Page 67 of The Summer Intern

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter."No, you don't."

And he was right.I didn't hate it.I was terrified by it.

We sat like that for a long moment, my body cradled against his, his hands making soothing patterns across my back.The embers glowed fainter now, the darkness pressing closer.Eventually, Matt shifted beneath me.

"Come on," he said, his lips brushing my temple."Let me put out this fire properly, and then we can go back to my place and give you the cuddles you need."

"Cuddles with your dick shoved inside me?"

He laughed, shaking his head."Perhaps.We'll see when we get home."

Home.Such a simple word, and yet so loaded.

twenty-six

Casey

July7

"What are you freaking out for?They already like you," Matt said, grabbing my hand as we walked through the woods two days later, headed down a path I hadn't been down, towards a building they all called The Homestead.

This wasn't my first time meeting Matt's family—I'd been working at Camp Eagle Ridge all summer, crossing paths with Walter during his occasional visits, exchanging polite nods with Linda when she dropped by with paperwork or snacks.But something about the formal dinner invitation, about Matt's hand on the small of my back as he guided me toward the imposing oak door of the Homestead, made my stomach twist into a pretzel.This wasn't just meeting the family—this was being presented to them.

"Don't panic," Matt said, his voice a low rumble as he pushed open the heavy door.His fingers pressed a little firmer against my back, a gesture that was both reassuring and possessive."Just be yourself."

Easy for him to say.Matt Blackstone belonged here.I did not.

The scent hit me first—something savory and rich that reminded me of my mother's kitchen on holidays, when the whole house became an extension of her culinary genius.The Homestead dining room unfolded before us, a space that felt both grand and lived-in.A long wooden table dominated the center, set with mismatched China that looked simultaneously antique, but well-used and worn in.Candles flickered in antique holders, casting a warm glow over seasonal centerpieces—wildflowers arranged in what looked like repurposed mason jars, casual yet deliberate.

"Casey!Welcome, welcome."Linda Torres approached with outstretched arms, her smile bright enough to rival the candlelight.She embraced me before I could prepare, a quick but genuine hug that smelled faintly of rosemary and expensive perfume."I'm so glad you could join us."

"Thanks for having me," I managed, the words feeling stiff in my mouth.My hands were clammy, and I wiped them discreetly on my jeans—the nicest pair I owned, which wasn't saying much.

Walter Blackstone rose from his seat at the head of the table, a solid presence with the same piercing blue eyes as his son.Unlike Matt's easy warmth, Walter's welcome came as a firm nod and an outstretched hand."Casey.Good to see you again."

His handshake was firm, authoritative.I fought the urge to wince.

"Good to see you too, sir."The formality slipped out before I could stop it, and I heard Matt's soft chuckle behind me.

"Walter, please," he corrected, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly."No need for 'sir' unless you're speaking to my father.And he's dead."

Was that...a joke?I managed a smile, unsure if I was supposed to laugh.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of Ben and Sutton, who entered from what I assumed was the kitchen.Their hands were intertwined, fingers locked together with the easy comfort of a long-established couple.Ben, with his perpetually tousled black hair, gave me a nod that wasn't unfriendly but wasn't welcoming either.Sutton, always cheerful, waved and dragged Ben over to talk to us, giving us both hugs.

"Big step, bringing Casey to Sunday dinner," Sutton said, pulling out a chair for Ben before taking his own seat."Does that mean you guys are–"

Matt cleared his throat, interrupting Sutton."Casey just wanted to meet the family, that's all."That was a total lie, he'd dragged me here against my will.But why was he avoiding Sutton's question?

"Well, I think this is great," Linda interjected, returning from the kitchen with a big salad as Walter walked up with a steaming dish."The camp needed fresh ideas.And Sutton, you and Casey, both of you have been a breath of fresh air."She rubbed Matt's shoulder."Matt and his dad have a tendency to get a bit...stuck in their ways."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, unused to such direct praise.Matt settled into the chair beside me, his knee bumping mine under the table in what felt like a deliberate touch.

"Wine?"Walter offered, already pouring a deep red into the mismatched glasses.

"Please," I said, perhaps too eagerly.

The initial conversation flowed around me like water around a stone.I nodded, smiled, and offered brief answers when directly addressed.Linda asked about my family's restaurant, and I found myself describing my mother's fusion cuisine with more animation than I'd intended.Walter inquired about my studies, his interest seeming genuine if slightly formal.Ben remained quiet, observant, while Sutton and Matt told stories of all the hijinks the campers had gotten into so far this summer.

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