New Lease of Life (22 page)

Friday. It was only Tuesday, and those days in between seemed far too long to wait to see Colby again. He needed something to fill the gap. Davy had mentioned clubbing when they had seen him yesterday, but he didn’t think he was quite ready for the excitement that sort of evening would undoubtedly entail. And while it had been good to see his oldest friend again, it was Colby’s company Pip craved. Would calling him now, when they’d already made plans, make him appear too needy?

Pushing that question to one side for the moment, Pip contemplated the empty drawers and shelving. Shame he couldn’t buy his own clothes back from Colby, especially his grandfather’s hunting jacket. Pip had looked around the shop yesterday while Colby was groveling to Maddy for being late back from lunch but could find no trace of any of his donation. When he brought it up, Colby’s smile had turned secretive and enigmatic, and then, distracted by kissing and the promise of cinematic dates, Pip had forgotten all about it.

Surely Colby couldn’t have sold all his items already. The shop seemed well stocked, so there had to be a storeroom somewhere out back. It couldn’t be upstairs because Pip now knew that Colby paid Maddy and the other student that worked for him, not in cash but by letting them live above the shop, rent-free.

He felt awkward asking—after all, he had given away the items quite freely—but Pip couldn’t deny he was curious. Maybe if he asked by text, at least Colby wouldn’t feel compelled to answer, or deflect.

He’d discarded his phone on the top of a chest of drawers, and as he reached for it, Pip noticed the cane propped up against the front of the chest. His mother had complimented him on the cane once again when he’d walked her out of the restaurant. Apparently it made him look dapper and was a marked improvement on
that hideous piece of National Health rubbish
. And if his mother approved….

It didn’t help that Colby had a remarkable ability to distract Pip enough to make him forget he was supposed to be returning the walking stick. Damn the sexy man and his sneaky mind-melting kisses.

Pip sighed. Between his mother and Colby, he didn’t have a chance. No matter how much he protested, it appeared he was destined to keep the cane.

He shook his head. There was no point lying to himself. The only way he would give up the walking stick was if Colby demanded it back, and Pip couldn’t see that happening, not even if he broke the guy’s heart. Damned if he was going to consider that option, although the odds were stacked in favor of Pip screwing things up based on his previous “relationships.”

With all his protestations, and determination not to accept any help, Pip hadn’t thanked Colby properly for his gift yet. Instead of sending the message about his clothes as he’d intended, Pip typed,
The cane keeps following me home
, and pressed Send.

Lunch with his mother always required him to clear his diary for an entire afternoon, and it was already gone five. He guessed Colby was probably in transit between the shop and his house, and Pip readied himself for a wait before he received a response.

I guess you’re going to have to keep it. Can I throw away the hutch?

What the hell was Colby talking about?
Hutch? You have a rabbit?

No rabbit. Died when I was ten.

Pip frowned.
And you still have the hutch?

Linoleum.

What? Vinyl flooring?

LOL. Damn autocorrect.

Pip shook his head.
Go back to the rabbit.

No rabbit. I’m driving and the phone thought I said hutch. Can I get rid of the crutch?

Yes.

Too abrupt. Pip had meant to send something more meaningful, but to be fair, his mind hadn’t quite finished processing the rabbit and lino part of the conversation.

I never thanked you properly for the cane. Thank you. Now concentrate on your driving while I mourn your poor dead pet.

It happened over a decade ago. I think I’m almost over it.

Pip snorted a laugh but refrained from replying. Things were going too well, and if anything happened to Colby…. He grabbed for his cane, using it to hold himself upright as a sudden wash of sickening fear left his legs weak and acrid bile churning in his gut.

Clamped tightly in his hand, Pip’s mobile phone started to ring. He glanced at the screen—just in case it was his mother, or possibly Davy—to be greeted by the now familiar teddy bear caller alert.

There was no way he was answering it, not until he could guarantee Colby was no longer behind the wheel of a car. Colby had mentioned running in Richmond Park, so it was a fair guess that he lived somewhere in the vicinity. That was about eleven miles from Pip’s home, which in rush-hour traffic, could take about an hour if he was lucky. Of course, Colby’s shop was already south of the river, but whether that would have an impact on travel time…. Pip gave up on the mental calculations. There were just too many permutations. An hour would be a safe bet.

The phone rang again, startling Pip out of his contemplation.

Colby was nothing if not persistent. And that had worked out well for them so far.

Within seconds of the ringtone dying, Pip’s phone beeped to indicate an incoming message.

I’m home now.

Before he could barely register the words, his phone rang. He wandered out of the dressing room and perched on his bed before answering.

“Hi. You’re home early.”

“Perks of being the boss. And I had a home visit to do in Shepperton. It was easier to come straight home than try and get back to the shop. Maddy’s more than capable of locking up. You didn’t have to thank me. Just knowing you like the cane enough to keep it is thanks enough.”

“I love it, as I’m sure you realized. So did my mother when I met her for lunch today. A marked improvement on the crutch and so much more suited to lunch at Claridge’s.”

“Did you…?” Colby trailed off hesitantly.

“Enjoy lunch? Not as much as our picnic. Talk about you? A little. Mainly we talked about horses’ bollocks.”

Colby’s laughter came down the line. “Is that a posh way of saying you talked of nothing in particular?”

“No. Mother breeds horses. We quite literally talked about horses’ testicles.”

“Good to know where I rank in importance.” Colby chuckled. The noise of water filling a kettle drowned out the sound of his amusement. “I’ll bear that in mind if I ever meet your mother. Not that I know a lot about horses. Will donkeys’ dicks do?”

He wanted to say
when
not
if
. Instead he laughed, allowing himself to imagine the scene: Colby’s hands held wide as he nodded and talked sagely on the size of a donkey’s todger while his mother turned an interesting shade of puce. While his laughter died away, he listened to the distant sounds of metal on porcelain and let his thoughts drift to Colby in his kitchen. Biceps straining against the sleeves of his T-shirt as he hefted the kettle. A small smile on his face as steam and the delicate aroma of tea rose from the mug to envelop him. Sock-covered feet on the kitchen floor—lino or tile?—and his toes wiggling now that they were free of his shoes.

Pip really wanted a drink. He pushed himself to his feet, wandered into the spare room, and stared at the kettle. Maybe he just wanted Colby there, making one for him. He headed back to the bedroom and stretched out on the bed.

“I have more to thank you for than the cane, a lunch of fine foods, and TMI about mother’s latest purchase,” Pip admitted. “Reconnecting with my friends, my blog, rediscovering my inner peacock.”

“About that—”

“Yes, you’re right. I’m not going to change my wardrobes into a library or an en suite. I’ll just restock them. Luckily, my boyfriend”—the word still tasted weird on his tongue and Pip could hear the question in his voice. Hopefully it didn’t transmit over the airwaves because he’d hate for Colby to think he was having second thoughts—“owns a smashing little vintage clothes shop. Maybe I could get a discount.”

“Anytime, but—”

Now was the time to bring up the subject of his clothes. He knew he kept interrupting Colby, but he needed to ask these questions before he lost his nerve. “I’ve not noticed any of my old stuff in the shop. Have you sold the whole collection already?”

“Would it upset you if I had?”

“I guess not. After all, I gave it away. If I could get my grandfather’s tweed hunting jacket back, though….” Pip trailed off. There were a few other items he wouldn’t turn down if they were offered to him, some of the waistcoats and vintage knitwear, but that jacket really was irreplaceable.

Colby went silent on the other end of the line. Pip had used the word boyfriend and mentioned Colby’s shop in the same sentence and then promptly asked for part of his donation back. Maybe he thought Pip was only interested in restocking his wardrobes.
Bah!
This wasn’t how he planned for this conversation to go. Yes, he wanted his grandfather’s jacket back, but mostly, he’d just wanted to hear Colby’s voice.

“I could see what I can do,” Colby ventured, his words hesitant, as though Pip had completely wrong-footed him.

“No. No, I’m being overly sentimental. I can always get a similar one.” Pip rubbed at his face. Now he’d made things awkward. “That’s my doorbell. Can I call you back?”

“Sure—”

But Pip hung up before he heard what else Colby had to say.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to rid his cheeks of the burning embarrassment before he called Colby back and apologized. Mentally he tried to calculate how long it would take him to shuffle to the window, see who was at the door, and get back again.

Sorry. Cold caller.

He pressed Send without allowing time to second-guess himself and hoped Colby wouldn’t call him on his obvious lie.

Cold caller or cold feet?

Feet. *sigh* Sorry. I’m rubbish at this boyfriend stuff. Fancy going for a drink?

Thought you’d never ask. Friday feels like 4ever. I’ll grab a shower, call a cab and pick you up at 8?

Pip smiled.
8 sounds great :)

“NEXT ROUND’S
mine.”

“Sure. Same again?” Colby asked, getting to his feet. His arse had barely broken contact with the vinyl of the seat covering when he was dumped back down with a swift push to his chest.

“Weed,” Pip crowed, a triumphant grin on his face. “When I said I’d get the round in, I meant it. You sit. Enjoy the view.”

“You caught me off balance,” Colby grumbled, although it was more for show than anything else.

Pip’s grin softened, his expression filled with something Colby chose to interpret as fondness.

“Same here.” Pip leaned in and brushed a kiss across Colby’s lips. “And I’m glad you did. Now let me go and get those drinks while the bar is quiet. Pint?”

With his arm still resting along the back of the bench seat, the ghost memory of Pip’s heat from where his shoulders had been pressed against him, Colby watched as his date made his way to the bar.

When he stepped through Pip’s front door that first time, who’d have thought that a week later he’d be in a position to call that grumpy wanker—one that had fought so hard to get rid of him—his date. Or that Pip would be striding across the floor, dodging tables and patrons alike. Striding might have been stretching the definition of the word somewhat, but Pip’s gait resembled that far more than the shuffling drag of their first meeting. And he’d taken to the cane like a duck to water. Okay, strike the river-based cliché. He didn’t want to say anything that stupid in Pip’s hearing.

A date who teased him, smiled easily, and dropped casual kisses against his lips, even if it was in the comparative safety of a gay pub, and uttered oblique confessions that had turned Colby’s heart to mush. A week, he reminded himself. It had only been a week. Surely it wasn’t possible to fall in love in seven days? But if Mrs. P was right and God really did exist, then he allegedly made the world in six, so why shouldn’t something as simple as love be possible in the same period of time?

Pip had reached the bar without so much as a stumble, but still Colby watched. Just in case. Watching wasn’t exactly a hardship, not with Pip’s slim hips and the faint swell of his arse encased in those carefully tailored trousers.

Another set of legs moved into Colby’s line of sight, and he raised his gaze. He frowned. The bar was no busier than it had been when Pip had headed over there, and yet this jerk was all up in Pip’s personal space.

Colby eased himself out from the back of the circular booth and perched on the edge of the seat, the table no longer an obstacle between him and Pip should he be needed. Pip clung to his independence above all else, even if, since the accident, it appeared to have warped into something self-destructive, discouraging, no, downright rejecting all offers of help and support. Wading in all guns blazing and acting like the proverbial caveman would not go down well. Colby had been on the sharp edge of Pip’s tongue enough times in the last week to know that he could handle unwanted attention with a well-timed cutting phrase or even a simple look.

Just in case, though…. Colby edged forward an inch or so, his arse barely resting on the cushion of the seat.

Sure enough, Colby saw the exact moment Pip responded, the upward tilt of his chin and standoffish set of his shoulders that proclaimed him far too superior to waste time on such a leech. Colby braced himself as Pip turned toward Jerkface to deliver the final blow. Colby could easily imagine the flash of disdain in Pip’s eyes, the way Pip would look down on Jerkface, even though the man towered over him. For a brief second, he almost felt sorry for the fool who chose to hit on
his
boyfriend.

Something wasn’t right. Pip’s shoulders and chin dropped, his mouth, open and ready to form the words, made no sound. Colby knew, even before Pip sagged against the bar as if his legs and the cane could no longer take his weight, that something was wrong.