Victoria’s Secret Wish(77)
“Yep. We’ll be down Friday. His dad’s supposed to have him at your place that afternoon.”
Carmyn smiled, waved, and then her camera disconnected.
“All done with your walk-through?” Victoria rubbed her palm along Britt’s cheek as he nuzzled her neck.
“I cut it a bit short. Thought I’d better come make sure you weren’t alerting the press about David’s cruise transgressions, to teach him a lesson.”
“Just because I’m irritable doesn’t mean I’m vindictive. Jeez.”
Britt slid his hands inside her blouse. “Maybe we should take a vacation. I’m not feeling the work vibe much.”
“How about we take a long lunch?” She turned and took his lips with hers. She’d make sure Britt didn’t feel bad if he’d overheard anything he shouldn’t have.
“Mm.” He pinched a nipple and pulled back. “Sounds fine. Let me jot a quick reply to a couple emails and we’ll be on our way.” He settled at his desk and opened his laptop.
Might as well check her own messages while she waited on him. One new item in her Inbox, from… “Britt? I’ve got an email from David.”
* * * *
Brett stood behind Vic’s chair and read the email on her screen:
Dear Vic,
I’m hoping this message goes directly to you, and not some assistant.
I booked a 5 PM flight to Salt Lake City for me and Griffin–you know, the one who outed your blogger?–to come up to Fantasy Mountain, if possible. He’s interested in discussing a job.
I’d really like to see you and Britt. There are things I need to say. In person. I’m sorry for being such an asshat yesterday.
You said before that you’d get me a lift to your place if I wanted. Does that offer still stand? Please let me know by email, or call me back at the number below.
David.
“You can tell him no if you’d like, love.” He massaged her shoulders, now stiff beneath his fingers.
She melted back against him and let out a little puff of air. “That would be dumb. We could really use Griffin around here.”
And just like that, Vic would avoid the topic of David altogether. Perhaps best to play along, see where it all would go. “Shouldn’t have trouble finding them an empty room to stay in, yeah? At least not until tomorrow night.”
Vic covered his hands with hers. “By tomorrow night, Griffin will be home, giving his two weeks’ notice.” She chewed her cheek and nuzzled against his arm. “You wanta set things up with Gil and reply back? I’m gonna run home and defrost the freezer.”
* * * *
“That’s our chopper.” David shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot.
Griffin wasn’t quite as excited or nervous about this trip as David, but he couldn’t help being a little curious about the resort. The side of the vehicle landing read FM1, in bold orange letters. Engine quieted, blades slowed, then stopped. Pilot stepped out and sauntered toward the building where they stood.
“Fuck my life,” Griffin muttered. No. It could not be.
“What’s your problem?” David shoulder-bumped him.
“The pilot?” His voice raised to a squeak.
“You the guys I’m taking up to Fantasy Mountain?” The pilot pulled off his shades and tucked them into his t-shirt pocket. His brows raised and his mouth opened a little. “Give me just a minute for a pitstop, then I’ll be ready.”
Oh, hell. Some things just didn’t go away.
“Gil’s his name,” David said when the pilot had gone into the restroom. “Lots of talk about him on the cruise. For a while there, he was a suspect in the Great Blogging Mystery.”
“Yeah?” A cold sweat had broken out across his face and the back of his neck. The guy was his worst nightmare, come back to haunt him.
“Yep. Seems he’s got sort of a hard-on for Vic.”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t seem to get much else out.
“Mm-hmm. But Vic swears he’s gay, so…who knows.”
“I’d put my money on gay.”
“What’s your deal, man? You’re all white and your forehead’s covered in sweat. Got a fever? You’re not getting sick, are ya? Don’t even think about pussing out of this interview.”
“Dude. I cannot take this job.”
“Why? What the hell?”
“Remember I told you about the guy who came behind the bar that first day?”
“Yeah. So?”
Griffin had to sit down before he embarrassed himself by getting wobbly. “It was him.” Back to the squeak-toy voice.
“Come again?” David followed suit and sat, too.