Page 17

Val nodded. “We were on the Tibetan border, arse-deep in swamp. The carts couldn’t get building materials across the wetlands, so we had to carry a lot of it on foot.

Back then, I got paid for the work but he didn’t.

He was surviving on his last farthing, so I took him to dinner and three weeks later we were married. ”

Pember smiled, gently placing the photograph on the table. “That’s amazing. And this one?”

He picked up the second picture, wiping away the dust.

“Ah. After the wedding, of course there came the little ragamuffin to keep us on our toes.”

Pember brushed a thumb over the child’s face. She was dark haired like Val had been.

It was a candid shot of them all in a paddling pool. Earnie held the baby, whilst Val splashed about in a rubber ring. Looking at the picture caused an indescribable sense of melancholy to wash over him. They all looked so happy and at ease with one another.

His family had barely any photographs like that.

They were mostly portraits taken by a photographer.

He and his sister were always groomed to within an inch of their lives, and even his dad had to look immaculate.

The perfect image of the perfect family.

If only everyone knew what went on behind closed doors.

“You have a beautiful family,” he said, letting out a slow breath and putting the picture back on the table.

Val shrugged. “We didn’t always get it right, but we did our best. My daughter’s flown the nest and settled down. It’s all anyone could ask for.”

Cherry tapped the glass with her beak.

“She’s Earnie’s bird,” Val said, leaning across the table to brush a knuckle over the African Grey’s head. “We lost him three years ago to pneumonia. I don’t think either of us have been the same since.”

Pember blinked and worried his lip between his teeth. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Val gave him a gentle smile, patting the back of his hand. “Poppet, if anyone gets through life with their heart intact, they didn’t do it right.”

Pember’s bottom lip began to quiver. “You think so?”

“I do.”

His gaze drifted to the sink. “What do you think Earnie would say if he could see you and Cherry now?”

Val grimaced and knuckled the table. “He’d tell me to stop being such a slob.”

“And what would you say?”

She frowned and held up her hands. “I’d say, have you seen the state of my fingers? I can’t even wipe my own arse, let alone dust the place!”

Pember chuckled and spread his hands out over the table. “Will you let me help you, Val?”

She shook her head. “I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help.”

Val let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re just like him. A do-gooding busybody.” She jerked her chin towards Blake’s house.

Pember dropped his head and looked at her through his dark eyelashes. Giving her a lopsided smile, he said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Val’s eyes suddenly went wide and she leant back in her chair. A deep blush shot up her neck, bringing colour to her pale cheeks. “Don’t you be doing that, boy! I’m too old for you!”

Pember cocked a brow and wrinkled his nose. “Pardon?”

She levelled a crooked finger at him, her mouth opening and closing multiple times. “Don’t you be doing any of that omega mumbo jumbo! It won’t work on me!”

“Y-you… what?” he stuttered.

“Fine! You can clean the damned kitchen, but that’s it! You hear me?”

Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Pember shot to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he said, turning towards the door.

Cherry squawked as he ran out of the house and towards his own. He grabbed all the cleaning supplies he could find, tied a handkerchief around his head and pulled on an old T-shirt. Val was already situated in her recliner when he returned, and she looked him up and down with a huff.

“Get on with it, then,” she said.

Pember nodded, dropping the mop bucket, broom and caddy of cleaning sprays onto the floor, and got to work.

It was already gone ten o’clock when Blake’s car pulled up.

The rumble of the engine cut out after a few minutes, followed by the sound of the front door and George’s claws skittering in the kitchen.

Pember was sweating, his yellow-gloved hands and bare arms completely covered in the chalky remnants of wet dust.

Valerie dozed in her chair, which must have been her usual sleeping place if the deep staining around the head cushion was anything to go by.

Pember clicked off the television and stretched towards the ceiling.

His shoulders ached like crazy, and it was a wonder he had any fingernails left under the gloves after scrubbing between the kitchen tiles.

All in all, the kitchen looked much cleaner, but it would take a lot more work before he was truly satisfied.

He sighed as he shuffled to the back door with the mop bucket, coughing when the cool night air hit his throat.

He almost sloshed the filthy water over his shoes, but managed to direct it down the drain.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice spoke to his right.

Pember jerked his head up and saw Blake leaning over the fence. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his glasses pushed back into his hair. His lip twitched as his eyes drifted over Pember’s dust-stained face and filthy T-shirt.

“She let me clean,” he said, holding up the mop bucket in triumph. “Well, only the kitchen, but it’s a start.”

Blake’s mouth opened and closed, eyes flicking from his ears, to his bare arms, to the bob of his flushed neck.

“You… you look—” Blake cleared his throat and shook his head. “You look like you were very thorough.”

Pember nodded. “Yeah. I tried. I doubt she’ll let me loose again any time soon. I think she’s angry with me.”

Blake cocked a brow. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Said I used omega mumbo jumbo, then acted like I was trying to seduce her.”

The alpha coughed back a choked sound. “I see. And were you?”

Pember flushed. “What? No! Her mate only died three years ago, and she must be, what, ninety?”

Blake smirked, “Is that too old for you?”

“Only by about sixty years.”

The alpha grinned and ran a hand through his hair, knocking the glasses off his head. He caught them, folded them up and tapped them against his chin.

“And how old are you, Pember?”

The way Blake said his name sent a fizzing sensation up Pember’s spine. He dropped the bucket and busied himself with wringing out the mophead. He hoped on everything holy that the light from the kitchen window wasn’t enough to show the blush creeping up his neck.

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in June.”

Blake tilted his chin, brows pulling up in surprise. “I thought you were older.”

Pember scoffed. “What makes you say that? Don’t tell me I have wrinkles?”

Blake’s tongue slid out to touch the corner of his mouth. When he didn’t reply, Pember stopped wringing the mop and looked up.

“Well?”

“You have very sad eyes.”

Pember grew still at that.

“Well,” Pember eventually said, sniffing as he pulled the yellow Marigolds off his hands. “I shall endeavour to look less sad next time I see you.”

The side of Pember’s mouth pulled up into a half smile, because he couldn’t quite muster a full one.

Balling up the gloves, he dropped his head and took several steps towards the house. As he reached for the door handle, Blake leant over the fence and grabbed his arm. Pember wrenched it away with unnecessary force, causing Blake’s nostrils to flare as he reached again.

“Pember,” he growled, low in his throat.

It triggered something in Pember’s brain, making him go pliant under the alpha’s touch. “Y-yes?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I know what it’s like, being unable to sleep.”

Pember’s jaw ticked as he tried to find an answer to throw back at Blake. However, his eyes began to sting, and he looked up at the stars to try and stop any tears from gathering. Blake loosened his grip, letting his hand fall away and hang over the fence.

Pember didn’t move. Only stood looking up at the sky. Eventually, the hammering in his chest stopped and he said the only thing he could think of. “Apple pie?”

Blake let out a soft breath and nodded. Val was still snoozing, and Cherry had her head propped under a wing. It was all quiet in the house, save for the splash of water as Pember washed his hands.

Cutting two slices, he nudged the pie onto separate plates and walked back into the garden. Blake made a thoughtful sound as they both ate.

“Wallace wants you to go to the post-mortem tomorrow in place of Maya. Are you comfortable with that?”

Pember nodded, running his tongue over his teeth. “Who else is going?”

“Me. It’s booked in for half past seven.”

Pember huffed “Well, it’s a good job we’re both raging insomniacs, I guess.”

Blake hummed, scrubbing a hand across his chin. Though Pember couldn’t see it in the low light, he heard the rough scrape of five o’clock shadow beneath the alpha’s fingertips.

“Would you like a lift to the station? I’ll be leaving at six.”

“W-well, so long as that’s okay? I don’t think the first bus comes until seven.”

Blake nodded, scraping his fork across the plate and picking up the pastry crumbs. “Sure. And thanks for the dessert.”

Pember grinned. “How was it?”

Blake smirked and tilted his head. “Not bad, considering it was made with stolen produce.”

Pember bit the inside of his cheek and slowly slid his gaze to Blake. “Think you could do better?”

“I do enjoy a challenge.” The alpha’s voice was low as his lip peeled back over his fangs.

Pember’s tongue touched his cupid’s bow as he leant close enough to bump the alpha’s arm. “I won’t tell the wildlife officer if you don’t.”

With that, he tugged the plate out of Blake’s hand and sauntered back towards the kitchen.