After the Scrum (19 page)

At least, his therapist kept telling him it made a difference. Francis
had
thought himself to be weak. Now, he knew better. Patty had been one drunk, and though he'd fought, it hadn't made much of a difference. Perhaps healing could happen, with the knowledge being unable to escape didn't make him less of a person.

"Coffee, love?" His gran broke him out of his thoughts and waved a mug under his nose. "Did you get all your duckies in a row for the pub opening tomorrow?"

"My duckies? Caddock's the one who's opening a pub. I did my work ages ago." Francis didn't find it necessary to mention the hours he'd spent at Haddy's in the last four days. "I do have other clients, Gran."

"Clients? Yes. Other devastatingly handsome rugby players? No." She took a sip of her tea then offered a chunk of scone to Sherlock. Her smile had him covering his face with his hands to hide the sudden blush. "Coy doesn't suit you, love."

"Saints preserve me." Francis pondered briefly the moral issues with closing the door in her face. "Don't you have a scarf to knit? Or potatoes to peel? Or gossip to share?"

"No need to get narky." She took another casual drink. "You know, your mother used to get so flustered when I asked about her dates with your father. I can see her in you when you blush. It's no wonder the man's fallen so hard for you."

"
Gran.
"

To his eternal gratitude, she took the hint and left him to his coffee in peace. Francis had a few hours before Caddock and Devlin were expecting him. They would be passing out invitations to the local business owners close to the pub for the opening. He didn't completely see the point, since everyone and their mother knew about it.

Given how poplar Caddock had become, the entire legal-aged adult population of Looe would be stopping by the pub the following night for a pint. The way he'd cared for Francis had endeared him to all and sundry. They all hoped Haddy's became a success as a result.

On a selfishly personal level, Francis wanted the pub to work. It would ensure Caddock stayed in the village. He didn't yet feel secure enough in their connection to think the man would remain solely for him.

They had connected so quickly with that strange, almost instantaneous chemistry. Francis worried it would fade into nothing as infatuations often did. But then, Caddock would glance his way at times with such intensity. Maybe there was more depth than he dared hope.

Before Francis could further devolve into obsessing about their relationship, Sherlock roused himself and began his I-demand-a-walk dance. Francis caved to the inevitable and quaffed down his coffee quickly. His persistent companion happily trotted behind him, herding him out of the bedroom.

Francis tried to duck out without drawing attention to himself. A quiet, "Say hello to your lad," followed him out the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, glaring half-heartedly down at Sherlock.

"This is all your fault."

Sherlock barked at him.

"Glad we settled that." Francis ignored the look from the milkman next door. He'd been living in Looe for most of his life; they should be used to him talking to animals. He waved at the man with a smile. "It's only worrisome if Sherlock starts to answer back."

From the way the man jogged quickly to his vehicle, Francis didn't think he'd been any comfort to him.
Ah, well.
People were so sensitive these days. Talking to one's pet wasn't
that
bizarre, was it?

As had been the case every day for the last few weeks, Francis found his feet suddenly walking down the street in a familiar direction. A left, a right and a few blocks were all it took to have them at Haddy's. It was absolutely pathetic.

Ruth waved when Francis walked by her bakery, nattering away on her phone. She paused to call out to him. "He's at the pub."

Brilliant.

Now Ruth would be on the phone to his gran to chunter on about how her grandson had gone to see Caddock again, and weren't they just the sweetest thing in the world. The two had probably already planned his wedding.
Honestly.
Nutters—the both of them—absolutely nutters. In other circumstances, he might find it endearing, in a demented sort of way.

"Looking for me, cub?" Caddock sprung up behind him, squeezing, then swatting his arse. "Did you bring me a coffee? I could use one. It's been a long morning already."

"No, I brought myself one." Francis attempted to stretch his arm out to prevent the theft of his coffee. Caddock had a longer reach and plucked it easily out of his hand. "
Oi.
Thief. Give it back."

"Coffee's bad for you." Caddock took a large gulp then grimaced. He glared at the cup as if it had deeply offended him. "I forgot you like a little coffee with your cream and sugar. This'll rot your teeth out. It's so sweet. How do you stand it?"

"Then why are you still drinking it?"

"Someone has to save you from yourself." He held the cup over his head away from Francis's reaching hands. He seemed highly amused by his greater reach. "See? Coffee stunts your growth. If you hadn't drunk so much, you might be able to grab it from me."

"Not everyone wants to be an overgrown brute." Francis slid his freezing fingers under the hem of Caddock's shirt. He enjoyed the warmth of his skin and the hiss of displeasure from Caddock. "Oh, dear, are my fingers icy cold? You've got warm coffee to help you out."

"You mercenary bastard." Caddock held out the coffee, but placed his own hand over Francis's to trap his fingers against his muscled abdomen. "I enjoy your touch."

"How on earth do you make words so innocent sound so filthy?" Francis laughed at the mischievous glint in Caddock's blue eyes. "Something they teach you on the rugby pitch?"

"Pure natural talent."

"There is
nothing
pure about you."

"Mornin'."

Francis snatched his hand away from Caddock's shirt when Father Williams, the village priest, walked by. "Good morning."

"You know, I can legally marry you both at the chapel anytime." The priest's eyes twinkled with merriment at what Francis was sure were shell-shocked looks in their eyes. "Have a good day now and the best of luck tomorrow evening."

"They do realize we've barely been together a month or so, right?" Francis rubbed his forehead with a resigned air of annoyance. He waved off Caddock's attempt to answer his rhetorical question. "The ground can come up to swallow me whole anytime now."

The entire village appeared to be in a competition to see how they could embarrass him the most. Francis's cheeks flushed a bright pink while Caddock simply chuckled. He should've stayed at home.

Caddock cupped the back of his neck to tug him up into a kiss. He used the distraction to grab Francis's coffee again. "My mother came by to take Devlin out for the day. Want to shag on the bar?"

"
Caddock.
"
Francis shook his head with a laugh as he was dragged into the pub. "
Prat.
"

Sherlock danced around the two of them. His paws slipped on the newly polished wooden floor. He immediately found the row of dog beds lining the far wall of the pub. Caddock had wanted to make the numerous dogs in the village as comfortable as their owners.

"He seems pleased with himself." Caddock moved over to the bar where he'd obviously been working on last minute paperwork. "If I'd known how much of this shit I'd have to deal with, I'm not sure I would've decided to own my own pub."

Francis followed him, hopping up onto the wooden bar. "Is it stretching your brain?"

"Oi, no lip from you." Caddock shoved the forms to the side. He caught Francis by the thigh to drag him down, and then moved to stand between his open legs. "You could make it up to me."

"Oh?"

He leaned in for a kiss. "This is a new pub after all. Perhaps we should christen it?"

"Windows…." Francis found his complaint swallowed by rough lips on his own. One touch turned into another and
another
. He finally pulled himself away remembering yet again how anyone looking in would see them. "
Caddock.
"

"There's always the upstairs office." He grinned wickedly. "But where's the fun in that?"

"Fun?" He had his doubts getting arrested would be considered enjoyable on any level. "It's not
exactly
sanitary either."

With an exaggerated groan, Caddock yanked him off the bar into his arms. He stalked out of the room and up the narrow stairs that lead to the office and storage space on the second floor of the building. He stumbled over a mop handle and they crashed to the floor.

Francis gave a pained groan from underneath the mass of the Brute. "Brilliant idea, truly."

"As soon as I've determined whether or not I've broken anything, I'm spanking you for your cheeky lack of faith in my abilities." Caddock flopped over with a sigh and ever so carefully twisted from side to side. "Fuck. I think I broke my back."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Caddock

Despite the auspicious start to the day, the opening to the bar went spectacularly well. The evening flew by. Caddock barely had time to blink before he stood with his new staff cleaning up after they'd closed for the night with a till full to the brim with their earnings.

He'd done it.

Started his own pub.

And successfully opened to a full house.

On the heels of his bar opening, Caddock would've thought the worst of his stress to be over. He turned out to be wrong. His mother had thrown a wrench in his plans—dinner with the family, plus Francis and his gran.

How badly could it go? His father had claimed to have changed. So really, how awful would it be for them all to eat together? His mother could keep an entire army in check; dealing with her husband should be a snap.

Fingers crossed the man had actually changed, else Caddock wouldn't be able to restrain himself if his father had a go at Francis. They'd be brawling in the back garden. And wouldn't it just make the evening so much better?

The visual in his mind might've been humorous if not for the tragic side of it. His mother would never forgive him if he ever struck his father. A lot rested on the way this turned out, so he hoped they were all up to the occasion.

Leaning against the sofa cushions, Caddock attempted to focus on the printouts from the sales at the pub for the first three days of business. He had expected day one to go well. The Brute come to Looe made Haddy's a novelty. He
hadn't
anticipated their success continuing as it had.

With luck, his pub would grow and grow. His young chef had experience in the kitchen and a hunger to make a name for himself. Caddock, after some consideration, decided to let him go for it. He'd given the young man complete control over the menu.

The food had been absolutely amazing—"fucking brilliant," according to Rupert. His old mate had been dragged in to taste test the day after the opening. Their lunch crowds almost exceeded the night-time numbers. They'd brought in a few servers to handle the workload.

When initially planning for the pub, Caddock had intended to have barely a skeleton crew. But after all the changes to the menu, he wouldn't cripple their efforts by not having the staff required. Hiring locally also endeared them to the village. It was good business all around.

Less than a week in might be too soon to claim success; Caddock, however, had a good feeling about it. Haddy's would be the silver lining to his forced retirement. It would be his
try
after the scrum. He would make it work.

"Uncle Boo? Can I watch
Owiver
? Can I? Pwease?" Devlin climbed up beside him on the couch, Blue the bear tucked safely under his arm. His nephew had watched one of the older versions of
Oliver
at least ten times in the last week. "You pwomised."

"Did I?" Caddock vaguely recalled foolishly saying the lad could see it again.
Shit.
It had taken ages to get the damn songs out of his head. "All right then, I can see it's time to torture your beloved uncle again."

Devlin giggled.

Ahh, my little devilish sadist.

He turned on the telly and set up the requested film. His eyes narrowed playfully on his nephew. "Cease your laughing or I'll toss you in the river in a sack."

"Gwannie would be cwoss with you," Devlin said with all the confidence of a four-year-old. "She'd put you on the naughty step with no cake."

"No cake? No cake! Oh no. How will I ever live in a world without it?" Caddock tickled his nephew, laughing at how much dessert ruled his world. "Your grandmother would never deny you cake—unless you dug up all her roses. I think she might love her flowers more than me. Maybe more than you."

"Uncle Boo."

Small hands batted away his poking fingers. Devlin had settled down after all the family drama. He thanked God for the hundredth time for the resilience of childhood.

His nephew began to sing along to the music on the telly. Caddock, to save his sanity, returned to the inventory lists his new chef had handed him the night before. They mostly sourced from local farms and shops. He liked the idea of repaying the community for its support.

"Is it lunch time yet, Uncle Boo?" Devlin paused in the middle of singing.

The one good thing about owning a pub with a brilliant chef: Caddock didn't have to live on beans on toast and waffles. Devlin had a one-track mind when it came to food. Children tended to be frustrating at times.

Devlin moved on from singing and considering lunch to having a serious debate with bear about who they loved more in the musical. It would be good when his primary school started up again. The lad needed other children to play with.

As the movie ended, Caddock packed up his paperwork. He took Devlin down to the pub for lunch. Anything to pull his mind away from the impending doom of the evening was preferable to sitting on the couch and brooding over it.