Page 90 of The Unlikely Heir

Callum glances up, and our gazes connect. It’s like an invisible thread tethers us, as strong as our lines. Peacefulness leaves his expression, and it’s replaced by something else, something that looks like longing.

I drop my gaze back to the water, trying to compose myself and focus on the fishing.

Fly fishing is an art, and I think it’s fair to say neither Callum nor I will be challenging the grand masters as we don’t catch anything.

Eventually, we stop and head to the bank to unpack the picnic hamper Bruce brought with us.

“I think the fish have us well and truly outsmarted today,” I say.

Callum gives me an impish grin. “Do you know why fish are so smart?”

“Why?”

“Because they swim in schools.”

I groan loudly.

“Nothing like a few jokes to aid digestion,” he says.

“I’m not sure if your jokes are the stomach-settling type,” I say.

He laughs as I unpack the sandwiches.

And fuck, this is just so easy. It’s so easy to joke back and forth with Callum about our fishing skills and the size of all the fish that got away as we munch our way through the picnic.

I like so much about Callum, but one of the things I like the most is how he brings out this side of me I never knew existed.

The sun is high now, and its warmth envelops us like a comforting blanket. The birds are singing from the trees above us, and it almost feels like this moment will never end.

Callum takes off his jumper, his face flushed. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s getting hot.”

“We should go for a swim,” I say.

He looks at me as if I’ve suggested we should start farming unicorns.

“Did the voting public seriously think you were of a sound mind to lead them? Have you actually tried swimming in a Scottish river?”

I chuckle. “A bit of cold never hurt anyone. Good for the spirit.”

“Next you’ll be telling me it’ll put hairs on my chest.”

My breathing stutters as I imagine Callum’s chest, the smoothness of his skin, the hard planes, and the soft curves of his body.

I straighten, concentrating on putting the leftover lunch items back into the picnic hamper to avoid him seeing my reaction.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Callum says.

I snap my head up to look at him. “What?”

“I’ve got to accept that my summers are no longer going to be spent swimming in the Pacific, so Scottish rivers are the next best thing, right?”

“Right,” I say.

It turns out I didn’t think my suggestion through. Going swimming with Callum means us both stripping down to our boxers.

I’ve always kept fit, and unlike many of my predecessors, I regularly frequent the gym at Number 10. But there’s no escaping that I’m a man in his late thirties with a demanding desk job and without time to maintain a perfect physique. Callum however… I gulp when he pulls off his T-shirt. He’s naturally blessed with broad shoulders, a lean muscular torso, and golden skin.

I haven’t thought much about the age difference between us, but right now, I remember he’s a man in his prime.