Runaway Read online

  Damien smiled. “It’s no imposition. I’d be happy to take you all out for the day.”

  “Oh, not me, but thank you. I’m definitely not into fishing. I think Belinda and I will have a girl’s day while you boys head out.”

  Nate glared at his sister. She looked back as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She definitely deserved an award for deviousness. Or maybe she had already got her reward, given how easily Damien fell for her charms and gave her exactly what she wanted.

  Chapter THREE

  SEAGULLS SOARED overhead, their calls blending with the clanging of rigging against masts and the splash of the tide against the wharf’s piers. Such familiar sounds from Nate’s childhood that brought with them a flood of good memories. Hours on his dad’s boat, days spent at the water’s edge, and just living life by the seaside. Once again he was conscious of the contrast between his upbringing and his later years in the city. They were like chalk and cheese, with such a different pace of life. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of salt and seaweed that competed with the scent of stale fish that carried on the air.

  Nate’s pulse quickened at seeing Damien’s enthusiastic wave as they approached the boat. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the stupid grin that threatened to give away his happiness. So what if his steps got a little bit jauntier and the esky swung a little higher as they neared? He was just excited about the fun day ahead because he hadn’t been fishing in ages. He raised a hand and waved back.

  “Wow. The boat’s bigger than I thought. I can’t wait to get out on that.” Jackson’s enthusiasm matched his own, and Nate grinned down at his nephew. Not that he’d be looking down much longer, given how tall Jackson had got in recent months—another sign of just how quickly time was passing.

  Damien greeted them as they reached the side of the boat. “Hey, guys. Great to see you. It looks like perfect weather for fishing. I’ve heard the bream are running out in the lake.”

  “Hi, Damien,” Jackson said as he passed his backpack to Damien’s waiting arms. He followed the bag, jumping effortlessly into the back of the boat. After hoisting the esky across, Nate launched himself into the boat, his jump a lot more careful than his nephew’s.

  “I’ve got the equipment stowed, and checked the boat, so we’re all set to go.” Damien was supplying the gear, and given he was the expert, Nate didn’t mind leaving that up to him. All Nate had had to do was bring along the picnic lunch that Trish had packed for them all, so he really hadn’t had to do anything.

  “Awesome. Let’s get this show on the road. Err, the sea,” Nate said.

  Damien grinned, a flash of white teeth against his tanned skin and dark stubble, and Nate’s heart lurched. It was either going to be fabulous to spend the hours together out on the water, or hell to be so close on the small boat for so much time. But with Jackson along, at least Nate had a diversion and someone else to focus on, and there was no chance he’d be drooling over Damien with Jackson in such close proximity.

  Damien stepped up and started the boat, the engine idling while he fiddled with some dials and knobs.

  “Do you need me to do anything?” Nate asked.

  Damien glanced back. “Nah. It’s all under control. You guys sit back and relax, and I’ll holler if there’s anything you can do.”

  The sound of a mobile phone ringing was unexpected. “Sorry.” Jackson grabbed the backpack from where Damien had left it on the seat and rummaged inside. He retrieved his phone, swiped, and held it to his ear. “Hello?”

  A few uh-huhs and yeses later, Jackson ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket as he stood.

  “Is everything okay, mate?” Nate asked.

  “Sort of. Mum needs me back home. She needs to go into work and wants me to stay with Belinda.”

  “I thought she had someone covering the salon on Saturdays?”

  Jackson nodded. “She does. I guess they’ve called in sick or something. Hopefully we can go fishing again some other time. It is okay if I go, right?”

  “Of course. If your mum needs you.” Nate looked to Damien. “Can we reschedule?”

  “Oh no,” Jackson jumped in. “You don’t have to do that. There’s no reason you guys shouldn’t go out for the day. Plus Mum would kill us if the picnic went to waste.”

  “I don’t feel right going without you.”

  “Seriously, Uncle Nate, I don’t mind, really.” And Jackson did look surprisingly okay with missing out on their planned outing. He jumped up onto the wharf before turning back to face them. “Shall I untie the boat?” Jackson didn’t wait for an answer, instead crouching to release the ropes that secured the boat to the wharf. Within moments they were loose and Damien was reversing from their mooring, and then they were motoring out into the open water.

  Nate held on to the railing and watched as Jackson’s waving figure grew smaller and smaller. When he could no longer see the details of his nephew’s face, he turned and walked carefully to where Damien was calmly steering them around the other boats on the waterway. Damien glanced his way. “So, what do you think that was about?”

  Nate rolled his eyes. “If I was to hazard a guess, and given the last-minute ‘work emergency’”—he made air quotes around the words—“I’d say poor Jackson is a pawn in Trish’s plans and we’ve been set up.”

  “Oh?”

  “My busybody interfering sister. Trish seems to want us to spend some time together. Alone.”

  “And you think that’s a bad thing?” Damien pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, directing his gaze at Nate.

  Nate turned away and stared out the windscreen. He swallowed heavily before replying. “Would you be offended if I said yes?”

  Damien snorted. “Hell, yes, I’d be offended.”

  Nate looked at him again, head full of doubts, stomach tied in a hard knot. “I’m just not sure if this is a good thing. Getting too close again.”

  “Look, I’m not asking for you to become my boyfriend, or even my best friend. But how about we start by trying to simply be friends at least? Surely that can’t be too hard.” Damien clenched the steering wheel and shot Nate a sideways glance. “And if anything, I’m the one who should be pissed, after all. If I can give this a go, then surely you can.”

  Nate’s stomach clenched and he felt like an arsehole. “I guess so. I’m sorry—”

  “It’s been years, Nate. How about we put all that aside and just enjoy the day, huh?

  It had been years, but how could Nate tell Damien that he still hurt from the fallout of their relationship, that he remembered every wonderful moment no matter that they only saw each other a couple of times a year, and equally, he would never forget every bit of heartbreak. It didn’t matter that Nate had been the one to end things; what mattered was his heart hadn’t wanted any part of that decision, no matter what his head said.

  Soon they were putting down anchor at a spot in Wallis Lake that Damien favoured for fishing. “The next couple of months should be good for bream. The prime time for them to run is from February to April, so we’ve come at the ideal time.”

  It didn’t take long to get organised and, for the next couple of hours, Nate enjoyed the peace and quiet of fishing on the lake, although technically it was joined to the sea. The conversation was sparse but the silence was comfortable, after their tense conversation earlier. The gentle sway of the boat and the warmth of sun on his face was bliss. The only thing that could have made the morning more perfect was if Damien was sitting beside him, not up on the bow with his legs dangling off the edge of the boat. Not that he looked bad that way, all bronzed skin stretched over broad shoulders, it was just that Nate wanted to touch that body, to run his fingers across Damien’s muscles, maybe smooth some sunscreen into his already deeply tanned skin. He wanted to run his hands over the crisp hairs on Damien’s well-developed calves, remove the board shorts to expose the hair on his strong thighs.

  As if sensing Nate watching, Damien turned, a smile lighting up his whole
face as he took his sunglasses off, resting them on the brim of his cap, giving Nate a perfect view of his eyes. “Hungry?” Damien asked.

  If only you knew.

  “Sure. I could eat. Let’s check out what’s in the esky.” Nate hurried to reel in his line, hiding his fluster with the activity. They settled in the open area of the half-cabin boat, where Nate rummaged in the esky, pulling out food and utensils. “Here.” He passed a wrap to Damien before peeling the foil back on his own. “Mmm… chicken and salad. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Perfect.”

  They practically inhaled the sandwich wraps, the fresh salt air making them hungry. Nate delved into the esky again, this time retrieving a bag full of grapes and another with chunks of cheddar. He also pulled out a couple of bottles of water, leaving the beer on ice for later. He rolled his eyes when he noticed there was only two of everything in the cooler. A bit obvious, Trish.

  The boat rocked gently as they sat back and picked at the cheese and fruit. When they finished, Damien stretched out, his arm falling along the back of the seat, only centimetres from Nate’s shoulders. Nate knew it was only his imagination, especially given it was a warm day, but he swore he could feel the heat radiating from Damien’s body. He allowed his imagination to run riot, the images racing through his mind enhanced by the slight hint of fresh sweat coming from the man, mingling with sunscreen and salt—all the scents of summer, and all the things he remembered from the past.

  While Nate sat, body tense and every fibre of his being aware of the man sitting close to him, Damien seemed the opposite. He was totally relaxed with his muscular legs thrust out and crossed at the ankles, his arms resting on the back of the seat, and his head thrown back and eyes closed against the sun. Damien’s relaxed attitude was even more of a reminder that Nate needed to stop thinking of what had been, and focus on the future.

  “WHERE DO you want me to put the tackle box?” Nate put down the esky and moved the box from one hand to the other. “It weighs a bloody ton. What have you got in here, rocks?”

  Damien laughed as he propped up the rods against the back door. “You always were a weakling.”

  “Hey!” Nate punched Damien’s upper arm. “Watch who you call weak. I’ll have you know this body is a well-honed machine.”

  Damien’s tone was low and husky. “I have no doubt about that.” Nate could feel the heat as Damien’s gaze slowly roamed up his body from his feet until their eyes finally met. Eventually Nate blinked and broke the stare.

  He cleared his throat. “Um… the tackle box?” He raised the box and Damien shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. Nate smiled at the idea that Damien still thought he was worth looking at. After all it seemed like a lifetime since they’d last been together and his body had definitely changed since then.

  “Oh, sorry. Put it on the ground there next to the rods, I’ll deal with it and the rest of the stuff tomorrow. C’mon up and we’ll crack those beers.”

  Nate grabbed the cooler and started up the stairs that ran up the back of the building to the apartment above, Damien hot on his heels.

  “So, do you still do martial arts?”

  Nate paused and looked over his shoulder. “Wow, I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “Why? I remember a lot of things.”

  Wow. But then again, Nate remembered everything he’d ever learned about Damien. Just like that, he had a flash of Damien on the rugby field, and another of him dressed in a wetsuit, the neoprene peeled back to his waist. On one of his visits home, Damien had spoken of his love of the water but fear of scuba diving, hating the thought of relying on the equipment to breathe. As much as he’d wanted to see the reefs off the coast firsthand, his slight phobia had held him back. I wonder if he ever conquered that fear?

  “Nate?’

  Nate blinked. “Sorry, I was a million miles away.”

  “Obviously.” Damien chuckled. “Martial arts?”

  “Oh, yeah. I started training while I was in uni—I needed to do something to keep fit and committing to a team activity was next to impossible due to my variable schedule. I still try to work out at least once a week.”

  At the top of the stairs, Nate waited to the side of the door. Damien toed off his shoes, kicking them against the wall of the small landing. Nate did the same, then followed Damien into the small apartment, stunned by the room before him, because that’s what it was, one huge open-plan room. A room with a view.

  “Bloody hell, Damien. This place is amazing.”

  “Huh?” Damien looked up from where he was bent over, rummaging in the fridge. “Oh, yeah, I guess it’s a bit unexpected.”

  “Unexpected. That’s putting it mildly.” Nate took in the bright room—white walls and what seemed like acres of white-washed timber flooring, leading to floor-to-ceiling glass that framed the gorgeous view. Very Scandinavian, with a fabulous timber and stainless-steel kitchen and minimalist furniture. The limited artwork was a nod to the coastal environment, the water view being the key feature.

  “When you said you weren’t happy with the apartment, I guess I pictured….”

  Damien raised a brow. “A dump?”

  “Maybe?”

  Damien laughed and Nate relaxed, taking the offered bottle. “This one will be colder than the one in the esky.”

  They took the beers out onto the narrow deck that overlooked the wharf. Boats and then blue as far as the eye could see. Ocean and sky, and the green of the land on the opposite side of the wide expanse of water. After the day in the sun, it was nice to wind down with a coldie and the silence was easy and companionable as they both quietly sipped while they watched the afternoon slip into early evening.

  “This is nice,” Damien eventually said.

  Nate met Damien’s gaze. “It is. I’ve had a great day.”

  “I’m glad. Life’s too short to miss out on enjoying the simple things.”

  “Is that a dig at my working too hard?” Damien had commented previously that he hoped Nate would make the most of his move back to the coast.

  “Maybe?” Damien laughed as he picked up the empties and stood. “You staying for dinner?”

  “Oh. No. But thanks anyway. I’ve got a shitload of stuff to do tomorrow.” Nate rose and followed Damien into the kitchen area.

  “Are you sure? I’m just going to order some home delivery.” Damien opened a drawer and pulled out a pile of restaurant menus.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “No worries.” He looked up from sorting through the pile. “Rain check, then?”

  Nate did a mental run through of his pretty non-existent social calendar. “I think I can squeeze you in. How about coming to my place for dinner on Wednesday?”

  “You’re going to cook?” At Nate’s nod, Damien smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Great.” They stopped at the door. “Thanks for taking me out on the boat.”

  Damien grinned. “I meant it, Nate. I had a great day today. It was really nice to reconnect.”

  “Me too. And I’m sorry about earlier, what I said about not being sure of us. I’m glad you’re willing to give me a second chance and want to give friendship a go. And I really am sorry about the way everything ended before.”

  “Hey.” Damien reached out and grasped Nate’s biceps. “Water under the bridge, remember?”

  Nate smiled. “See you Wednesday, then.”

  Damien opened the door and Nate picked up his shoes and socks, quickly slipping them on his feet. He retrieved the esky and descended the steps. At the bottom, he turned and offered a wave to Damien, who grinned and saluted before disappearing back inside his apartment. Nate filled with warmth. Yeah, he liked the idea of starting again. Water under the bridge.

  NATE HADN’T been able to get the grin off his face since Saturday night, and not even the heavy patient load could take the shine off his day. It appeared Wednesday was shaping up to be just as busy as Monday and Tuesday, with back-to-back consultations and a
ppointments right through until 6:00 p.m. Even with three doctors working in the office, they were swamped on most days. He counted his lucky stars that Miriam, one of his receptionists, had even scheduled him for a lunch break.

  He made the most of the gap between patients, eating a hurried pasta salad, and throwing back a cup of tea, before washing his plate and leaving it to dry in the drainer in the small kitchen. A quick glance at his watch showed he had about thirty minutes to either grab some fresh air, or to do a quick grocery shop in preparation for tonight’s dinner. He opted for the groceries and grabbed his wallet from his office before heading out to the reception area. He stopped at the counter.

  “I’m just ducking out to the shops, Miriam. Do you need anything while I’m there?”

  She looked up from the computer, pushing her glasses back up her nose and gracing him with her smile. “No thanks, Dr Powell, but thanks for asking.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in about twenty minutes, then.”

  Nate turned toward the doorway, nodding a brief greeting to the couple of patients waiting in the pale blue chairs that lined two walls of the reception room.

  “Nate.” The sound of Damien calling his name stopped him in his tracks, and the now-familiar fluttery feeling settled in his stomach. Jesus, how on earth am I going to “just be friends” with this man? He turned his head to see the man sitting on the other side of the waiting room. Damien stood as he approached.

  “Damien. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Oh, I’m not here to see you. I have an appointment with Dr Brown.”

  The fluttery feeling gave way to a knot in Nate’s chest. “You’re all right?”

  Damien smiled. “Fit as a fiddle. Just the usual routine check-up. Nothing to worry about.”

  The tightness eased. “That’s a relief. You had me worried there for a minute.” An older lady looked up from her magazine and met his eye, obviously checking out the new doctor. Nate found most of the patients gave him the once-over, even if they were here to see one of the other doctors. He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to Damien. “I’m glad to hear you’re not unwell.”