Page 45 of Grumpy Bear

Dinner was a completely different event with so many guests on the property. It was still buffet style, only now the dining hall was packed with men. The staff ate after the guests had been served and it was all hands on deck, refilling drinks and bussing tables and grabbing anything the guests requested.

A lot of those requests apparently involved sexual favors.

Thankfully, there was a rule that everyone had to wear clothes to meals.

I must have looked like a deer in headlights when a big furry ginger with a nicotine-stained mustache insisted I sit on his lap while refilling his sweet tea. Austin rescued me by whispering something apparently incredibly distracting in the man’s ear.

Afterward, Austin pulled me aside in the kitchen. “Okay, so, obviously the standard definition of sexual harassment in the workplace is pretty much out the window here. There is still a line, but it’s your line. I mean, the boundary is extremely flexible, but it’s still your call. You don’t have to do anything with anybody unless you want to. And if you want to, that’s cool. Tell them to look for you later. Actually, that’s also the best deflection in the moment for anyone you want to put off too. Just say, find me later. Wink wink. Trust me, these dogs’ll find a hundred other horny squirrels before they ever run into you again.”

“What if they do come find me?”

“You’ll think up another excuse by then. I flirt with everyone and leave them somewhere between thinking it’s banter and thinking they might have a chance. Flirt and keep moving. The fact that you’re working is a great excuse to constantly disappear on some errand. Nobody feels rejected. It’s all playful. If someone crosses the line, tell another staff member. We’ll intervene, and if necessary, run it up the chain of command. Sawyer and Jim have a lot of practice dealing with the drunk-and-disorderlies. Let them handle it.”

It was actually pretty fun. I’d waited tables before but never anywhere so relaxed and so incredibly… gay. The guests themselves were entertaining. There were more than a few quick-witted hams in the room.

A lot of the guys were really sexy too. Like, every beefy, trucker, muscle daddy, bear, coach fantasy I’d ever had. It was like a cattle call for porn. With barbecue.

I absolutely understood the magic of Bear Camp.

I was still a little self-conscious that I didn’t look like any of these men, but it didn’t matter. Because every time I saw Coleman out of the corner of my eye, working the tables along with us, chatting everyone up… Fuck. He was the most gorgeous man here.

And in the back of my mind was the constant knowledge that I’d be sleeping in his bed again tonight.

I lowered my voice when I spoke to him. It was an unconscious impulse like there was already a secret between us. “Are you going to go back to the cabin for a little while?”

Coleman also glanced over his shoulder, checking to see who might be within earshot. “Nah. Just long enough to grab a change of clothes. I still need to shower. Kinda waiting for it to clear out a bit.” Men were leaving in clumps and packs, but a lot remained on the porch, smoking and chatting. “I’ve got shit to do. I need to head up to The Cubby Hole early and make sure we’re all set up for tonight. See if the DJ needs anything.”

“Do you want me to help? If you’re doing a sound check or whatever…”

“He’s played here for years. Take a break. Hang out in the cabin if you want. Have some alone time, take a disco nap.”

“Thanks. Jim showed me where I can wash my clothes.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Totally slipped my mind. You’re off the clock for the night though. Hang out with the other guys. Enjoy the party.”

I knew it was a generous offer, but as soon as he made it, I realized I didn’t want alone time. After a full twenty-four hours together, which felt like a month, being away from him felt… wrong. “I’ll see you at The Cubby Hole then?”

“I’ll be there.”

I washed my clothes, and once they were in the dryer, I ran to the bathhouse for a shower. I planned to wear a towel back to the laundry room. I’d still be wearing more than most people.

There was quite a bit of extra traffic in Bathhouse One. Some of the guys staying in the main lodge opted to bathe where they could enjoy the view.

There was at least safety in numbers—a lot more to look at than me—and all I cared about at that point was shampoo.

I’m sure I reeked. My skin was salty with dried sweat, my hair smelled like the creek, and I was a little sunburned.

The shower was heaven.

Austin squeezed in beside me, unconcerned with the number of men openly gaping at his body while soaping their cocks with questionable thoroughness. “What are you wearing to The Hole?”

“Um. Jeans and a T-shirt…?”

“It’s eighties, bro!”

“Like, costumes?”

“Well, it’s more of a theme.”