The Summer Intern (Camp Eagle Ridge #4)

33. Epilogue - Matt

I couldn't take my eyes off Casey as he moved across the dance floor at Ben and Sutton's wedding, his hair catching the glow of the string lights above us. The way his slim-fitting dress shirt hugged his shoulders made my chest tighten with a familiar ache—not of longing, but of disbelief that this beautiful man had chosen me.

Eagle Ridge's historic lodge had been transformed for the wedding, the massive wooden beams overhead wrapped in twinkling lights that cast gentle shadows across the polished floor. The stone fireplace that dominated one wall had been cleaned of ash and filled with candles that flickered in the evening air, their warm light making Casey's skin glow golden against the crisp white of his collar. This place had been my childhood home, my sanctuary, but seeing it through Casey's eyes made it feel new again.

"You're staring," Casey murmured against my ear, his breath warm and carrying the faint sweetness of the champagne we'd been drinking all evening. "My makeup isn't smudged, is it?"

"No," I replied, tightening my arm around his waist. "Just appreciating the view."

Casey laughed, the sound cutting through the soft music playing around us. "You're so fucking cheesy, Blackstone." But he pressed closer, his body slotting perfectly against mine as we moved in lazy circles.

Five months of waking up to him in our cramped Corvallis apartment had done nothing to dull the electric feeling of his skin against mine. If anything, domestic life had only deepened the initial attraction that had blindsided me last summer when he'd shown up for counselor training with his then-blue hair and sharp tongue. Now I knew how he liked his coffee (disgustingly sweet), which side of the bed he preferred (the left), and how his face looked when he was deep in a music theory textbook (furrowed brow, lower lip caught between his teeth).

Aiden and Jay drifted past us, their movements more coordinated than our lazy swaying. Aiden nodded at me, his face split in a wide grin. His arm was wrapped protectively around Jay's waist, their matching gold bands catching the light.

"You two look good," Jay said quietly, his natural reserve softened by the few glasses of champagne he'd consumed. "Almost makes me believe in summer camp romance."

"Says the man who married his camp sweetheart," Casey retorted with a grin. "Besides, Matt and I met at a job fair. It's a much more interesting meet-cute story."

"If by interesting you mean you calling me a 'patriarchal tool of the establishment' within five minutes of meeting me, then sure," I added, laughing at the memory.

Aiden shook his head. "I still don't understand how you two got from there to here."

"Chemistry," Casey said with a wink, pressing his hips against mine in a way that made my breath catch. "Lots and lots of chemistry."

As Aiden and Jay moved away, laughing, I spotted Ravi and Parker by the refreshment table. Ravi stood with perfect posture, his tailored suit emphasizing his athletic build, while Parker gestured animatedly, probably recounting some adventure from the summer camp program. The contrast between Ravi's measured stillness and Parker's enthusiastic energy somehow worked perfectly, like opposite forces balancing each other out.

"Do you think we'll still be together like them in five years?" Casey asked suddenly, following my gaze.

I looked down at him, surprised. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere. Are you?"

"God, no," Casey said quickly. "Just... thinking about the future. Graduation is coming up. Then back to Eagle Ridge."

I nodded, leading him in a slow turn as the music shifted to something softer. "That's still the plan. You teaching music at the camp, me taking over more of the director duties from my dad."

"And we'll be happy? In this small town?"

I could hear the uncertainty in his voice—Casey, the city boy who'd initially hated the outdoors, wondering if he could make a life here. "We'll build a bigger closet," I promised, which made him laugh. "And Seattle is not that far for when you need your fancy coffee and art galleries."

The music shifted again, and Casey pressed himself closer against me, his head resting on my chest. I caught sight of Sutton and Ben leaning against the stone wall near the band, their heads bent close together. Sutton's hand rested possessively on Ben's lower back, his fingers tracing small circles that probably no one but me noticed. My stepbrother looked more relaxed than I'd seen him in months, the permanent furrow between his brows smoothed away as he laughed at something Sutton whispered.

"Your brother and Sutton are adorable," Casey commented, following my gaze. "I still can't believe the introvert artist and the preppy jock are actually making it work."

"They balance each other," I said simply. "Ben needs someone to pull him out of his head sometimes, and Sutton needs someone who calls him on his bullshit."

"Like us?" Casey asked, raising an eyebrow.

I laughed. "Are you saying I call you on your bullshit or that I pull you out of your head?"

"Both," Casey admitted with a grin. "And I do the same for you."

He wasn't wrong. Without Casey, I'd probably still be living in my tiny house alone, convinced that solitude was all I needed. Instead, I'd taken the leap and moved to Corvallis with him, discovering that while I still craved my connection nature, having someone to come home to made everything better, and enabled me to pursue my goals with the camp.

Across the room, I noticed Casey's younger brother Oliver standing by the bar, nursing what looked like a ginger ale. He seemed to be trying very hard not to stare at Wade, who was working behind the bar, sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms covered in tattoos. Wade caught Oliver's eye for a moment, and something electric passed between them before Wade turned away, wiping a glass with unnecessary focus.

"Is your brother interested in Wade?" I asked, nodding subtly in their direction.

Casey followed my gaze and snorted. "Ollie? With Wade? God, they'd be a disaster. Oliver would correct Wade's grammar until Wade strangled him with his bare hands."

"I don't know," I mused, watching as Oliver adjusted his glasses nervously when Wade set a fresh drink in front of him. "Opposites attract."

"Like us, you mean?" Casey tipped his face up to mine, his eyes reflecting the string lights above.

"Nah, we're not opposites at all. We fit perfectly."

Around us, wedding guests circulated in their formal wear, filling the lodge with laughter and conversation. I recognized a few former campers, now old enough to attend as friends of the bride and groom, their faces familiar despite the years that had passed. They nodded respectfully when they caught my eye—once a camp director, always a camp director, I supposed.

The music shifted again, and Casey tugged at my hand. "I need a drink. Dance with me again after?"

We made our way to the bar, where Wade nodded at us, his usual gruff expression softening slightly. "Beer?" he asked me.

"Please," I replied, then gestured to Casey. "And whatever fruity concoction he wants."

"Fuck you," Casey said cheerfully. "I'll have a whiskey, neat."

Wade's eyebrows shot up, but he poured the drink without comment, sliding it across the bar.

Casey took a sip and managed not to wince, though I could tell it was a near thing. "What?" he challenged when he caught me watching him with amusement. "I contain multitudes."

"Never said you didn't," I replied, taking a long pull of my beer.

We found a quiet corner away from the main crowd, and Casey leaned against me, his body warm and solid against my side. "This is nice," he said softly. "Being back here. Seeing everyone."

"It is," I agreed, looking around at the lodge that had been the center of my childhood. "Sometimes I forget how much I miss this place."

"Even with me distracting you in Corvallis?" Casey teased, but I heard the genuine question beneath.

I set my beer down and turned to face him fully, taking in the slight uncertainty in his eyes. "Especially with you distracting me," I said honestly. "You make me want things I never thought I wanted. A future. Plans beyond the next summer session."

Casey's expression softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "I used to think all I needed was Eagle Ridge and the camp. But now I know what I really need is my love. The place is just backdrop."

"That's the champagne talking," Casey said, but his eyes were bright with emotion.

"It's the truth talking," I corrected him. "I love you, Casey Kim. And watching you here, in this place that means so much to me, looking so fucking gorgeous in that outfit–—it makes me the happiest I've ever been."

Casey's response was to grab my tie and pull me down for a kiss that tasted of whiskey and promise. When we broke apart, he was smiling, the kind of unguarded smile I rarely saw from him in public. "I love you too, you sappy mountain man."

The band started up again, playing something slow and sweet that filled the hall. Casey tugged at my hand. "Time to sneak out? I need my naked time."

I laughed. "We can't leave yet, it's my brother's wedding... but I have another idea." I glanced towards the hall.

"Your office? Scandalous!"

Grinning, I guided a giggling Casey down the dim corridor, past framed photographs of summers long gone, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was plotting an illicit escape. The weight of his hand in mine felt both familiar and thrilling—five months of sharing a bed hadn't dulled the rush I got whenever we touched. The heavy wooden door to my office loomed ahead, the carved Eagle Ridge emblem barely visible in the low light, and I fumbled with the key, hyperaware of Casey's breath against my neck as he pressed close behind me.

"Hurry," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Someone's going to catch us."

"Let them," I growled, finally getting the stubborn lock to turn. I pushed the door open and pulled Casey inside, kicking it shut behind us.

My office was a mess—always was, no matter how many times I promised myself I'd get organized. Stacks of camp applications and program outlines covered every surface, Post-it notes in my chaotic handwriting stuck to the walls, and a single desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. My ADHD brain loved the organized chaos, even if no one else could navigate it. Sutton had once spent an entire afternoon trying to implement a filing system before giving up in despair.

None of that mattered now. All that mattered was Casey, standing in the middle of my cluttered sanctuary, looking at me with dark eyes that reflected the dim lamplight. His hair was slightly mussed from our dancing, his cheeks flushed from alcohol and desire.

"Come here," I said, my voice rough with want.

Casey smirked, taking a deliberate step backward instead. "Make me."

The challenge in his voice sent heat surging through me. In two strides, I closed the distance between us, backing him against the wall next to my overflowing bookshelf. My hands found his wrists, pinning them above his head as I pressed my body against his.

"Gotcha," I murmured against his throat, feeling his pulse racing beneath my lips.

"Took you long enough," Casey replied, but his breathless tone betrayed his affected nonchalance.

I released his wrists to cup his face, tilting it up to mine. For a moment, I just looked at him, taking in every detail—the slight smudge of eyeliner at the corner of his eye, the faint stubble along his jaw that he'd missed while shaving, the fullness of his lower lip. Five months of waking up to this face, and it still knocked the air from my lungs.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I said, the words inadequate but honest.

Casey's expression softened for a moment before his familiar smirk returned. "Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to do something about it?"

I answered by crushing my mouth to his, swallowing his smart retort. His lips parted instantly, his tongue meeting mine with equal hunger. He tasted like whiskey and wedding cake, and I couldn't get enough. My hands moved from his face to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the small buttons that had been driving me crazy all night.

"Just rip it," Casey gasped against my mouth. "I don't care."

"Your fancy shirt—"

"Screw the shirt."

The sound of fabric tearing was obscenely loud in the quiet office, but the sight of Casey's pale chest revealed beneath the ruined shirt drove all other thoughts from my mind. I dropped to my knees, pressing my face against his stomach, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin beneath the unfamiliar cologne he'd worn for the wedding.

"God, Matt," Casey moaned, his fingers threading through my hair, pulling it loose from the man bun I'd carefully styled earlier. "Your mouth..."

I traced the waistband of his dress pants with my tongue, feeling the muscles of his stomach tighten in response. My fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, tugging the fabric down over his slim hips. His cock strained against his tight black briefs, a damp spot already forming at the tip.

"Looks like someone's happy to see me," I teased, pressing my mouth against the outline of his erection.

Casey's hips bucked against me. "Don't be a fucking tease, Blackstone."

I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his briefs and slowly pulled them down, watching as his cock sprang free, hard and flushed against his stomach. Eight months of exploring each other's bodies, and the sight still made my mouth water.

"Look at you," I murmured, wrapping my hand around him, feeling the silky skin slide against my calloused palm. "So perfect."

Casey's head fell back against the wall, his throat working as he swallowed. "Matt, please..."

I took him into my mouth, savoring his sharp intake of breath, the way his hands tightened in my hair. The familiar weight of him on my tongue, the taste of him, the small sounds he tried to suppress–—it all combined to make my own cock strain painfully against my dress pants.

"I fucking love your mouth," Casey gasped, his hips making small, aborted thrusts that I easily controlled with my hands on his hips. "So good, so fucking good."

I pulled back, replacing my mouth with my hand as I looked up at him. His chest heaved, his skin flushed pink from his cheeks down to his chest. The sight of him like this—disheveled, desperate, his fancy wedding outfit in ruins—sent a surge of possessive pride through me.

"Turn around," I commanded, rising to my feet.

Casey's eyes darkened at my tone, but he complied without hesitation, bracing his hands against the wall as I tore off his shirt and tossed it aside. I flattened myself against his back, still fully clothed while he was completely naked. The contrast made my cock throb.

"Feels like you're still dressed for the party," Casey said, pushing back against the bulge in my pants. "Hardly seems fair."

I nipped at his shoulder as I reached around to stroke him. "Maybe I like having you naked and desperate, like a cute little slut."

"Asshole," Casey muttered, but there was no heat in it—only desire.

I stepped back just enough to unzip my pants, freeing my aching cock. Casey's eyes followed it hungrily over his shoulder.

"God, you're gorgeous," he breathed, reaching back to touch my stomach, his fingers tracing the lines of muscle. "I can't believe I had a crush on Sutton at first."

I groaned, laughing. "I think you just bring that up to make me go all possessive and feral."

"Maybe?" Casey said cheekily, arching his back so I could see his fluttering hole.

I remembered the first time we'd been together, back at the camp last summer—his nervous excitement, my cautious restraint. How different things were now. The trust between us had deepened, allowing us to be rougher, more honest in our desires. I knew how to touch him to make him fall apart, and he knew all my weak spots.

"Want you so bad," I murmured against his ear, pressing my naked chest against his back. "Been thinking about this all night, watching you in those tight pants."

"Then do something about it," Casey challenged, grinding his ass back against me.

I reached for the drawer of my desk, fumbling past pens and paperclips to find the small bottle of lube I kept there–—a leftover from previous stolen moments in this office. The first time I'd bent Casey over my desk had been during a staff meeting break last summer, both of us frantic and trying not to make noise. Now, with the wedding reception providing cover, we didn't have to rush.

I slicked my fingers generously, then reached between us, circling his entrance with teasing pressure. Casey pushed back against my hand, impatient as always.

"Matt, come on," he urged, voice tight with need.

I slid one finger inside him, feeling the tight heat that made my cock twitch in anticipation. Casey's breath hitched, his body arching beautifully as I worked him open, adding a second finger and then a third. I took my time, stretching him carefully, readying him to take my piercings, despite his increasingly desperate pleas.

"You're such a fucking tease," Casey panted, his forehead pressed against the wall. "Just fuck me already."

"So demanding," I said, but I couldn't resist him any longer. I slicked my cock generously, positioning myself behind him. "Like this, or do you want to face me?"

Casey turned in my arms, his eyes dark and serious. "Want to see you," he said simply.

My heart stuttered at the raw honesty in his voice. I lifted him easily, my hands cupping his ass as he wrapped his legs around my waist. The wall supported his back as I lined myself up, the head of my cock pressing against his entrance.

"I love you," Casey said suddenly, his eyes locked on mine. "So fucking much it scares me sometimes."

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. Casey was always so guarded, using humor and sharp comments as shields. These moments of pure honesty were rare and precious.

"I love you too," I replied, pressing my forehead against his. "Every day. Every minute."

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Now, are you going to fuck me, or are we just going to have an emotional moment against this wall?"

I laughed, the tension breaking. "Both," I promised, and slowly pushed inside him.

Casey's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as I filled him. I paused when I was fully seated, our bodies connected as intimately as possible. His legs tightened around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.

"Matt," he breathed, my name sounding like a prayer on his lips.

"Casey," I answered, equally reverent.

Our eyes locked, and in that moment, everything else fell away—the wedding, the camp, our plans for the future. There was only this—Casey and me, connected, seeing each other completely. I began to move, slow and deliberate, watching his face as pleasure overtook him.

"I love you," I said again, the words punched out of me with each thrust. "God, Casey, I love you so much."

Casey's hands gripped my shoulders, his fingernails digging into my skin in a way that would leave marks—marks I would wear proudly. "Love you too," he gasped, his body tightening around me. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I had no intention of stopping. With the sounds of distant music and laughter providing a backdrop to our private moment, I lost myself in Casey's body, in his eyes, in the love that had somehow found us both.