Page 6 of Leather and Longing (Island Tales #3)

In the kitchen Paul measured out the ingredients and switched on the bread maker, choosing the correct program.

He’d brought bread flour with different seeds in it, on Taylor’s recommendation.

He and David hadn’t eaten store-bought bread since David had discovered Taylor made his own.

Soon the machine was chugging away, alternating between periods of kneading and proving the dough.

Once the chicken was in the oven, it was time for Paul to finally get to see his bedroom.

He planned on returning home in a day or two to pick up the rest of his things, once he’d seen how much space was available for clothes and belongings.

As he passed through the hallway, he was pleased to see the door had remained open.

Well, that’s a good sign.

He went upstairs and pushed open the door to his room, entered and stopped dead in the middle of the floor.

A large bay window ahead of him looked out over Steephill Cove.

He could see the Lighthouse, the houses nestled around the small bay; he could even see across to the Beach Shack, the café at the opposite end of the bay.

He squinted at it, trying to see if he could make out the figures moving around.

Below the café stood a single figure, a fishing rod in his hand, flung out into the incoming tide.

Paul didn’t need binoculars to tell him it was Andy, the owner of the café.

He was often seen on the steps below the Beach Shack, reeling in a bass or two.

Paul walked to the window and pulled up the bottom half, allowing the fresh sea air to waft in. He could taste the salt. Seagulls circled above, their cries loud and strident.

A sea view—heaven.

“Doesn’t get any better than this,” he murmured quietly to himself before looking around.

A wide bed with a brass headboard dominated the space with items of furniture around it: an empty bookcase, a table and chair in front of the window and a tall oak wardrobe.

Next to the bed was a small oak cabinet with a lamp upon it.

A chest of drawers faced the foot of the bed, a mirror across the top of it.

The floor was covered in a thick carpet and the curtains hanging at the window looked heavy enough to shut out all light.

It wasn’t a small room by any means, and Paul felt he could be comfortable there.

Next stop was the bathroom. It was large, with a toilet, washbasin, large pedestal bath and a spacious, walk-in shower.

What puzzled Paul was the layer of dust. It was as if the room was never used.

One look in the cabinet under the washbasin revealed the cleaning products, and Paul set to work.

It wasn’t long before every surface was gleaming.

Satisfied with his efforts, Paul descended the stairs and re-entered the kitchen.

He could already detect the aroma of roasting chicken and baking bread.

Come on, Adam. How can you resist the smell of freshly baked bread and roasting chicken?

So much for his secret weapon. He’d really thought the tempting aromas would have brought Adam out of his cave, but clearly the mountain had to go to Mohamed.

It was time to break the ice.

Paul exited the kitchen and paused in the doorway of Adam’s room, watching him turn slightly in his direction, his eyebrows knitted.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Adam snapped. “Either come in or leave me alone.”

Any points Paul felt he’d scored with the compilation were lost, and his optimism wilted. He was rooted to the spot, uncertain of what to do or say.

Adam let out a harsh sigh. “This does not bode well.” He made an impatient noise at the back of his throat.

“I seem to recall you telling me your name last Friday, but I obviously thought it of no consequence because I’ve forgotten it.

” Before Paul could utter a word, Adam scowled.

“Well, what’s your name, boy? I’ll have to address you at some point, even if your stay here will be short-lived.

” There was no hint of a smile playing about those pink, full lips.

Why the hell am I noticing his lips? Paul gave himself an angry shake and then stiffened as Adam’s words took root. Boy?

It conjured the memory of a hand on the back of his neck, the palm warm, the fingers strong. An imperious voice…

Indignation flooded through him.

“My name is Paul Vaughan, and far from being a boy, I’m twenty-five,” he flung back. No sooner had the words left his lips than he froze. Talk about brain disengaged while mouth in operation.

Something about Adam definitely rubbed him up the wrong way.

Those black eyebrows arched. “Oh, I seem to have ruffled your feathers. My apologies.” He didn’t seem the slightest bit apologetic, however. Adam straightened in his chair. “You have more backbone than some of your predecessors, that’s for certain.”

“I didn’t realize being able to stand up for myself was a required skill for this position.” Paul made an effort to breathe more evenly. This was not how he’d wanted their first day together to go.

“Speaking of skills, what are your qualifications? I’m assuming you have some,” Adam said dryly.

In a burst of clarity, Paul realised Adam was trying to deliberately push his buttons. Mrs. Lambton had done well to share about Paul’s predecessors.

Forewarned is forearmed.

“I qualified a year ago as a physiotherapist.”

Adam’s face fell. “Ah, that explains why Caroline has hired you. My dear sister is clearly anticipating my being in need of assistance after yet another fall.” There was such an air of dejection about him that for a moment Paul actually felt some sympathy for the man.

That emotion withered when Adam’s jaw firmed up again. “Let’s get something straight right from the start. My sister may have hired you, but it is I who will be paying you. I will be doing so under protest. I do not need a companion. I am not an invalid; I am simply blind.”

“Understood.” Paul thought it best to let Adam get his feelings out into the open. Maybe then they could move on.

“And as for you living here, that is totally unacceptable.”

Paul became still. What the fuck? His head was beginning to ache from all the twists and turns. “But your sister said?—”

“I do not care what Caroline said, I do not want you living here. If I must endure your company, it will be during the day. When the evening comes, you will leave.” He paused before continuing.

“But as far as my sister is concerned, you live here. She won’t find out.

She’s been an infrequent visitor, which is just how I like it.

In truth, I do my utmost to discourage her from coming here.

Recently, however, she’s grown immune to my efforts.

” His jaw unclenched and his brow smoothed out.

“So if she does visit, she is not to learn the truth, is that understood?”

“Yes.” There was little else Paul could say in the circumstances. His heart sank at the thought of not living in the house. It had been a very pleasant prospect.

“I’m assuming you wanted something, Phil— boy .” Adam sounded thoroughly bored.

Paul couldn’t decide whether the error was deliberate or not. And there’s that bloody word again. It took him a moment to regain his composure. “I came to find out if you wanted chicken salad or chicken sandwiches for your lunch.” It sounded really trite after the vitriol Adam had spouted.

Adam gave a derisive huff. “Maybe I’m not capable of making decisions of such huge import.

Maybe I could get some ex-presidents on the phone to advise me?

Or failing that, maybe some other intellectual colossus, like maybe, a live-in companion.

What do you think, Paul? Share with me the wisdom of your twenty-five years.

Which is going to have a greater impact on my long-term well-being, the salad or the sandwich? ”

Paul stared at him, unable to speak, his cheeks hot.

Adam snapped his fingers. “Quickly, boy, quickly. This may not be the Cuban missile crisis, but the fate of the world may quite possibly hang on your decision.” Before Paul could come back with a retort, Adam sagged into his armchair.

“You know what?” he ground out. “I don’t.

Fucking. Care. Just bring me something so this day will be closer to ending. ”

“Fine.” Paul choked out the word. “I’ll bring you your lunch and then keep out of your way.”

“At last! The eagle has landed.”

Paul couldn’t stand there another second and listen to that voice. He did the only thing he could think of—he fled to the safety of the kitchen.

This is a mistake.