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“Please do,” Eric said, yet in the back of his mind, the echo of apast conversation forced its way through the chatter about lyrics and flirty banter. It hummed nonsense about multiples of the same person, about knowing more than one version, about the changing of seasons.
Don’t fall.
He squelched his thoughts like a bug—irritating but mostly irrelevant.
With 3 p.m.rapidly approaching and two rooms still occupied by couples who should have been out an hour ago, Adrian wondered why some people believed that ‘late checkout’ meant sometime next week. Add a leak in room 309 and a plumber who wouldn’t get here until‘Monday, could be Tuesday’, and Adrian’s afternoon was going just splendidly. Maybe he should rethink his profession. Become an influencer and post shirtless selfies of himself lying on beaches and climbing rock walls, or a tour guide for off-piste ski adventures.
Too bad he loved this bloody hotel.
The front door whooshed open, cold air spilling in along with a couple, their ski gear, and suitcases. He rounded the reception desk with a ready smile. “Willkommen im Gletscherhaus! Kann ich mit dem Gepäck helfen?”
“Uh.” The woman widened her eyes even as she smiled back. “Would English be all right, please?”
Brits. Must be the Fosters—there’d be a few more English speakers arriving today, but they were either groups or returning guests.
“Of course, no problem. Welcome to the Gletscherhaus—let me help with your luggage.” Adrian relieved her of the bulky ski bag she’d slung over one shoulder, partly to be a gentleman and partly to reduce the risk of her knocking into breakable items. He’d seen it all before.
Her husband had already set down his ski bag with a gusty sigh,glancing around the reception area before his eyes found Adrian. And narrowed slightly.
Ah. A former customer, it seemed. Now which door would he choose—bashful or sleazy?
“Lovely place,” Mr Foster said. The sides of his mouth curled into a crooked smirk as his gaze skimmed Adrian’s body. “Wonderful views, too. I think we’ll enjoy our stay.”
Door two it was.
Adrian dimmed the brightness of his own smile. “Yes, the nature that surrounds us is truly stunning. Never gets old. Now, I believe you are staying with us for a week?”
You. As in you and your wife, because I sure as hell won’t sneak you into some broom cupboard for a hot and heavy session. Twat.
“That’s right.” Mrs Foster had stepped closer to the historic photographs and drawings that lined one wall. “Wow, look at this—did they actually carry people up in sedan chairs?”
“They did.” Adrian pointedly ignored the gaze lingering on his crotch. Ugh. “Our hotel was the biggest one in the area until the Great Depression—partly because of the sulphur spring that’s not far. So, yes, the upper class arrived with servants and sedan chair carriers, the works.”
“That’s neat. Just think of what this place would have seen.” She seemed nice. Too bad she’d married a sleazebag.
“More than two hundred years of accumulated history,” Adrian agreed. He stepped behind the desk, where his lower half was safe from unwelcome scrutiny. Should have worn his baggy jeans this morning, but it just so happened that Eric liked this particular pair, and Adrian aimed to please. Just … not everyone.
“Wonderful thing, history,” Mr Foster stated with a wink, propping an elbow on the counter. “I’m a fan.”
Oh God, he thought he was cute. Problem was that Adrian couldn’t be too open in his dislike, or he’d have a difficult guest and a bad review on his hands. Someone kill himnow.
But sometimes, the universe delivered.
Because the door to the basement opened, and it was Eric. GloryHallelujah. Back from dropping off his parents and sister in time to save Adrian from the orcs—or from words he might regret, whichever.
“Hi, love.” Adrian sent Eric a beaming smile and widened his eyes. “Did your parents make the train? I’m sorry I couldn’t come.”
Eric glanced from Adrian to the familiar way Mr Foster leaned against the reception. When Eric looked back at Adrian, his answering smile could have powered a city. “No worries, darling—they understand. Though of course they would have loved to give you a proper goodbye hug.”
He was perfect.
The thought hooked its tiny claws into Adrian’s chest and hung on even as he tried to shake it off. Bloody hell, so not what he needed right now.
“We’ll miss them,” Adrian said sadly. It wasn’t even a stretch because there’d been something fun about their big family table at breakfast, about Olivia’s razor-sharp tongue and how she could nudge Eric out of his reserve until he unpacked his sass.
“Yeah.” The sides of Eric’s mouth turned down. “We will.”
It didn’t feel like an act anymore.
