It’s his turn now to wait me out, and I stubbornly hold onto my silence for long minutes.
“This is real life, Macsen,” I finally mutter, no longer able to hold my tongue. “I’m not some virgin in a romance novel. You don’t need to butter me up with pretty words to get in my pants.” I scoff, sarcasm lacing my next words. “Getting in my pants is pretty much a sure thing. Just say the word.”
He doesn’t take the bait. I want to push him, to make him feel the turmoil that churns up my insides. “Are you even gay? Or is this some bi-curious mid-life crisis you’ve got going on, because I’m down for that, too. I’ve always wanted to break in a—”
“Don’t do this, Ellis.” He shatters my tirade. “Don’t throw barbs and cheapen this.”
I hear an undertone of anger in his voice, and I latch onto it.
“Oh, but cheap is what I do. I’m a fuck and chuck kind of guy. Maybe you should know that now before we take this any further.” I gain satisfaction in the tightness of his jaw. I want to sink my fingers into the taut skin and pry his mouth open. I want to dominate him with a kiss so bruising I leave a mark.
Because he’s already marked me.
“Not with me.” His comeback is almost whispered and floats out over the ocean, disappearing into the waves. “You’re not that with me.”
The fight drains out of me almost as quickly as it reared its ugly head. I don’t even know where that fiery rage came from. I was so relieved when he showed up, and now I’ve gone and fucked it all up by being… me.
The short sharp burst of anger I felt turns quickly into misery, and we both stand there for long minutes with only the sound of the sea and the gulls for company.
“I bought Lily Bay Manor because of a feeling.” His even voice breaks the silent standoff. “I saw it advertised, wanted it immediately, and made sure I got it.” His admission is stated as fact. He’s giving me the truth, even if it’s a watered-down version of the words I know he’s holding back.
“A feeling?” I can hear the scepticism in my voice.
“Yes, a feeling. I get them sometimes. Some people call it instinct, and I’ve learned to follow mine. It’s how I became so successful in my business. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”
I absorb his words. As fantastical as they sound, they also make sense. What it doesn’t explain is this weird pull between us. It doesn’t tell me why he has my head turned upside down and inside out. Yet, I’ve come to realise it’s ridiculous of me to think he has all the answers. Why should he? It’s merely chemicals. An instant reaction. Two atoms colliding to create an explosion.
“I saw you the day I arrived in Lily Bay.” A short laugh tinged with embarrassment proceeds his next confession. “Almost crashed my damn rental car.”
My head turns once more, needing to watch his face, wanting to see if I can find out all things he’s not saying out loud.
“I watched you go inside Safe Harbour and I wanted to see you again. So later that day, I came in hoping to find you.”
I scoff. “Like a stalker.”
He doesn’t take offence. “Yeah,” He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Like a stalker.”
We both smile, and the tension breaks, snapping like a taut fishing line too weak for the heavy catch on its hook.
“Love at first sight, hey?” It’s a joke, albeit a bad one, and I don’t miss the flicker of something behind his eyes.
“Thought you didn’t believe in all that romance novel stuff?”
I shrug. “What sane person does?”
He doesn’t answer, and it’s my turn to change the subject to avoid yet more awkwardness.
“Are you still buying me lunch? Or do I have to get my own? I bet that’s not in romance novels.”
He smiles at my teasing tone, but it seems a little forced.
“I’m still buying. Lead the way.”
We head over and join the end of the line that’s now at least a ten-minute wait. Whereas Macsen usually has a relaxed and calm demeanour, even when I push his buttons, he now seems restless and unsure, his hand dipping into his pocket and coming up empty, his fingers running through his hair.
“We can take a rain check if you need to be someplace else?” I give him an out.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He grins as he looks at me from the corner of his eye, but the playful words don’t entirely mask the change in his demeanour.
“After the way I’ve been behaving,”—I lift my shoulders, slide my hands in my pockets, and scuff the toe of my tatty, well-worn trainer across the ground—"it’s more likely you’ll try and get rid of me, and I wouldn’t blame you.”
When his eyes find mine, he opens his mouth as if to say something and shuts it quickly, only to shake off the hesitation and ask, “Can we grab our food and find somewhere quieter to go?”
I look down at my watch. “Sure, I have around forty minutes until opening. It’s all yours.”
Once again, just like the first night we met, his eyes smile before his mouth catches up, and I fight the urge to drag him to me and kiss the slow curving softness of his lips. Need slams into me, and I can’t shake it off. Public displays of lust and affection have been limited to grinding up against someone in a gay bar or club, not holding someone’s hand in a lunch queue.
Yes, I’m out. I don’t hide it, but I’ve never felt the need to ram my sexuality in other’s faces, and I don’t think it’s anything to do with worry over the reception me kissing another man would get, and more about me.
Yet another way Macsen Evans has me spun six ways from Sunday because fuck if I don’t ache to kiss him right here and now.
His full lips stretch wider, and I know I’ve been caught staring. Thankfully, Stella saves the day.
“Well, well, well, look who the cat dragged in. Ellis Probert, as I live and breathe.”
Stella moved here from the South Wales valleys about fifteen years ago, and she hasn’t lost any of that valley charm.
“You’ve got a cockin’ cheek, haven’t you? Coming down here to spy on the competition. Like I tells my Aled, ain’t nobody like a liar, a thief or a snitch, so don’t you be going and trying to copy my crab rolls in that fancy pants restaurant of yours. You hear me, good boy?”
“Hearing you loud and clear, Stella, my queen.”
In my peripheral vision, I can see Macsen’s gaze bouncing from Stella to me and back again, and I bite back a laugh.
“Pish. Don’t be kissin’ my arse, butty boy. Now then, what you having? The usual, is it?”
“Make it two please, Stel.”
As Stella makes up our rolls, I fix my gaze on Macsen and his wide-eyed expression, and I can’t help the snort of laughter that bubbles up my throat. As soon as it breaks free, his façade cracks, and we stand there like two schoolboys trying and failing not to laugh behind the teacher’s back.
“That’ll be ten quid to you.” Stella places two stuffed rolls surrounded by paper napkins on the hatch before us.
I nod to the handpainted sign hanging at the side of the shack.
“Four and four make eight, Stel.”
“Not to you, it doesn’t, good boy. Call it commission for when you steal my idea and charge double up in the town.”