His Horizon - Con Riley Page 0,41

in one of the first interviews I read about him.” That kind of open support was a million miles away from his own lived experience. “You’re lucky.”

“Lucky?” Rob stood. The few steps he took placed him close to the cliff edge. He shielded his eyes and surveyed what was left of the beach. “Oh, yes. Silly me. How could I forget that as long as I follow in his exact footsteps, I’m golden?”

Jude rose to stand with him. The remains of the beach resembled a scene from Dunkirk, the ravines left by the storm dark scars that still bled. “What do you mean, you’re golden?”

Rob pulled out his wallet. “He cancelled every one of my cards. Said they’ll be reinstated the minute I come back. He didn’t use to be so… The minute Mum was gone…” His tone lightened abruptly, not entirely authentic, Jude decided. “But whatever. He’ll get over the fact that I never wanted or needed his money, I’m sure. One day. Perhaps.”

Jude didn’t know how to respond. From the outside looking in, the relationship Rob had with his dad was one he would have given the world for. But apparently, it came with issues that Jude tried to guess. “You two really fell out so badly?”

Rob glanced over his shoulder and this time his laugh was authentic. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“He didn’t want you to come here?” Jude followed Rob back to where he had started gathering up the dregs of their breakfast. “He was against you investing in the business by lending Lou your winnings?”

“Just a bit.” Rob nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“You don’t want to go back at all?” This much was at least relatable. The thought of returning to Cornwall to work with his dad hadn’t appealed either, if for different reasons.

“No,” Rob almost shuddered. “I don’t want to work in London ever again. Not if I can avoid it. I know wild horses couldn’t have kept you here either. I get it, that’s why I’d much rather talk about something else.” Rob changed the subject. “Like how you’d rate this as a first date?” He turned and from this close, there was no hiding that his next statement was honest. “The setting here is different from the one I first had planned, but it’s pretty much exactly what I wanted for us. You know, if you hadn’t bailed with no warning?” His quick wink took out the sting. “So, how do you rate it, sailor?”

“Rate it? Having breakfast with you? It was…” Jude didn’t know where to begin. Starting a morning like this with Rob had been an enduring daydream. Add in Rob getting up at the crack of dawn to bake his favourite pastries, and lending a shoulder after Louise had blasted him with both barrels, and it—he—was more than Jude could wrap around words.

Rob made a carry on gesture. “Goodness, getting anything out of you is like pulling teeth.” Rob’s pursed lips were very kissable. He spoke again before Jude could lean in. “That’s the last time I get up early to make you conserves.”

“You made the jam as well as the croissants?”

“What else was I meant to do with such a piddly bag of blackberries?” Rob blustered. “Frankly, they were getting a bit of freezer burn. The bag was dated two years ago, at least.”

Jesus. Two years ago, he’d gone back to London with fingers that had been stained purple after a fleeting weekend visit. Were they the last ones he picked with his mum?

Jude turned his face into the wind—gave his eyes a reason for stinging so bad at each new, painful reminder. The only way through this was to mirror Rob’s bluster. “You made me jam with wizened, old fruit? Classy. You’ll have to try much harder to impress me on our next date.”

Rob squinted as the sun came out. “Next date?” His smile spread very slowly, face painted golden again as the cloud cleared. “Jude, our first date isn’t over.”

14

Their next stop still didn’t take them far from Porthperrin. Rob pulled into a used car lot that had been at the top of the hill ever since Jude could remember. “Why are we stopping here?”

“Just need some petrol and then we’ll be off.”

“Petrol? You won’t get any here,” he said as Rob pulled up to the sole pump on the forecourt. “Not if the same guy still owns it. He’s even tighter than Carl—only stocks enough for the cars he sells.” He peered through the windscreen