Page 24 of Home Grown Talent

“Listen,” he said, setting down his mug, “if you don’t want to do the show, don’t do it. Misty’s bullshitting about it only being half a day’s work. That’s probably how long it’ll take to shoot, but there’ll be a ton of prep and meetings, and we’d need to talk about it and probably rehearse since you’ve not done this before and I’m pretty new to it too. It’s a bigger commitment than you realise.”

Owen frowned. “What would rehearsing involve?”

Mason tried not to stare at Owen’s fingers wrapped around the mug of tea, tried not to remember how comforting they’d felt stroking the hair back from his forehead. “It’d be pretty informal, probably.” He cleared his throat because his voice was coming out a little husky. “Just you and me getting together a few times to go over ideas for the show, talking about how we’d want to present stuff. That kind of thing.”

“Hmm,” Owen said. “That could be—”

“—time-consuming. I know.”

One corner of Owen’s mouth tugged up in a sexy half smile. “I was going to say doable.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, I mean it would be extra work, and I have just taken on another big project—so the timing isn’t the best—but on the other hand, it would be publicity for the business. And sometimes you have to grab your chances when they crop up, right? That’s how I started my business, by taking a punt. And I could set some limits, I suppose. Maybe just sign up for a few weeks to start with, to see how it goes.”

Mason’s heart kicked in excitement. If this worked out, if the segment was successful, it could change everything for him. “So…are you saying you’re interested? In doing the show?”

“Yeah, I’m interested,” Owen said slowly. “If you are?”

“Definitely,” Mason said. “A regular slot is exactly what I’m looking for, but… You’re honestly okay with this?”

Owen smiled. “I am, yeah.”

“Wow, thank you.” He was grinning now; he couldn't help it. “I would totally owe you, big time.”

“No.” Owen set down his mug and looked Mason straight in the eye. “If I agree to do the show, it’s because I want to do it, not because you’ve talked me into it. Not because I’m doing you a favour. You don’t owe me a thing. We’re both grown-ups here. Got that?”

Mason nodded, a little taken aback by Owen’s stern tone. A little…turned on by it too, if he was honest. He swallowed. “Got it.” Then, with half a smile, he added, “So who’s going to give Misty the good news?”

Owen laughed, grimacing. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Naomi gave me her card.”

“Okay,” Mason said, trying to dampen his obvious excitement. “Could you text me after to let me know how it goes? I’ll send you my number just now. What’s yours?” He pulled out his phone and swiped to messages, plugging in the number Owen told him and sending a quick, Hi, it’s Mason text.

Owen’s phone pinged in his pocket, and they smiled at each other, their eyes meeting across the table. Owen's lips moved, as if he were about to say more, before he looked away and stood up to gather the empty plate and their mugs.

“You’re looking better now,” he said, carrying everything to the sink and running water over them. He stayed there for a moment before turning around to lean against the counter. “I should get out of your hair. Let you sleep it off.”

Mason studied him, considering the broad expanse of his shoulders, the stretch of his dress shirt over his chest, shirtsleeves rolled up to expose strong, tanned forearms. Owen was an incredibly attractive man. Mason was attracted to him. Physically for sure, but also—tonight—to his kindness, his gentleness, his warmth.

Suddenly, powerfully, he didn’t want Owen to leave. He didn’t want to be alone.

Pushing to his feet, relieved to find the world holding steady, he padded across the kitchen to where Owen stood by the sink. “Do you have to go?” he asked, smiling at the flush rising in Owen’s cheeks. “Stay for a while.”

Owen wasn’t classically handsome like Lewis, but it struck Mason in that moment that, for Mason’s money, Owen had the nicer face. It was an approachable face, trustworthy and friendly. The face of someone Mason would like to get to know better.

But it seemed that Owen didn’t feel the same way, because he cleared his throat and stepped sideways, putting space between them. “I really should get going,” he said. “It’s quite a trek to Beckenham from here.”

“That’s where you live?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve never been to Beckenham.”

Owen laughed. “Well, it’s not really a place people go to visit, but I like it. There’s plenty of green space, you know?”

“There’s green space here,” Mason said, stepping closer again. “Clapham Common is great. We could go for a walk.”

Owen’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Now?”