Page 61 of In at the Deep End

Chapter Thirteen

The doorbell rang, and Owen glanced at the wall clock. Ten-thirty.

Someone had a lie-in.

Except he already knew Matt better than that. He’d wager the younger man had been awake for hours. If anything had delayed him, it would be work, not sleep.

He crossed the hallway and opened the front door.

Matt stood on the step holding a cake tin. “Mum’s been baking.”

Owen beamed. “I thought I caught the whiff of something delicious when I opened the window this morning.” He sniffed. “Damn, that smells good.”

“She made flapjacks.” Matt held out the tin. “She said something about you probably forgetting to eat while unpacking.” He smirked. “She also said she doubted your sweet tooth had disappeared in thirty years.”

He snorted. “Your mother’s memory is way too good.” He took the tin. “Well, I’m not going to say no. Come in, you’re just in time. I was about to make more coffee.”

Matt stepped inside, slipping off his trainers in the hallway as though he’d already decided this was somewhere he could make himself at home.

Owen liked that.

Matt’s face was suddenly a little tighter. “Are we okay?”

He frowned. “Of course we’re okay. Why wouldn’t we be?”

Matt let out a breath. “Good.”

Then it clicked.

“Although…” Owen drew out the word in a teasing tone.

“Here it comes.”

Owen’s lips twitched. “I may mention Summer Rain once or twice over the next few years.”

Matt groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

“Ooh, be afraid. Be very afraid.”

He burst out laughing. “Film quotes? Don’t get me started. It was one of my favourite things to do with my uni mate, Eric, a sort of competition as to who could recognise the most.”

Owen chuckled. “I’m going to bet you won every time.”

Matt’s eyes sparkled. “Yup. And yes to the coffee, by the way.” He stepped past him, and Owen noticed something he’d somehow failed to register until now.

Matt was dressed for the heat.

His dark teal shorts stopped well above the knee, showing strong calves and thighs browned by the early summer sun. A faded grey T-shirt clung comfortably to broad shoulders that looked as though they belonged in a gym rather than on a body stuck behind a laptop writing a dissertation. Bare feet.

All in all, it was simple, practical, and extremely appropriate for another day of unpacking.

Owen frowned inwardly. So why am I suddenly noticing?

Because yesterday he’d stopped thinking of Matt as Jeff’s son.

The thought arrived uninvited, and just as quickly, Owen pushed it away.

Then he realised Matt was very quiet. Owen glanced across to where he stood.