Page 4 of In at the Deep End

“You found them, didn’t you? And I drew a mug on the box.”

Callum widened his eyes. “That was a mug?” He snorted. “I can’t see the Royal Academy asking you to contribute to an exhibit anytime soon.”

Owen gave him another mock glare. “By the time I order food tonight, your fat lip will make it really difficult to eat.”

“That means you’re not cooking?” Callum’s eyes twinkled. “My luck’s getting better by the minute.” He wandered over to the pool, and Owen followed. “You used to talk about having a pool when I was little.”

“I couldn’t afford it back then.” But now the hotels had all been sold, all business ventures completed, and Owen was finally a man of leisure.

“So what will you do with all this free time? And in case I haven’t mentioned it, fifty-two is way too young to be retired.”

“I’ve earned it. I’ve worked my arse off since university.” Owen inclined his head towards the house. “I’ve got a load of cardboard boxes filled with books I haven’t had time to read. I haven’t taken a break since…”

Since 2020.

He drew in a deep breath. “It’ll take me a while to get this place the way I want it. I need wardrobes, storage space, bookcases…” The house didn’t need decorating, thank God, but his furniture was in need of an upgrade. And now he had four bedrooms and five bathrooms to think about.

“Well, if you will buy a place that could house three families all at once…” Callum drank some of his tea. “Seriously, though, Dad. I love it.”

“I’m glad. And you know you’re welcome to visit anytime you want. The trains from Southampton run frequently.” Owen smiled. “Your mum will be visiting soon, I have no doubt.” Then he sighed. “Except I hope she waits a while.” He glanced at the house. “You know, this looked like a big space when I did the viewing.”

Now it resembled a forest of cardboard boxes.

Callum cocked his head. “Was that the doorbell I just heard?” He laughed. “It’ll be the movers. They’ve found a box they missed.”

“You stay here and enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. I’ll go see who it is.”

Owen descended the steps and went back inside. In the entrance hall, the tall narrow pane of glass at the side of the wooden front door gave no clue as to who was out there. The bell rang again, and he opened the door.

A tall man stood there, a casserole dish in his hands. Brown hair laced with grey swept up off his face, his beard virtually solid silver, although his moustache was darker.

“Hey. Welcome to South Drive.” He held out the dish. “I live next door. We thought you might appreciate something to throw into the oven.” Then he became very still, his grey-blue eyes focused on Owen.

Familiar grey-blue eyes.

Owen squinted, his breath catching.

No. No fucking way.

Chapter Two

“Jeff?” He blinked. “Jeff Daley?”

The guy gaped at him. “Owen?”

Okay, this was surreal.

Owen stepped aside, unable to hold back his grin. “Get in here.”

Jeff crossed the threshold, eyes wide. “I don’t believe this.” He couldn’t stop staring. “Oh my God, look at you.” His lips twitched. “You put me to shame. I’m more or less the same skinny runt I was thirty years ago. You, on the other hand…” He grinned. “You filled out.”

Owen laughed. “We’re talking a lot of gym hours.” He turned his head towards the dining room. “Callum? Come here.” Then he grinned. “I still can’t believe this.”

“Who’s Callum?”

“My son.”

Jeff’s eyes crinkled. “Dear Lord—you bred? The world doesn’t need more of your genes.”