Satisfied and a little achy, we made a pot of tea—Mads was slowly winning me over to the brew—and talked. I told him about my conversation with Chloe, including the subsequent meltdown. Mads graciously made no mention of me declining his support and I might’ve loved him a little bit more for that. We showered, spent time perusing our book fair purchases, and then hobbled our still burning arses to a nearby restaurant to eat our fill of fried rice, tom yum goong, som tum, and one of the best pad Thai I have ever eaten.
Next morning, we got up early and drove to the café we’d visited the day before for another delicious breakfast. Refusing to leave his precious book in the motel unit unsupervised for even an hour, Mads had taken it in his satchel as he had the night before when we’d gone to dinner. The chart he’d bought for me was rolled into its tube and left under a coat in the back seat of the Focus.
I was pretty sure the rental car was less secure than the unit, but did I remind him of that? No. No, I did not. Because when he’d seen me watching him with, okay, what could be seen bysome as an indulgent smile, his expression grew chillingly stern and he’d warned me that some book collectors were not shy of employing a bit of skulduggery to add to their collections. Thievery, even.
Colour me shocked.
And also, thievery? Who the fuck used that word anymore?
“We can’t know for sure that we weren’t followed back here last night,” he huffed, his gaze skittering to the window like he half expected Dick Turpin to be skulking outside. “The proprietors of this motel are clearly of debatable character. It shows in their lack of concern regarding the comfort of their guests. In my experience, lax hygiene standards are generally accompanied by equally slack security.”
The set of his jaw dared me to challenge the veracity of that association, so in the interest of self-preservation, I decided to leave it alone. I fancied my balls should remain exactly where they were.
“Uh-huh.” I kissed him on the head and led him outside. “I had no idea the world of book collecting was fraught with so much peril. I feel better just knowing you’re here to keep me safe.”
He replied with an epic eye roll. “Say what you like, but you don’t know what you don’t know. When it comes to the book-collecting fraternity, you’re a wide-eyed guppy swimming in a tank of sharks and you don’t even know it.”
He looked so serious, I couldn’t stop the laugh that broke from my mouth. The man had raced past adorable and gone straight to irresistible. I crowded him against the car and kissed him thoroughly, relishing the zingy hit of mint from his toothpaste before the warm rush of everything Mads filled my mouth and lit a fire in my belly. He tasted of all that had been missing in my life for a long time, and I knew Davis would approve.
I took my sweet time, and when I was done, Mads wobbled on his feet and regarded me with a slightly unfocused edge to his gaze. He smiled coyly and asked, “What was that for?”
I opened the passenger door and waved him inside. “That, Mister Church, was for being the cutest fucking guy on the planet this morning.” I thought about that and added, “Actually, oneverymorning. Afternoons too. And then there are the nights.” I shot him a wink. “Just the cutest.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before a crease formed between his brows. He opened his mouth to presumably protest or dismiss my words, but then closed it again, his cheeks blazing, his gaze sliding from me to the road ahead. Taking advantage of the hush, I simply closed the door and made for the driver’s seat.
Mads turned to stare at me. “Nick, I?—”
“No.” I put a hand softly over his mouth. “Let yourself be loved, baby. This is what it feels like. It’s the hardest thing in the world, I know, but I haven’t even started yet.”
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes glassy. Then a tiny, secret smile stole over his lips. “Thank you.” He turned and pointed through the windscreen. “Thataway. Before you make me fucking cry.”
I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I love you, too.”
Chloe’s townhousesat in a tree-lined street on the western edge of Blenheim, a small town of about thirty thousand people situated in the famous grape growing region of Marlborough. The townhouse was one of four identical homes built at a time when developers still saw the value of a decent-sized garden, a tree or two, and a bit of lawn. Being the last property at the endof the driveway, Chloe’s townhouse had more privacy than the other three and even boasted a distant vineyard view over the back fence.
I pulled into one of the guest car parks and noticed that Chloe’s small garden was well-tended and bedded for winter, even if the townhouse itself could’ve done with a bit of a refresh. Nothing that a coat of paint and a bit of TLC couldn’t fix, I mused, then promptly quashed that line of thinking since it had nothing to do with me.
I switched off the engine but didn’t move, stomach acid washing up my throat, my heart leaping around my chest like a freaking jackrabbit. When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I almost jumped through the roof.
Mads’ hand landed on my thigh. “You want me to get that?” he asked as my phone continued to ring.
“No,” I snapped, then winced. “Sorry.” I pulled out my phone and sighed when I saw the name. “Gazza.”
Mads gave a tiny smile. “Of course it is. I can talk to him if you’d prefer.”
“No, it’s fine.” I put the phone to my ear and answered with, “If I come home and find you’ve discovered my stash of Milkybars, there’ll be trouble.”
Mads scowled, and I figured, the lie was worth it just for his reaction.
Gazza laughed. “That was so last week, dickhead. I’ve moved on from there to your favourite IPA.”
I gasped. “You better not.”
“I guess you’ll find out when you get back.” Gazza paused and I heard Aaron talking with Lee in the background. “So,” Gazza began again. “We, ah... well, we just, um... wanted to wish you luck... you know... for the mother thing.”
I snorted. “The mother thing?”
“For fuck’s sake, give me that,” Lee’s voice rang down the line. “Sorry about that, Nick, but you really can’t get good help these days. What Gazza is trying to say is that we’re thinking of you.Bothof you, since your mood has been ugly as sin recently from all the stress.”
