Page 48 of Home Grown Talent
“Yeah,” Owen said. “I can see why Naomi wouldn’t want to have to report back that we’d ignored them. Misty’ll probably give her an earful about it.”
“We didn’t ignore them,” Mason pointed out once they were inside, turning in his seat. “We did sort of read them. And we did that first cringey intro bit they put in. But it’s not like we were going to be able to learn all of it in between takes. We’re not bloody actors!”
“Christ, no,” Owen agreed. “It was all I could do to hold a vague conversation with you, never mind remember all that gubbins. I can’t even remember most of what I did say.”
“You were awesome,” Mason said firmly. “And I thought we got some really good banter going. Lucy seemed to like it, anyway.”
Lucy, the director, had been great. She’d been easy going and positive about the sections they had filmed, waving off Naomi’s anxious comments about them not using Misty’s script notes.
“This is working fine. They’ve got a good back and forth going, so let’s not mess with it.”
That back and forth had all been thanks to Mason, starting with his opener of “just think of me as a puppy following you round the garden” followed by his quick-fire questions about what breed of puppy he would be—Owen had finally decided on a cockapoo—while Lucy captured footage of them doing basic soil preparation tasks.
And then there had been that ridiculous debate about what flowers Owen would bring Mason if they ever went on a date, with Mason arguing for two dozen red roses and Owen arguing for either no flowers at all—“Who brings someone flowers on a date?”—or maybe just a few handfuls of sweet peas plucked straight from the garden because they smelled so amazing.
That had naturally led into them talking about the sweet peas they’d be planting in the Weekend Wellness garden, training the plants up over a tripod of branches and canes Owen planned to build in the sunny south-west corner. And that conversation had gone so well that Lucy had sent Eddie off to get the materials they needed so Owen and Mason could build the tripod there and then. Which they did, while Mason spouted endless double entendres about the length and girth of the canes they were using.
So yeah, they really hadn’t needed the script notes, and when they’d wrapped for the day, Lucy had grinned and said she had tons of good material, and the only problem was going to be choosing which bits to use.
“I felt like I was okay,” Owen admitted now, smiling at Mason. “But you were amazing—you kept the conversation moving so easily. And God, I laughed so much! Sometimes I forgot the cameras were there.” He chuckled, remembering. “You know, you’re a really funny person. I never realised that about you when you were going out with Lewis. You always seemed a bit—” He broke off, realising he might be straying into dangerous territory. But when he glanced at Mason, Mason didn’t look offended, just sort of curious.
“Go on,” he prompted. “How did I seem to you back then?”
“I don’t know,” Owen said uncertainly. “I just don’t remember you laughing much those times I met you.” Which was strange, really, given how much time Owen spent laughing with his brother. But yeah, as funny as Lewis could be, he was also… intense.
Mason smiled crookedly, a little ruefully. “That’s fair. Lewis and I were never really on the same wavelength, if you know what I mean? Whereas with you…” He trailed off, blushing.
“What?” Owen said softly.
Staring down at his hands, Mason said, “I don’t know. It’s easier to be myself around you. You’re good at making people feel comfortable.” Glancing up again, he added quietly, “I don’t think I could have done all that stuff today if it was anyone but you.”
Owen’s chest pinched. Beneath the polished exterior, there was something soft and vulnerable about Mason. Something that appealed deeply to Owen. Tapped into his Knight in Shining Armour complex, perhaps. He wanted to look after Mason, protect him and care for him… and at the same time get naked and fuck like minks. Helpless against the impulse, and even though they were in full view of the studio and anyone passing, Owen reached for him, leaning across the gear stick to kiss him, an urgent, sensual kiss, overflowing with all those confusing feelings.
Mason’s answering kiss was hot and hungry and everything Owen needed.
When Owen finally drew back to catch his breath, Mason gave a soft huff of discontent that went straight to Owen’s dick. Fuck, Mason could switch from sweetly vulnerable to poutingly hot in a heartbeat, and it drove Owen wild.
Biting at his full lower lip, looking up through his lashes, Mason said, “So, do you have plans this evening…?”
Tragically, Owen did: the metric ton of paperwork that had been piling up thanks to all the time he’d spent on Weekend Wellness. He groaned, “I’ve really got to catch up on…”
“Oh?” Mason looked disappointed, even a little disgruntled. “Got a better offer?”
“Are you joking?” He reached out to squeeze Mason’s leg. “I’m not making an excuse. Trust me, there’s nothing I’d like more than to take you home tonight and jump your gorgeous bones.” He waggled his eyebrows and was rewarded by a softening of Mason’s tight expression. Christ, did he really think Owen would voluntarily turn him down? “But we’ve got our date tomorrow, right? Peruvian-Japanese food, wasn’t it?”
Mason softened further. “You’re still up for that?”
“Yeah, course I am. If you are?”
“Definitely.” He added, “I’ve booked a table for eight, if that’s okay?”
“Perfect.” With reluctance, Owen let go of Mason, turning away to fasten his seatbelt before he could change his mind about tonight. His resolve was weak, and he really did need to get through that paperwork this evening. “Send me the details and I’ll meet you there.”
“How about we meet first for a drink?” Mason said, reaching for his own seatbelt. “There’s a fabulous cocktail bar not too far from there. Say, seven?”
Owen smiled and started the engine. “Even better.”
“And, uh…” From the corner of his eye, Owen could see Mason squirm a little. “Maybe we could go back to my place after?”