5. Sloan
Chapter five
Sloan
“ H and me a pen, will you?” I lean over the bar and point to the pen jar sitting on the counter.
“Again?” Lennon asks, snatching one up and passing it to me. “That’s the third time tonight. What happened to yours? Are you eating them?”
I tuck the pen into the sleek black folder along with the customer’s receipt. “Not sure.” I pat down my apron pockets even though I just did that a second ago, coming up empty again.
“You’re not usually so…” He clicks his tongue as he searches for the word he wants.
“Scattered,” I supply.
“I was going to say blonde.” He fills a pint glass from the tap.
“Is that supposed to be an insult? You’re blonde.”
“Which is why it’s normal for me to lose shit. So how come we’ve switched places tonight?”
I lean over the bar and motion him closer, lowering my voice. “It happened again,” I whisper-shout so he can hear me without the two of us being overheard.
“It?” He arches a brow. I lower my eyes pointedly and bring them back to his. “Oh, that. Two for two, you’re on a stiff streak.”
“Lennon,” I hiss, looking side-to-side to make sure no one’s listening. “There are strict rules about this. I can lose my license.”
“How so? He’s the one with the issue, not you.” Lennon grabs a cocktail shaker and starts pouring liquid into it.
“But I’m causing the issue—I think.”
“Again, how? By doing your job? You can’t help the way people react.” Lennon fits a glass inside the shaker and mixes everything together, snagging the attention of a woman at the end of the bar who can’t seem to take her eyes off the abs his crop top does little to cover.
“What if I can? What if I’m doing something different since this guy is super-hot and that’s causing him to react?”
“Are you doing something different?”
My first reaction is to scoff—I’m hyper-careful to be professional at all times. But then I think about that first day, when I saw him in just a towel, and the way my body reacted. Maybe I did instigate things, inadvertently.
Then I think about Carter’s reaction. He seemed genuinely apologetic and borderline sweet after the initial awkwardness. And today, I think we had a moment when he thanked me for defending him. Neither instance was entirely professional given his physical state. And the truth is, I kind of liked him in those instances. Him , not just the way he looks. Oh shit .
I lift my shoulders and let them drop heavily. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I must be if he’s… you know.”
“Or it could be that he’s been celibate since moving here and you’re the first man to touch him in over a year.” Lennon reads the next order on his list and begins making the drink like he didn’t just shatter the illusion that my business is my own .
“You… I… how do you know who I’m talking about?”
“The first episode was exactly a week ago, which suggests a regular appointment, and since that appointment is during business hours the client must not have to answer to anyone.” He sets a margarita on the bar for one of the servers to collect.
“And the celibate part?”
“His secretary Janice sometimes picks up his takeout orders and has let slip that she wishes he’d come in to eat so maybe he’d meet a nice girl instead of hiding away at the resort all the time. Obviously, she doesn’t know he likes boys, but you get what I’m saying.”
“No one knows he likes boys.”
Lennon gives me a withering look.
“I’m just saying, getting excited about a massage doesn’t automatically make the man gay.”
“You literally just speculated you’re the reason for the excitement,” Lennon unhelpfully points out, catching me in my own lame attempt to backtrack.
“Fine, he probably likes guys. But the fact he hasn’t eaten dinner outside his office doesn’t mean he’s celibate.” Thank God this is Lennon, someone I know will respect my privacy enough not to repeat this conversation, which would be awkward considering the man in question is my boss.
“Let’s just say the resort’s reclusive new owner is a popular topic of conversation around here, and even though I haven’t seen much of him, I’ve seen enough to know he doesn’t have to eat alone unless he wants to.” Lennon slyly substitutes eating a meal with sex.
“Right. Because there are so many queer men in this town for him to eat with,” I mutter under my breath.
As far as I know, the only single queer man in town is me. Carter might be gay, and Lennon is… Lennon. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t see ge nder at all—he dresses like he doesn't—and since he’s never given himself a label I wouldn’t presume to do that for him. So, yeah. If Carter really is into guys, I’m literally his only option. Probably.
“Not everyone is as comfortable with their sexuality as you, Maddox and Cade. And as recently as a year ago, there weren’t any openly queer people in town, so it’s possible others exist, which your boss probably hasn’t encountered since he never leaves the resort.”
“What’s your point?” I’m not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved by the notion that Carter could find people to eat with who aren’t me. Relieved. Definitely relieved. The man’s still your boss, and if he had his choice of dinner companions, the awkward masseuse wouldn’t be it.
“My point is you’re both attractive people who in all likelihood haven’t been with anyone in a long time, and one of you is naked while the other is rubbing oil on him. It’s the perfect scenario to make the professional boundary blur regardless of your intentions.”
Oddly enough that statement makes me feel somewhat better. Not that it’s okay to be anything other than professional with my clients, but given the intimate circumstances, it’s only natural for signals to get mixed. Especially around a man as hot as Carter.
“Has that ever happened to you? You’ve found someone so attractive you sort of lose focus around them?”
Lennon stops making drinks and focuses on me for the first time since this conversation started. “I don’t think I’m the falling in love type.” He grabs a rag and wipes down a few stray drops of beer on the surface in front of him.
“Okay, A—how’d you make that leap? And B—what baggage are you carrying to make you think that? ”
Lennon lifts his head to respond and freezes, staring at the front door. I turn to follow his gaze, finding myself locked in the whiskey brown eyes that held mine in his office earlier today.
What is he doing here? Does he know I work here too? Would he actually seek me out?
My brain wants to say words my mouth can’t form. It wants me to wave but my hand is too heavy to lift. Do something. Instead, I stand rooted in place, trying to read the meaning behind his eyes, which are pinned on mine with a mixture of surprise, perpetual distance, and a hint of… longing? That can’t be right. Can it?
Sure, we had a moment earlier today, or at least I think we did, but it would make more sense for that moment to lead to understanding. Empathy even. Not longing. I mean, there’s no world where the super sexy millionaire has an interest in the help. That’s a Hallmark movie, not reality. But why is he still staring?
I lick my lips, poised to break my trance and approach him, when a waitress steps in front of him and breaks the connection. I feel myself blush as she hands him a to-go bag, and I realize he isn’t here for me at all.
Get a grip Sloan, whatever chemistry you think you feel is just that, chemistry. There were no moments, nothing to make him interested beyond the physical.
I turn back to the bar before I can embarrass myself further.
“Sorta get the feeling it’s you he’s reacting to,” Lennon mumbles, his gaze still focused over my shoulder.
“What?” I blink, too rattled to attempt any other movement.
“When a guy looks at you like you’re the only thing he sees, especially in a place this busy… his reaction is all you.” He looks at me po intedly.
My stomach starts to flutter. “Oh, wow. That’s not… Are you sure that wasn’t…” Lust, Sloan. Nothing more. Do not confuse that with actual feelings. “Um, whatever you think you saw, don’t tell my sister. Or Finn.” Flattering as it is to be the object of Carter’s lust, it would only make my life harder.
“They don’t know Carter plays for your team?” Lennon arches a brow.
“They don’t know I’ve met him.”
“And why is that?” Lennon doesn’t take his eyes off me as he reaches for a glass to make the next drink.
“Finn’s in the dark about what Carter has planned for the resort, even though they’ve been working together for over a year, and I made the mistake of telling him to give Carter a chance after one massage.”
“Bet that went over real well,” Lennon snorts.
“Exactly. And since I’m crashing with Finn and Ally right now, it’s probably best if I don’t come across as having a soft spot for Carter.”
“Then you better make sure not to see him outside those massage sessions, because if anyone else sees the exchange I just did, there won’t be any question about what side you’re fucking on.”
“I’m pretty sure the phrase is what side I’m standing on ”
“Nope. I said what I said.”
I suck in a mouthful of air and hold it to the count of three before letting it slowly out. Shit . Sometimes I hate being so transparent.
“Noted,” I mumble. “I better get this bill to my table.” I grab the leather binder and spin toward my station.
“Don’t lose another pen,” Lennon calls after me. As if I need another reminder of how much trouble I’m in.
** *
“What are you doing here, Blake? I thought you had lessons this morning.” I hang my backpack in my employee locker at the spa and start taking off my accessories. Massage oil and watches do not mix.
“We’re between sessions so I figured I’d pick up a shift,” my athletic co-worker replies as he shrugs off his t-shirt and pulls a company branded polo out of his locker.
“Whoa, what happened?” I reach toward the purple-ish bruise on his side without thinking.
“Oh that?” He twists to study the bruise I’m referring to. “One of the kids confused his front and rear brake. I caught him before he flipped over his handlebars, but he caught me in the side with his helmet. Those things are rock solid, by the way.”
I chuckle and shake my head as Blake dons his work shirt, seemingly unbothered by the bruise. No wonder parents send their kids to him to learn how to mountain bike. He loves it so much he’ll gladly suffer the bumps and bruises that come with it so he can show the next generation the joy in it.
“You didn’t want to take advantage of a day off from the lessons?” I ask as I shut my locker and take a seat on the nearby bench.
“Teaching bike lessons is something you do because you love it, not because you can make a living off it. And people here at the spa tip pretty well.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about since I work two jobs myself. One day, I hope to eliminate the second one, but only if I can get a full-time position doing physical therapy. Maybe this is the year the ski team will have an opening. Until then, this spa job is the closest thing to my field I’ve been able to find. For my goals, working here makes sense.
For Blake’s, though?
“Can I ask you a question?” I venture .
“Shoot.” He removes his watch and sticks it in his locker.
“Why work here? I mean, I know it pays well, but it has nothing to do with biking.”
He turns his head to look at me, amber eyes seeming to flash with uncertainty before he licks his lips and turns his focus back to putting things in his locker. “It fits my needs in other ways.”
“What does that mean?” I wrinkle my nose.
He takes a deep breath and turns to face me, shoulders slumping a bit as he exhales. “The customers are… appealing.”
“I hear that,” I mumble to myself before his words fully register. “Wait. What? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I look up at him for clarification.
He joins me on the bench. “Don’t look so shocked. How else am I supposed to meet anyone? It’s not like there’s tons of single people our age running around town, but there are plenty of tourists.”
He’s not wrong, but I struggle to accept that he’s right. “What about Tiff?” I name our receptionist. “She’s cute.”
“I grew up with her, she’s practically family.”
“Cora?” I throw out the name of the bartender Dex hired a few months back.
“She works too much. And she’s my friend, same as you. I don’t do friends with benefits.”
“So, what, you just set up dates after you give a massage?” I blink in rapid succession. I don’t know any rules against that, but it seems like a gray area.
“Don’t usually make it to the date part.” He rubs the bridge of his nose sheepishly.
“Are you saying…?” I look around to make sure we’re alone. “Here?” I squeak. Blake is an attractive man, so I’m not surprised women are drawn to him. It’s not a stretch to imagine they’d hint at be ing available. But skipping the date part altogether, taking it further right here in the spa? That’s a scenario I can’t wrap my brain around.
“Why not?” He shrugs off my panic.
“Um, it’s illegal for one. And you could get fired.”
“I’m not worried about that. This is a job, not a career, so if it doesn’t work I’ll just find something else to do. Besides, customers don’t want anyone knowing about it any more than I do, trust me. We have an unspoken agreement—they want the happy ending, I deliver, we go our separate ways.” He gives me a wry smile.
“By deliver you mean…?”
“Use your imagination.”
“Seriously?” My jaw drops halfway to the floor. “How often?”
“Often enough.” I swear his neck turns the teeniest bit pink as he says that.
“But…but…you could do the same thing at the bar and not risk your job or your license.”
“And the whole town would know about it. You weren’t here to see Cade before he married Maddox, but that guy was his own tourist attraction, and it was the town’s worst kept secret. I like to keep my personal life personal. This job lets me do that.”
As someone who's always been a rule follower, it’s hard to contemplate the idea that Blake can so easily disregard them, especially for something as salacious as sex. It’s equally disturbing to think that people come in for a massage and get much, much more. From a stranger.
I want to say I don’t understand the appeal, but after what’s been happening with Carter, a tiny part of me isn’t repulsed. He’s easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen up close, and his body is… let’s just say I’ve never seen one like it. There’s a definite attraction, on my part an yway, and my mind has certainly wandered. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to act on that though, even if it weren’t against the rules.
“How can you be sure customers want…” I wave my hand around. “That?”
“You can tell by the way they move their bodies. Have you never had anyone move like they wanted something more than a massage?” His eyebrows waggle briefly before disappearing beneath his hair.
I trap my bottom lip with my teeth.
“You have.” A slow grin spreads across his face.
“It only just happened the other day,” I rush to clarify, “ with this guy who’s only here for a few weeks,” I tack on a little white lie to cover my tracks. “And I didn’t do… that. I’m waiting for a position to open up with the ski team, so I can’t do anything that would jeopardize my reputation, even if I do kind of like him. Assuming this guy wants… you know… and being wrong could tank my whole career.”
“If he’s rising to the occasion, he wants it.”
“Gross.” I swat his arm.
He laughs, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “Seriously though, a man's desires are a little more transparent than a woman’s. He wants it.”
“It, or me? Is there a difference?” Pretty sure I know the answer, but despite my own lust, part of me doesn’t want to be reduced to an object of desire. I’m not the casual hookup type.
“Not to me there isn’t, but since you asked, I’m guessing you’re more the relationship type, so seducing a hot tourist might not be what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want.” I rub my temples, wishing I didn’t feel like I was at a crossroads between a potential relationship and my career. Plus, since Carter is technically my boss, I shouldn’t be letting my mind wander to relationship territory .
“Can I ask you a question?” Blake gives me a curious once-over.
“I guess.”
“When’s the last time you had any fun?” He gives me a cheeky wink, as if I needed that little clue to know what he’s referring to.
“It’s been a while.” I pray I’m not blushing from that admission. “I’m not sure having a little fun is worth jeopardizing my career though.”
“Probably not. But what if the answer to your question is the guy wants you not it ?”
My mind briefly flashes to what Lennon said about the way Carter looked at me, but I quickly dismiss it as a trick of the lighting or something equally plausible. Lennon himself said the restaurant was busy, so I’m sure Carter was really focused on something else, not the lanky guy who works a couple of jobs to scrape by.
“I think that’s highly unlikely. He’s just visiting, remember?” I fall back on my lie to justify my thoughts.
“Cade imported a guy.” Blake lifts a casual shoulder. “No reason you couldn’t do the same.”
“Oh my God, it was one boner. I’m not implying we’re soulmates.”
Blake wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me to him in a side hug that I think is supposed to be reassuring, though he’s strong enough it knocks me off balance. “Suit yourself. Just remember, in this town there aren’t a lot of other fish in the sea, so catch and release isn’t a bad way to live.”
“Oh my gosh, how did I never realize what a pig you are?”
“Wanting my friend to be happy and satisfied makes me a pig?” Blake puts his free hand over his heart like he’s wounded.
“Ugh, you’re forgiven.” I wrap my arm around his waist and hug him back. “As long as this stays between us.”
“Back atcha.” He mimes zipping his lips shut.