After the Scrum (11 page)

Maybe a fan had seen him and snapped the shot then sold it?

His guess turned out to be correct. A fellow shopper had messaged a brother who worked for one of the larger tabloids. The photo had been impulsively taken, not a sign of him being followed around. With luck, the story would be buried without any further interest.

"Uncle Boo?"

He leaned around the corner, balancing on the back legs of the chair to find Devlin munching on one of his biscuits. "Yes?"

"How come Gwandad's such a meanie?" His little nephew had inherited his keen sense of honour and loyalty from his father. Haddy would face down anyone and anything for someone he loved—even family. He'd often gone off on their father about this exact same subject. "I wuv you, Uncle Boo."

"Love you, too." He got out of his chair and swung the lad up onto his shoulders. "No more biscuits before we eat. You'll spoil the shepherd's pie."

The young boy had a massive heart of gold. Caddock had worked hard to keep him out of the middle of the drama between him and his father over his sexuality. He didn't want to taint the bond between grandfather and grandchild with adult issues.

His father would be in for a surprise if he intended to try to put a wedge between uncle and nephew over this. Devlin adored him. He also had, even at his young age, a dislike for name-calling and meanies.

It was the main reason Caddock had gone out of his way to be absent for the lad's visits with his grandparents. It worked, most of the time. Bloody tabloids. He knew a long, arduous conversation with his father would have to happen soon.

Damn.

Haddy's will had been specific on who had custody of Devlin. It went to Caddock. His lack of relationship had been part of why his parents, or more specifically his father, hadn't tried to fight him in court over it.

If the man knew about Francis, it might reopen that bloody issue again. He would have to send a second message to his solicitor. Better to have all the paperwork lined up and not need it, than be caught off guard by demands. Hopefully, his mother would be able to rein in her husband.

He didn't want their family torn apart even further. Devlin had lost both of his parents. Any fight in the courts would only end up hurting him the most.

They were seated at Maggie's café, scoffing down their lunch, when it dawned on him. Francis had no idea about the tabloid article. And in a small village like Looe, all it would take was for one person to see it and
everyone
would know.

Damn, damn, damn.

He should've thought to call Francis immediately. His solicitor might be working on discovering if they had any legal action. It wouldn't help anything if it disrupted the man's life.

"You okay, Uncle Boo?" Devlin swung his legs in his chair, bumping the table every few seconds. He carefully separated his peas from his carrots, sticking his tongue out at the latter. "Ew."

"
Devlin.
"

"But Uncle Boo." He pouted, kicking the table leg until his uncle frowned at him. "'Kay, but only half."

"All right, my little negotiator." Caddock had to hide his smile behind his pint. It wouldn't do for the mischievous Devil to know he was amused. "Eat your peas and I'll let you visit Francis and Sherlock before we go back to the cottage."

Devlin eyed the peas like they might attack him. "'Kay. Pwomise?"

"Of course."

Pick your battles, Caddock, pick your battles.

Chapter Seventeen

Francis

Gran had pounced on him the moment Francis stepped across the threshold into the kitchen from his bedroom. She flourished a paper in her hand, waving it wildly in front of his face. He closed his eyes to avoid the sudden onset of dizziness.

He gently caught her arm to stop the fluttering script and hopefully keep himself from the bout of seasickness. "What has you in such a tizzy?"

She smiled so widely at him it must've hurt, and also immediately put him on edge. "Someone said he'd only had
one
date. Someone told me to ignore all the rumours floating around the market."

"And?"

"Someone's in the
Daily Mail
." Gran opened to one of the back pages where a single photo of him with Caddock appeared. They were strolling with Sherlock at the fair, nothing damaging or suggestive about it. "Something to share with your dear old gran, love?"

"It wasn't…." Francis caved to the pleading clear in her cloudy eyes. He felt a slight stab of pain when he remembered how crystal clear her eyes had been when he was a child. "We had a weekend-long date. It went brilliantly. You'll love him, Gran. He's the antithesis of Trevor."

"I'll take a pan to his head if he hurts you." She moved over to start making tea. She nattered mostly to herself, but still managing to direct it to her grandson. "Invite him to supper tonight with his adorable little lad. Sweet wee boy. He's a good man to take in a young orphan. It can't be easy being a single father when you weren't expecting to be one."

Knowing it would be pointless to argue with her, Francis nodded his agreement. Caddock would
definitely
need a warning about his gran. Was anyone ever prepared for the great gran inquisition? Dodging her invitation to sit and chat over her fresh-made scones, Francis grabbed one on his way out the door. He opted to walk, mostly for Sherlock's benefit. The poor sheltie had been cooped up for hours.

They went the long way to his office, which left Sherlock more than ready for a long dog nap. Francis prepared to focus his attention on the new antiques purchased over the weekend. He had plans for some of them; others would need to be carefully stored away for future projects.

He made his way up the narrow stairs with his dog close behind. They both stopped inside at the familiar blond sitting in his chair. "Rupert."

"So there I am, eating my eggs and sausage, as you do, when my beloved Joanne screeches like a banshee about a love connection." Rupert's green eyes were shrewd as always. He tossed a copy of the tabloid onto the nearby desk. "What
have
you been up to, young Francis? And how could you have kept it from me? I thought you cared."

"Easily. You gossip more than the entire village." Francis picked up the paper and swatted him on the head with it. He had to admit they made a handsome couple. "Did you come for the sole purpose of driving me to the brink of insanity? Or something more?"

"Mostly." Rupert picked a small airmail envelope out of his pocket then handed it over to him. "Graham's arriving tomorrow. Come for supper? Bring the Brute."

"
Rupert.
"

"Joanne will cry if you don't." Rupert clutched his hands to his chest, sinking to the floor on his knees. He crawled over to him, wailing dramatically. "Save me from my woman's tears, sweet lad."

"Get off the floor, you overacting prat. How your wife puts up with you, I have no idea." Francis dodged away from his friend's kick. "I will attend your repast and force myself to deal with your insufferable company. Joanne owes me a massive slice of her treacle tart for this."

"You secretly adore me."

"Like a pimple on my arse." Francis ignored the laughing buffoon and began organizing the first of the antiques. He waited until Rupert had settled down to speak gain. "Will the tabloids cause trouble for Caddock?"

Rupert turned serious for the first time. "He'll rip them apart if they even think about harassing you."

"What am I doing? He is so far out of my league." Francis gave up pretending to catalogue his finds. He set the candlestick in his hand down and ran his fingers tiredly through his hair. His chest tightened painfully at the thought of letting Caddock go. "What
am
I doing?"

"Being a class-A moron?" Rupert strode across the cramped space to wrap his arm around Francis's shoulders. "Now all the shite you just said sounds far more like Trevor talking than you. I wish you'd let me and Graham handle the tosser."

He had a point, though Francis wouldn't tell him. The world would be a much better place if his ego were deflated ever so slightly. He had no doubts it wouldn't last.

"Go away." Francis glared at him. "Seriously, don't you have properties to sell and souls to damn to hell?"

"Now, now, no need to get testy because you know I'm right." Rupert let go of him and started for the door. "Our place, tomorrow at seven. Bring the Brute, Sherlock, and the little Devil. Oh, and I left a file on your desk for a new client."

"Prat."

Rupert left without responding.
Typical.
Supper with his gran this evening, then tomorrow with the Hodson family… it would be an interesting two days. It felt far too soon to have to deal with all of this.

Then there was the pink elephant in the room. Graham. How would seeing his best mate after years go? They'd left on
good
terms, but distance hadn't helped them remain close.

Shaking off old memories, Francis wandered over to the boxes on the floor. He'd gone through two with five left to go when his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Five knocks, to be exact.

"
Fwannie!
"

An exuberant child bolted towards him when the door was opened. Only Caddock's hand shooting out to grab him kept Francis on his feet. He carefully lifted Devlin up into his arms.

He heard
all
about the peas and carrots—"ew gross"—eaten in order to see him. "Vegetables are good for you."

Devlin frowned at him with all the seriousness of youth. "Did you hitted your head, Fwannie? Sometimes Uncle Boo acts funny and says it's 'cause he hit his head."

"My head is perfectly fine." Francis smiled at the lad while trying not to glare at Caddock whose shoulders shook with his attempt to conceal his laughter. "You'll understand when you're older."

"Like with kissing?" Devlin looked up at them both with wide-eyed innocence. "Gwannie said so."

Both men choked slightly. They shared an amused smile. Between child and dog, there was certainly no shortage of entertainment.

"Yes, Devil, just like with kissing." His uncle reached over to ruffle his hair. He smiled ruefully at Francis. "Out of the mouth of babes?"

Warned not to knock over anything priceless, Devlin ran over to sit on the floor next to Sherlock. Caddock spotted the tabloid still on the desk where Rupert had left it. The man's eyebrows furrowed in obvious annoyance. It sent a sliver of doubt and worry into Francis's mind.

"Bastards."

Francis felt the tightness in his chest grow. He wiped his hands on his trousers a few times. What if Caddock thought it wasn't worth all the trouble? The man had clearly gone to great effort to avoid being in the press lately.

He wouldn't risk it for Francis. Why would he? Not with his nephew to worry about.

Stop it. You are worth it.

Caddock rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the range of little ears. "I couldn't give a fuck about the idiots aside from them invading
our
privacy."

"Oh."

"And, cub?" Caddock cupped his chin and tilted his head up slightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Ever?" Francis always found it difficult to strive for collected when the Brute had a hand on him. "You might get a tad bored."

"Cheeky." He bent forward to press their lips together.

Quiet giggling drew their attention back over to Devlin, who appeared to have been whispering to Sherlock. The lad demanded biscuits on behalf of his friend—and himself. They nodded to each other; it seemed a trip to Ruth's was in order.

To their surprise, no one batted an eyelid at the little group while it walked through the village. Francis did catch several of his gran's friends sneaking photos, likely to share with her. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

The entire village had obviously decided to take a keen interest in them. It would've been endearing if it hadn't been so incredibly humiliating. Caddock, of course, chose to laugh about it.

Sherlock and Devlin had both been thrilled with all the attention. They happily trotted side by side, munching on biscuits Ruth had snuck to them. Did
everyone
around them have to be clinically insane?

"Can the ground swallow me whole now?" Francis asked after the fourth person had asked Caddock to sign the photo from the tabloid. "We are surrounded by nutters."

"Present company excluded or included?" Caddock asked curiously.

"Included."

Chapter Eighteen

Caddock

If honest with himself, Caddock would admit to truly enjoying the way Francis turned so flustered around his grandmother. She was a sweet woman who went above and beyond to make him and Devlin feel comfortable. The meal hadn't been five-star, but it had been delicious.

She'd teased her grandson rather mercilessly. Francis had a permanent flush on his cheeks. Devlin had wanted to know why "Fwannie's all pink."

His laughter hadn't been appreciated, if the hard kick to his shins was any indication, but Caddock couldn't hold it back. He'd never experienced such a relaxed family supper in his life. He intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

The palpable love between grandmother and grandson shone through clearly. Caddock could easily imagine how being raised by this woman had shaped Francis. It had allowed him to flourish into who he was meant to be. Others might not have been quite so understanding of his eccentricities.

"Hurt my boy and I'll turn you into a Cornish pasty." She smiled sweetly at him, and then disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dessert.

"I've never been threatened by a grandmother," Caddock remarked absently.

A novel experience to be sure.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Francis managed to avoid blushing quite so violently. Caddock thought it was a damn shame.