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“Well, that doesn’t sound like Hywel Prentis, that car crash must have really fucked you up.”

The owner of the voice must have passed closer to my car headlights, because I could make him out more clearly now.

He had russet-brown hair and a well-groomed beard, but the rain had slicked his hair back.

The headlights highlighted grey eyes and pale skin.

He was wearing a black leather jacket and a burgundy V-neck that revealed a flat expanse of chest. He was glaring at me in anger but was still unmistakably beautiful.

Fuck. I racked my brain but still I couldn’t place him.

How did this gorgeous biker-type man know me but I didn’t know him?

He took a step forward, and I realised we matched in height almost exactly. He must have been an inch taller than my six feet if that. “Hywel? You still in there?” he asked.

“Yes, sorry. No harm done, as they say. I’ll be on my way…”

I made my way back to my car, but he grabbed at my elbow with one big hand. I looked down at it and up again at his face. He was impassive, but I knew there was a flicker of anger behind his eyes.

“Get in my car. Yours isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I muttered. I didn’t want to go anywhere with this gruff, handsome stranger. I didn’t know if my heart was beating so fast because of proximity to him or the adrenaline of the crash.

“No, it won’t be.” He pulled me firmly but gently around to the side of my car buried in the hedge.

The one headlight was definitely out, but when he pulled his phone out and shone the torch at the side of the car I could have cried.

The driver’s side of the bonnet had crumpled on impact with a stone distance marker buried in the hedge.

I could just about make out Hiraeth - 5 miles on the marker . I was so close.

“For fuck’s sake ,” I said to no one in particular. “After everything fucking else today, there’s this. Can’t catch a fucking break.”

“Enough fucks there?” The man’s voice was tinged with amusement.

“Well I’ve just about run out of fucks to give,” I said. There was a rising tide of emotion inside me that I did my best to tamp down. The only emotions I ever showed in business were smug and more smug. Anything else just wouldn’t do.

“Right, help me push your car back. I think you missed the lay-by by about six feet.”

Knowing how close I’d been to avoiding the collision made me feel even more stupid.

I could have had both hurt or killed because of my stupidity.

In silence, we both pushed the car back into the lay-by where the lane widened.

Without asking he jumped into the passenger side, pulled up the handbrake and turned my remaining headlight off.

In the darkness, it wa shard to see just how bad the damage was. But I knew it was bad.

“That car was—is, a beauty,” he said.

“My pride and joy,” I muttered.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he said. “Have you got luggage?”

Despite his words belying some kind of care, his tone told me he didn’t give a shit either way. It was like being cared for by a robot, or babysat by a teenager who’d do anything for a fiver. I nodded and went to the boot of the car to grab my bag. Without asking, he pulled it from my hands.

“Lock up your car.”

I did so, finally turning to his. I walked toward the bright headlights. Despite my vanity purchase I wasn’t exactly a car expert so all I could ascertain was that it was a little 90s box car, in what looked to be blue but could be another colour by daylight.

The passenger door side door opened and the interior light came on. The man was leaning over to open the door and he’d taken his leather jacket off. I climbed into the car, which had racing-style bucket seats, and pulled the door closed behind me.

Silence was king. Neither of us spoke, and the tension in the air was palpable. I jumped slightly when he turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life underneath us.

“You still don’t have a fucking clue who I am, do you?” he asked. He put his foot to the pedal and peeled off comfortably into the country lanes.

I studied him. With his sleeves uncovered now I could see that both arms, bound with muscle, were covered in tattoos.

Random colourful illustrations covered them almost entirely and I could hardly see any skin through them.

I looked upward then, and studied his face again.

In the dim, consistent light of the car and up close I could tell he was just as gorgeous as I’d thought outside.

He had obviously run his hands through his hair now as it was all messed up and water dripped from it onto the back of his neck.

There was something about him that was familiar but it felt so far away.

“Done looking yet?” he asked without turning his head toward me, and something in his surly tone unlocked memories long since buried. I almost audibly gasped as the realisation hit me.

“Mac?” I asked. “Macsen Lloyd? Gruff’s brother?”

“The very same,” he said. He still hadn’t smiled, and I wondered what had kept the surly teenager I’d once known just as surly now as an adult. The beard and tattoos were new, and he certainly wasn’t as lanky as the last time I’d seen him. He’d filled out well.

“You look…well,” I said after a moment had passed. He didn’t reply, but I thought I saw one side of his mouth slightly lift. If he was going to be a surly bastard, then I wouldn’t give him the benefit of conversation.

After a couple of minutes he indicated and pulled into a little garage I recognised well. I remembered the last time I’d seen Mac. He was 16 and had come home full of hope and determination to put his mother to rights. “Still working here?” I tried to ask casually.

Mac ignored me and got out of the car.

“Fine,” I muttered as I got out. “Be an ignorant bastard.”

Mac already had my bag over his shoulder and he stalked toward the little door on the side of the garage that I knew led to a little flat. I owned the building, but I’d been getting rent from Alun for years since old Steff decided to pack in the business.

As he reached the door and I still stood by the car, I called out. “Hey! Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Shit, yeah. I only drove into town for some milk. Pick it up off the back seat?” Mac pressed the key to unlock the car again.

I grabbed the pint of milk, slammed the door shut and jogged to keep up with him.

He didn’t hold the door open long enough for me to get through, just let it almost swing closed behind him so I had to grab it.

I had no idea why he was being so antagonistic, or why he didn’t seem to have grown up since I last saw him.

I followed him through the door and up a set of wooden stairs anyway.

I’d never seen the little studio flat before, though I knew it was there.

To the left of the room was the kitchen.

There were a few dishes scattered on the surfaces that hadn’t yet been washed.

There was a little two person dining table tucked into the kitchen area.

To the right was a little 2 seater sofa facing a flat screen TV with a games console.

There were doors to the right of the room which I presumed led to the bedroom and bathroom.

Overall, the place gave the impression and feeling of sliding slowly into obscurity.

It had been so long since I’d been in the real world away from the trappings of London comforts, I might as well have been in a hovel.

I placed the milk down on the counter just as Macsen dumped my bags next to the sofa.

“You’ll sleep here,” he said. He pointed at the sofa like it was obvious and I almost physically recoiled.

It wasn’t like I insisted on Egyptian cotton for every hotel I went to, but it was usually pretty high on my list of priorities.

I hadn’t slept on a saggy sofa under moth-bitten blankets since my early university days.

“Aren’t you taking me back to the town?” I asked.

“Just been there. No fucking way I’m going back at this time, in this weather. You’re welcome to walk in, or find some other way to get there. Otherwise you can stay here until morning. I’ll collect your car then.” Macsen grabbed a cushion from the sofa and made a show of fluffing it up.

“Fine, I’ll call my uncle. I’m sure he’ll brave the trip…” I patted at my pockets only to realise I’d left my phone in the bloody car. “I’ll stay. Whatever.”

Macsen snorted, and I got the sense he didn’t really take me seriously. “I hope the accommodations are to your standard…your highness. See you in the morning.”

He walked into one of the rooms and slammed the door behind him.

I took a second before I went into the other room.

The bathroom was just a shower cubicle, a sink and a toilet, all in a very old-fashioned shade of magnolia.

I splashed myself with water from the sink and washed my face quickly.

I looked around and only saw one towel on the radiator.

No way was I drying my face with a towel Macsen used to dry his balls.

I took my shirt off and used that to dry my face instead.

The Armani shirt probably wasn’t even the most expensive towel I’d ever used either.

I stepped out of the bathroom and almost bumped into the man. I squealed — a very manly squeal, mind — at the sudden shock, and dropped my shirt to the floor.

Macsen was dressed in nothing but a pair of tight white boxer briefs that clung to his muscular thighs.

I could see now that the tattoos on his arms reached his shoulders and collarbones but didn’t quite meet in the middle of his chest. And what a chest. He looked like someone had carved him from marble, with a broad, pale chest, and a deep cut between his abs.

The only body hair was a happy trail that began just above his belly button and led to a package of intimidating size cupped by his boxer briefs.

For one long second it felt like Macsen Lloyd was looking me up and down. Like he wanted me.

“Good night, Hywel.” Macsen pushed his way past me and killed whatever moment I might have imagined. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

I made my way over to the sofa, shucked off my jeans and pulled one of the blankets over me.

Despite my trepidations, it was comfortable and homely to snuggle myself under the old blanket.

I heard Macsen open the bathroom door, but didn’t look up.

The lights went out with a click and I heard his bedroom door snap shut.

I looked up into the darkness. How the hell have I ended up here?