Ash received the phone call at just after nine on the Friday. He’d managed to pretend in two separate calls from Stephanie that Tux was out mousing. She fell for it as every seven-year-old would do. He even made up stories about what Tux had been up to, going as far as telling her about how Tux scared away a big ginger tom.
So the phone call was a relief. Rachel called him, spoke to him nicely, and said he could come to the surgery and pick up Tux.
Which meant Connor. Which inevitably meant an unfortunate incident where Ash lost control and kissed the man again. He’d written the first kiss off as an adrenaline overdose after finding Tux injured. He’d almost written off the second as nothing more than his teasing personality pushing through what was in his worries at the moment.
A third kiss would mean something. It would be a declaration of intent. And he’d spent some time talking himself into believing it was okay to have a summer fling. Of course he could have picked a less difficult man to connect with, but he felt like he needed a challenge. He even felt like he was getting some of his mojo back.
After all, Landon and Ben didn’t have to find out what he’d done until after the launch at Condaline. Until after the finances were in place.
On autopilot he locked up and clambered into the Land Rover. Old it might be, but the 1970s beast made back lanes and muddy fields easy, and Ben loved the old thing nearly as much as he loved his career as estate manager.
Only when he passed by the school house did Ash begin to understand the butterflies in his stomach. It was okay to think of maybe kissing Connor again, of teasing him, of pushing him so that he snapped and maybe pressed Ash up against the nearest door and they got hot and heavy. But that necessitated actually seeing the intriguing vet again, which wasn’t happening quick enough with the way he was stuck behind a bus.
What is it with this village and slow-moving vehicles?
Ten minutes, then he had to face Connor.
He needn’t have worried. Connor wasn’t even there. He saw a vet called Andrew who gave him post-op advice and showed him how cats got out of the cones of shame and why it was important to keep Tux inside because having a cone made a cat vulnerable.
“Is that because all the cats laugh at him?” Ash quipped.
All Andrew did was smile politely, distracted by the arrival of a new patient in the form of five toy poodles who made so much noise Ash couldn’t hear himself think.
Back at the car, with Tux looking out balefully from a newly purchased cat carrier, Ash found himself bereft at not seeing Connor.
“Back to the house, then,” he said to Tux, who merely turned around as best he could and showed Ash his tail. “I have spreadsheets to work on, you know,” he said in his defence. Then he realised what he was doing. Defending himself to a cat.
Fuck’s sake.
Quarter four had landed in his inbox that morning, and he could finally get to the point where he could sign off on the financial year. But it didn’t have to be now. It could wait until September… Then he might even get a couple weeks here being on actual holiday.
And do what?
Impulsively he stopped at the Davenport house and parked in the shade of the oak tree in their front garden, cracking the windows and promising Tux he’d be no more than a couple minutes.
Stop talking to the freaking cat.
Tux stared over his shoulder, then looked away. “Okay, I’ll take you with me. Damn cat talking to me,” he finished on a mutter, aware of how it would have sounded if anyone heard him.
There was no one at the main house so he went down the side road to Richard’s workshop and found the man working on constructing a cupboard. For a minute or so, Ash stood in the doorway watching, his fingers itching to be working with the solid oak sheets. It had been way too long since he’d last worked with wood and whittling the snake had him itching to carve again. Richard finally noticed him and removed his face mask.
“Ash, hi,” he said with a grin. His eyes fell to the cat box and he was immediately at Ash’s side, poking his finger through the metal grate at the front.
“He’ll bite,” Ash warned.
But Richard was getting the full-on rubbing treatment, purrs and nudges, and right there and then, Ash decided that Tux hated Ash. That had to be the reason. He’d nudged and purred at Andrew the other vet as well.
“He looks okay,” Richard said with a smile as he stood upright.
“So he should be, with the amount it cost,” Ash said dryly.
Richard raised an eyebrow in comment. “If you can’t afford it for your niece’s cat…”
“No. Jeez. I didn’t mean that. Just having a crappy day. I’d do anything for Steph’s cat, even if it doesn’t like me.”
Richard nodded. “Maybe Tux realises you don’t like him. Why are you having a crappy day?”
Because I have this enormous financial shitstorm over my head, because I’m having highly charged erotic thoughts about the local vet, because I am abruptly, weirdly just feeling unhappy and lonely and have no direction in my life.
“Nothing. I was wondering, were you being honest about needing help this summer? I’ll understand if you were only saying it to be nice, because it’s been a long time since—”
“I would love the help,” Richard said. “If we get this job finished early, I could take a week out with Mary.”
“What would you like me to do? When would I start?”
“I start Monday, and we could begin with fetching and carrying. You could watch me, and if you wanted, you could work on some of the carcasses? Is that the kind of thing you were looking for?”
“Count me in.”
“Eight am, sharp, here.”
“Eight am.”
Ash turned to leave, but Richard called him back. “Ash? No Armani jeans this time, yeah?”
Ash grinned at Richard and left. The standing joke between them was reassuring. Ash as a teenager, working for Richard, in expensive jeans that ended up white with paint splatters; Richard would never let him live that down. This felt good. It felt right.
Reaching the Grange, Ash was surprised to see the gleaming silver Maserati in the drive. This could only be one person.
Ash let himself in. “Landon?”
“Out here.”
Ash shut the front door and was about to let Tux out when he realised Landon might well have opened the back patio doors. So as carefully as he could, he carried Tux to the boot room off the front entrance hall and shut the door. Then he moved through the house to find Landon.
He didn’t have to go far, Landon was in the study pacing from side to side, a fifth of whisky in a crystal tumbler and his phone pressed to his ear. He was talking about as fast as he was walking.
“I will not sign off on that. You told me two point three, and that is what we’ll pay for it… No… Well make them listen…” Landon placed the whisky on the side and pressed a hand to his chest, squinting, probably from a headache.
Ash indicated he should cover the phone, which Landon did.
“Who is it?” Ash asked.
“The Midlands office.”
“That team isn’t under your remit.” Ash recalled the meeting where the company was split into regions. Yes, Landon was in overall charge of the whole thing, but regionally he was supposed to have good managers in place.
Landon was pulled back into the conversation. “This could wait until Monday,” he said to the person at the other end of the phone. “I’ll be back… I suppose I could—” Landon glanced at his watch. “The motorways are—”
Ash had heard enough. In a move only a brother with years of practice could carry out, he slipped past Landon’s defences and snatched the phone. Before Landon could move, Ash was out of reach.
“Ashby Sterling-Haynes here. Landon has been called into an urgent meeting. He will address your concerns on Monday. Have a good weekend.” He hung up.
Landon simply stared at him with a look of shock on his face. “Ash!”
“Why are you here, Landon?”
Landon blustered for a moment. “I’m seeing Rachel.”
“Then remember that. You’ve already driven from London to here. Now you’re looking at driving another two hours will mean you don’t get to see Rachel. You look exhausted, probably because you’ve been working twenty-hour days just so you can have the Friday to yourself, and your hand is on your chest. Landon?”
“What?”
“Your hand is on your chest,” Ash repeated.
Landon looked down at his chest like he couldn’t believe what Ash had said. “Shit.”
“Lan, slow down, or you’ll end up dead before you’re forty.”
Landon opened his mouth, then shut it again. Instead he picked up the tumbler and swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid. “I need to let go a bit,” he admitted. “I’ve been having these things.”
“What kind of things.”
“Pains is all.”
“In your chest. Fuck, Landon. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What did you want me to say?” Landon looked genuinely confused. “I saw the doctor and he said it was likely to be stress, but just to be sure I have an appointment for a gastroscopy on Monday.”
All the fear and fight left Ash in a rush, and he sat back down on the sofa, boneless.
“That,” he said. “You could have said that.”
Landon shrugged and took the seat opposite Ash. “I didn’t want to spoil the wedding. I promise you it’s nothing. My heart is fine. Look, Ash, can we talk?”
“Sure,” he said as brightly as he could manage. Probably too brightly if the frown Landon gave him was any indication. But he couldn’t stop the instinct to worry about his big brother. Landon was always so intensely focused on his work, on making this family richer and stronger and better, and it made him happy. But if it killed him in the process, what was the point? What did Landon want to talk about? God, he hoped it wasn’t some kind of situation regarding estates or wills or last wishes.
“See, it’s like this,” Landon began, “I need to ask you a favour.”
Ash relaxed, that didn’t sound like what Landon would say if he’d wanted to talk finance. “Go for it.”
“Will you come with me tonight?”
“Of course. Wait, where?”
“The Wychwood, to meet Rachel. You don’t have to stay, just maybe be there with me. You’re better at words than I am.”
Ash nodded. “Of course I will, but Landon, you manage a business employing thousands, with more money than I’ve ever imagined under your belt, you deal with business people every day, I’m sure you can manage to talk to Rachel.”
Landon bowed his head and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like he was saying he was shy around women.
“I know you’re shy,” Ash summarised. “But Rachel’s different, isn’t she? You like her.”
“I love her,” Landon said. He looked up at Ash, and even though the words were abrupt, the absolute conviction on Landon’s face was a sight to see. His bumbling, shy, brilliant, amazing, older brother was in love. Ash could do nothing more than smile.
“Oh, Lan,” he began softly, “that is wonderful. And of course I’ll go tonight, but as soon as you’re okay, I’ll move away, okay?”
Landon grinned. A proper full-body grin from his lips to the tension releasing in his shoulders.
“We’re texting all the time,” Landon admitted.
Ash snorted. “I didn’t even know you could text.”
Landon grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at Ash. “Arse.”