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They wound along the country lanes with slush spraying from their wheels. The roar of the engine was distant beyond the sound canceling in Jesse’s helmet. The afternoon sky arched cool and gray overhead. Jesse wished he could take the helmet off to feel the cold wind in his face. Instead, he settled for enjoying the sensation of Tom’s strong body between his legs and resolved to put Emory Von Magnusson firmly from his mind.
Almost too soon, Tom was slowing the bike and turning into the carpark for Fountains Abbey.
“Christ, it’s freezing,” Jesse said after he shrugged off his leathers, his teeth chattering and breath fogging in the air.
“At least it’s not raining,” Tom smiled as he retrieved their coats and the bag from the panniers. “Last couple of times I’ve tried to bring a guy on a romantic picnic here, it pissed it down.”
“Bring many guys on romantic picnics?” Jesse asked casually as they strode along. The sky had brightened to ice-white. Snow lay in an even, unbroken blanket over the grass, glinting here and there like it was scattered with diamonds.
Tom’s smile made his eyes crinkle. “Not that many, in fairness. These last few years, well, I guess romance hasn’t exactly been the first thing on my mind.”
“What has?” Jesse asked, keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes ahead.
“Work, I guess,” Tom said neutrally. “Getting over an ex, too. You know…the usual.”
“Yeah,” Jesse said, a little strained. “Yeah, I know.”
“A conversation for another date maybe,” Tom said with a slow smile. “Let’s get there before the pie gets cold.”
“Pie?” Jesse beamed.
Tom laughed. “Yes, there’s pie.”
“Whoa…” Jesse’s eyes widened as the ruins of the abbey appeared ahead. The butter-colored stone made up sweeping arches and looming walls, so intricately carved that it was like looking at a painting. A church tower, its missing roof and empty window frames was the only indication of its ruinous state, towered overhead, so tall Jesse had to crane his neck to see the top.
It was so quiet that Jesse’s breathing was loud in his ears.
Tom stopped to gaze at it. “It’s quite something, isn’t it?”
Jesse just nodded.
“I’ve never seen it in the snow before,” Tom said, his eyes distant. “Somehow it makes it even…emptier. Even more beautiful.”
Tom’s pleasant face was set in thoughtful lines, his brown eyes shining. Then Jesse caught sight of the scarring above his scarf and looked away.
“You said there was pie?”
“Let’s sit.” Tom drew out a blanket, a thermal food box, a flask and some plastic plates and cutlery. Their fogged breaths mingled in the air as Tom unpacked a slab of steak pie, uncapped a sealed cup from which wafted the mouth-watering scene of tomato soup and set out plastic-wrapped slices of buttered bread.
“You sure know how to treat a guy,” Jesse said as he accepted a piece of the pie and a cup of soup.
Tom poured his own soup with a smile. “Well, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“That’s where I’m going wrong, then,” Jesse mouthed around his food. “I go for at least three other body parts first.”
Tom snorted as he dunked his bread in the soup. “Perhaps I should try your way.”
He lifted his eyes, and Jesse grinned. He reached for the flask, deliberately brushing his gloved hand against Tom’s leg and watching his face. His eyes glinted and a spark lit in Jesse’s gut, but it was small—a candle flame…real, warm, but not quite reaching the dark corners inside him.
He lowered his gaze and poured coffee.
“Did you have a nice time with your nephew last weekend? I forgot to ask.”
“Yeah. It was good.”
“You close?”
“With Olly? Yeah. He’s a little diamond. So curious, you know?” Jesse allowed a different, more private smile to show on his face. “So much hope, too.” He looked away over the snowy landscape. “I hope he never loses that.”
