Page 125 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Has anyone been out to the house today and been inside?”
“Is there something wrong?”
“Just a small sign of disturbance when we came back.”
“No one’s been out there from here. I can speak to the owners. It’s possible our message about renting it out didn’t…”
“No, don’t bother.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, nothing’s missing. It could be our imagination Thanks. Bye.”
“It isn’t.” But Jonty was less sure than he had been. After last night, he was on edge and more likely to make nothing into something. Although…
“I’m not leaving you here on your own when I go to the hotel.”
Jonty didn’t want to be left on his own. “Can you take me to Tay’s and then collect me when you’re done? And…you can meet him.”
“Will he be okay with you dropping in on a Saturday night?”
“He never goes anywhere.” Jonty headed for the kitchen. “Lunch and then we surf, okay?”
“Okay.”
Chapter Seventeen
DEVAN WAS STILL THINKING WHATa bastard Jonty’s father was as he tugged on his wetsuit. Jonty seemed to have gotten over this morning already and was back to his normal bouncy self, Devan’s personal ray of sunshine. Devan felt as if he’d had his eyes opened onto a different world. He wasn’t naïve; he knew some kids had terrible lives, but he’d never met anyone who’d been through what Jonty had.
It brought out his protective instincts. If Gary Bloom hadn’t been lying in bed, Devan would have grabbed him by the throat, pushed him up against the wall and… No one had ever stood up for Jonty when he was a boy, apart from Tay, and it broke Devan’s heart. He didn’t want Jonty hurt ever again and that included being hurt by him.
He was going to find him a role in the company. After he’d made the offer to McAllister, he’d talk to Alan. If they weren’t going to get the hotel, then he had a month to persuade Jonty to move south with him. Devan wasn’t impulsive, though he did sometimes act on his instincts. Jonty wasn’t a rebound. He was tender and warm-hearted despite the crap life had thrown at him.
Jonty was currently wriggling into his wetsuit and turning Devan on. But then everything he did turned Devan on. A smile aimed on Devan’s direction, a cheeky glance, a pout, an inhalation…
“Bloody hell,” Jonty panted as he finally zipped up. “Good thing it’s worth the effort of putting this on. You need a hand?” Jonty glanced at the bulge in Devan’s suit and laughed. “Youdoneed a hand.”
“I can hardly be in the same room as you and not need a hand.” But Devan yanked the suit over his shoulders and zipped it up, the hard outline of his cock clearly visible.
“When I buy my next wetsuit, I’m going to go for one of those that deters sharks.” Jonty picked up his surfboard.
“Is there such a thing?”
“Yep. Unlike most fish, sharks are colour blind and only see shades of grey, so if you wear a suit that blends in, it makes you difficult to spot.”
“Tricky to test whether it works without making sharks see that wetsuits contain food.” Devan picked up one of the two boards leaning against the garage wall and Jonty took it out of his hand and gave him the other.
“This one’s better.”
“One plus of surfing in the UK,” Devan pointed out. “Sharks aren’t a problem.”
He pulled down the garage door, locked it and when they went around the back of the house, he hid the keys under a rock near the hot tub.
“Because no one will look there,” Jonty said.
Devan laughed. “Better than losing them on the beach or in the sea.”
Jonty hesitated. “What if that sand was left by Brad?”
