Page 31 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“You mean youaregay?”
Jonty’s face creased in a smile. “Not telling.”
He’d reached the door before Devan managed to speak. “You’re the night manager?”
“I’m a bit of everything. Receptionist, cleaner, bell hop, room service waiter, ordinary waiter, concierge, barman, mechanic if it’s easy to fix, not a mechanic if it’s not easy to fix, ditto with plumber and electrician—but mostly the night manager. I’m allowed to sleep, though I’m expected to respond to guest requests. You never know when someone might need something like Cajun chicken. Or an expertly done back rub.”
Was that an offer?Devan opened his mouth and shut it again.
“Oh God, now I need to google how to do a back rub like an expert.”
Devan swallowed hard.
“I don’t like people to be sad,” Jonty whispered. “You’re sad. And I’ve said too much. Sorry, sir. Just because we nearly died together doesn’t make us friends. I don’t mean to be presumptuous. I really am sorry. Good night.”
He slipped out of the room and closed the door.
Is that what I am? Sad?
Not when Jonty was around.
Chapter Six
JONTY WANTED TO HIT HIMSELFaround the head.I am such a fuckwit.He shouldn’t have said a lot of that. Probablyanyof that. Particularly about a back rub and Mr Impossible being sad. Cheeky. Inappropriate. Disrespectful. Maybe a sackable offence.Shit!Itwasa sackable offence. All he’d needed to do was make a joke about getting tipped and he’d have ruined everything.
He didn’t even know if he was any good at giving back rubs. But it couldn’t be that difficult, right? He knew where the back was and he knew how to rub.I really know how to rub!Plus, he’d sort of assumed that he wouldn’t have to do much back rubbing before other bits got involved, now that he knew Mr Impossible was gay.
Idiot.
I know.
You don’t want to lose your job.
I know. Maybe I should tape up my mouth.
Good idea.
What was it about the guy that encouraged Jonty to say something stupid? Yes, Jonty had a cheeky personality and he used humour as a deflection, he always had, but he knew he had to rein himself in with guests. Hedidrein himself in, usually. Devan would have no idea that he’d never cooked a meal for a guest, never flirted with a guest, never fancied a guest this much. Just as well he wasn’t working for the next three nights. Time to get over his crush.
He went straight to the kitchen to clean up the mess he’d made. He didn’t dare leave any sign that he’d been cooking. In the way crime scene analysts could pick up a speck of blood using luminol—assuming those forensic shows were telling the truth—if Jonty left a single spoon out of place, Wayne would know. Jonty really should have told Devan he was too late for room service. He should have offered cheese and biscuits, a sandwich or maybe beans on toast.
It wasn’t that what Devan had asked for was difficult. Jonty liked to cook, he’d often watched Marcus and Wayne working, and they’d shown him how to prepare a few dishes. Marcus was a wizard, but Jonty wasn’t supposed to use the kitchen. The cut-off time was there for a reason.
But Devan had asked and Jonty wanted to please him, to make him happy.Just as long as I haven’t poisoned him.He washed up, polished every surface he’d touched and provided no one noticed there was a chicken breast short—hmm—or that the wine bottle wasn’t as full as it had been—a bigger hmmmm—he might get away with it. The meal definitely wasn’t going on Devan’s bill, because admitting he’d cooked would mean trouble. If he lied and suggested it had been done before eleven, that would get him into worse trouble.
Hopefully, he’d get away with it.
IfDevan put the trolley back outside his room when he’d eaten, so Jonty could clear it away.
Ifhe didn’t complain the food tasted awful.
Ifhe didn’t notice that the wine wasn’t what he’d asked for.
Ifhe forgot that offer of a back rub.
Shit!This was a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe he ought to start searching for another job, just in case. But it was the wrong time of year, now that the tourists had mostly stopped coming. He was unskilled. All he could do was easy stuff. He sighed. He was overthinking as usual. Everything would be fine. Three days away would do him good. Three fewer days near Mr Temptation.
Before Jonty retreated to the room at the back of reception, he went through his security checks.
