only wanting to reignite the flame in Luca which, for whatever reason, had been snubbed out.
The need to say something, offer some kind of platitude, faded as Adrian’s gaze rested on Luca’s. His heart beat hard in his chest and his blood whooshed, deafening, through his veins.
Luca was everything he was determined to stay away from.
Luca was passing through, he had no roots in the land, he was a man made for the city and everything that went with it.
Luca was everything he didn’t need but everything he wanted, no matter how much he told himself he didn’t, no matter how much he told himself to keep his distance.
Beautiful blue eyes stared back at him with a hunger that matched his own.
Adrian leant in. Angling his head, all the screeching alarms fell silent. Luca mirrored his movement, his lips parting, the kiss as inevitable as spring after a long, desolate winter.
A harsh blare ripped them apart. Luca leapt to his feet, and fumbled in the pocket of his trousers, almost dropping his phone.
“Hello? What — oh. No, no, it’s fine, of course it is.” Turning his back on Adrian, he walked towards the kitchen.
Adrian pushed himself to standing, on legs he refused to acknowledge were unsteady. What the fuck had he been doing? He ran his hands down his face. Luca Graham wasn’t his business, and that was how it needed to stay. He rubbed the back of his hand over his lips, wiping away the kiss that had never been and never would.
Adrian turned for the door just as Luca swung around.
“Just a minute.” Luca muted his phone. “Adrian, I’m sorry. I won’t be a moment. It’s?—”
“I have to get back. Thanks for…” he nodded to the coffee table.
“But—”
Adrian didn’t hear another word as he closed the door behind him.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Adrian stared down at the newspaper he’d found abandoned on the bar, even though he’d long ago given up attempting to read it. The Fisherman’s Arms was quiet, so early in the evening, just a couple of old boys in the corner, one of whom appeared to be asleep.
A hard day’s physical labour on the farm hadn’t been enough to quell his restlessness, just like it hadn’t been for the past few days. He’d been snappy with Harry, more so than usual, and the younger man had wisely kept his distance and his head down. Adrian didn’t blame him, because he’d have steered clear of himself, too. The walk from the farm across the moor had done nothing to ease his nervous agitation, and soon he’d be faced with the walk back, or a ride in one of Barry’s lumpy seated cabs.
“Who’s died?”
Adrian looked up. Across the bar Ryan was restocking the crisps and nuts. Adrian said nothing, and Ryan’s grin faded as his eyes grew wider.
“If somebody has, I’m really sorry. It was just meant to be…”
“Don’t worry, everybody I know is alive and kicking. My mind was just wandering, that was all.” Which was an understatement. It’d been making a beeline straight towards Luca, with no deviation. He pushed his pint glass towards Ryan. “Give me another.” Ryan nodded, saying nothing; like Harry, he’d no doubt picked up that Adrian wasn’t in a talkative mood. Adrian’s lips twisted in a grim smile. When was he?
He reapplied himself to the newspaper, but his thoughts slipped back to Luca, and the kiss that never was. What in god’s name had got into him? Luca Graham was everything he should steer clear of. He shoved the dog eared paper aside. Every word of that was true, but it didn’t stop the gnawing want and desire, the undeniable craving for the man who switched on all his long dormant lights. He rubbed a palm hard over his brow, but he couldn’t rub away the image of Luca, of his blue eyes darkening, of his lush lips parting…
The door rattling open made him look around, his stomach clenching. Not Luca, but a middle aged couple with a collie on a leash. The dog was old and moved with the awkwardness of arthritis, reminding him of Spud… which made him think of Luca.
Christ. He’d apologise for what hadn’t happened. It’d clear his mind. They’d put a line under it, and carry on as before. They’d pretend it hadn’t nearly happened.
Yeah, right.
A few early evening drinkers drifted in, mostly the more recent residents of the village from the looks of them. The old boys had gone, and Adrian decided he should be off too, even if the prospect of an evening spent alone at the farm left him with a dull ache in his chest. Finishing off his pint, he flexed his shoulders before he slipped from the bar stool, turning to leave as the door opened.
