“Really?” Remy’s lips were pursed as he waited for an answer.
“Mac works at a twenty-four-hour gym,” Russel said. “His shifts are a real pain sometimes. But there’s no reason I couldn’t come alone.”
Mac smiled through gritted teeth. If he’d read Remy right, he was pretty sure there would be a reason.
Right on cue, Remy clicked his fingers. “I’ve just realised my solicitor is coming tomorrow evening. Honestly, I’m so forgetful sometimes. Why don’t you tell me when you’re both free, and I’ll make sure I clear my schedule.”
Mac was ready to whisk Russel right out of there and never go back, but Russel’s stare was so pathetically pleading that he realised he had to help out.
“I’m not working Wednesday night,” he said in as amiable a voice as he could muster.
Remy smiled, staring directly at Mac. “Wednesday it is.”
*
“Fucking hell that guy’s a total bastard,” Mac announced once they were in a taxi and pulling out of Remy’s estate.
Russel stared at him, open-mouthed.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Mac shuffled on the back seat to get more comfortable, but it was hard when it felt like his knees were squashed up to his chest. “He spent the whole afternoon stalling.”
“I noticed.”
“And did you also notice the way he was looking at me?”
Russel sighed. “Yes. But let’s be honest, you are gorgeous.”
“It’s a good fucking thing we’re not really a couple, or I’d have punched his lights out.”
“Oh, God! Please don’t do that.”
Mac tapped his fist against his chin and stared out the window. The country roads they were driving along weren’t lit, so all he could see was shadowy darkness. “The only reason I’ve agreed to go back is so you can get your interview.” He shuffled again when he realised Russel’s stare had become softer, soppy almost. “What?”
“You care.”
Mac shrugged. “I agreed to help you out.”
Russel touched his knee. “Which I’m insanely grateful for.” He took his wallet out of his jacket. “Which reminds me, how much do I owe you?”
Mac wasn’t sure why he’d been avoiding that question. God knew he needed the money, especially as he had blown off working at Horns on Saturday night, which was why he couldn’t do it again on Monday.
He waved his hand. “We’ll figure it out after you’ve got your interview.”
Russel cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Okay.” He drew the word out into an uncertain sound.
They lapsed into silence, which was fine by Mac. He stared out of the window, his insides a congealed, seething mess. Remy hadn’t been subtle about eyeing him up the whole time. It hadn’t even made him feel particularly good. At the club, he actually got a bit of a thrill, knowing that guys were staring at him because they found him sexy. It had been especially nice to be under Russel’s scrutiny that first night. It made him feel wanted. But Remy’s… He shuddered, remembering Remy’s hawk-like stare, which had been cold and calculating, like he was eyeing up his prey and working out exactly what he’d need to do to snatch it away from Russel. He almost laughed at the irony that he didn’t really need to be lured away from Russel, not that he would be interested in Remy if he was the last man on the fucking planet.
“Let me buy you dinner.”
Mac had been so lost in thought that Russel’s statement made him jump. He pressed his hand to his chest and looked at the smaller man. “What?”
“We were supposed to have lunch at Remy’s, but that never happened.” Russel smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Buying you dinner is the least I can do. Unless you have to be at Horns tonight?”
Mac shook his head. “It’s closed on Sundays.”
“Good. Then you’ve got no reason to say no.” Russel’s eyes caught what little light there was around them. “You like pizza, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I’d rather do takeout than go somewhere posh.”
Russel laughed and dropped his hand onto Mac’s knee again. “I wasn’t thinking of anywhere posh, but I can definitely get on board with pizza. My place?”
Mac was about to object but then remembered how much of a state his place was in comparison with Russel’s beautifully put-together flat. “Sounds great.”
“Wonderful!”
They had been intending on dropping Mac off first, so Russel leant forward and told the driver of their change of plans.
“What are you going to tell your boss?” Mac asked.
Russel looked crestfallen. “I have no idea. I was supposed to put my interview with Remy on his desk first thing in the morning.”
“You have the other article, don’t you?”
Russel nodded. “And some gorgeous photos.” He shrugged. “I guess it will have to do.”
“Can I read it?”
Russel smiled brightly. “You really want to?”
Mac nodded as he realised he liked the happy smile that adorned Russel’s face. “I don’t have a fucking clue about journalism or fashion, but yeah, I’d like to.”
“Then you shall.”
*
By the time they arrived at Russel’s flat, Mac’s stomach was growling loudly. Laughing, Russel made him some bread and butter and then handed him a printout of his article.
“I’ll go order pizza.” Russel got his phone ready. “Let me guess… meat feast?”
Mac couldn’t miss the way Russel’s stare dipped briefly to his groin. Well, if that was where Russel’s mind was going, Mac was more than happy to help lower the tone.
“That depends on whose meat I’m feasting on.”
Russel’s eyes popped wide. “Babe, if you’re making offers like that, you’d better be ready to follow through.”
“Is your meat on offer?”
Russel ran his thumb over his lower lip. “That depends on who’s asking.”
Mac cleared his throat. Russel wasn’t his type, not even for a bit of fun. “Back to pizza toppings?”
“You’re no fun.” Russel pouted.
“Pepperoni is good.”
Russel flounced away to place the order. Mac sat down on the white sofa—he had no clue how Russel kept it so spotlessly clean—and started reading the article. Russel had an easy-to-read, conversational style that kept Mac reading paragraph after paragraph. He had no clue what Russel was talking about half the time, but he was still able to spot the humour, and by the end, he was smiling and chuckling.
“You’re impressed?”
“Holy shit!” Mac pressed his hand to his chest as his head snapped up.
Russel was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, an amused smile curling his mouth. “Sorry, I thought you knew I was here.”
Mac shook his head and waited for his heart rate to calm down. He waved the article at Russel. “This is really good.”
“Thank you.”
“I had no idea that there were so many different types of collars, but you live and learn.”
Russel threw his head back as he laughed deep from his belly. “Oh, babe, you really do have a lot to learn, and I’m a good teacher.” He winked at Mac.
“I bet you are.”
“Pizza’s on the way.” Russel tapped his fingers together. “Do you want to see what’s on Netflix?”
Mac pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, weighing up his next words. “Netflix and chill?”
“You are such a tease!” Russel flopped down on the sofa beside him. “We might look hot together, but I know I’m not your type.”
How could Russel possibly know that other than through making assumptions?
“Am I yours?” Mac asked.
Russel pursed his lips. “The jury’s still out on that one.”
Mac’s stomach fluttered a little at that, a sensation that was hard to ignore. He gazed around the lounge—Russel had a separate room, which seemed like a luxury to Mac—noting how clean an
d sterile everything seemed.
“Aren’t you close to your family?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could filter it.
The playful expression on Russel’s face vanished instantly. “What makes you ask?”
Dodging the question; interesting. Mac gestured around the room. “There’s no photos anywhere.”
“That’s what my phone’s for.” Russel waved his phone as he spoke.
“So, you are close to your family?”
Russel made a tight clicking sound in his throat. “No. Let’s just say my parents aren’t very tolerant.”
“They had an issue with you being gay?” Mac’s chest tightened uncomfortably.
“Well, yes, but even before I came out, they objected to the fact that I was effeminate and that I was more interested in fashion than my older sister. Not to mention that I wasn’t interested in playing football or rugby. I wasn’t intelligent enough for them. Didn’t look masculine enough for them. And when I started taking an interest in make-up—” He whistled. “I thought my dad was going to have a goddamned coronary. Me wanting to fuck guys was just the cherry on top of a mouldy cake, as far as they were concerned.”
Mac lowered his chin. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is. I can’t change them. They can’t change me. I haven’t spoken to them in years.”
“They kicked you out?”
“Oh, hell no. I walked out before they had a chance.” He smiled tightly. “Those little titbits should help our cover story if Remy probes any deeper than asking how long we’ve been together.” He brushed his hands over his trousers and then leant forward to grab the TV remote off the coffee table. “Netflix?”
Mac didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what to say. Although Russel’s words and tone had been matter-of-fact, hurt had blazed in his pale eyes.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Russel chided. “I don’t need your pity. Look at me. I’m doing just fine without them, thank you very much. I know I’m fucking amazing. I don’t need a family of bigots to give me their validation.”
Mac’s jaw slackened. “Well, fuck.”
Russel wagged his finger. “I warned you not to make offers you’re not going to follow through on.” He turned the TV on and started scrolling through the available shows on Netflix.
Mac sank back against the sofa, his unfocused gaze pointed roughly at the TV screen.
“Okay, spill.”
Mac blinked. “Sorry?”
“Something I said has either pissed you off or given you an epiphany. Which is it?”
“You clearly don’t give a fuck what your family thinks. I wish I could be like that. I wish I could have half the confidence you do.”
Russel snorted. “I’ve seen you dance. You have confidence.” He tilted his head. “Your family gave you a hard time too?”
“My dad’s a drunk.”
Russel shuffled closer and put his hand on Mac’s shoulder. His touch was light but solid enough to be comforting.
Mac rolled his shoulder into the gesture. “He used to say a lot of crap when he’d been drinking. If someone tells you you’re a worthless piece of shit for long enough, you start to believe it.” He wiped his hands over his face. “And look at that, I’ve brought the fucking mood down.”
Russel clucked his tongue. “Don’t ever apologise for being real.” He squeezed Mac’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate your more sensitive side. It’s nice to see a macho man who’s in touch with his emotions.”
Mac made himself laugh. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
Russel ran his hand down Mac’s arm and squeezed his biceps. “I would.”
Mac shivered with delight under Russel’s touch. “You know what I fucking meant.”
Russel’s smile vanished. “I do.” He moved his hand to his lap. “You know what they say: you can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends.”
Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”
“Are you still in touch with your dad?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You talked about him in the past tense, so I guess you’re not, but…”
Mac huffed out a breath. “I left when I was eighteen. Got a coach down to Leeds. I haven’t been in touch with my family since.”
“And they haven’t tried to contact you?”
“Nah.” Mac wiped his hands over his eyes, annoyed that tears were stinging his eyes. He wasn’t even sure why he was opening up to Russel. He barely knew the guy, yet the words kept slipping off his tongue too easily. “My mum walked out years ago. My dad’s probably too drunk to notice I ever left.”
“Sorry.”
Mac shrugged. “None of it’s your fault. And like you said, I don’t need your pity.”
“Touché.” Russel smiled softly. “No pity. Got it. How about a pep talk?”
Mac raised his eyebrows. He could imagine Russel giving the peppiest pep talk ever. “If you must.”
“You’re what… nearly thirty?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“So you left home nine years ago?”
“I can do basic maths, thanks.”
Russel pinched his lips together.
“Sorry,” Mac muttered. “You were giving me a pep talk.”
“I was.” Russel folded his hands onto his knees. “And in those nine years, you’ve found two jobs that you’re great at. You dance in front of men most nights, and trust me, babe, confidence oozes off you when you’re dancing. You’re a lot of things, Mac, but a worthless piece of shit is not one of them.”
Mac opened his mouth to speak, but Russel held up his hand primly and carried on.
“I know words can sting. Trust me, I’ve received a lifetime’s worth of tongue lashings, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. But you need to look at how great you are now and let that empower you.”
“Empower me?” Mac rolled his eyes.
“Yes. Unless you want to go on carrying emotional baggage around with you?”
Mac sucked in a breath. “No, but—”
Russel wagged his finger. “No buts.” He paused and glanced thoughtfully to the side. “Okay, I take that back, butts are wonderful, but you know what I mean.” He glanced down to Mac’s arse as he was speaking. “Do you ever plan on getting in touch with your dad or brothers?”
Mac shook his head. He’d made up his mind when he’d walked out the door that he was never going back. The fact that none of them had bothered to contact or look for him had been enough to convince him he’d made the right decision. “I’ve kept in touch with my uncle—my mum’s brother. It wasn’t just us she walked out on. I think he felt some kind of responsibility for us because he made a real effort to be around for us all. Not that my dad or brothers gave a crap, but I did. He’s a police officer.”
“That could be handy one day,” Russel mused. “As for the others… cut the memory of their cruel words the hell out of your life. And if you can’t take that step yet, at least focus on all the positives in your life.”
Mac looked at the floor. “That’s easier said than done.”
“Babe, you’re one hell of an amazing guy. You’re pretty sexy too. But I know it’s hard. Been there, done that,” Russel said softly. “Ignore me. I shoot my mouth off sometimes. I have no clue what it’s been like for you, and I sure as hell don’t have all the answers. You’ve got to do what feels right in your gut.” He touched Mac’s knee lightly. “And your heart.”
A hard lump formed in Mac’s throat, making it hard to breathe. At the same time, his chest tightened. It was the worst possible moment for the doorbell to ring. Or maybe it was the best. He wasn’t really sure.
“That must be the pizza.” Russel’s voice was instantly lighter. “I hope you’ve got a big appetite!”
10 Russel
“What’s wrong with eating on the fucking sofa?” Mac asked.
Russel arched an eyebrow and gasped as he led Mac through to the kitchen. “Don’t be a m
onster.” He half smiled, turning the right corner of his mouth up. “There’s no fucking on my gorgeous white sofas either.”
“You’re no fun,” Mac teased, throwing Russel’s words from earlier back at him.
They sat down at the tiny table that stood in the corner of the kitchen. Russel loved it. He’d found it in Ikea and simply had to buy it. The wooden top was square, with rounded corners and matching chairs that fitted underneath perfectly. It was the ultimate in space-saving chic. It was a little too small for two pizza boxes, so he popped those on the counter and put a couple of slices for each of them on a plate.
“You need to learn my house rules, seeing as we’ve been dating for a few months now.” Russel stuck his tongue out at Mac before taking a huge bite of his sweetcorn and mushroom pizza.
“How mature.”
Mac’s words would have had more effect if he hadn’t taken a bite of his pepperoni pizza and dribbled cheese juice all the way down his chin.
“Let me get that.” Russel laughed as he grabbed a kitchen towel from the worktop behind him. He leant over the table—which wasn’t very far—and dabbed at the glistening yellow liquid on Mac’s chin. Although his attention was firmly on his task, he could feel Mac’s gaze on him. “All done.” He put the crumpled-up kitchen towel on the table and went back to eating his own pizza slice.
“What other house rules do you have?” Mac asked.
Russel peered at the big guy over his slice of pizza. “No shoes on in the flat. No feet on the sofa—”
“Ever?”
The way Mac’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead, practically into his hairline, made Russel giggle. “Babe, I have a bed for things like that.”
“I was not—”
“Yes, you were.”
Which was proven by the way Mac blushed.
“For a guy who takes his clothes off for a living, you get embarrassed easily.”
Mac glared at his plate. “No, I don’t. It’s just weird talking about sex and shit with you.”
“Oh, handsome, I seriously hope you’re not mixing sex and shit, or we’re never going there.” Russel ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he swept his gaze up and down Mac’s gorgeous body. “You do keep yourself clean, don’t you? You wouldn’t want to make a mess of that sparkly purple dildo.”
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