Home: Ky & Nick (Six Degrees Book 1)

by Sandy Smith

  We both had a drink in our hands, and he was still ribbing me about those bloody text messages, sitting beside me with his arm draped around my shoulder. Then he cleared his throat.

  “Just out of curiosity, would your ‘hardly compatible’ boyfriend happen to be beautiful, slim, blond hair?”

  I turned my head to face him. “Um, yeah, how do you know?”

  “Because there is a guy fitting that description staring daggers at me, over by the bike path.”

  I spotted him almost immediately and breathed in sharply. I had seen him in his club clothes, I had seen him in a suit, and I had even seen him naked, so seeing him in casual jeans snugly fitting his thighs and a pumpkin-coloured shirt screaming out to be touched shouldn’t have been quite that sexy. The effect he had on me shouldn’t have gotten stronger every time.

  He only hesitated for a moment before he strode over to our tree weaving his way through the crowd, while I was stuck staring. If it was possible, his eyes looked even bluer than they did before. That couldn’t have been natural.

  “Do you wear contacts?” I blurted out.

  He smiled. “Well, hello to you too. Am I interrupting?” His voice seemed casual, but there was a little edge to it.

  “Not at all,” Tim piped in.

  “Sorry,” I stammered. Jesus. Nerves don’t usually affect me. Why is it I have zero control around him? “I was just trying to work out if you wear coloured contacts.”

  Nick looked unsure, but Tim chuckled and nudged my shoulder. “I might go see what’s keeping your mum.”

  Subtle. I took a moment inspecting my fingernails before meeting his eyes again. “That was Tim, my stepdad.”

  Confusion and then relief washed over his face. “Stepdad? He didn’t look much older than you.”

  Not the first time I had heard as much. “Why don’t you climb up, and we can talk? I don’t want to lose this spot by going for a walk now.”

  After climbing up and accepting a drink, Nick was chewing on his bottom lip before we both spat out apologies at the same time.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry, you go first.”

  “No, you.”

  Another awkward silence followed.

  This time, Nick broke the silence first.

  “I really am sorry. I didn’t handle things very well. At all. Let me spit all this out. I can handle club hook-ups fine. That’s my normal. I haven’t felt the connection I feel with you before, and it threw me. I felt unsteady. and I hate that feeling. I spent the last couple of weeks trying to get you out of my system.”

  I cringed, trying not to think exactly what he had been doing to get me out of his system, but my stupid brain chose to provide illustrations in technicolour. I tried to block out those images and concentrate on what he was saying.

  “I didn’t want to get more invested in something I couldn’t see working. I tend to overthink things and then look at all the potential problems. That’s just how I work. It’s useful in my job. Not so useful in my private life. I know I should have talked to you first, but I was already second-guessing if I could risk this going wrong, and when that guy at the airport referred to me as your boyfriend and you called it a date, I panicked. I had finally decided that moving on and getting you out of my system wasn’t working, but then I no idea what to do. Not my finest behaviour.”

  I took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry about the text last night. I was lashing out like a two-year-old. I know you don’t know me well enough to believe this, but that really wasn’t like me. There is something about you, or me when I’m with you—I don’t know, something different. I just thought we could explore that. I know what Sean and guys like him think of me. I guess I behave with them the way they expect me to, so I guess I can’t expect you to think any different. But I would prefer not to get into an in-depth discussion about my sexual preferences in a tree in front of this many people, okay?”

  Nick smiled and nodded in the direction Tim had headed. “Is he really your stepfather?”

  My phone beeped, and I glanced at it. Tim.

  The tree is all yours, text us later.

  I laughed. “Yeah, he really is. My mum was pretty young when she had me. My biological father was an exchange student from Italy that pissed off home before she even knew she was pregnant, so I’ve never met him. She met Tim when I was sixteen. He’s a bit younger than her, so he’s only eleven years older than me. It doesn’t help he still looks young for his age.”

  “Ahh. The dark hair, dark eyes. I didn’t really pick Italian, but it makes sense.”

  After a bit more conversation about Mum and Tim, I figured I would jump in the deep end. “So what are we doing? I mean, umm, I’m not asking about plans for the future, but are we giving this a go? Because I like you and I would really like a chance to get to know more about you, but I don’t even know your last name, or, well, anything, really.”

  He smiled and nodded again. My smile, this time. “I’d really like to try. I’m not sure I won’t screw it up, but I would like to try.”

  The rest of the afternoon flew by, chatting about anything and everything. Nicholas—well Nicholas Hennington to be precise—was the CFO for Allegra hotels, which I had never heard of. But, as he explained, it’s the parent company that owns hotels in Sydney and Melbourne, and they were looking at the possibility of purchasing a resort in Queensland and another hotel in Canberra. The guy from the phone call really was his best friend and the CEO.

  The only time there was any tension was when the questions drifted to family.

  “So what part of England did you grow up in?”

  “Originally from London, but all over, sort of.”

  He didn’t sound like he was going to continue, so I tried another question. “How about your family? Are they still in England?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay. So family was not the way to get him to open up. I really hoped I hadn’t hit a nerve.

  I steered the conversation back to work and friends, which, based on his reactions, was a far safer topic.

  Before I knew it, the air was cooling down as the sun lowered towards the hill behind us. I honestly couldn’t name a single song played all afternoon, but I hadn’t enjoyed a day so much in a while. I wiggled on the tree branch. “The tree was a great idea, but seriously, my arse hurts right now.”

  Nicholas raises an eyebrow at me, and I thank God I don’t really blush with my complexion.

  “You know what I meant,” I grumbled.

  Nicholas jumped out of the tree, landing gracefully, and I passed him the rubbish. I jumped down, landing easily but slightly less gracefully, and rubbed my arse as I stood up.

  “Why don’t we grab dinner on the way home?” Nick offered quietly.

  I swallowed and couldn’t agree fast enough. “Sure, yeah, sounds good. I’m happy with anything.”

  I texted Mum to let her know I was heading off and I would see them for lunch tomorrow.

  We walked slowly back through the Corso to the ferry wharf and grabbed a table at one of the restaurants. The air had cooled, and we sat inside out of the wind in comfortable silence, watching the lights out on the harbour. Nicholas told me about a boat trip he took a few years ago, where a guy tried to pick up his best friends’ sister despite feeling a little seasick and ended up vomiting at her feet instead. One story lead to the next, and by the time we finished dinner, I was laughing, completely full and still more than a little buzzed from the afternoon of drinking.

  We caught the ferry back across to Circular Quay together. When it was time for me to jump on the next ferry, we both hesitated saying goodbye, not wanting the day to end.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Nick asked.

  “For coming today, for a great afternoon, for taking a risk, for buying me dinner.”

  He smiled. “Thank you for making me want to. And thank you for accepting my apology. And… and thank you for one of the best afternoons I have had in a really long time.
”

  He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, lingering with his lips pressed against me. He pulled back so slowly, and the look in his eyes nearly made me melt at his feet. It was heat and something more. Before I could work it out, he leaned in again, his lips barely touching mine.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Lunch the following day at Mum’s was exactly the Spanish inquisition I expected. I hadn’t even finished closing the door when Mum was hugging me.

  “He is so cute. Oh my God. So what happened? You didn’t say he was so hot. What did he say? Did you apologize? God, talk about sexy.”

  I wrestled my way through to the kitchen as Tim grabbed Mum’s hand to slow her down. “Baby, one, let him get all the way in the house, and two, I’m right here, damn it!”

  Mum giggled and kissed him quickly and then kissed him again. It deepened until I groaned.

  “Seriously, you two. That’s gross.”

  They eventually separated, and Tim pulled me into a hug. “He really was hot as fuck, though.”

  Groaning again, I turned to get drinks from the fridge.

  When Tim and Mum first got together, it took me quite a while to open up to him. Not because I didn’t like him or want to spend time with him—he was always great. I was scared of him getting to know me. Of letting him too close. It was pretty much love at first sight for Mum, and having a teenage son wasn’t usually a great bonus feature. Especially one like me. I didn’t want to risk him leaving Mum behind because of me. I tried to be the perfect stepson, but at arm’s length.

  Tim, however, never gave up. The stubborn bastard wore me down. Even when I was trying to maintain distance to give them privacy, I could see why she loved him. He was warm and funny and easygoing. I spent the first year waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to discover the skeletons in his closet. Even once I accepted he might not have any, I was still scared he would discover mine. Strangely, we became a lot closer once I moved out to go to uni. I didn’t need to guard against him seeing too much of me so I was able to relax a little. The fact that Tim was bi as well as one of my best friends had made him a fantastic wingman. After many boys’ nights out and those conversations you can’t have with your mum, I wouldn’t swap our relationship for anything.

  I tried deflecting by asking about work and the gardening Mum was doing but could only hold off so long before the inquisition resumed.

  Chapter Eight

  Nicholas and I texted back and forth over the next fortnight but couldn’t find time we were both free. Then, on Thursday afternoon while I was sitting on the bike cooling down at the gym, my phone beeped.

  How about Friday. Drinks? Subway?

  Hopefully I finish around 6 on Friday, but to be honest, I only went to the club to catch up with Antony. Could we try something else?

  Sure. What do you have in mind?

  I could cook you dinner?

  Perfect. What time? What should I bring?

  How about 7? Could you bring wine? Maybe a red? It’s up to you.

  See you then.

  I texted him my address and headed to the showers.

  I was certainly no gourmet chef, but I was never going to starve. I could do a couple of dishes really well. Lasagne was the simplest. Once it was in the oven, I could leave it if I had guests. I made a very basic salad to go with it and was washing up the last of the prep dishes when the door buzzed. I hurriedly wiped my hands and let him in.

  Opening the door before he knocked, I felt that familiar feeling rush over me again as he leaned forward to give me a kiss on the cheek. It was a weird feeling, warmth and safety and comfort, but with a tingling in my stomach like a packet of popping candy.

  He glanced around the apartment as I walked us back to the kitchen. “Did you just move in, or are you so OCD it always looks like this?”

  He must have seen a reaction in me I wasn’t conscious of because he reached out and held my elbow softly. When he continued, his voice was gentle. “That wasn’t meant as a criticism. I just meant it’s neater than most guys our age. Sorry, I know I can be a bit abrupt sometimes. I don’t always realise something I say sounds bad until I realise I’ve offended someone.”

  I glanced around the room. I suppose it was reasonably tidy. It had become habit now. I had always tried to keep the house clean for Mum, and then when we moved in with Tim, I hadn’t wanted to be a burden. I thought if I made sure everything was tidy and I wasn’t any work, he wouldn’t mind that Mum had a kid.

  “How old are you anyway?” Nicholas asked, obviously hoping to move on from the awkwardness.

  “I’m thirty-two. How about you?” I was happy to move on to a new topic.

  He smiled now that I had relaxed again—not quite my smile, but definitely warm. “I’m twenty-six.”

  We opened the Merlot, and I was surprised how easily we slipped into talking about anything and everything. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel like I needed to filter or organise my thoughts before I spoke. It felt safe. I smiled at him as he explained the staff welfare program he and Eric were implementing. They tried to be aware of what was going on with their staff, but their employees were spread out over two huge hotels in different cities. With the expansions they were looking at, they spent most of their time with the business side of things and had to rely on their managers to look after the people, so they obviously couldn’t know them all. The staff welfare system was in addition to very generous sick and personal days staff. It encompassed a wide range of things from gift baskets when staff took time off for bereavement leave to access to a free and confidential mental health service via a psychologist phone service. Nicholas seemed really determined that their staff were their most valuable asset, and if they focused on them, then their staff would focus on their guests, and their guests would obviously look after their bottom line. Despite never having had a real interest in business, the passion with which he spoke and the excitement when he discussed the future was addictive, and I found myself drawn in to his stories.

  He explained when Eric’s father decided to retire, Eric had taken a loan from his family to buy out his siblings’ share of ownership of his father’s Sydney hotel, and he had named the parent company Allegra Australasia. Laughing, he added how Eric’s father’s version of retirement was working forty or fifty hours a week instead of eighty and working contracts with business that were in trouble, not to mention all the charity work. And Eric had leapt into the deep end buying a Melbourne hotel almost immediately.

  I was surprised to hear how he and Eric had done almost all their planning sitting in dirt-cheap hostels, backpacking through Italy when they finished university. He smiled fondly when he talked about Eric and his family. Not my smile, but still a smile. Apparently, Eric would look at something and simply decide whether he was in or not. And if he was in, he jumped with two feet.

  I shared a few more stories about work, and he asked more about Mum and Tim. I told him Mum was a cleaner and shared a few stories of her taking me to work with her before I started school because she couldn’t afford childcare.

  I told him about the time I was playing with a slingshot in the backyard of the house Mum was working in, trying to get a ping-pong ball in the laundry basket. I’d been horrified when Mum came to check on me and discovered my slingshot was the homeowner’s G-string that had fallen out of the laundry basket. He laughed as I retold my animated version of showing Mum it couldn’t be underwear because it was big enough to fit her, me, and several friends. By the end of the story, he had tears in his eyes, and when he wiped them, I was rewarded with my smile. Full and bright and warm.

  I felt so good I never wanted this night to end or this bubble to burst. I wasn’t sure whether asking about his family was okay, or if that would bring down the mood of the evening, but I ached to know everything about him, so I figured I should dip my toes in the water.

  “So how did you and Eric meet?”

  Nick chuckled. “I called him a daft bloody convict. Best frien
ds ever since.”

  “I think I’m going to need more than that.”

  “Okay. He was working in a bar I went to in London, and one of my friends knocked into him while he was carrying a lot of glasses—but if you tell him I admitted that, I will deny it until my dying breath. I will always maintain that he was just clumsy. Anyway, he nearly dropped some of the glasses, and the beer splashed onto me. I may have been less than a gentleman about it, and the ensuing argument included me calling him a convict and him calling me a useless pommie prick my mother should have swallowed. Like I said, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  I had to laugh. For some reason, even insults sounded so much better with his accent.

  “A month later, I started my master’s at Oxford, and guess who else was a student?” He chuckled, swirling his wine in its glass before continuing. “Over an hour away from my parents’ house was a good excuse to get away, if nothing else.”

  Well, since he opened the door to the topic… “So, tell me a bit more about your family?”

  I instantly regretted it. A cloud came across his beautiful features, and I could have kicked myself. But he sat up straight and answered seriously. “There’s not really much to tell. I don’t have any horror stories like a lot of gay kids or anything like that. They didn’t particularly care if I was gay as long as I behaved at social functions, which were thankfully few and far between. My mother’s parents were wealthy but died when I was a kid. Mum always spent more time at charity events, sitting on various boards or sitting on various board members to notice what I was doing.”