51
Courtland
"I'm happy you're here,"
I say to Buzz, our legs swinging on the absurdly high—and even more absurdly expensive—Italian leather stools Manuel ordered.
"But are you sure this is how you want to be spending your day off? Here at the inn with me. It's nice out. You should be doing something outdoorsy. Like hiking."
"By myself? On a Thursday?"
I chuckle. He's got a point.
"Just don't feel like you have to stay here."
"I want to be here,"
he says, looking me dead in the eyes.
"So much stuff is going on, Court. I just like…being near you."
His words warm up every cell in my body. It is a crazy time, but we're weathering the storm together.
"You couldn't get any nearer to me this morning,"
I murmur as the memory of sinking my cock into Buzz's tight channel continues spiking my internal thermostat.
His cheeks turn pink.
"That was pretty good."
"Pretty good?"
He smacks me across my upper arm.
"If I keep telling you you're the best lover I've ever had, you'll get a big ego."
"I already have a big ego,"
I point out, grinning slyly.
"So feel free to keep the compliments coming."
I push to my feet when I notice a new guest approaching the front counter. Before he arrives, I lean over and whisper into Buzz's ear.
"Hearing how exceptional I am only spurs me on even more."
Buzz almost topples off the stool.
I smooth the front of my shirt and smile to greet the new arrival.
"Hi. Welcome to the Clovelly Inn. How can I help you?"
"I have a reservation under McKinnon. Bruce McKinnon."
"Sure. Let me just bring it up for you,"
I say, turning my attention to the computer. I find his reservation, but before I tell him that, I try to come up with a backstory.
It's a game me and Buzz have been playing all morning, trying to guess who the new arrivals are before I prod them with seemingly polite questions while checking them in. Afterward, we compare notes about who we thought they were based on our first impression with who they actually turned out to be. I glance sideways at Buzz who's already sizing the guy up, forming his own opinion no doubt.
Bruce looks to be in his mid-to-late-forties, has short dark-blond hair and small blue eyes, and is cute in a middle management sort of way.
My scenario for him?
This trip was his girlfriend's idea—no ring, that's why I'm not saying wife. Learned that one three guests ago. He went along with it because he's been working too much lately, feels guilty about it, and wants to spend some quality time with her.
"Ah, yes, there you are. Staying for one week?"
"Corrrect."
I'm about to dive into my research expedition when Bruce says.
"Before I check in, I need to ask you something."
"Sure."
He clears his throat.
"I film gay adult content. I've just had a bad experience where a motel owner kicked me out and refused to return my money after finding out I was filming in my room. I'd like to know what your policy on that is."
Okay. I was waaaay off.
"Uh, well… To be honest with you, I've never had that request before."
"To give you all the information, I only film inside my room, I don't make a mess, and I don't make a lot of noise either."
"Really?"
Buzz blurts out, his eyes widening in horror when Bruce and I both turn to him.
"Hi. Sorry. I just… How do you film porn and keep things quiet? Curious minds would like to know."
Bruce grins.
"It's casting porn."
When he's met with two blank faces, he explains.
"I find guys who have never done porn before, and I shoot a scene with them. There's as much talking as there is sex because the buildup is quite important. And since I'm the casting director and the one controlling the scene, I make sure to keep things quiet. I prefer intimacy. Soft talk, kissing, things like that."
"Right. Um. Look, I think that all sounds fine,"
I say, scratching my arm.
"You're an adult, and as long as the other person is an adult, too, and consenting, what you do in your room is your business. Right?"
I ask, turning to Buzz for backup.
Yeah. I guess so."
He looks over at Bruce.
"This is all legal, isn't it?"
"Of course. I can give you the name of my website, and free access if you'd like to see for yourself."
"That's fine,"
I say as Buzz jumps in with.
"Ooh, yes, please."
I blink at him.
"What? I've never seen casting porn before. It sounds interesting."
"Just so you know, he doesn't work here,"
I tell Bruce, who finally lets his guard down with a smooth, easy laugh.
"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?" he jokes.
"He's my husband, actually,"
I tell him.
Bruce takes the room key I slide across the counter.
"Well, if you two ever decide you'd like to dip your toes into the world of adult content…"
He jiggles the key, holding it up near his face.
"You know where to find me."
We both smile but say nothing, waiting until he's cleared the lobby before sitting down on the way-too-high stools and bursting out into a fit of giggles. Or chuckles in Buzz's case, since I don't think he's been capable of giggling since his balls dropped.
"Holy shit. I had him pegged as an accountant at, like, a box-making factory or something,"
Buzz says.
"Middle manager," I supply.
"And straight."
That sets Buzz off again, and if I could freeze time and remember him like this forever, I would. I've always loved seeing Buzz laugh and be happy, but somehow, I'm loving it even more lately.
Does it have anything to do with me seriously considering my mother's completely outlandish proposition?
Answer: Hell, yeah.
I know Scooter is on my case to tell Buzz how I feel about him, but something unexpected is happening—my feelings are changing.
All of a sudden, things aren't so black and white anymore. It's no longer a simple case of telling my bestie I'm in love with him so I can move on.
I don't want to just say it and move on anymore.
I think… I think I want to move back to Clovelly and settle down and start a family and be with Buzz forever.
For real.
Not just in a fake marriage for the sake of an inheritance.
But before I can reveal any of that to him, I have to be damn sure in my own mind that this is what I truly want. This isn't something you say and then take back. It would be cruel and devastating and literally the last thing in the world I'd want to do to Buzz.
I just need a little time to get things sorted in my head, and then I'll tell him. It's not a delay tactic, I swear. It's a get things sorted in my head first so when I have a decades-long overdue heart-to-heart with my best friend I'm one hundred percent sure of what I want tactic.
The phone rings, and I get up to answer it.
"Good afternoon. Clovelly Inn. How can I help you?… Oh, hey, Linda…"
She's our housekeeping dynamo, but she doesn't sound too good. She tells me she thinks she's come down with something.
"Do you have a fever? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No. Definitely don't come into work. Take some Tylenol or ibuprofen for the fever, get some rest, stay hydrated, and if it gets worse, see your doctor… No. That is fine. Don't worry about your shifts. I'll talk to him… Okay. Get better… Okay. Bye."
"Linda's sick?"
Buzz hedges, coming up next to me.
"Yeah. Shit."
"What's wrong? Can't you just find someone to fill her shifts?"
"It should be that easy, right? But, one, I've got Manuel to deal with. He is the roster king as I learned last week when he went ballistic when I approved a shift swap without running it by him first. And, two, we're kind of low on staff at the moment."
Buzz's brows arch as an I’ve got an idea look flashes across his face.
"Actually, this is kind of perfect."
"How?"
"I've been meaning to run something past you, but with everything that's been going on, I haven't had the chance."
"Should I sit down for this?"
He eyes the stupidly high new stools.
"Might be safer if you keep both feet on the ground."
He chuckles to himself then says.
"Zane is looking for work."
"Oh. People aren't dying fast enough?"
"Actually, yeah. And he's too proud to ask you directly since you were so nice to him at the tattoo festival, but I have no shame."
I lick my lips.
"Oh, I know. And I use that to my full advantage."
His cheeks flush.
"Stop making everything about sex."
"I will when you stop looking so hot taking my cock."
His face reddens further.
"Court. We're at work."
"Technically, only I'm working. You're my unofficial arm candy."
He lifts his chin and grins.
"Is that all I am to you? A fireman porno come to life."
I snake my hands around his waist and press a light kiss to his lips.
"You took the words right out of my mouth."
"Idiot,"
he murmurs, brushing a soft kiss against my cheek.
This is another recent development, low-key flirting that turns into kissing, or hand-holding, or general husband-esque behavior. Our physical intimacy isn't confined to the bedroom anymore and has started spilling into our day-to-day lives.
I'm not mad about it at all, but it's another thing I need to sort out in my head before telling Buzz how I feel.
"Would you be open to the idea of giving Zane a job? Summer is coming, and that's peak tourist season. And if you're already running low on staff…"
I blow out a breath but keep my hands on Buzz's waist. He could ask me to walk barefoot over burning coals and I'd do it, so yeah, of course, if this is something he wants, I'll make it happen.
But I can't have him thinking I'm a total pushover. So I put on my best, most serious thinking face.
"I can't make that decision alone. Manuel needs to be involved otherwise he'll have a full-on reality TV meltdown."
Buzz chuckles, low and deep.
"Complete with hair pulling and wine throwing?"
"Oh, for sure. Name calling and lots of swearing, too."
He chuckles again, and it makes my balls tingle.
"But I'll work on him. Does Zane have any work experience in anything other than fake mourning?"
"I don't know, but he's willing to do anything. And he's a quick learner."
"You're basing that on?"
"He learned to make chocolate pretty quickly at our chocolate-making class."
"A glowing recommendation if I ever heard one."
I let go of Buzz and grab a newspaper from the end of the counter.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
I flick it open to the obits section then turn it around to show him.
"Just checking if Zane would be free to come in for an interview tomorrow,"
I say with a wink.