Free Hard Tail by JL Merrow

double-entendre? At this rate, I’d have to nip to the loo and, ahem, adjust myself. “No, that’s quite all right,” I protested.
    “Go on,” he encouraged, wiping his hands on a rag. He grabbed a brown paper bag from the side and withdrew a foil-wrapped package, which he started to undress.
    Great. Now my treacherous, sex-starved brain had me salivating for a taste of Matt’s package. “Seriously, you don’t have to—”
    Before I could finish speaking, a large, well-stuffed wrap was waved under my nose, mouth-watering smells coming from it. I bowed to the inevitable and tried to judge the size of my bite just right, reckoning that taking too little would seem just as rude as taking too much.
    When I tasted it, I wished I’d been a little less restrained. It was delicious. Really, really delicious. Obviously, I’d had carrot and hummus before—Kate and I had sometimes bought packs of crudités from Marks and Spencer and eaten them in front of the telly. But this—this was different. The carrot was crisp and sweet, the hummus piquant and rich. The wrap itself tasted freshly baked, and the whole effect was not so much food as an almost religious taste experience. I had to hold myself back from groaning in a decidedly unseemly fashion.
    I swallowed the exquisite mouthful, suffering a pang of regret for its passing. “That’s amazing. Seriously, amazing. I’d sell my grandmother for regular lunches of this quality.”
    Matt grinned. “If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer the two quid.”
    I nodded. “It’s probably just as well. I think the authorities tend to frown on unofficial disinterments, anyway. And my mum would kill me.”
     
     
    My sandwiches from Asda tasted like plastic garnished with blotting paper by comparison. I choked them down with the aid of a smoothie—had to get some vitamins in somehow—and prepared for another long, lonely afternoon.
    Only to find I was rushed off my feet booking in repairs and services. Perhaps the decent weather we’d been having had prodded people to make sure their bikes were roadworthy—at any rate, I wasn’t complaining. I just hoped Matt wouldn’t be, seeing as he was the one who’d have to do the actual work.
    I hardly saw Matt until it was closing time—just quick words in passing as he brought out bikes people had come to collect and took in others to get to work on them. When the bell jangled dead on six o’clock, I had to stifle a groan—didn’t the customers realise we had homes to go to?
    On seeing it was only Adam, I gave a relieved smile. “Are you here for Matt?”
    “’S right. Goin’ f’r a beer.” He gave me a long look.
    Feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope, I escaped to the back room to tell Matt his friend was back. As he wiped his hands on a greasy rag, the necklace caught my eye. “Matt?” I said without thinking.
    “Yeah?” He turned. Smiled.
    My stomach flipped over. “Er. Your necklace.” I faltered. I couldn’t just come out and ask him about it; that would be weird. “It’s really nice.” I cringed internally but forced myself to carry on. “Unusual. Did you get it on holiday?”
    Matt’s smile wobbled. His gaze darted over my left shoulder to where I realised Adam had followed me in. “This? Oh—no. I mean, um. I can’t really remember. Probably in a shop somewhere. I mean, obviously, it must have been a shop. Cornwall, maybe. Or somewhere else. Probably.” He was blushing crimson by the time he finished speaking, and he was looking anywhere but at me.
    Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
    Why would he lie, if there was nothing to hide?

Chapter Six
    After I’d wrangled my new bike into the car and got it home—easier than you might think, as it all seemed to clip together like an expensive bit of Lego—I was itching to try it out. Should I eat first, I wondered? Wolverine hadn’t turned up, so obviously it couldn’t be dinnertime.
    Then again, he hadn’t turned up for breakfast, had he? I tried not