Isle of Waves (25 page)

“He’s hiding, you mean.”

“That too,” Wig agreed. “You know my man. He can wrestle a chicken into submission in the kitchen, but face him with a bunch of lovely ladies, and he runs for the hills.”

“I like you.” Bel patted his cheek. “You’re the only one that calls us ladies.”

Maggie, standing behind Bel, burst into raucous laughter. “That’s because all the others don’t need their eyes checked. Morning, Wig, babe. Our usual table?”

“It’s all yours, darling Maggie.” Wig fluttered his hands and leaned over for a kiss, receiving a red-lipsticked smacker. As usual, Maggie wiped it off with her thumb and grinned impishly at him.

“She puts that lippy on just before she walks in,” Bel said.

Maggie winked at him. “Any excuse to fondle a nice boy.”

Wig snorted as he showed them to their regular table. “Oh Maggie, have you got me wrong. I am
never
a nice boy.”

“That’s why we love you, doll. That’s why we love you.”

He handed them the menus and left them to it before retreating to the bar where Ben was polishing glasses.

“I don’t know why you bother giving the old ducks the menus. They order the same thing every week.”

“You never know, one day they might surprise me.”

“What was that about you losing your temper?”

“I told the Sawars exactly what I thought about their ‘business’”—he made it sound like a dirty word—“tactics.”

Ben chewed on his bottom lip. “When are you shutting up shop? If Steve and I are both going to be out of work, we need to think about the future.”

“Nibs and I haven’t talked about it, but the Sawars aren’t buying us out anymore.”

“They’re not?”

“Their place is going to take a while to repair, so they’re buying a place in Portsmouth.”

“Does this mean you’re not selling up?” Ben looked as if he wanted to cry.

“I don’t know,” Wig said honestly. “Nibs was all for moving away when things were bad. I need to talk to him before I can tell you what’s going on.”

Ben rubbed his finger across his lips in a nervous gesture. “God, I hope you’re staying. We want to stay here with you.”

“You’ve got no desire to run your own restaurant?” Wig asked, only half teasing, but Ben looked at him seriously.

“Someday, maybe, but not yet. We’ve got too much to learn, and we’ve got no money.”

“Nibs and I did much the same thing at your age,” Wig admitted. “We had a good apprenticeship. Although I swore blind I was never going to
just
be a waiter.” He grinned wryly at the “just.” “No one told me you end up as manager, accountant, stockman, counselor, peacemaker, et cetera. If they’d told me all that, I’d have probably run for the hills.”

“What did you see yourself doing?” Ben asked curiously.

“Wig Tobias was going to be in musical theater. I was going to be the next John Barrowman.” He struck a pose and Ben giggled.

“So what happened?”

“Someone had the nerve to tell me I couldn’t dance and I couldn’t sing.”

Ben winced. “A director?”

“Nibs. The bastard came to a show I was in when we first met and tore me to shreds. He stomped all over my dreams.”

“Poor you.”

“I know.”

“Was he right?”

“Totally. I was crap. A gay man who can’t sing and dance. Tragic really.”

Ben sniggered at Wig’s tragic expression. “It goes against the laws of nature.”

“Wig, dear, we’re ready,” Bel cooed at them.

“Three teas, one latte, one mocha, one green tea, two tea cakes, and a Belgian bun?” he asked.

“How did you know?”

Wig brought over the tray. “Here’s one I prepared earlier.”

“You’re such a doll. Always so good to us,” one of the ladies said.

“I live to please you,” he said with a bow and a flourish.

They giggled and he beamed. It was cheesy, but customers who, like the ladies and families, genuinely appreciated the way he looked after them made his day. He may not have been on stage, but it was a performance nevertheless, and he was always grateful when people appreciated what he did.

“Karen’s coming over later,” Ben said a while later.

“Oh? How is she?” Wig hadn’t seen her since the day of the funeral.

“She’s… look, I shouldn’t say this, but she really wants her job back.”

Wig chewed on his lip. Liam had effectively taken over Karen’s job, which made Wig feel guilty sometimes.

“She’s going to ask if she can come back next season.”

“I’ll talk to Nibs. If we’re still in business, I don’t see why not. If the Sawars leave us alone, we’ll need another full-time member of staff.”

Ben smiled at him. “That’s what I told her.”

Wig frowned. “And what if I’d said never in a million years?”

“You wouldn’t have done that.”

“And why not?”

“Because you love Karen too much.”

This was true. Wig adored the bubbly blonde and she adored him. Nibs said they were like two paisley peas in a pod. He didn’t mean it as a compliment. But he did appreciate the fact that Wig and Karen going out together, shopping and a show, meant that he didn’t have to step foot in another theater again. Wig had threatened him with bodily harm if he fell asleep during another musical.

Wig took a deep breath. “I need to talk to Nibs.”

“Sooner rather than later, please, boss.”

Wig realized that it wasn’t only him and Nibs that had been affected by the past year. Their “family,” small though it was, had all been put under unnecessary strain. He ground his teeth as he thought of the Sawars again.

“Why are you frowning?” Sam asked as he came into the restaurant. “Who do we have to kill?”

Wig tried to smooth out the lines. He wasn’t going to let a single wrinkle on his face. He was too young for Botox, surely.

“The boss wants to kill the neighbors,” Ben said.

Sam shrugged. “Fair enough. They had a pop at us.”

“We don’t know that for definite,” Wig said hastily because they were in public, and he didn’t know who was listening. “There’s such a thing as evidence.”

Sam gave a derisive snort. “What about circumstantial evidence?”

“We might never know who broke in,” Wig pointed out. “We haven’t heard from the police in weeks.”

“Perhaps we ought to get Paul to have a pop at them,” Ben said.

“Perhaps we should.” Wig grinned. “Talking of Paul, did he tell you what his chief super wrote in his leaving speech?”

Sam grinned but Ben said, “What did he say?”

“That in his time at Darrow Road he had come close to killing someone several times, but never as close as when he heard about the combined creative use of chocolate sauce and his daughter, particularly as it was his favorite chocolate sauce, and they had arctic roll the next day.”

The encounter between Paul and the chief super’s daughter was legendary.

“What did Paul say?”

“He gave the chief super a present.”

“He didn’t…?”

“Oh yes. A crate of his favorite chocolate sauce.”

“That man lives for danger,” Ben said.

“Not anymore. All he wants to do is settle down with Skandik and make a happy family.”

“Paul Owens, family man.” Ben shook his head. “The two do not compute.”

“We all get caught sooner or later. Even someone like Paul.”

“I would have laid bets that he would never have been caught, but seeing him with Olaf, I realize he’s just as soppy as the rest of us,” Sam said.

Liam came up behind him and slung an arm around his waist. “No one is as soppy as you, Sam Owens.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” Wig said. “You’re the emperor of sappiness.”

Sam tried to look offended but he failed. “Maybe I am,” he agreed.

“No maybe about it.”

Liam gave Sam a quick kiss. “They love your sappiness. Just ignore them.”

“Oh, I do, love. They’re just jealous of the epicness of our love.”

Ben made a gakking sound, and Wig rolled his eyes.

“Get back to work before I melt into a gooey puddle in the face of your epicness.”

“You’re so bossy,” Sam said.

“Strangely there’s a reason for that.” Wig pointed at the family in the corner. “Junior wants a refill of orange squash, and Dad looks like he needs another beer.”

“I’ll do it.” Liam headed over to the family.

Wig grinned as the father nodded enthusiastically at Liam’s suggestion of another beer.

“You read people well,” Sam said.

“Experience.”

“I guess.”

Wig looked up, feeling Sam had more to say.

“Thanks for looking after us since the wedding,” Sam said eventually.

Wig grinned at him. “You’re family.”

“Yes, we are. Does that mean you’re an Owens?”

“Rose declared it so, many years ago.” He and Nibs had been adopted as honorary members of the clan many years previous.

“How many brothers have I got now?”

“Who knows? Probably enough for your own football team.”

“Cool.”

“I’ll bring the oranges out at halftime.” There was no way Wig was ever going near a ball—at least not of the male variety.

W
IG
WATCHED
the light play across the covers of the bed. He’d been
awake for some time, unable to sleep as he thought about the day
ahead.

Nibs grumbled sleepily and pressed a kiss into the back of his neck. “Morning, babe. You been awake long?” He sounded sleep-rough and sexy.

“Some,” Wig said. “I’ve got things on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?” Nibs yawned, swallowing the last words.

“No. I’m good.” Wig pressed back against Nibs, wriggling his arse in a definite invitation.

“Hmmm, are you awake enough for a little fun?”

“I’d like big fun, please,” Wig said. “Your big fun just sliding in here.”

“I can do that,” Nibs agreed. “Just in here.” He emphasized his words with a thrust of two thick fingers into Wig’s arse.

Wig groaned and pushed against his fingers. “Please, Nibs.”

“Please what?”

“Push me down and fuck me through the mattress.”

“You don’t want it slow and sensual?”

“I want you to fuck me so hard I’m screaming.”

Nibs bit down on Wig’s shoulder. “I can do that.” He nudged Wig onto his belly.

Wig stretched out luxuriously, waiting for Nibs to slick himself up. He was still loose from the previous night, so he didn’t need much preparation.

Nibs leaned over him, pressing him down into the mattress with his body. He peppered Wig’s neck and shoulders with light kisses, then licked over the mark where he’d bitten Wig.

“Harder,” Wig begged.

“You want me to bite you again?”

“Yessss… ahh.”

Nibs pressed his teeth into the hurt but not enough.

“Please.”

“Pleasssssse.” And then the hurt was just right. “God!”

Nibs worried at the sore. “Too much?”

“Just fucking right.” Wig clenched at the sheet, working his way through the pain.

“Need you. Can’t wait any longer.” Nibs had been leaking steadily against the back of Wig’s thigh.

Wig pushed up his arse, presenting himself for Nibs to use as he saw fit. He heard the
snick
of the lube cap, and then Nibs was filling him with one long thrust that made Wig groan out loud.

“They’re gonna hear you,” Nibs said breathlessly.

Once again Wig and Nibs had guests while work was being done on Rose’s cottage.

“Think they’ve heard gay men having sex before.” Wig didn’t give a flying fart whether Liam and Sam heard them.

Nibs thrust in again, and again, eliciting moans from Wig on every occasion.

Sweat broke out on Wig’s forehead and between their bodies. He buried his face in the pillow and let Nibs use him, just as he wanted to be used. Above him, Nibs grunted and panted, and drops of sweat fell onto Wig’s shoulders.

Wig felt Nibs swell and harden inside him; then Nibs pounded his arse harder and harder until he let out a choked cry, and Wig felt a rush of hot seed inside his channel. Nibs slumped against him, pressing him into the mattress, trapping Wig’s hard and aching dick beneath his body. He wriggled and Nibs mumbled.

“Gimme a minute, babe, then I’ll suck you off.”

Wig sighed and waited, enjoying the heavy feel of his lover despite his urgent need to come.

Nibs heaved himself off Wig’s body and rolled him over. Without ceremony he took Wig’s cock into his mouth.

Wig grabbed Nibs’s head and held it exactly where he wanted it, thrusting up, into the tight, hot heat that drew him on until he was spilling helplessly into Nibs’s mouth.

Nibs swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I swear you taste better as the years go by.”

Snorting, Wig pulled Nibs on top on him. “You’re an idiot,” he said fondly.

“Your idiot.”

“All mine,” he agreed, pulling Wig down for another kiss.

“Do you want a drink?” Sam yelled and banged on the door.

Nibs raised his head and looked at the door. “Fuck off.”

“Morning to you too. If you’ve finished fucking it’s time to get up. Make sure you shower. Don’t want you stinking of spunk. See you in a minute.”

Wig was about to respond when he heard Liam say, “Could you be crasser if you tried?”