Page 18 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)

I tipped my beer at him. “Relationship goals, right there.”

He laughed and moved along to serve a couple who’d just arrived.

I elbowed Nick and leaned in. “I wish I’d been that smart at his age.”

Nick chuckled and kissed my head. “Me too.”

A few minutes later, Todd was back. “Can I get you another?” He indicated Nick’s half-empty glass and Nick nodded.

“We saw a few horse studs on the drive in,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “Didn’t know that was a thing up here. Thought you lot were all ski fields, vineyards, über-cool cafes.”

Todd put a fresh glass of beer next to Nick’s almost finished one.

“We are, mostly. At least that’s what brings the tourists to town.

But two of the studs were actually around long before all the tourism came to town, and the other was established about ten years ago when the Johnsons grew too old to manage their beef farm and none of their kids wanted to carry it on.

” He shrugged. “Story of this town’s life in lots of ways.

Half the houses are holiday homes now. Times change, right?

Anyway, the farm was bought by this dude who’s a big name in horse racing.

We’ve even had a couple of Melbourne Cup winners bred here.

” Todd was almost preening like he’d had a personal hand in training them.

Nick’s knee settled against mine and the warmth travelled up my leg. “Which studs?” Nick asked, knowing full well that Marty Klein’s was one of them.

“There was Trollop from Mayfair Farms and April Rain from M. K. Stud. That’s them there.” Todd indicated two oversized framed photos hanging on the wall next to the bar.

Nick and I slid from our stools to take a look.

My attention was quickly drawn to the photo of a chestnut mare named April Rain, surrounded by her entourage.

A brass plate at the bottom of the frame listed the year, the mare’s name, her jockey, her trainer, and her owner.

I scrutinised the photo and there he stood with his hand on the mare’s neck.

Marty Klein. He looked mid-forties rather than the fifty-one years we knew him to be, with sleek dark hair, enthralling eyes, and what appeared to be a nicely toned body under that slimline suit.

I’d seen many photos of the man, and yet I was still struck by how very normal he looked.

Handsome and supremely confident, he wore the huge smile of a winner, and try as I might, I couldn’t see a trace of the arsehole I so desperately wanted to find.

If I’d passed him on the street, I’d never dream what an abusive fucker he was under all that handsome ordinariness.

“So, this Marty fellow still owns the stud?” Nick led me back to our stools.

Todd nodded. “Yep. Marty Klein. M. K. Stud. It’s a big outfit.”

“They drink in here?” I asked offhandedly.

Todd waved hello to an elderly man and pointed to a table in the corner of the room.

“I’ll bring it over to you, John.” The man nodded and Todd grabbed a glass from under the bar.

“A few of Marty’s trainers and stable jockeys come in on a regular basis, but we only see Marty now and then.

Nice guy, but he’s more of the vineyard-restaurant type rather than a brewery fan, if you get what I mean. ”

I watched my beer. “Does he have family?”

I felt Todd’s curious gaze but didn’t look up when he answered, “No. At least there’s never been a husband that I know of.”

Nick feigned surprise. “He’s gay?”

Todd hesitated. “Or something.” He arched a brow like he was reminding us old dudes that options had broadened these days.

I tried not to blush, feeling suitably chastised as he continued.

“When I was a horny teen, it was kind of cool knowing one of the local bigwigs was also gay. In a small town, it made you feel less alone, I suppose. It also meant the locals were warmed up to the idea.” He hesitated.

“Well, some of them, at least. Word around town is that there’s been a few boyfriends over the years.

Some serious, some not. The guy’s an incorrigible flirt. ”

Nick raised a brow. “Sounds like the voice of experience.”

Todd rolled his eyes. “He’s tried a few times since I came back, but I don’t cheat and I made that perfectly clear.” He ran his cloth over the pristine bar.

“A few times?” I pressed. “I take it he didn’t take no for an answer the first time?”

Todd huffed. “The man’s a player and I’m a gay barman in a town with limited local offerings.

Of course he’s gonna try it on more than once.

A lot of older rich gays think all they have to do is click their fingers and us younger guys will swoon all over their money.

” He winced apologetically. “Sorry. No offence intended.”

I chuckled. “None taken. And just so you know, we only fit the older part of that scenario, not the rich bit.”

Todd chuckled. “Noted. And I’m not complaining, not really.

Marty employs a lot of locals and brings good business into town.

Some of these guys—” He gestured around the rapidly filling bar.

“—have come to town for the annual bloodstock sales tomorrow in Wangaratta. Marty’s a big part of that, and it’s an important event on the local calendar.

The organisers bring in food trucks and stalls, and there’s even a fun fair with rides that lasts through the weekend. It’s a big community event.”

“And this is on tomorrow?” I shot Nick a look. It could be the opportunity we were hoping for.

“Sure is.” Todd slid a loaded tray of drinks over to a server to distribute. “We went last year to see what all the fuss was about, and it’s actually pretty cool. You should check it out if you have time.” Todd threw his towel back over his shoulder. “Can I get you guys another beer?”

I glanced down at our half-full glasses and then sideways at Nick who surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, nodded. “Absolutely. But I think we’ll grab a table.”

Todd nodded. “I’ll send them over.”

“Make my beer a pot this time,” I told Todd as I scanned the blackboard menu. “And we’ll take two bowls of loaded potato skins as well.”

Todd grinned. “Excellent choice.”

We left Todd to his rapidly filling bar and headed for a table in the conservatory. It turned out to be more of a grapevine-covered pergola with glass sides and big sliding windows. We grabbed a table right next to the footpath to make the most of the cool breeze blowing down the main street.

The scrumptious loaded skins and fresh beers arrived in timely fashion and we ate and drank mostly in silence. When we were done, I reached across the table and ruffled his short spiky hair. “I could get used to this. It’s a good look on you. Todd certainly appreciates it.”

Nick sat back and eyed me curiously. “Is that right? Personally, I feel half-naked.”

I waggled my brows. “Like I said, I could get used to it.”

“I wish I could say the same about your ponytail.” He studied the grey rat’s tail. “But it’s kind of nasty.”

I chuckled. “I know, right? It’s like being a completely different person.”

He grunted and reached for a stray potato skin left on his plate, running it through the cold melted cheese and bacon before popping it in his mouth.

“Well, I happen to like the original person more.” He swallowed the potato skin and beckoned me forward.

“You’ve got sour cream—” He pressed the napkin to the corner of my mouth with such focus that I couldn’t look away.

It was inordinately sexy and I wanted to kiss him so badly.

Before I could, he sat back in his chair. “There. Much better.”

I couldn’t help but sigh and lick my lips. His eyes darkened, so I did it again, slower this time. Then I ran my thumb along my lower lip and sucked the last bit of salt from the tip.

“Jesus,” he whispered, glancing around the room. “Is it hot in here or what?”

I shot him a come-hither smile, or at least that’s what I hoped it was considering I was years out of practice. “You look a little... flustered. Is there something I can help you with?”

Nick shook his head like the question amused him. “You’re a damn tease is what you are.”

I locked eyes. “It’s not teasing if it’s a promise. You wanna kick this joint and have a little fun?”

He chuckled. “Feels like a Casablanca moment?”

I waggled my brows. “Of all the gin joints in all the tow—” I drew a sharp breath as his bare toes ran up my calf.

He said, “I’m no Humphrey Bogart.”

My lips twitched. “Well, I’m even less of an Ingrid Bergman, although the woman certainly knew how to wear a hat. But you actually do have a little Humphrey in you, or at least his character Rick.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Oh really? Do tell.”

I stretched out in my seat. “Remember when Rick had to make a decision between getting Ilsa and Lazlo both safe, or not getting involved at all, or getting Lazlo safe but holding on to his love, Ilsa? The story is all about sitting on the sidelines versus stepping up, even when it might cause conflict and put us in harm’s way.

Rick spent years on the sidelines, but in the end, he does the right thing.

He gets them both safe, and it changes all their lives. ”

The noisy bar faded into the background as Nick studied me with such tenderness that I felt the ridiculous urge to run. Heat raced into my cheeks and I stumbled over my words, “Sorry. Man... that, ah... well, it sounded way too?—”

“Perfect.” Nick reached across to take my hand.

“It was perfect. Perhaps there’s a little Humphrey Bogart in all of us, and maybe everyone has their own Ilsa and Lazlo moment in their life.

A choice that begs us to step outside our own small world and try to make a difference in someone else’s.

” Nick’s eyes brimmed with affection and it changed everything about him, softening all those hard edges.

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the palm.

“Thank you for helping me make the right decision.”

He leaned across the table and kissed me softly on the lips, not caring about the crowd that filled the bar. It was so unexpected that I almost pulled away. Almost, but I didn’t.

Nick must’ve sensed it, however, because when he drew back, he apologised. “Sorry. With it being our anniversary, I thought we could get away with it, but I still should’ve asked.”

I considered his words for all of two seconds then pulled him back over for another kiss. His smile unfolded beneath my lips and he murmured my name before slowly pulling away.

“New rule,” I announced, relaxing back in my chair. A quick scan of the surrounding tables revealed only one or two interested looks and nothing unfriendly. Most people were too busy with their own conversations.

Nick grinned. “I can’t wait.”

“Don’t ever apologise for kissing me again. Anywhere. Anytime. I’m down for it. I’ve never been much for PDA, but for some unfathomable reason, it’s different with you.”

Nick’s grey eyes darkened on mine and he gave an oddly uncertain nod.

“To be honest, I haven’t been much for it either, although that might’ve been because Davis was always the touchy-feely one in public.

He would initiate things like holding hands and kissing, and I just went along with it.

But with you, I can’t seem to keep my hands or lips to myself.

So I’m thinking it maybe wasn’t only Davis who liked it, after all.

I just never had to think about it.” He stood and held out his hand.

“Come on. Let’s grab some food from the supermarket and head back.

There’s a spa bath with our name on it.”

The idea of the two of us sharing a bath made me laugh, especially since I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had one.

“I’m serious,” he deadpanned. “Relationship goals, mister.”

“Okay, okay.” I downed the last of my beer. “I’m just trying to work out how a bath together qualifies as a relationship goal.”

He looked a little sheepish. “I happen to like baths and Davis couldn’t stand them.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re playing dirty. How can I say no to something Davis wouldn’t do for you?”

He waggled his brows. “Is it working?”

I slid my hand into his and went up on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Of course it bloody is.”