Chapter 2 #2
“Pretty sure,” Eric said, much more firmly now.
He could tell that Kojo was staring at him with a bewildered expression, but refused to turn his head.
At least Sarah—Kevin Pine’s mum, and shit, did she know?
At least Sarah was busy with some papers behind the reception desk, stacking them into a haphazard pile.
“All right, I’ll take your word for it.” A hint of amusement still lingered in the curve of Adrian’s smile as he turned towards their suitcases. “How about we delay the paperwork until later? Let’s get you settled in first.”
“Sounds good,” Kojo replied, and Eric nodded and shoved both hands into his pockets. Then he realised he’d need them to carry his luggage and took them out again, shifting his weight as he decidedly didn’t watch when Adrian bent down to shoulder one of their backpacks.
I’d be able to pick out your dick in an identity parade.
Oh, hell. This adventure was starting to seem like a terrible idea.
So. Eric was a former customer, it seemed.
Adrian bit down on a grin as he led the way up the stairs.
When people recognised him from his somewhat unconventional job back in his student days, it tended to go one of two ways—they were either sleazy about it, or awkward.
Based on Eric’s rather sweet blush and the fact he’d been barely able to meet Adrian’s eyes, this was a door-two type of situation.
Hopefully, Eric wouldn’t need long to get over it.
As fun as it was to picture a younger version of this gorgeous guy all hot and bothered, Adrian was aligned with his parents in encouraging a casual and relaxed work environment.
Eric skirting awkwardly around Adrian would be counterproductive.
Also, Kojo hadn’t been subtle in implying that it was his boyfriend he hoped to bring along, so…
Best steer clear.
“I’ll give you a proper tour later—let’s do the short version for now.
” Adrian stopped on the landing of the first floor, the currently abandoned bar corner up ahead.
“You already saw the reception area, of course, and breakfast is served on the same floor. On this floor, there’s the common area on our left.
” Briefly, Adrian paused so Kojo and Eric could take in the space with its old, hand-drawn floral wallpaper.
Antique pendant lamps hung suspended above armchairs and tables, the open fireplace and the creaky, overflowing bookshelves inviting guests to stay a while. Home.
“As you can see,” Adrian continued, “we’ve got books, board games, and drinks after five.
We do, however, discourage the use of mobile phones and computers on both this and the ground floor.
It creates a bit of a digital detox vibe, you see?
Gets people talking to each other instead of staring at their screens. ”
“Is it hard to implement that? What with the way people are addicted to their phones and all.” Eric was the one who’d asked, only to blush again when Adrian grinned at him. It was sweet—didn’t hurt, of course, that Adrian had a thing for athletic bodies and pretty brown eyes.
“We state it on our website, and again when people check in. Most guests respect it, even tell us it’s one of the things they enjoy the most—how it takes maybe an evening to get used to it, but then they love how it slows everything down.”
“It does sound nice.” The statement was followed by a look from underneath surprisingly long lashes that contrasted with a chiselled jaw.
Adrian reminded himself that flirting with the hired help was a bad idea.
Yeah, it came naturally to him, but one, taken, and two, he’d just signed the papers that officially put him in charge of the hotel, allowing his parents to scale down their involvement as they neared retirement age. And with that came certain obligations.
On with the show.
“It works for us. Also goes well with the history of this place.” He gestured up the stairs.
“Here, we’re in the newer wing of the hotel, about a hundred years old.
Above us are the guest rooms, three floors in total.
Staff, my parents, and me—we all stay in the older wing that’s about a hundred and fifty years old.
It’s in the same place as the original hotel, but had to be rebuilt after a fire. Follow me.”
He hitched the backpack he’d grabbed higher up on his shoulder and led the way into the dining room, already set for dinner that evening.
It was a bright space, with a beautiful old wood floor, high ceilings, and tall windows they’d had to replace a couple of years ago because the heating costs had become astronomical.
Glancing back, he noticed Eric’s gaze lingering on the grand old piano in the far corner of the room.
“Kojo said you play?” Adrian asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Another shy look. “I studied music.”
“He’s a songwriter. And a bloody good one, at that.” Kojo sounded personally proud of the fact, and that was nice—support and all.
“I dabble,” Eric said, and something passed between him and Kojo, too quick for Adrian to catch. A couple thing, most likely.
“Can’t be easy,” Adrian said. “Making a proper living off that.”
Eric ducked his head and adjusted the grip he had on his suitcase. “Yeah, takes a bit of a lucky break.”
“Well, you’re welcome to the piano anytime you aren’t working. On that note”—Adrian encompassed the room with a quick wave—“guests arrive for dinner between six thirty and seven thirty. The kitchen is through that door over there, and we’ll continue straight through here, into the old wing.”
“When can I see the kitchen?” Kojo sounded eager to get started, which fit the impression Adrian had formed during their two video calls—a guy who seemed to radiate positive energy, with a great smile and a sharp edge of ambition.
It stood in contrast to the quiet, slightly guarded air of his boyfriend.
“Once I’ve shown you to your room and you’ve had a chance to get your bearings.
” Adrian held the door for the other two, then followed.
Here, the ceilings were lower, old wooden beams and small windows cut into thick walls.
“Monika, the sous-chef, will arrive around three to start prepping dinner. Easiest might be for you to shadow her for the night before you take over tomorrow.”
“How’s her English?” Kojo asked.
“Decent. She likes to practise with my mum and me.”
“And where should I start?” This time, it was Eric who’d asked.
“Dinner duty,” Adrian told him. “You can shadow me.”
“I don’t speak any German, though. And only bad French.” Eric frowned. “Not sure how useful I’ll be.”
He seemed like a guy who hated feeling incompetent, so Adrian made sure to send him a particularly bright smile. “We usually have three or four international tables that prefer English, and I can also use some help to clear away empty plates and the like.”
“Oh. Right, good.”
A brief silence fell as Adrian led them past his best mate Martin’s door and then the empty room that had belonged to the previous chef. They reached the room that had been set up for Kojo and Eric, slightly bigger than the single rooms allocated to other staff.
“This is yours,” Adrian told them as he pushed the door open and entered first, setting the backpack down on the floor.
Sunlight spilled through the double windows and onto wooden planks, a small table with two chairs pushed up against one wall.
“Sorry about the rose-patterned wallpaper—it’s our biggest staff room, that’s all.
I promise that the pink is not meant to reflect any kind of stereotyping.
” He grinned as he turned to face them, lifting one shoulder.
“Although I do own a couple of pink T-shirts myself, so, you know. Kernel of truth and all that jazz.”
Slowly, carefully, Eric set his suitcase down and looked around the room. “Um.”
Kojo snorted. “What he means is we’re not a couple.”
What.
“But you said—” Adrian broke off to remember the precise words Kojo had used. Something about a special person?
“I said I didn’t want to make the move without the most important person in my life. Well, other than my family.” The corners of Kojo’s mouth turned up as he nodded his chin at Eric. “So, meet my best mate.”
Mates. They were mates? Oh no, Adrian didn’t buy it. The mates part—okay, yes, maybe. But not the part about how it had been an innocent misunderstanding.
He narrowed his eyes at Kojo, a small burst of irritation swirling in his stomach. “You lied to me.”
“I did not,” Kojo stated, although he looked just a hint guilty. “I merely implied—”
“He was trying to protect me,” Eric cut in.
His stance made it clear that he wished himself far, far away, but for the first time, he met Adrian’s eyes without a trace of embarrassment.
“We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere here, which—not the most progressive type of environment, generally speaking.
I’m bi, and so he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem. ”
Adrian took a second to review the words. “Well, I’m gay, so obviously it’s not a problem. My parents wouldn’t tolerate that kind of shit here, and neither would I.”
“But I didn’t know that, now did I?” Kojo’s tone carried enough of an apology that Adrian’s irritation evaporated.
“I guess not. I still don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“Yeah, fair enough. I did mean for you to get the wrong idea, and then I missed the right moment to clear things up.” Kojo pressed his lips together.
“It seemed like a good way to test the waters, make sure it wasn’t a case of jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
My old job—they claimed they were pro-diversity, but the reality was a bit different. ”