Page 31 of Home Grown Talent
Owen felt a sudden panic as the guy with the microphone, and another man hefting a huge camera on his shoulder, approached.
Shit, this was really happening.
“Take a breath,” Mason said, stepping closer.
He squeezed Owen’s arm, fingers cool on Owen’s bare skin, driving an unhelpful spike of desire through Owen’s already pounding heart.
“You know about gardening, right?” Mason was looking at him seriously, his hand still lingering on Owen’s arm. “So just tell me about stuff. I know nothing, so there’s plenty to say.”
Owen nodded. “Okay.” His voice sounded tight and rough.
“You’ll be fine,” Mason said and threw him a wink. An actual bloody wink. Cute, and sexy as all hell. Christ.
Misty told them where to stand and said ‘action’. Just like in the movies. Owen felt a sudden urge to laugh hysterically.
“So here we are in this gorgeous garden…” Mason began, and suddenly he was on. Performing. He was still himself, just a bit more so. It was a subtle difference, but obvious to Owen, and he knew that he couldn’t do the same, that he’d feel and look ridiculous if he even tried.
Shit.
Panic flapped in his chest, and he was about to tell them all to stop, that he couldn’t do it, when Mason said, “So, Owen, would you call this a modern, contemporary garden?”
“Uh,” Owen said, glancing at the camera, then away because Misty had told him to never look at the camera. “Sort of?”
“Yeah? What does that mean, then? What makes a garden contemporary? Or should I say, what makes a contemporary garden?” He shrugged, frowning in a cute, puzzled way that made Owen chuckle despite his nerves.
“Well,” he said. “As you can see, there’s a lot of sleek, elegant features in this garden. Those concrete planters on the patio, for example. There’s a fantastic contrast between the clean, simple lines of the containers and the plants inside. I love that feathery fern in the tall planter and the spiky rosemary too. Rosemary is such a great all-year-round plant. It’s evergreen, it grows like crazy, and it smells amazing. Plus, it’s a magnet for pollinators.”
“Also, you can cook with it,” Mason said. “It’s awesome in a hearty stew. And I make an amazing rosemary focaccia—I’ll give you the recipe; it’s totally orgasmic. But what if you only have a very limited space? What can viewers like me do to create something beautiful in a small area and hopefully attract some pollinators?”
Owen was grinning now, enjoying Mason’s cute, flirty style and the easy way he’d fed him that cue. “There’s tons of options,” he said, thinking back to the patch of barren courtyard outside Mason’s flat. “You can actually do loads even with a very small space. You need to think about growing vertically, using walls or fences, even balconies. Pots are great too, because you can move them around to maximise sunlight or shade, and there’s a bunch of different plants you can choose to attract bees and butterflies…”
And they were off, Mason asking the questions and Owen answering. At one point, Owen squatted down and pulled out a few weeds, showing Mason the difference between geraniums and creeping buttercup. It felt good, grounding, to get his hands in the earth, and even better when Mason’s fingers brushed his own as they compared the geranium leaves with the buttercup leaves. Mason seemed genuinely interested. Owen wasn’t sure whether that was real or just a performance, but it looked real. The smile in Mason’s eyes looked real. His enthusiasm looked real as he guided them around the garden and got Owen to demonstrate some of the basic gardening tools Misty had left out, making a few funny remarks and provoking a laugh or two from the crew, and from Owen.
This was a new side to Mason—engaged, enthusiastic, happy—that Owen hadn’t guessed at until he’d started getting to know him properly. Over the last few weeks, Owen had begun to see him in a new light. Had realised that there was more to Mason than the spoiled and rather vacuous model Owen had assumed him to be when they’d first met. It turned out that Mason was smart, quick-witted, curious, and a natural presenter, with an ability to talk easily on just about any topic, and today, all those qualities were on show.
If Owen hadn’t been having so much fun, he might have started to worry that he was in way over his head.
As it was, when Misty called ‘cut’ and the screen test came to an end, he felt almost disappointed that it was over so soon. And as they trooped into the kitchen to watch the footage back on Misty’s laptop, he realised he was nervous. What if he’d been rubbish? Suddenly, he really really wanted to do this again. With Mason.
It turned out, though, that he had no need to worry. Misty loved it.
“I was right!” she crowed, her expression pure self-satisfaction. “I knew you two would work on-screen. Let’s think about punching up that flirting a bit, yeah? A little bit of will-they-won’t-they will go down a storm.” She gave them a wink and turned her attention back to the screen.
What the fuck?
Perturbed, Owen glanced at Mason, but he didn’t seem remotely bothered. In fact, he was grinning too, as though what Misty had just said made perfect sense.
Well, maybe it did? Maybe Owen was being silly. After all, Mason had flirted with that silver fox presenter during his first slot on Weekend Wellness, and that hadn’t meant anything. And what did Owen even know about TV?
“My garden looks amazing,” Misty said as she played the footage again. “It would make a fantastic location. Maybe we could get you to do a couple of extra slots from here? I was thinking of putting in some cold frames. Maybe a project like that would work…”
Mason made a soft harrumphing sound at that, but Misty didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in her own thoughts.
Later, though, when they’d left Misty’s house and Owen was giving Mason a ride to the tube, he fumed about it. “And what was all that about Misty trying to get you to install some cold frames in her garden for free? She’s such a fucking freeloader!”
Owen laughed. “She certainly takes after her namesake.”
Mason frowned. “Namesake?”