Page 3 of Home Grown Talent

The details were pretty dull, and Owen found himself idly imagining some fun ways to stop the flow of words from that pretty mouth. Unfortunately, that had the unwanted effect of making his cock begin to swell. Horrified, he shifted in his seat, leaning forward to disguise the bulge in his jeans as he selected a patisserie slice he didn’t actually want, then hastily forked half of it into his mouth.

Aaron turned to him, smiling. “What do you think? Delicious, right?”

Owen hurriedly swallowed. “Um, yeah, amazing,” he croaked, though he’d barely tasted the chunk of sponge and mousse and whatnot he’d just shoved down his throat.

He glanced back at the TV. At Mason, with his creamy skin, fair hair, and lean, elegant body. And those eyes—there weren’t many people with eyes that intensely green, were there? Christ, he really was perfect.

Perfect on the outside, at least.

Inside was probably another story. Inside, Owen suspected that Mason was rather like one of those fancy chocolate Santas you got at Christmas. All colourful and glittery on the surface, but when you tore the foil off, it was just a boring chocolate shell underneath. Disappointingly hollow.

Silver-fox-Marc leaned his elbows on the bench and moved in closer to Mason. “Is sustainability important to you, Mason?” he asked. “Do you try to make sustainable choices in other areas too?”

“I do, yes,” Mason said, pushing one hand through his hair and letting it fall artfully across one eye. “I’m pretty careful in my food choices, and I love to cook with homegrown produce when I can. Household products and clothing choices are important to me, too.”

“For sure,” Marc said earnestly, nodding. “The fashion industry is one of the major global polluters.” He began droning on about the clothes he was wearing, inviting Mason to touch the fabric of his trousers, which was, he explained, locally woven and naturally dyed.

“Do you know what I call this fabric?” Mason said at last, stroking Marc’s thigh suggestively.

“Tweed?” Marc asked, looking puzzled.

Mason shook his head, then winked. “Boyfriend material.”

The studio erupted in laughter, and Owen gave a surprised chuckle too, unexpectedly charmed by Mason’s sly humour.

Lewis grinned. “Great line.”

“Cheesy line,” Aaron said. “But yeah, a good one.”

“Uh-oh,” Lewis said then. “Aaron—look at Owen’s face.”

Owen glanced sharply at them to find them both staring at him with matching expressions of wonder. He scowled at them. “What?”

“You look like one of those cartoon characters that have love hearts bulging out of their eyeballs,” Lewis said, clasping his hands together and making a goofy expression.

Owen’s face heated. “I do not have love hearts bulging out of my eyeballs.”

“Um, you kind of do,” Aaron said.

Lewis waggled his eyebrows outrageously. “Or maybe something else is bulging?”

“Lewis!” Aaron swatted his arm, but there was amusement in his voice.

Owen straightened self-consciously. “Shut up,” he said and turned his attention determinedly back to the screen. The presenter was smiling warmly at Mason, thanking him and starting the introduction for the next piece.

Lewis, who had already lost interest, pointed the remote at the TV and shut it off. “Seriously?” he said. “You fancy Mason? How did I miss that?”

Owen felt another wave of heat sweep over his already warm face. “For God’s sake, Lew, he was your boyfriend!”

“What’s that got to do with the price of fish?” Lewis said, looking genuinely puzzled. “We went out for, like, six weeks. He was hardly the love of my life.” He shot a sappy look at Aaron, which made Owen want to gag.

“Don’t be obtuse,” Owen said irritably. “You know what I mean.”

Lewis frowned, seeming confused. “Um, no. You’re going to have to explain.”

“You slept together?” Owen pointed out.

“Okay,” Lewis said slowly. “That’s some very weird paternalistic bullshit, but whatever.”