New Lease of Life (20 page)

Pip twisted to the right to better appreciate the overall effect and then swung to the left. Light from the single bulb above his head hit metal and reflected back at him, taking the shine off his good humor.

Molded plastic dug into his palm as he steadied himself before settling the cuff an inch or two above his elbow. The fabric of his tweed creased where the cuff bunched the material up. He rested all his weight onto the crutch, and a familiar dull ache emanated from his shoulder.

He pulled back the curtain and shuffled out of the changing room, the
thudsqueak
of the rubber stopper replacing the tap of the silver tip that had quickly become the preferred accompaniment to his steps.

“Stubborn bastard,” Colby cursed the moment Pip came into view of the doorway.

Pip held out the cane, handle first, so that it would reach across the distance between them, a distance Colby didn’t seem so keen to close up any longer.

Colby shook his head, but he wrapped a hand around the intricately carved bone anyway. Once Pip was certain Colby held the weight of the walking stick securely, that it wouldn’t fall to the floor and be damaged, he let go. Then he glanced away so he couldn’t catch more than a glimpse of the hurt in Colby’s expression.

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept it,” Pip said, talking to the slouching reflection in the mirror.

“It or me?”

“What? No.” A sickening sense of dread washed over him. Panic clawed at Pip’s throat, and he had to force the words out. “I don’t have to choose, do I?”

Of course he did. His body was a shell of its former self. A dried-out husk that nobody could appreciate and that didn’t deserve to have nice things wasted on it. And there was nothing finer than Colby.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re beautiful, and if I have to spend the rest of my life reminding you of that fact, I bloody well will. Every. Single. Day. Even if this date today doesn’t go anywhere, I will text you and phone you. I will leave messages on your blog. I will paste flyers on lampposts all over the city. I will stalk your arse until you realize what a treasure you are. And if I ever find the man that made you think you weren’t worthy of my time and attention, I will beat the ever-loving crap out of him.”

“Colby.” Warmth spread through him at Colby’s declaration, and Pip shuffled forward, placing a hand on Colby’s arm to stop him from shaking with barely concealed rage. “I don’t deserve you.”

Bad choice of words.

“Fuck!” Colby threw up his hands, dislodging Pip’s grasp. “That’s exactly my point. You do. You’re smart and funny, cute and sexy. Even when you’re snippy, you get my blood pumping so hard I want to carry you off to bed and not let you go for hours, days. I want to protect you from everything, but mainly from yourself. I want to hold your hand when we walk down the street, proud that you would deign to be seen with me.” Colby sighed. “I don’t want you to choose. I don’t need you to. What you wear has never been a factor in me wanting you, but I prefer the
person
you are when you are comfortable in your skin. The cane seemed to set you free. And seeing you in your own clothes with the cane….” Colby sucked in a breath. “When you forget that you’re not supposed to be good enough anymore, you exude a confidence that takes my breath away.”

Balancing the walking stick across the palms of both hands, Colby stepped forward until he was close enough that only the dark wood and the span of his hands, from the tips of his fingers to his pale veins in his wrist, separated them. “Just for our lunch date, and if I can’t prove that you are worthy of keeping it then, I’ll never mention it again. I’ll take it back and put it up for sale in the shop.”

Whoa! Let’s not be hasty
, Pip wanted to say, but he knew he couldn’t have it both ways. Even so, he closed his hand possessively around the wood, letting its warmth come to life once more beneath his touch.

At the same time, he tried to free himself from the shackles of his crutch, but the cuff was caught tight on his tweed. Apparently willing to trust the safety of the walking stick to Pip, Colby let go and focused his attention on Pip’s arms. Carefully he eased the cuff away from the sleeve of Pip’s jacket, mindful of the snags on the plastic that could catch the threads. When the jacket was no longer in danger, Colby threw the crutch into an area on the other side of the changing room where it landed with a clang.

“Thank you.”

“I think that should be my line,” Pip said, in the hushed tone of a confession. Pushing himself up on his tiptoes, Pip brushed his lips over Colby’s jaw, tasting the earthy, astringent scent of his aftershave on his way to Colby’s mouth.

A sharp cough from somewhere behind Pip startled him. Colby sighed against his skin and then stepped away.

“Morning, boss man. I’m here to relieve you for lunch.” A young woman, all bust and hips but both upstaged by the purple and green streaks in her blonde hair, attempted to squeeze past them and into the shop. “Although it looks like you’ve started already.”

“Maddy. This is Pip.”

“Pip who you were kissing in front of Mrs. P last Friday? It’s becoming a habit.” She grinned and shifted her attention to Pip. “Hi, Pip. Nice to meet you.”

“All my staff are insolent,” Colby muttered. He laced his fingers between Pip’s and squeezed. “We better get out of here before she changes her mind.”

“YOU’VE GOT
a bit of frosting.” Colby leaned forward, balancing his weight on his forearm, and reached for Pip. “Right here.”

He swiped his thumb over Pip’s lower lip, his gaze seeming to follow the same path.

“It was good cake. Your sister’s very talented.”

Colby made a sound of assent but didn’t comment. His fingers lingered on Pip’s face.

“Is it gone?”

Colby hummed, a noncommittal sound, and closed the few inches between them. The secluded spot in the park where Colby had laid the picnic rug out on the grass allowed them the freedom to touch. Even the occasional kiss when the already light foot traffic on the path faded away and they were, for a blissful moment, completely alone.

Like now.

At the exact point where Colby had gathered up the frosting with his thumb, Colby flicked his tongue over Pip’s skin.

Another sound in the affirmative and Pip felt the vibrations of it against his mouth seconds before Colby followed it up with a kiss.

Pip moaned softly, opening up to the gentle pressure and letting Colby inside. He relaxed into the moist warmth of Colby’s all-encompassing attention, chasing the sweet taste of carrot cake on Colby’s tongue and lips.

“Faggots!”

The shout didn’t sound too close, but Pip pulled away from Colby and glanced over to assess the threat.

“Intolerant wanker,” Colby muttered under his breath.

No way could the words carry to the man on the pathway.

Thankfully.

Midtwenties, obviously young and stupid, the man hadn’t just passed comment and moved on like the elderly couple who had called them deviants and promised them a reservation in hell. He stood his ground on the asphalt path, hands clenched into fists.

Lying on a blanket on the grass, Pip felt uncomfortably vulnerable, yet he didn’t dare move lest he set off a chain reaction.

“Fucking queers!”

To Pip’s left, Colby rose languidly, pushing himself to his feet in a lazy, fluid movement. Despite the possible threat, Pip couldn’t fail to appreciate the grace of such motion in a man of Colby’s height and bulk.

Colby brushed a hand down the front of his trousers and took a step off the blanket.

“Colby,” Pip warned under his breath.

Glancing down at Pip, Colby just smiled. Then he stretched, giving Pip and their voyeur an expansive display of popping joints and bulging muscles.

The arsehole on the pathway blanched visibly. His fingers unfurled, and he took a small step back. Making a performance of looking at his watch, the man turned and hurried away with one final volley of abuse.

“Shirt-lifting shit shovelers.”

As the man disappeared behind the huge azalea bush that had shielded them from most prying eyes in the park, Colby exhaled. He glanced down at Pip, pulled a body builder pose, and wiggled his dark eyebrows. They looked like caterpillars dancing and that, combined with the ridiculous stance, forced a laugh out of Pip that he couldn’t have imagined several moments earlier.

“That kinda ruined the moment. Sorry.”

Pip shrugged as best he could while propped up on one elbow. “Not your fault the guy was a homophobic prick. I’ve been called worse. I’ve been jeered at and lampooned in Brighton for snogging on the beach, and if you can’t kiss another man there without fear of retribution, where can you.”

“I guess.” Colby held out a hand for Pip to take. “I just wanted today to be perfect.”

“It was.” He took Colby’s hand and let the strength in those arms pull him to his feet. “More than perfect.”

Colby laughed, a soft, fond sound. “Yeah. But I should be getting back to the shop.” He stooped to pick up Pip’s lidded cup, handing it to him when he straightened. “Finish your smoothie. I’ll pack away.”

Pip muttered, “Who made you the boss of me,” ridiculously thrilled when he made Colby snort with amusement, and then set about following the instruction anyway.

Sucking strongly on the straw, Pip slurped up the last of his smoothie. His mother would have blanched at the noise Pip’s enthusiastic suction produced, a sound that would have had her tsking about class and breeding, but Pip couldn’t bring himself to care. His belly was full, his lips were sticky from frosting and slightly sore from Colby’s furtive but zealous attention, and now he had a ringside view of Colby’s perfect arse while his date packed away the last of the picnic things.

One last tug on the straw in the all but empty plastic cup produced a sound so offensive that Pip sniggered.

“Seriously?” Colby asked, casting a fond gaze over his shoulder. “How old are you? I know eight-year-olds that think that’s childish. Put it in the bag.”

Colby held out a plastic rubbish sack, and Pip dropped the smoothie cup into it with barely a hint of contrition.

“I’m just happy,” Pip said, not even attempting to explain how a simple picnic in the park had left him feeling on cloud nine.

“Me too.” After tying off the rubbish bag, Colby dropped it at his feet. “You chortled. I wish I’d not had my back to you.”

“Actually, I sniggered. And that has got to equate to at least ten smiles, which should get me a month’s worth of dates.”

“Nope. Your smile is the highest currency known to man, so I reckon you’re pretty much stuck with me now.”

“Shame,” Pip said, once again ogling Colby’s arse as he bent down to retrieve the picnic rug. “However will I cope? I see what you mean about your trousers. You’re threatening the seams just by bending….”

With a good-natured huff, Colby shifted into a squat position. It relieved the strain on the material of his chinos but caused them to ride low, exposing two perfectly formed indentations just above the swell of his arse.

“Oh! You have dimples. Can I lick them?”

“Jesus, Pip!” Colby stood abruptly and shook out the rug. He hadn’t said no, though, and from the flare of interest in Colby’s gaze, Pip could imagine his tongue getting intimately acquainted with those enticing divots in the near future.

“Pip!” A voice called his name. An all too familiar voice.

The slap of running footsteps on the pathway caused Pip to drag his attention away from Colby—who had stood and was busy folding the rug. But Colby’s gaze was already focused on something, or more accurately someone, over Pip’s shoulder and Pip turned toward the person calling him.

“Pippin!”

“Pippin?” Colby muttered into his ear. “I thought your name was Phillip.”

“Hmm, it appears none of you are happy to simply use my nickname. You have to make it longer than before.”

“I thought it was you!”

Enveloped in a hug, Pip had little choice but to return the embrace of one of his oldest friends.

“Davy,” Pip greeted the interloper when he could finally pull away far enough to speak. He stepped out of the hug, although Davy kept a firm hold on Pip’s biceps while giving him the once over. Feeling awkward, Pip glanced over to where Colby waited, his expression genial, but his eyes didn’t stop flitting between Pip and Davy, and the heavy set of his eyebrows made his gaze seem wary.

“You look fabulous.”

Colby settled his gaze on Pip for a moment and grinned.
Told you
, the glance said just as clearly as words.

“Thanks,” Pip said, disbelieving both of them. Okay? Maybe. On the mend? Definitely, thanks to Colby. Fabulous? Nowhere near. But then Davy always was one for camp overexaggeration. Pip put it down to his constitution. Gay and Gallic, a truly OTT combination.

“Where have you been,
mon ami
?” Davy asked.

Duh. Dog bite. Nearly lost my foot. Recluse.
But only because he had pushed all his friends away. But while he attempted to formulate those fragmented thoughts into a response that was suitable for public consumption, Davy finally seemed to catch sight of Colby. Distracted by something shinier and more appealing than Pip—or maybe just scenting fresh meat—Davy turned his attention, and a killer-watt smile, toward Colby.

“Why, hello, handsome,” Davy purred, holding out a hand to Colby. “David Dubois at your service.”

The bastard was totally flirting. He’d even accented his name in the French manner, just as the masters always had at school.

“This is my… friend, Colby.” Pip’s pause was barely perceptible but there nevertheless. Davy and Pip were cut from the same cloth: small, lean, feisty, and fun, so much so that they were more like brothers than best friends. At least, Pip had once been fun, and after all Colby had done for Pip, the least he could do was give Colby the opportunity to walk away with someone who wasn’t broken.

Colby glanced over with a frown, his hand still encased in Davy’s, their handshake frozen in time. A tableau that would forever taunt Pip with its memory. Damn, why hadn’t he just said boyfriend? Davy would never attempt to steal a man from Pip.