Page 8 of Pretty ’n Peak

Fuck, he was really doing this!

He grabbed his duffel bag and slammed the truck shut. Should he lock it? He never did at home. But maybe this was like a big city. He clicked the lock just in case.

Inside, the lobby was airy and covered with plants, almost like a greenhouse, but with little clusters of couches and chairs. A small fountain added the harmonious sound of falling water. The air smelled like growing things.

It looked normal, like a place people would take their kids. Not at all the sex den he kept imagining.

There was a check-in counter with a bunch of knick knacks and cutesy signs. He snorted at one that said “I get high” with a picture of someone scaling a mountain.

A blond head turned toward him. It was one of the owners of the resort, Jamie, who’d sent all the confirmation and scheduling emails. Mateo had poured over the website for the lodge and the event enough times that he knew exactly who he was on sight.

Jamie led mountain climbing tours, and he had a prosthetic leg. On the general website, he was standing next to his husband with a cheery smile on his face, looking fresh-faced and outdoorsy. On the kinky Cuffd app where Mateo had booked the event, there was a picture of him with the same man and another guy, but this time wearing pink lace and giving his Daddy a kiss on the cheek with an expression that said he was getting away with something. The third man in the photo had a burley chest with a leather harness stretched across it, only the back of his bald head visible as he knelt.

This was the world that Mateo was walking into, and his heart was beating like a drum.

“Hey! Welcome to the Meadowlark!” Jamie chirped.

“Hello,” Mateo responded automatically. His voice came out strangled. Because Jamie was definitely wearing makeup. Vivid blue eyeshadow made his eyes look luminous, and his lips were a rosy pink that could only come from a tube. He glowed.

Mateo’s mouth went dry. He could see more of Jamie’s body now, and he full-on stopped, like his feet had somehow forgotten almost thirty years of practice in moving forward, one after the other.

Jamie’s itty bitty t-shirt read “Bad Boy” in sparkling letters with a lipstick kiss, and it barely covered his ribs. Below his pale, smooth belly, he was wearing a skirt. An actual skirt, in public. It was electric blue and looked like it would swish around his hips when he moved.

A flight of butterflies erupted in Mateo’s belly and his chest felt like someone was crushing it between a pair of boulders. His fists clenched like he was angry, but that wasn’t it at all.

He wanted to tell Jamie to put on some pants and not be so… so… forbidden.

Transgressive.

Sexual.

Gorgeous and confident and… and… vulnerable.

This was something that should be private. Safe behind closed doors.

Mateo swallowed. It was almost like his eyes would hurt if he watched Jamie any longer.

Jamie chuckled and did a little twirl. Even with the prosthetic leg that added a hitch to his step, the skirt fluttered and swirled just like Mateo thought it would.

“You like?” Jamie asked, flirtatiously.

“Uh….” Great. Now he was standing there like a lump and couldn’t push words out of his mouth, either.

A hint of something passed over Jamie’s face, then he returned to his cheerful smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Mateo finally remembered where his feet were and made himself keep moving. He hadn’t meant to hurt Jamie’s feelings. It just felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

“So, I’ll need your driver’s license and credit card to get you checked in,” Jamie rattled off. “The mixer starts in an hour downstairs, dress code anything that floats your boat. For tomorrow, you have a choice of breakfast at eight or nine—just circle the time on the card each night and leave it outside your room.”

Mateo handed over his cards wordlessly, mind still stuck in a loop about Jamie’s skirt. About how the whisper of fabric might feel on his legs. About whether he would ever dare to wear one.

No, surely not. That would be taking things a step too far. No, much more than a step. It was miles out of bounds.

“Hey, you OK?”

Mateo realized he was gripping the counter, ignoring the papers Jamie was thrusting toward him. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d left his hat in the truck and so it was probably a huge mess.

He wondered if he had a comb.