He looks up. “Where do we get the ferry? In Tobermory?”
“No, we have to go to the southernmost tip of the island to Fionnphort. It’s an hour and a half’s drive.”
“Bagsy I pick the music.”
I groan. “Really?”
“Yes. I think I age every time I put one of your fucking songs on.”
Bickering happily, we shut the door behind us.
Xavier stretches and resumes leaning on the rail of the ferry as it approaches Iona. The sun is very bright, bouncing off the water, and I readjust my sunglasses on my nose. “So, that’s Iona?” he says. “Do you visit often?”
I take a last sip of my coffee and wish I’d bought a larger cup. “Yep. It has a very tranquil atmosphere. Something Mull is drastically lacking lately.”
He chuckles, and I refrain from telling him that Grey lives on Iona. I’d checked very thoroughly with friends before I asked Xavier to come with me. Grey’s away on a business trip, so we’re safe fromthatparticular little collision. I shudder at the thought. Religious men used to come here to isolate themselves and be closer to God. If Xavier meets Grey again, I won’t need the island to reach heaven. Xavi will send me there himself.
The ferryman passes us on his way below deck. “Alright, Reuben?” he says.
I nod. “Can’t complain, Amos. This is Xavier.”
He looks curiously at Xavier but settles for a congenial nod before turning back to me. “Try and make sure you’re on the last ferry this time, eh.”
“Oh, fuck off. It wasonetime,” I grumble.
He chuckles. “Keep an eye on him,” he advises Xavier. “There’s no ferry after half past four. You miss it, you’ll be sleeping here.”
“I’ll do my best,” Xavier replies. He looks very glamorous in the sunshine with his model looks. Several passengers have been sneaking glances at him, whether it’s because they’ve recognised him or are just admiring his pretty face and long, lean body. “But I don’t hold out much hope, because Reuben’s about as biddable as a fucking goat.”
Amos laughs and heads down the steps. I sneak another look at Xavier. Watching him has become a very pleasurable hobby now. “Missing your best mate?” I say, tongue in cheek.
He lowers his sunglasses. “Who?”
“Tall, tattooed, grumpier than Rumpelstiltskin. Rhys.”
“Ah. He’s off the island today.”
“Oh, sothat’swhy I’ve got you.” I put a hand to my forehead dramatically. “Second place again. Curse you, fickle fate.”
Xavier has been back to that shop every day since he met Rhys. He spends hours down there helping Rhys with the renovation and talking about tattoos. I knew he had ink, but I didn’t foresee him being so fascinated with the art of tattooing. That was foolish because who knows better than me how much he loves art?
His eyes are twinkling. “Oh, dear. Are you jealous?”
I snort. “Absolutely not. He couldn’t cope with you.”
“Well, I am very extra. Thank you, Reuben.”
“That’s one word for it. The wrong one.” I eye him. “You like being there, don’t you?”
He nods enthusiastically. “It’s fascinating. Rhys let me tattoo him again yesterday.”
“How could you possibly have found a blank spot on him?”
He laughs, and I watch him in pleasure. Gone now is the sullen boy who’d flitted in and out of my life, and in his place is a man who is both strange and poignantly familiar. Flashes of the sunshiny boy I’d known so many years ago mingle with a confident, chilled man who makes my dick hard and my brain soft.
“What did you draw for him?” I ask and watch with interest and some amusement as he rifles through his pockets and produces various objects—cigarettes and a lighter, an old key, a multitude of receipts, and finally a pencil and notebook. I’m amused to see the Hermès logo and how grubby and dog-eared it is. I somehow think the company didn’t intend the book to actually be used.
“This,” he says, sketching in quick, sure movements. I smile in pleasure and delight when I see the mermaid. She looks both cocky and wild with long red hair. The talent behind the drawing is very evident.
