“I’m game,” Wylde said.
“If you think we’re the right hosts for him, then we’d be happy to see to his needs,” I replied.
“Thank you; that’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say,” Derek replied, passing me the folder.
A busy man, and highly respected Dom, he was never one to mince words. I’d known that when I’d come to work for him at the Ranch as a sort of jack of all trades. He knew me and Wylde’s history and had questioned me at length about my intentions when I’d asked for Wylde to join me after a train wreck of a bull ride had left him nursing an injured shoulder and busted-up ribs. At the time, I’d described our relationship as being under repair, and in some ways it still was. But we’d more than proven how well we could work together to either help erect a temporary dance platform for one of the Littles’ events or to take down a needy sub and ensure they received everything they asked for in a scene.
We left him to whatever was next on his schedule, Wylde whistling “Hakuna Matata” as soon as we left the office, still with that golden retriever energy I’d fallen in love with two decades ago.
Chapter Two
Wylde
“If you glare at me any harder, your face is going to crack.” I knew I was poking the bear, giving Thorin shit when he’d already gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, but I was reckless that way.
“I don’t need snark out of you this morning.”
“So, what do you need?”
“For us to finish our assignment so we can get the cabin in order, or have you forgotten that we’re welcoming a guest in the morning?”
“If we make the cabin too perfect, we fuck up the fantasy,” I pointed out, or at least tried to.
I could tell it didn’t land with the lightheartedness I’d intended when he narrowed his eyes and stood, lifting one of the heavy beams we needed, forcing me to hurry and pick up my end before he decided to drag it into position all on his own.
“We are not welcoming a guest while it looks like two unruly bachelors live here. We should have finished setting it up as soon as Derek gave us the assignment.”
“Thor, I hate to break it to you, but two unruly, uber competitive bachelorsdotemporarily live here and I am morethan ninety-five percent positive that’s one of the reasons we were chosen to carry out this fantasy in the first place. Because it wouldn’t be acting for us,” I reasoned. “We got everything we needed moved in. The fact that it isn’t all organized or put away adds to the level of realism.”
Wow, this was a switch; he was usually the reasonable one, and I was more the act first, beg forgiveness later type. Snorting, he just grunted and finished setting the beam where we needed it to go. Interpreting the impressive array of noises Thorin used in place of words had been a lifelong challenge. Grunts were as much concessions as they were sarcasm and amusement. Silence that followed grunts, however, usually meant victory.
“See, you know I’m right,” I said, wagging my eyebrows at him.
Yes, I was poking again, or at least prodding, but I was hoping for confirmation and a chance to tell him about the idea I had for when Payne arrived tomorrow. Payne Pettigrew. Our soon-to-be sub’s name rolled easily off my tongue when I’d tested it out. Cartoonist, cosplayer, he longed to slip into different characters while he cooked, cleaned and took care of the house for us, and he’d specifically requested Dominants who understood the nuances of improv and roleplaying and would happily play along.
“Just grab the other beam,” Thor grumbled.
Oh yeah, he knew.
Silence followed, several heartbeats long while Thor huffed and muttered beneath his breath.
I smelled victory but knew better than to gloat too soon.
“At the very least, help me get the kitchen in order,” Thor muttered as we moved the second beam.
There was a cool breeze blowing off the pond, so I took my shirt off and draped it over the top of the UTV before hurrying to help him carry the bench swing over.
“Surprised you bother to put a shirt on in the morning,” he muttered as we moved it. “Since it never stays on you long.”
“Just because you want to change the subject doesn’t mean you have to pick on my clothes.”
“I’m not picking on them,” he replied. “If anything, I’m defending them. It’s hardly fair for you to take them out of the closet and then discard them the moment you step out into the sun.”
“It was hardly the moment I stepped outside,” I replied. “We’ve been out here at least twenty minutes.”
“Wow, twenty whole minutes; that might be a record.”
“Alright, what’s got your tail in a twist?” I asked. “I thought you were, well, I won’t say ecstatic about taking part in this little fantasy, but you seemed to be fully on board.”