Page 56 of Sparring Partners
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Adrian grimaced when he read the sign mounted on the tent: Biggest Vegetable in Show. Grotesque carrots, monstrous marrows, and unfeasibly long leeks would be his fate for the next hour — shorter if he could manage it. He wouldn’t be alone, which was something, even if he was going to be in the company of the past president of the root veg growers society, eighty-seven years old at least, and stone deaf in one ear. But at least it was the only show he was judging, having wriggled out — just — of the pet agility show.
Relief flooded him and a smile lifted his lips when Luca made his way towards him across the field.
Christ, but the man looked good. A spike of lust shot through him. Luca had looked especially good that morning, straddling his hips, skin covered in sweat, and with his head thrown back…. Adrian pulled his shirt down, covering the emerging bulge pressing against his jeans.
“I’m your new co-judge,” Luca announced, a wry smile on his lips. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time — talking to Eva when she got word that the old boy who was going to be judging with you has broken or sprained something. When she asked me, how could I say no?” Luca glanced up at him from under his lashes, his bright smile darkening. Adrian smirked.No. It wasn’t a word that had much use in Luca’s vocabulary, not when it was just the two of them. Perhaps they could make quick work of the judging.
“Hey, you two.”
They both swung around as Joss, armed with a large clipboard and with a pen tucked behind his ear, strode towards them.
“You’re looking very official.” Luca nodded to the large badge pinned to Joss’ chest confirming he was a Festival Organiser.
“Yeah, this makes me part of the special inner circle — I’m up there with Gran and Eva,” he said with a laugh. “Right, I need to give you these — the score sheets for the Biggest Veg.” He handed over two printed sheets with the contestants’ names, their show vegetable, a score out of ten box, and a space for comments. Adrian’s heart fell. How many giant vegetables could one village show accommodate?
“What’s this?” Adrian stared in horror at the box markedquotes for village newsletter.
“The Biggest Veg in Show’s a highlight of the festival.” Joss’ eyes gleamed with ill-disguised glee. “Which means we’re going to need some juicy quotes about how magnificent the vicar’s big knobbly carrot is, or the postman’s long, firm and very impressive leek. And who better than to comment than our chief judge and purveyor of the best veg in the area?” Joss grinned, and Adrian’s heart fell into the basement.
“My, such an abundance of… onions… and courgettes… and cabbages,” Luca said as he eyed the list.
“But no squashes of any description. We’ve banned them. Nearly caused a bloody riot the year before last.” Joss lowered his voice. “Unfair advantage. I mean, how does an onion compete with a pumpkin?” Joss shook his head, frowning as he did so, as though it were an unanswerable question.
Adrian caught Luca’s eye, and bit down on his smile.
“Here you go.” Joss rummaged in the backpack that dangled off one shoulder, pulling out a small plastic bag filled with rosettes. “One for the winner, and two runners up. Don’t forget you’ll need to pose with all three for a photo for the newsletter. The winner of the biggest veggie is very prestigious.” Joss’ phone rang, a frown drawing down his brows as he listened. “That’s all we need,” he muttered as he stuffed his mobile into the pocket of his jeans. “The Chair of the Ladies’ Guild has got into a spat with the Vice Chair of the WI — something about strawberry jam.” Joss sighed. “I really need to go and sort it out, before World War Three starts.” With a wave he rushed off.
“Who knew a village show contained so much drama,” Luca said with a laugh.
Adrian rolled his eyes. “Welcome to rural life.”
* * *
The tent was stuffy, and Adrian’s face was numb from the smile he’d plastered on almost two hours before. Giant, misshapen carrots merged into giant lumpy marrows, which merged into giant beetroot. Adrian stared at them in mounting horror. What had the growers fed them so that they achieved such unnatural sizes?
“I think this is a truly lovely carrot, Mr. Martin,” Luca said, his voice friendly and enthusiastic. “Mr. Hardy, what do you think of Mr. Martin’s carrot? It’s an impressive length and the girth really is quite something, wouldn’t you agree? I expect it would taste wonderful too.”
Luca smiled up at him, his eyes wide with fake innocence. Length, girth, taste… Christ. Adrian coughed, his throat suddenly very dry. “Most impressive. It’s certainly a contender.” Which were exactly the same words, although not always in that order, that he’d so far used on every entrant.
Mr. Martin preened, and patted his carrot as he and Luca moved on to the next hopeful.
“What a marvellous onion…”
At last, they crossed off the last entrant.
“That’s two and a half hours I’ll never get back,” Adrian muttered when the last of the hopefuls left the tent, leaving him and Luca alone. He slumped down on one of the tables holding mutant veg. “And how come you were able to keep smiling for so long? I’m sure my jaw’s broken.” He moved his jaw from side to side, in an attempt to loosen the stiffness that had set in soon after the judging started.
“Oh, years of practise facing off shitty guests.” Luca wrapped his arms around Adrian’s shoulders. The tension in Adrian’s jaw relaxed as his hands slipped around Luca’s waist, before falling to cup his arse.
Adrian pulled Luca closer. The crowds outside were no more than a distant drone. Luca had hung the ‘No Admittance. Judging In Progress’ sign up outside; they could take as long as they liked to come to their decision. He brought his lips to Luca’s ear.
“Do you wonder what Mr. Martin’s big, wonky carrot would feel like, gently brushed against your—ouch, that hurt!”
“You deserved it.” Luca laughed as he pulled out of Adrian’s embrace. “Veg play really isn’t on my list of deviant sexual practices to try. Is it a rural thing? Or just a Love’s Harbour speciality?”
“Perhaps we can find out, in one of the polytunnels back at the farm? I think you’re much more of a luxury lettuce rather than misshapen carrot kind of man.” Adrian grinned, as he slowly stalked Luca, who was backing away.
