20. Wren
TWENTY
WREN
Running my hand over the kitchen surfaces to ensure they’re clean, I blow out a long breath filled with exhaustion.
The last three weeks have been beyond any of our expectations, and we’ve all been working a shit ton of hours.
It doesn’t help that my right-hand man has been dealing with a sick baby at home and is so tired he almost burned the kitchen down, so I had to send him home.
Now the kitchen is finally closed, and all that’s holding me up is dwindling adrenaline and the promise of a late-night romp with the sexiest man in Willow Bay.
That is, if I can stay awake long enough to get off.
I excuse the kitchen staff, letting them know their first round is on me if they want to grab a drink at the bar, and then I head to the bathroom to splash my face.
When I come out, dragging my tired ass to the bar, I automatically search the place for Ridley, finding him at a table chatting up a group of women.
I can tell from their expressions that they think he’s hot, that his attention means something, and a tight, possessive feeling spreads through me, startling me.
I’m not a possessive guy. Insecure, sure, but possessive?
Nope. Maybe I’ve got it wrong though and that’s not the right word for the way my stomach twists and my insides heat.
Maybe it’s a different form of possessiveness.
Not that I own him, but the sweet pleasure of knowing that when the lights go out and all the people fade away, his attention is mine.
I finish my walk to the bar, slipping onto the rarely used stool next to the order station. Florian notices me, holding up a finger in acknowledgment. I pass the time glancing around the busy establishment, noting the people still finishing dishes we prepared, and my heart swells with new pride.
Trent complained all the time that I was wasting my time chasing after executive positions.
My résumé wasn’t good enough, he said. My food didn’t stand out enough.
I started to believe him for a while, until the day I stumbled upon the ad for Moby’s, a new casual dining bar in a quiet suburb.
Something in my gut told me to go for it, and now I’ve reached the first goal of my career.
The ultimate goal is opening my own place, of course, but I’m years away from that.
I don’t know shit about running the front of house.
“Buy you a drink, handsome?”
I smile, turning to my left to see Ridley standing over me. “Hey.”
“You look wrecked. You okay?”
The sweetness in his tone stirs the hopeless romantic in me that I’m working hard on keeping at bay. While I wouldn’t describe Ridley as remotely romantic, he’s thoughtful, and after years of love bombing, I’ll take thoughtful over empty gestures any day.
“I’m not sure I’m even awake right now.”
He chuckles. “You’re awake. I can skip out and escort you home?”
“I can make it alone.”
“I know you can, but you don’t have to.” He glances up and looks around. “In fact, I’ll go too. I’ve been here since opening.”
“You don’t have to leave on my account.”
“You’re right. What a terrible hardship to end my twelve-hour workday.”
I laugh softly. “Fair.”
“Be right back.”
He’s off, moving through the bar toward Lowen and Indy, who are standing near the full patio. Florian appears in front of me, nudging my hand to get my attention.
“Whatcha having?”
“Think I’m gonna head out instead. I can barely hold myself up.”
“You look tired.”
“At least no one thinks I’m faking it, I guess.”
He laughs, patting my arm. “Did you finally figure it out with Ridley?”
“Figure what out?”
“That he’s into you?” He wipes his hands on a towel. “Only asking because I’ve noticed how your interactions seem… different now.”
“Different how?”
“Softer. You speak quietly to each other. Closer.”
“You noticed that?”
“I’m a bartender. I notice things. Comes with the job description.”
I shrug it off, shifting uncomfortably. I’ve told Ridley I don’t really want it to be public knowledge, so it’s probably not cool of me to spill it to Flor.
Florian grips my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Good for you, man.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” He winks and turns to check on a customer.
Before I can process that interaction too much, Ridley’s back, that sexy grin on his face. “Ready, Chef?”
I nod, pulling myself off the stool. When we get to the front, Kit and Stewart are hanging out behind the host stand.
Stewart is nearly on Kit’s lap, but not quite as he stands and Kit sits on the built-in bench.
Kit rubs a hand up and down Stewart’s backside and Stewart plays with Kit’s hair.
They’re so into each other they haven’t even noticed us.
“Night, guys,” Ridley says as we pass.
Kit glances over at us, grinning. “Leaving?”
“Walking Wren home so he doesn’t accidentally wander off.”
I shake my head. “Someone’s being overprotective.”
“Or using it as a reason to go home myself.”
“Have fun,” Kit says in a way that reminds me of how Florian just spoke to me.
Once we’re outside and walking down the sidewalk toward home, I glance at Ridley. The night air is warm as summer firmly takes hold, but there’s a hint of rain in the air.
“Did you tell the guys anything yet?”
Ridley looks at me. “Kit?”
“Yeah.”
“Nope. Why?”
“Just the way he said ‘have fun’ like he thought we might.”
Ridley drags his hand through his blue tresses, shuffling his feet before glancing at me again. “I don’t think it’s exactly rocket science. We all live in the same house, and maybe they’ve noticed how our schedules are similar. Or, you know…” He shrugs. “I do have a slight confession.”
“Okay.”
“It came out when I was talking to Indy, but he wouldn’t tell the others. I’m sure of that.”
The news makes my body heat with emotions I can’t untangle. Am I embarrassed? Proud?
“Sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“You should’ve, yeah.” Indy hasn’t changed how he treats me at all. Not how he looks at me. Nothing. “But it’s okay. I didn’t confirm, but I think Florian knows something’s up too. He said he noticed the way we interact is different now.”
Ridley nods, sliding his hands into his front pockets. “I get why you want to keep it down-low, but I gotta tell you, man, it’s hard not to touch you the way I want to when the others are around.”
It is hard. There have been a few times when I’ve wanted to cuddle next to him on the couch or touch him while we eat brunch.
“What would that look like? Would we, like, announce it or something?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. I guess we would discuss it and do what feels right for us. Do you think you want to?”
We walk in silence for a few minutes while I toss that idea around my head a few times. Then the real fear with them all knowing pushes through my thoughts.
“I’m not ashamed or embarrassed about us,” I say, softly. “I’m nervous about…” I pause, blowing out a breath. “About, um…”
“About when you’re ready to move on?” He smiles, nodding. “I get it. This is just for fun. An interim thing. A rebound. It’s not like we’re playing for keeps, right? You don’t want them to think badly of you.”
I open my mouth to agree, but I don’t seem able to.
My stomach twists at the idea of this not being a thing anymore.
Could I be in a casual fuck buddy relationship with my boss/roommate/friend with no expiration date?
As simple as our thing is, it’s also the best quasi dating situation I’ve been in in a long time.
Ridley respects me, he’s funny, and hanging out with him is comfortable.
The sex is off the charts, so what would have to happen to get me to decide it was time to move on?
A pressing need for commitment? I’m not sure I even want that anymore.
“We don’t know the future,” I mumble. “I don’t have any plans to change what we have. Do you?”
“Nope,” he answers easily. “Hanging out with you is still the best part of my day.”
His response brings a smile to my lips. “Same. I guess what we could do is what we’ve been doing all along and just go with it. If someone asks or notices something, that’s okay, right?”
Ridley stops walking, turning to face me on the sidewalk. “So if we come down the stairs tomorrow morning together, sit at the table, our hands brushing against each other, our hair still messed up from the thorough fucking the night before, that’s okay?”
My stomach flutters as I nod. “Yeah, that’s okay.”
“And if you’re in the kitchen, and I come up behind you and wrap my arms around you, and someone walks in, that’s okay?”
Swallowing hard, I sway toward him, dragging my hands down his chest. “That’s okay too.”
“And if I taste your pretty mouth and the others see me do it, you’d be alright with that?”
“I’d be alright with that.”
Ridley slides his hand to the back of my neck, squeezing gently. “Well then, little rabbit, you better prepare, because keeping my hands off of you all day is harder than it looks.”
“I think I’ll manage.”
He smiles, leaning in to brush a brief kiss to my mouth. “Let’s get you home. How about a nice, hot shower and a slow blow job and then sweet, sweet sleep?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I wake to warm kisses on the back of my neck and a hard cock rubbing against my ass. I’m vaguely aware of my surroundings, but I know who’s all over me right now. A smile spreads across my lips as I snuggle into the bedding, bumping against him.
“Sorry for waking you,” he whispers.
“Are you?”
A soft laugh is his response as he nibbles my skin. “No. I couldn’t keep my hands off of you.”
Memories of last night flood back—groping kisses in the shower, jerking each other off with soapy hands, and falling into his bed, exhausted and spent. I don’t remember anything after that. Did I fall asleep right away?
“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, reaching around to squeeze my swelling cock. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Not a chance.”