“It’s impressive, how much you care.”
“Just for those who are special to me.”
The softness in his voice.
Elliot shut his eyes. Louisa was special to him. Of course she was. Elliot might have tried not to see it, might have persuaded himself Wentworth couldn’t return her feelings, but he did like her.
He nodded, even though he was alone in his room. “Well, you are wondrous Wentworth.” He fluffed the pillow at his side. “I should probably hit the sack . . .”
Wentworth blurted, “I had a reason to call!”
“You did?” Elliot blinked and ransacked his head for what that reason might be. “Other than to surprise me?”
A scoff. “Definitely.”
Eat it in the morning
Tastes like light
Sweet yet healthy
A Knobberbox delight!
W. McAllister, Knobberbox cereal jingle
Elliot swapped the phone to his other ear and nestled into the bed. “Okaaay, I’m listening.”
“You can probably guess.”
He blinked. “Probably not?”
Wentworth’s voice trailed away and returned as if he too had swapped ears. Did he have his cabin light on? Was he under the covers or splayed on top? In jeans and a T-shirt or . . . less? “In fact, I bet you can guess.”
“Do you want me to guess?”
“Absolutely.”
Elliot frowned quizzically. “Is it something to do with work?”
A pause. “Sure. Yes.”
Sure, yes? That didn’t sound very confident. “Something to do with work.”
“Uh huh.”
“Could you give me another clue?”
“No. I mean, you’re so close already.”
So close? Or just . . . closer to making something up than Wentworth was? Elliot bit his lip on a giddy shiver and shook his head. “Oh, right. I know what this is about.” Two could play at this game. “Yes, you’re right, Wentworth. We really should talk about it.”
“We should?”
“I mean, that’s why you called, right?”
“Yes?”
“So, should I start? Or do you—”
“You, definitely.”
Elliot’s grin widened. “Gladly. I’m just so happy we’re finally talking about this.”
Wentworth’s breath seemed to have suspended down the line. “Talk?” He coughed and his Scottish accent deepened. “I mean, talk.”
“About the lunches.”
A rush of crackling that felt like relief. “Yes, lunches. That was . . . yep. That’s what I called about.”
“I suppose you want me to start paying for them. Or better, grab them myself?” Although there’d only be one more ‘lunch’ in their office.
“No.” Sternly. “No, that’s not what I want at all.”
“I’m happy to do that, and reimburse—”
“Stop. The only thing I want to change regarding lunches is . . . is . . .”
“Yes, Wentworth?”
“Stop sounding so smug, Elliot. You know perfectly well I’m making this all up as I go.”
Elliot laughed.
Wentworth grumbled. Then, “Actually, there is something I want to change regarding lunch.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“I’d like to eat with you. Next time, maybe we could go to the café together?”
Elliot smiled at his blankets, then the ceiling. “That . . . I’d like that.”
“Lunches. You’re quick on your feet. I blanked so hard.”
“I could hear it.”
A laugh. “No sugar-coating with you.”
“Was there ever?”
“No.”
A soft silence passed. Elliot broke it. “I was tempted to bring up why you took the job again.”
“I still don’t think that matters.”
Elliot imagined Wentworth lying on his bed, eyes shifting about as he tried again to dodge this conversation. “I still think it might.”
A pause, and a gentle growl. “Do you need me to admit I took it because it was in Port Ratapu? I’m tired of Hollywood and living my dream on the world-stage. I want to settle down somewhere I can imagine starting a family. I took it because I wanted to know what happened to—” He cut himself off. “Benny.”
Elliot’s face, his whole body, grew hot.
“Finding you working there truly was the last thing I expected.”
Wentworth clung on to that truth as if it masked the others, but Elliot had heard.
“Are you disappointed . . . with the job?”
“It’s different.”
So different, he almost didn’t recognise you.
Elliot’s stomach clenched. “Different?”
“Refreshingly different. I’m growing to like it.”
He swallowed.
“I’m growing to like it very much. I might even be sorry I won’t have longer with you.”
“That goes both ways.” Elliot cleared the lump in his throat. “At least you have Louisa. She’ll keep you busy.”
Wentworth laughed. “She’s quite something, isn’t she?”
“No filter.”
“I’m glad you and her are friends,” Wentworth said.
Elliot fisted the blanket. He wasn’t interpreting what that meant . . . “Uh huh. Look, I really should sleep.”
A chuckle. “You’re right. It’s late. Just . . .”
“Yes?” Was Wentworth pivoting the conversation again? Was Elliot wishing he would?
“Have a great day tomorrow.”
“Oh. Yes. You too.” He ended the call, dropped back onto his pillow, and pulled the blanket over his head.
Elliot wasn’t sure he could call this a great day. It’d started out great, he loved that so many of the intimate scenes took place out in nature. But his involvement had ended quickly and there was quite a lot of waiting around. Something that, any other time, would’ve been a treat. He loved walking, and here were plenty of bush-covered hills and open spaces for it. But this time, today . . .