Broke Deep (Porthkennack Book 3)

by Charlie Cochrane

“I know you are. I’d not have asked you back if I hadn’t thought you were tolerable. I could have posted all this lot.” Morgan studied his dad’s little note in his hands; it might have been the plum piece of information, but he wasn’t ready to share it yet. “It might have been easier if there hadn’t been so much stuff going on. Mum. Me feeling sorry for myself over James. Me feeling sorry for you because I’d made you stay over that first bank holiday. That bloody attack of labyrinthitis. Me getting myself shit scared and not wanting you to see what a state I was getting into. Not wanting you to suffer what I’d suffered with Mum.”

  “Is that why you told me to piss off?” Dominic didn’t seem cross, just bemused.

  “Yes. I mean I don’t think I thought it through quite that rationally—I was too frightened to think of anything logically—but that’s what it came down to. It’s no fun watching somebody you’re close to lose it.”

  Dominic nodded slowly, clearly choosing his words with care. “You don’t need to say yes, but if it would help to have somebody around for a bit, while you see the doctor and get yourself sorted out, I’d be available. The woman from the HR department has been nagging me to book the time off I carried over from last year, and these few days haven’t eaten it all up.”

  “I didn’t realise you were such a workaholic.”

  “I’m not. Sad thing is, I had no real incentive to take a break before.”

  Morgan felt torn again. If he agreed to Dominic’s plan, would it be for the right motive? Did he want Dominic here for his own sake?

  “Is it that hard a decision?” Dominic was evidently trying to sound jokey, but the concern in his voice couldn’t be hidden.

  “Only for a fucking idiot like me.” Morgan took Dominic’s hand. “I’d really like you to stay for a few extra days, if you could. After that, we’ll take it as it comes. Not create problems if we don’t have to.”

  “That works for me.” Mingled relief and delight illuminated Dominic’s face. “I’ll get on the phone to them tomorrow. I can always work remotely if there’s anything urgent to deal with.” He squeezed Morgan’s hand. “I’m pleased you trust me. I do know what a big thing it was for you to tell me about that nightmare, and I guess it’s even bigger getting me alongside now. I mean, not that I think you’re going gaga, but—”

  “Oh, shut up.” Morgan pushed back his chair, rounded the table, and plonked his backside on the edge of it, leaning down to give Dominic a kiss. Not a full-blooded passionate lip-smacker, but one that could be a promise of things to come if both parties agreed.

  “Not sure either of us deserve that, but thanks.” Dominic beamed.

  “I’ve got something else for you too. Not that!” Morgan sniggered as he caught Dominic eyeing up his crotch. “Not at the moment, anyway. And you might like this more.”

  “How could I like anything more than having it away with you?”

  “Reserve judgement on that until you’ve seen it.” Morgan produced his dad’s note, like a conjuror.

  Dominic read it, whistled, read it a second time, then gave Morgan a cautious smile. “This is genuine, isn’t it? You didn’t fake it to keep me happy?”

  “Don’t overvalue yourself.” Morgan slapped his arm. “Of course it’s real. That’s Dad’s writing. And before you ask, I haven’t seen anything else about the medallion, although you’re welcome to take your chances with the spiders up in the loft and turn everything out a second time.”

  “I might take you up on that.” Dominic read the note again. “Seems like this story’s going to run and run.”

  “Don’t get too excited. It might still be a wild-goose chase.”

  “It might. But I don’t care.” Dominic got out of his chair and wrapped his arms round Morgan’s waist. “Remember I said I’d always wanted to live round here? I’ve kept an eye out for jobs in the area, and there’s a firm in Launceston that’s got a vacancy recently come up. Closing date end of June. I don’t know whether I should apply.”

  “Of course you should. What the fuck’s stopping you?”

  “I didn’t want to risk bumping into you.” He held Morgan tighter. “If you were still not talking to me, and if I’d got the job and moved here, I’d have looked like one of those weird blokes who stalk their ex.”

  “Daft bugger.” They shared a kiss—a rougher, deeper, longer kiss than the previous one, the memory of what they’d done before acting itself out in the way their bodies moved together. The snug fit of flesh on flesh both comfortable and stimulating. “Steady on,” Morgan gasped, at last. “Dining room table’s too hard to do it on.”

  “You’ve tried, have you?” Dominic pressed closer. “Shame. It would feel good, doing it under these beams, given that they brought us together.”

  Morgan laughed. “I should have known you only wanted me for my carpenters’ marks.”

  “You’ve got some of those on you too? I never noticed. Still, I guess it was dark.”

  “We could leave the light on. This time.”

  “We could.” Dominic pulled Morgan off the table and into his arms. “We will.”

  On reaching the bedroom door, Dominic halted, his expression momentarily guarded.

  Morgan took his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just checking this is what you want. Speak now or forever hold your peace and all that.”

  “My peace is not what I want to hold. Your piece, however . . .”

  Dominic grinned, clearly relieved. “I thought I was supposed to be inspecting you?”

  “There’s time for both.” Morgan edged them through the door and into his room. The bed was still a mess from the morning, but neither of them was worried about that, both in too much of a hurry to get their clothes off and search for those imaginary marks. Dominic alleged he’d spotted some on Morgan’s back, in the very place he could never check without ricking his neck. Which meant he’d have to check over the rest of Morgan’s body to see if any others had eluded him—which he did, inch by inch, with fingers and lips, unable to resist making the odd smutty nautical joke while he was at it. Most of which seemed to concern masts.

  Morgan went along with everything, amused to have at last found somebody who saw the funny side of sex. Well, wasn’t it a faintly ludicrous business?

  And when they eventually climaxed, in a tangled heap on the tangled bed, it felt like coming home; a sailor back from sea finding himself in a safe and familiar haven.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Morgan stirred from a peaceful, dreamless sleep. He reached for a drink of water, and noticed Dominic lying awake, watching him by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

  “You okay?”

  “Never been better.” Dominic rubbed his tousled head against Morgan’s. “Counting my blessings. Among which is you not having a nightmare tonight.”

  “I’ve not had one in ages.” Morgan remembered counting his own blessings—albeit finding them few and flimsy—when he’d had the Dear John letter. How things had changed. He snuggled back down, but the moon’s brightness disturbed him. Reluctantly, he eased out of the embrace. “I should shut those curtains, or I won’t get back to sleep.”

  “You stay there and rest. Let me.”

  Morgan watched as Dominic slipped out of bed and—body silvered in the moonlight—moved across to the window.

  “Don’t shut them just yet. That light suits you.” Morgan left the bed to join his love, slipping an arm round Dominic’s wiry frame and resting against his shoulder.

  “That’s nice. Here, listen. We’ve got background music.”

  Owls were hooting out in the silver birches, whose branches gently rustled in the breeze. A summer night’s symphony, or an overture to romance. Morgan thought he could detect a suspiration of the waves—or was that simply his imagination?

  “It’s magical,” he said, leaning closer into a hug which was turning distinctly amorous again. “I don’t mean any of that superstitious nonsense. The magic of the real world and all its wonders.” />
  “Is real love magic, as well?” Dominic whispered against his neck.

  “Something like that, maybe.” Morgan had thought he loved James and that James loved him, but now he wasn’t so sure. There’d never really been a sense of “for better or worse” with the Rat. Not like he’d found with Dominic. “Not yet.”

  “There’s still hope, then.” Dominic nuzzled against Morgan’s neck. “I’ve been trying hard not to, but there’s every chance I’ll fall in love with you. As I’ve been allowed to say sorry today, I’ll apologise for it in advance.”

  “You’re such a drip.” Morgan chuckled. “I’m too tired and confused to know where my heart’s at, but I do know this feels different to how it was with James. Less like a brand-new suit than a comfy old jumper.”

  “And you’re such a romantic. Not.” Dominic kissed him. “Coming here feels like coming home.”

  Maybe one day it would be. But that was a conversation for another time. In the meanwhile, it was getting nippy and there was a big, warm, comfy bed to hand. Morgan edged them towards it.

  “What about the curtains?” Dominic whispered.

  “Sod them. I’ll use the moonlight to search for your carpenters’ marks. All over. Mast and all.”

  Explore more of the Porthkennack universe: riptidepublishing.com/titles/universe/porthkennack

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  Charlie Cochrane

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  Best Corpse for the Job

  Jury of One

  Count the Shells (coming soon)

  Lessons for Survivors

  Lessons for Suspicious Minds

  Lessons for Idle Tongues

  Lessons for Sleeping Dogs

  Lessons in Love (coming soon)

  Lessons in Desire (coming soon)

  Lessons in Discovery (coming soon)

  Lessons in Power (coming soon)

  Lessons in Temptation (coming soon)

  Lessons in Seduction (coming soon)

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  All Lessons Learned (coming soon)

  Paired Novellas

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  Home Fires Burning

  In the Spotlight

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  Second Helpings

  Awfully Glad

  Don’t Kiss the Vicar

  Promises Made Under Fire

  Tumble Turn

  Dreams of a Hero

  Wolves of the West

  Music in the Midst of Desolation

  Anthologies (contributing author)

  Pride of Poppies

  Capital Crimes

  Lashings of Sauce

  Tea and Crumpet

  British Flash

  Summer’s Day

  Because Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes. Her mystery novels include the Edwardian era Cambridge Fellows series, and the contemporary Lindenshaw Mysteries.

  A member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Mystery People and International Thriller Writers Inc, Charlie regularly appears at literary festivals and at reader and author conferences with The Deadly Dames.

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