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Scottish Guy crossed his arms. “I asked first.”
“Ah, here I thought you were a new guy at Fern Valley. But the petulance suggests you’re not yet out of kindergarten?”
A hand thrust toward him. “Wentworth McAllister. Jus’ moved here. Fae Scotland.”
Elliot introduced himself and, after a pause, “Wentworth?”
Wentworth grimaced. “My mum chose it. From a book she loved.”
“I think I know it.”
“Are ye gaunae shake my hand, or just stare at it?”
Heat flared up Elliot’s neck. “I think the latter, until it starts getting awkward.”
“Starts?”
Elliot grasped the offered hand. He expected Wentworth’s returning squeeze to crush his fingers but the pressure was firm and careful, and more of that spindly energy shot up his arm.
“So . . . Port Ratapu?”
Wentworth blinked up. “Uh, Mum died when I was a kid and my dad remarried a Kiwi, so.” A shrug.
Fingers slid over skin in a static-y rush as they drew apart.
Another splash hit Elliot’s legs, but he barely twitched. There was something about Wentworth’s nose. It was a little too large on him, and it just . . . fit. “So.” He met Wentworth’s twinkling eyes. “You should strip.”
“I what?” Wentworth’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s forward. Is it a Kiwi thing?”
Elliot laughed and inclined his head toward Kyle drunkenly shaking himself and spraying them with pool water. “You should strip and rescue him.”
Wentworth eyed naked Kyle warily. Kyle was once again a starfish, displaying his shrivelled package, and Elliot understood Wentworth’s hesitancy to leap in there and manhandle the reluctant, very slippery body.
Elliot grimaced. “Be glad the water’s cold?”
“Yes, I jus’ love the feeling of my bloody bollocks trying to climb back into me.”
“You can keep your underwear on.”
That earned Elliot quite the dry look. “How kind. You sure are persuasive.”
“I’ll bring you towels?”
“You think towels will entice me to wrestle a naked, wet drunk?”
“And a jelly shot for the trauma?”
Wentworth cocked his head in frank appraisal. Intelligence deepened his eyes, but in the lines of his face—the twitch of his cheek, the barest dimple at the corner of his mouth—immeasurable mischief shimmered. “What else can ye tempt me with?”
“I-I don’t know you well enough to know what will tempt you.”
Those eyes flashed, liked he’d just hooked the catch of the day. “You don’t know me well enough.”
Something in the way he turned those words over on his tongue sent funny little shivers to Elliot’s feet. “I don’t know you at all.”
The bass from new beats pulsed under their feet in uncanny rhythm with Elliot’s beating heart.
“How’s this: I’ll save your friend and in return, you and I get to know one another.” Earnestly, not a leer in sight. Still, as guys went, Elliot was a little more serious and a lot more studious, and he wasn’t sure Wentworth was picking the right guy to befriend. “Look—”
“I’m new. I barely know anyone yet.”
Elliot palmed his hips. “What an amazing offer.”
Wentworth flinched. “Should I shove myself into the pool?”
“You can take your clothes off first.”
Wentworth shed his hoody, pulling it over his head and revealing a stretch of toned stomach. “What I should have said was I’d like to get to know you.”
“Have you been inside? The girls will adopt you in seconds.”
Wentworth side-eyed him, grinning. “Think so?”
Elliot snorted. “You can’t be that clueless.”
“Fine. They might adopt me. They might smother me. They might be the reason I escaped for some air.”
Elliot tipped his head up and laughed.
“Hey!” Kyle yelled, pissed. “Who the hell are you? Stop checking out my future boyfriend!”
Wentworth raised questioning brows, and Elliot shook his head firmly. “Nope.”
“Sorry wee man,” Wentworth directed to a glowering Kyle. “Your oot o’ luck. But we can chat about how you might hae better luck wi’ boys in the future. Just climb out. There’s the ladder.”
Kyle flipped him off.
Wentworth sighed and spoke under his breath. “Do we really want to save him? Deserves a cold if you ask me.”
“Unfortunately, he’s second speaker. We have semi-finals tomorrow.”
“Semi-finals?”
“South Island Debate Championships.”
“On Saturday?”
“It’s a popular—uh, a yearly—event. Parents like to come and watch.”
“Will yours be there?”
“Mum, yes—there’s no dad. Not that you asked, but I figure if you’re building an image of me, better to get the details right.”
“I’m definitely building an image of you.”
Elliot heated and swallowed, shoving his hands into his pockets. If this is what flustering felt like, he wasn’t sure he approved. “Um. Anyway, we won’t stand a chance if Kyle’s sick.”
Wentworth’s shirt came off and Elliot turned abruptly away from him. He would not be caught admiring Wentworth’s proportions. His gaze drifted—
He steered it back toward a muttering Kyle.
He heard the drag of jeans down legs and a muted stomp as Wentworth climbed out of them.
“Are you looking away for my modesty?”
“Not your modesty.” Elliot sighed. “Could you jump in the water now please?”
A humoured laugh, and the most relieving splash.
Wentworth came out of his dive cursing. “Cold, cold, cold.” He waded toward Kyle, who began a game of chase. He spared Elliot a look. “You’d better fuckin’ win tomorrow.”
