Page 9 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
Shut up, Tay.
He’s your type.
Well, physically he might be.
Heisyour type.
Fine.
But was it true? Jonty didn’t need another guy with issues. Jonty had a thing about issues, because he had too many of his own.
The biggest issue is he might be straight.
Tay was right. Jonty smiled.
When he spotted Sally-Anne had arrived and taken up position behind the reception desk, he headed her way.
“Morning, Sally-Anne. You look lovely today. Great dress.”
“Morning, Jonty. This old thing?”
“You bought it last week.”
She laughed. “Do you remember everything?”
“It’s a curse.” He leaned over the desk. “There’s a grouchy early arrival drinking coffee in the lounge. I’m going to go up and find out when the Madisons intend to leave Wave.”
“We’re not supposed to do that. Vincent will be pissed off if he finds out.”
“I’ll be subtle.”
She snorted. “Do you know what that word means?”
“Delicately indirect.”
“How can anyone expect to be able to check in this early?” she whispered. “No one turns up first thing in the morning and thinks their room will be available. That never happens.”
“Poor Mr Grumpy’s tired after a long journey. He’s staring at his coffee as if he thinks I pissed in it.”
When she raised her eyebrows, he sighed. “I didn’t piss in it.”
“Right.” She raised her eyebrows again.
What?Jonty leaned over to get his Flake, stuffed it in his mouth, and when he turned, he saw the guy standing at the entrance to the lounge.God, not again. Shit, did he hear what I said?Sally-Anne had tried to warn him.
“Sugar,” the man said.
Jonty took the chocolate out of his mouth and pointed to his name badge. “Jonty Bloom. We’d need to be much better acquainted if you want to call me Sugar.”Fuck, did I actually say that?
Dipstick!
Sally-Anne coughed. Hard.
“I’ll get you some sugar, sir,” she said and Jonty fled, but not before he saw a glimmer of a smile on the guy’s lips.
Thank God for that. Unless Mr Impossible was imagining him losing his job.
Chapter Three
