Page 13

Finn

M y head is spinning. Being the bearer of this awful information is almost more than I can handle.

When I arrive back at the lodge, Doris rushes from the kitchen carrying a spoonful of fresh chowder she wants me to taste.

Her bright smile, wide expectant eyes, and a giddiness I can feel send a sense of dread to the pit of my gut.

How the hell can I tell these wonderful people their entire lives and livelihood will soon be crumbling around them? And yet, how can I not tell them? Fighting back tears, I sip the offering from the spoon.

“Oh, Doris,” I say. “You’ve outdone yourself. Delicious.”

She squeals with delight and rushes back into the kitchen. I smile at her enthusiasm and pure joy at what she does. Doris is a true chef in every sense of the word. I bet we could be down to a stale loaf of bread, an onion, and leftovers from the night before and she’d make us a royal feast.

Anyway, I decide there’s no point in dwelling on it tonight.

There’s absolutely nothing I can do right this second to change anything and there’s no sense in ruining my evening.

One thing I plan to do is down a bottle of wine and enjoy whatever else Doris cooks up for all of us at dinner.

Looking around the empty lobby and sitting area near the main fireplace, I start thinking about the guests and Wyatt.

Hopefully, they’re having an awesome time fishing and will make it back for dinner.

I could use the company tonight. Plus, Wyatt is easy on the eyes.

His dark beard, perfect smile, and kind eyes could easily send me under the table to do naughty things if I’m not careful—especially with a bottle of wine on board.

Not to mention, what better way to salvage an evening than hot sex with no strings attached?

Stop . I can’t think that way. I force myself to chill out a bit as I walk to my bedroom.

I need to unload these documents, secure them somewhere Miranda won’t accidentally come across them while cleaning, and get ready for dinner.

While I don’t expect to come up with the money needed to save the place, part of me feels that miracles still happen.

And if a miracle happens, I can’t have my right-hand man’s dick all the way down my throat now, can I? Or can I?

Laughing off my train of thought, I close the bedroom door behind me and open the top drawer to my nightstand.

Here is as good a place as any. Miranda wouldn’t go through my personal things, so I put the documents inside and close the drawer.

Lying on my back, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to pack up all my things and leave this place.

While I haven’t been here long, I’ve grown attached to everyone, and after reading some of my father’s journal entries, I’m starting to really feel at home here.

Stop moping and get up . The clock next to my bed reads seven o’clock which means I have less than an hour to get my ass out to the dining area.

I want to sit near the fireplace and not miss any of the courses Doris has prepared this evening.

Sitting up, I pull off my shirt. The coolness of the room makes my nipples instantly hard and the fabric tickles as it slides over them.

Quickly doing the math in my head, I calculate the possibility of rubbing one out and then showering before dinner.

I sigh, there isn’t time. So, all horned up and desperate to get my rocks off, I jump in the shower, wash up, and change my clothes. There are ten minutes to spare by the time I reach the dining room and sit down for dinner.

Ten minutes, I could have made it happen. Oh, well. There’s plenty of time once I get back to the room after dinner. My hard dick isn’t going anywhere.

Kandy Cane has begun playing the piano. Just outside the dining room, the baby grand is situated so the music floats softly through the entire expanse of both rooms, without overpowering the dining area.

I don’t know when Kandy arrived, but she always makes the atmosphere of the place even more enjoyable.

I close my eyes and listen to her play a wide variety of music ranging from classical to instrumental modern hits.

The front door suddenly opens and a gust of wind rushes inside. I open my eyes to see Wyatt standing in the doorway, holding it open for our guests. Once inside, he closes the door. Jake and Rebecca walk past me and smile on their way to their rooms to get changed for dinner.

Is Jake wet?

“I’ll be right out,” Wyatt says as he hangs up his coat and then hurries toward his room.

Doris emerges from the kitchen and asks, “Do you want to start with a drink? Wine? Soda?”

I smile. “It’s a wine kind of night, I think. What do you suggest for me? Since you know what we’re having for dinner.”

“I know just the thing,” she says.

A few minutes later she emerges with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She places one in front of me and one for Wyatt when he returns. Looks like I won’t be getting the entire bottle after all, but there’s nothing that says I can’t have a second.

“Oh good,” Wyatt says as he approaches the small two-person table and then sits across from me. “I could use something to drink.”

“You’re both in luck,” Doris says as she pours the bottle. “Dinner is ready and it’s even better than I had hoped for, if I do say so myself.”

Wyatt and I grin at each other, truly hungry.

“How was the fishing expedition?” I ask.

He waits to answer until after Doris has finished placing the bowls of soup in front of us and retreated to the kitchen.

“Other than Jake almost drowning, it went great.”

“What?” I choke.

Wyatt samples the hot soup and then puts the spoon down. “Damn, this is good.”

Tell me what happened , I want to scream.

He leans closer to me and in a soft voice says, “Jake fell in the fucking creek.”

“How?”

“Beats me. One second I’m watching with Rebecca at the quads and Jake was retrieving the fish they’d caught and then next thing I realize he’s being swept downstream.”

“Well, that explains why he was wet when he came back.”

Wyatt laughs. “Me too.”

It’s my turn to put the spoon down. “You fell in too?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not an idiot. I jumped in.”

I can barely contain my laughter. Putting my hand over my mouth, I even try to hold it in manually.

“Go on and laugh,” Wyatt says with a smile. “That water was so cold, my penis nearly shriveled up to nothing.”

Suddenly, the image of his well-hung cock from the other day flashes in my mind. Somehow, he seems to know it too. The twinkle in his eyes seems to suggest he likes me thinking about it too. Straight guys these days always seem to like to be watched, ogled even—just not touched.

“I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just that you caught me off guard when you said you jumped into the freezing water.”

“It was the only way to save him. He was a goner. Seriously, how we both made it out unscathed is beyond me.” Wyatt looks up and waves.

Rebecca and Jake have taken a table on the opposite side of the dining area, no doubt wanting some alone time, but Jake waves and smiles at his newfound hero, Wyatt.

“He seems very appreciative of you,” I say. “Well done.”

He pretends to tip a hat in my direction.

We both fall into silence as we finish our soup.

It isn’t long before we’ve annihilated the bottle of wine and are well into our second.

Doris has truly outdone herself with dinner, the fresh-baked rolls and chowder, with beef stroganoff, and salad, are all to die for.

Everything is made from scratch and perfectly done.

I sit back against the chair, placing a hand on my belly.

Wyatt’s eyes follow my hand and don’t leave me.

My chest and stomach grow hot under his gaze.

Is that need in his eyes? Lust? I clear my throat, which breaks the spell he’s under and he looks away.

I pour myself another glass of wine and take a sip.

It’s my turn to stare. I imagine unbuttoning Wyatt’s shirt, exposing his nipples and hairy chest. My belly tingles as I imagine running my fingers through his beard, lowering my lips to his.

What does he taste like? How does his neck smell?

The crotch of my pants grows snug as my imagination runs wild.

The thrust of Wyatt’s hips as I sit on his lap, pushing his barely contained cock against my tight ass.

I want to touch myself but can’t. Not here. Not in front of him.

Our eyes meet, but our mouths remain silent.

My heart beats wildly in my chest, the whooshing muffling out the sound around me.

Can I stand up, straddle him, and tear his shirt open with my teeth?

Would he protest when I lick his nipple into my mouth, the tip of my tongue swirling around the hard, sensitive tip?

What would our guests think if I crawled under the table and unzipped his pants and shoved his hard cock down my throat, sliding my wet hand up and down his shaft until he bursts inside my mouth?

Would Doris mind if she knew how much I want to feel his warm body pressed against mine, hot and slick with our sweat, and need for release?

Again, I focus on Wyatt’s eyes. His gaze hasn’t left mine since my fantasies began. I’ve seen that look before, but never in someone who was straight, unavailable. Doris breaks the tension as she walks up to the table. “Save room for dessert?”

“No, thank you,” Wyatt and I both say in unison and then chuckle.

“I’ll wrap up some of the pie and keep it in the fridge for you guys in case you get hungry in the middle of the night.”

“You’re the best,” I say.

She turns and leaves, hurrying to the other guests to get their dessert orders.

I sit up and lean my elbows on the table. “Dinner was fabulous.” I reach over and pat Wyatt’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m so thankful you are okay after that near disaster at the creek.”