Page 33 of The Summer Intern

“Shhh.”I patted the wall.“We’re bonding.”

Matt grabbed my shoulder and tried steering me inside.I went boneless, sliding down the exterior until my butt hit the flagstone path, my cheek squeaking down the glass.

“C’mon, birthday boy.”He hooked his hands under my armpits.“Upstairs loft’s got a view of the valley.”

“Why?”I blinked up at him.The porch light haloed his man bun.“Why’d you bring me here?”

His throat moved.“I may have promised Oliver I wouldn’t let you near any more booze.”

The world tilted as he hoisted me up into his arms.I kicked halfheartedly.“Put me down, you lumberjack fuck!”

“Say please.”

“Fuck y—”

His hand came down hard on my ass.Heat bloomed through my jeans.“Language.”

I froze.“Did you just…spank me?”

“Did you just… get hard from it?”

“Shut up.”The front door opened to reveal a minimalist space—compact kitchenette, fold-down desk, and a ladder leading to a sleeping platform.Everything smelled like cedar and the musk of Matt’s shampoo.He dumped me onto a couch upholstered in what felt like recycled sailcloth.

“You’ve got a kink,” I accused, flopping onto my back.“Big gruff mountain man needs someone to boss around.”

Matt tossed a fleece blanket over my legs.“And you need someone to stop you from licking strangers’ margarita glasses.”

“Says the guy with a Prince Albert and no plans for my birthday.”

“Casey.”Matt cuddled me close and started to say something more, but I didn’t hear it because I curled up in his lap and started snoring.

fourteen

Matt

ThefirstthingIregistered was the wrongness of cold sheets where there should’ve been warmth.Casey wasn’t with me, and he should have been.My hand slapped across the mattress as I blinked awake.The soft sheets were still rumpled from his body, but there was no Casey-shaped dent, just the faintest imprint of his head on my pillowcase.Where had he gone?

Shit, had he gone outside?He’d never been to my place before, and he certainly didn’t know the way back to camp.

“Fuck.”

I shot upright, bare feet hitting cold pine floors.Last night’s memories hit me like a rogue kayak paddle—Casey swaying drunk against my truck, giggling about my cock piercing as I half-carried him up the loft ladder.I’d sat guard until late at night, just watching the flutter of his eyelashes, making sure he was okay, worried he might throw up.Or worse.

I was grabbing my shoes and phone when a metallic clang echoed from below.Peering over the loft railing, I spotted lavender hair, and relief surged through me.

There he stood bathed in the early morning glow from the window, wearing nothing but my oversized Camp Eagle Ridge hoodie—the hem barely grazing mid-thigh as he poured himself a glass of water.His hair was damp, and I suspected he’d helped himself to my shower, too.

I wanted to kiss him.I wanted to bend him over that goddamn counter and make him forget the bartender he’d been flirting with last night.Fucking Kyle.

Leaning over my nightstand, I found a mint in the drawer, just in case he wanted that, too.My relief curdled into fresh panic as he crouched, pastel bowl-cut bobbing while he opened the refrigerator door.

“Don’t—”

Too late.His gasp pierced the quiet as he pulled out the triple-layer monstrosity taking up my entire bottom shelf.Buttercream script glinted under the LED lights: HAPPY 21ST CASEY.

“Um.”Casey tilted the cake, frowning down at the letters.“You having a party I wasn’t invited to?With my name on the cake.”

I took the stairs two at a time, nearly eating shit when my sweatpants caught on the handrail bolt.“It was on clearance!”

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