Country Mouse by Amy Lane

Author:Amy Lane [Lane, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2012-04-20T14:00:00+00:00

Wow, eleven o’ clock. Malcolm woke with a near-start that tore him from deep sleep. As groggy as that would normally make him, he was wide awake as he fumbled for his phone. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, listened to the tone for a few moments, then, when he heard rhythmic music in the background, hurried to speak. “Hey, Josh, sorry. This is Malcolm. Kavanagh. We kinda had a training appointment at, uh, eight.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Josh said on the other end. “You don’t sound ill. Or dead.”

“Er, no.” Shit, Josh’s no-nonsense attitude really didn’t encourage apologies. “I overslept.”

“He worth it?”

Damn Aussies, waltzing all over subtlety. “I don’t know yet. Figured it would be rude to kick him out of bed that early.”

“Well, you know the policy. You gotta cancel 24 hours in advance or there’s nothing we can do about the fee. My hands are tied.”

“Yes, that’s clear. I did read the contract. Sorry for not canceling.”

“Well, I did try to reach you after sitting on my arse for half an hour.”

“I slept like the dead.”

“Sure thing, no problem. Maybe go for a nice little run when you’ve sent Romeo home, and keep watching the carbs. Next one same time, next Saturday?”

“Sure, yeah. Works for me.”

“Great, I’ll make a note. Have a great weekend, Malcolm. Watch those carbs.”

“Will do.” He tapped the screen and sank back against the head of the bed with a groan. Josh would make him suffer for it. At five foot four, Josh paired a Napoleon complex with hardcore sadism. If anything, that had gotten even worse after his sex change.

He pushed out of bed, found his boxers near the foot of the bed and ran a hand down his stomach. Damn hard work, that, and he really shouldn’t skip the training, but this was a real life issue, involving real people. He headed into the kitchen, started water in the kettle, rummaged through the fridge and grimaced. Nothing really all that edible or interesting. He returned to the bedroom. “I’ll just get those bagels. Wait here? I’ll make breakfast. Can probably even round up some eggs and bacon, if you’re interested.”

Owen smiled sleepily and brushed his fall of brown hair out of his eyes. “Sounds amazing,” he said through a yawn, and then blinked, hard. “Oh crap—what time is it?”

“Eleven.” Malcolm grimaced. “I know—it’s later than I’d planned too.”

Owen sat up in bed. “I’ve got to text Jenny. Oh God—she had the day planned to a T—she’s going to be pissed.”

Malcolm paused as he was pulling his jeans up his hips. “What did you have planned?”

Owen looked a little self-conscious. “Tourist shit. But, you know—I really wanted to do it. Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace . . .” He cleared his throat. “Shakespeare’s house. You know. Tourist shit.” Owen looked away, a faint flush blotching his neck and shoulders, almost like the sex-flush he’d worn last night. “Probably sounds stupid to you, doesn’t it?”

“No, not at all.” Malcolm pulled up his jeans and then threw himself across the bed, stomach first.

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