Pressure Head (30 page)

“Tim?” I jumped a little as Kate spoke, peering around the door as if it might not be safe to come in immediately.

“Expecting someone else?” I quipped weakly, because all this uncharacteristic timidity was starting to worry me.

“No! No, don’t be silly—who else would I be expecting?” Kate was still as neat as ever in her pale blue business suit, chosen to match her eyes. She came into the room in little, bird-like steps and perched on the sofa next to me, smoothing down her skirt.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No—well, yes, actually. Tim, I’m so sorry.” She was about to cry, I realised with a shock; I could tell by the little sniffs and the way her eyelids were fluttering like a hummingbird on acid.

“Kate, what is it?” I was seriously alarmed now. Had her dad had another heart attack? Had she lost her job too?

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “But I’m moving out. I’m going to live with—” She hiccupped, and I wondered if I should pat her back. Maybe it would be politer just to pretend I hadn’t noticed.

Then I wondered why good manners seemed to be my main concern at a time like this.

The best things in life aren’t free…they’re freely given.

Handle with Care

© 2012 Josephine Myles

Ben Lethbridge doesn’t have many vices left. After raising his little sister to adulthood, he wasted no time making up for the youth he lost to responsible parenting. Two years of partying it up—and ignoring his diabetes—has left him tethered to a home dialysis regimen.

He can do his job from his flat, fortunately, but most of his favourite things are forbidden. Except for DVD porn…and fantasizing over Ollie, the gorgeous, purple-haired skateboarder who delivers it.

Their banter is the highlight of Ben’s lonely day, but his illness-ravaged body is the cruel reality that prevents him from believing they’ll do anything more than flirt. Not to mention the age gap. Still, Ben figures there’s no harm in sprucing himself up a bit.

Then one day, a package accidentally splits open, revealing Ben’s dirty little secret…and an unexpected connection that leaves him wondering if he’s been reading Ollie wrong all this time. There’s only one way to find out: risk showing Ollie every last scar. And hope “far from perfect” is good enough for a chance at love.

Warning: Contains superhero porn comics and a cute, accident-prone delivery guy with colour-changing hair. Readers may experience coffee cravings, an unexpected liking for bad mullets, and the urge to wrap Ollie up and take him home
.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Handle with Care:

When the world started to make sense again, a wave of breathtaking shame crashed over me. Not only had I neglected myself enough to have an attack—which hadn’t happened for ages—but I’d thrown myself at Ollie. I leant back against the wall and tried to regain my cool. It seemed to have deserted me, and I couldn’t blame it.

“You okay now?” he asked me.

I nodded. I still didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid.

“Shit, Ben, you had me worried there. Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“No, it’s fine. Just had a hypo. Nothing to worry about. Zoe will be here soon. She’ll sort me out.”

“Zoe? That’s your sister, right?”

“Yeah. She calls in every day on her way into work.”

He nodded, but he still didn’t look happy. I missed his smile.

“Thanks,” I said. “You did exactly the right thing. Sorry I acted like a total wanker. I don’t know what I’m doing when I have an attack.”

There was that curve of his lips I loved so much. “I thought you were drunk at first,” Ollie said.

“No chance.” I smiled back. “No alcohol, no coffee, no cigarettes, no sugar, no sex—”

“No sex? What, your doctor told you that?”

I avoided his eyes. “Not really up to going out and pulling, these days,” I mumbled.

“But you are allowed to have sex, right?”

Ollie sounded really concerned. I looked up into his espresso-brown eyes and tried to smile as I nodded.

“Well, that’s a—”

“Ben! Oh, my God, are you all right?”

Whatever Ollie had been about to say was interrupted by Zoe’s arrival.

“I’m fine,” I told her, but she wasn’t having it.

“You always say that when you’re having a hypo.” She turned to Ollie. “What’s happened? Did you find him like this?”

Ollie took over and explained about his trip to the fridge to find my Lucozade stash, much to my relief as I really didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of one of Zoe’s “look after yourself” lectures.

It took the two of them to help me to my feet and then get me ensconced on the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table. I noticed Ollie discreetly slip the DVD back into the package and place it on my telly. I should have told him not to bother—Zoe would probably want to borrow the damn thing.

Before he left, Ollie turned to me, looking strangely ill at ease and jiggling on his feet.

“Listen, I’d love to come round this evening and check up on you, but I’ve got a shift at the café, and I can’t really let them down.”

Yeah, right. Now he’d seen me properly ill, he couldn’t wait to get away. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I snapped.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bright spots appeared on Ollie’s cheeks. “Christ, you’re hard work sometimes.”

“Well, there’s no need to put yourself out. I’m just a customer, after all.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out, but I wasn’t going to take them back. He’d seen enough of my weakness for one day.

He shook his head at me, muttering as he left the room. I heard the front door slam.

Zoe came through holding two cups of tea and one of my carefully rationed juice bottles.

“Where’s he gone?” she asked. “Benji, did you go and say something stupid?”

I tried to hide my face in the cushions. “Thought you didn’t like him.”

Zoe huffed. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s just a bit young for you. At least he can keep his head in a crisis, though. Would have thought you’d be glad to have him stay for tea.”

“He had to get back to work,” I mumbled.

She gave me a long look but obviously decided it wasn’t worth pursuing that line of questioning when I was due a lecture about looking after myself. I strapped myself in for the ride. Zoe was right, and I knew it.

I had a terrible night. Zoe’s words kept echoing round my head, and I cringed with shame every time I recalled how I’d spoken to Ollie. Poor guy must be totally confused about me and my mixed messages. Wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to be friends anymore. I still couldn’t swallow Zoe’s assertion that he was “well into me”, but I certainly didn’t want to lose the first real friend I’d made in the last couple of years. I wasn’t counting the ones I’d made online, as I’d told them so much bullshit, they had no idea who I really was.

I needed to make amends in some way. I’d have to invite him round, make him coffee or something. He loved coffee, didn’t he? And at least I’d get the vicarious pleasure of smelling the stuff even if I couldn’t drink any myself. I had a bag of coffee beans in the freezer still, kept just in case Zoe ever needed a pick-me-up on her way into work. My mind made up, I managed a few hours sleep, and although I felt like hell when I eventually woke up, I did manage to pull on some new clothes, eat a bowl of muesli and get my first dialysate bag infused. I was rubbing my eyes in front of my monitor when the doorbell made me jump out of my skin.

I was a bundle of neuroses wrapped up in designer clothing by the time I finally reached the front door. Was he only here because I’d ordered yet another porn DVD? Was he after getting his comics back? How much was I going to have to grovel to get back in his good graces? I knew I couldn’t answer any of these questions without opening the door, so I reached out and turned the handle with a sweaty hand.

“Hey, how ya doing?” Ollie asked, a small smile playing around his lips. He started twirling his wristbands and was jiggling more than usual. “Um, I’m sorry about storming off yesterday. I’m not usually such a drama queen, but I was a bit shaken up by the whole thing.”

I was flabbergasted. I stared at him with my mouth hanging open until the unease in his eyes made me remember my manners. I pulled the door wide open. “You got time to come in for a moment? I could make you a coffee to say sorry for being such an ungrateful tosser.”

He grinned as if in relief, then tore back a Velcro strip on one of his wristbands to reveal a watch face. “Yeah, I could probably spare fifteen minutes or so. I mean, I shouldn’t, but who’s gonna know? I can just say I got stuck in traffic.” He gave me a wicked smile and had a glint in his eyes that made my heart start to pound.

I wordlessly led the way to my kitchen, trying desperately to convince my body that soaking itself in sweat was not the best plan of action right now. Needless to say, it didn’t bloody well listen to me.

“Wow! Great place you’ve got here. I was too panicked to notice it all yesterday.” Ollie spun around in the middle of the kitchen, peered out over the courtyard garden, then his gaze skittered over my coffeemaker. “Shit, you’ve got an Elektra Micro Casa! These things are fucking beautiful.” He stroked a hand over the brass body. “Looks proper steampunk, that does. Like I said, you’ve got great taste.”

He turned to me, and my mouth dried up. I swallowed hard. “You want a coffee, then?”

Ollie shook his head, a mischievous smile quirking his lips. “Not really. Maybe next time, though.”

He took a step closer, his eyes sparkling, and I started to panic at my body’s instinctive reaction to him. I couldn’t get properly hard when I was bloated with fluid, could I? I was starting to doubt my previous certainty.

“Juice?” I offered. “Soda water?” Anything to take my mind off the way my blood was racing south.

“There is something I’d like to taste,” Ollie said, stepping well into my personal space. I took a step back and ended up trapped against the worktop.

“Yeah?” I croaked, unable to take my eyes off his as he moved right up close until we were practically touching. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and I wanted nothing more than to pull him to me, but my hands seemed to be glued to the worktop.

“Yeah,” Ollie replied, then slipped his arms around my waist and craned up on tiptoe until our lips brushed together.

Pressure Head

JL Merrow

Some secrets are better left hidden.

To most of the world, Tom Paretski is just a plumber with a cheeky attitude and a dodgy hip, souvenir of a schoolboy accident. The local police keep his number on file for a different reason—his sixth sense for finding hidden things.

When he’s called in to help locate the body of a missing woman up on Nomansland Common, he unexpectedly encounters someone who resurrects a host of complicated emotions. Phil Morrison, Tom’s old school crush, now a private investigator working the same case. And the former bully partly responsible for Tom’s injury.

The shocks keep coming. Phil is now openly gay, and shows unmistakable signs of interest. Tom’s attraction to the big, blond investigator hasn’t changed—in fact, he’s even more desirable all grown up. But is Phil’s interest genuine, or does he only want to use Tom’s talent?

As the pile of complicated evidence surrounding the woman’s murder grows higher, so does the heat between Tom and Phil. But opening himself to this degree exposes Tom’s heart in a way he’s not sure he’s ready for…while the murderer’s trigger finger is getting increasingly twitchy.

Warning: Contains a flirtatious plumber with hidden talents, a cashmere-clad private investigator with hidden depths, and an English village chock full of colourful characters with plenty to hide.
 

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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Pressure Head

Copyright © 2012 by JL Merrow

ISBN: 978-1-61921-258-9

Edited by Linda Ingmanson

Cover by Kanaxa

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