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Best steer clear.
“I’ll give you a proper tour later—let’s do the short version for now.” Adrian stopped on the landing of the first floor, the currently abandoned bar corner up ahead. “You already saw the reception area, of course, and breakfast is served on the same floor. On this floor, there’s the common area on our left.” Briefly, Adrian paused so Kojo and Eric could take in the space with its old, hand-drawn floral wallpaper. Antique pendant lamps hung suspended above armchairs and tables, the open fireplace and the creaky, overflowing bookshelves inviting guests to stay a while.Home.
“As you can see,” Adrian continued, “we’ve got books, board games, and drinks after five. We do, however, discourage the use of mobile phones and computers on both this and the ground floor. It creates a bit of a digital detox vibe, you see? Gets people talking to each other instead of staring at their screens.”
“Is it hard to implement that? What with the way people are addicted to their phones and all.” Eric was the one who’d asked, only to blush again when Adrian grinned at him. It was sweet—didn’t hurt, of course, that Adrian had a thing for athletic bodies and pretty brown eyes.
“We state it on our website, and again when people check in. Most guests respect it, even tell us it’s one of the things they enjoy themost—how it takes maybe an evening to get used to it, but then they love how it slows everything down.”
“It does sound nice.” The statement was followed by a look from underneath surprisingly long lashes that contrasted with a chiselled jaw.
Adrian reminded himself that flirting with the hired help was a bad idea. Yeah, it came naturally to him, but one,taken, and two, he’d just signed the papers that officially put him in charge of the hotel, allowing his parents to scale down their involvement as they neared retirement age. And with that came certain obligations.
On with the show.
“It works for us. Also goes well with the history of this place.” He gestured up the stairs. “Here, we’re in the newer wing of the hotel, about a hundred years old. Above us are the guest rooms, three floors in total. Staff, my parents, and me—we all stay in the older wing that’s about a hundred and fifty years old. It’s in the same place as the original hotel, but had to be rebuilt after a fire. Follow me.”
He hitched the backpack he’d grabbed higher up on his shoulder and led the way into the dining room, already set for dinner that evening. It was a bright space, with a beautiful old wood floor, high ceilings, and tall windows they’d had to replace a couple of years ago because the heating costs had become astronomical. Glancing back, he noticed Eric’s gaze lingering on the grand old piano in the far corner of the room.
“Kojo said you play?” Adrian asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Another shy look. “I studied music.”
“He’s a songwriter. And a bloody good one, at that.” Kojo sounded personally proud of the fact, and that was nice—support and all.
“I dabble,” Eric said, and something passed between him and Kojo, too quick for Adrian to catch. A couple thing, most likely.
“Can’t be easy,” Adrian said. “Making a proper living off that.”
Eric ducked his head and adjusted the grip he had on his suitcase. “Yeah, takes a bit of a lucky break.”
“Well, you’re welcome to the piano anytime youaren’t working. On that note”—Adrian encompassed the room with a quick wave—“guests arrive for dinner between six thirty and seven thirty. The kitchen is through that door over there, and we’ll continue straight through here, into the old wing.”
“When can I see the kitchen?” Kojo sounded eager to get started, which fit the impression Adrian had formed during their two video calls—a guy who seemed to radiate positive energy, with a great smile and a sharp edge of ambition. It stood in contrast to the quiet, slightly guarded air of his boyfriend.
“Once I’ve shown you to your room and you’ve had a chance to get your bearings.” Adrian held the door for the other two, then followed. Here, the ceilings were lower, old wooden beams and small windows cut into thick walls. “Monika, the sous-chef, will arrive around three to start prepping dinner. Easiest might be for you to shadow her for the night before you take over tomorrow.”
“How’s her English?” Kojo asked.
“Decent. She likes to practise with my mum and me.”
“And where should I start?” This time, it was Eric who’d asked.
“Dinner duty,” Adrian told him. “You can shadow me.”
“I don’t speak any German, though. And only bad French.” Eric frowned. “Not sure how useful I’ll be.”
He seemed like a guy who hated feeling incompetent, so Adrian made sure to send him a particularly bright smile. “We usually have three or four international tables that prefer English, and I can also use some help to clear away empty plates and the like.”
“Oh. Right, good.”
A brief silence fell as Adrian led them past his best mate Martin’s door and then the empty room that had belonged to the previous chef. They reached the room that had been set up for Kojo and Eric, slightly bigger than the single rooms allocated to other staff.
“This is yours,” Adrian told them as he pushed the door open and entered first, setting the backpack down on the floor. Sunlight spilled through the double windows and onto wooden planks, a small table with two chairs pushed up against one wall. “Sorry about the rose-patterned wallpaper—it’s our biggest staff room, that’s all. I promisethat the pink is not meant to reflect any kind of stereotyping.” He grinned as he turned to face them, lifting one shoulder. “Although I do own a couple of pink T-shirts myself, so, you know. Kernel of truth and all that jazz.”
Slowly, carefully, Eric set his suitcase down and looked around the room. “Um.”
Kojo snorted. “What he means is we’re not a couple.”
