Page 102 of So I'll Know
I pull Peter to the curb and lock him up before walking to the pub. Just as I open the door, Marcus’s large hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me into the building.
“What the hell, big guy?” I say with a laugh. But he cuts me off when he slings me against the wall and kisses me breathless. I bring my hands up, running my fingers through his hair. Our mouths move together, the kiss becoming sloppy, and Marcus ruts his jeans-clad cock against mine, causing me to whimper loudly. Finally, he pulls away, panting hard.
“Sorry,” he mutters against my lips. “I just needed to do that before we have to be professional all day.”
“Perfect,” I whisper. “I’ve always wanted to do a walk-through with fucking blue balls.” I tuck my aching cock into mywaistband just as Tristan ambles down the stairs with a clipboard.
He looks up and raises an eyebrow. “If you guys are about to fuck, you’d better make it quick because the photographer is going to be early.”
Marcus flushes bright red, and he scowls at Tris. “Can we just get this over with?”
Tris goes to work with his checklist. We peruse the entire space, from the dining room to the kitchen to the bathrooms, making note of any last-minute details that we need to take care of.
I adjust some of the art and rearrange a few items on the fireplace mantle, fussing over the aesthetic.
“Your attention to detail is sexy,” Marcus whispers as he sidles up to me, his hand brushing the small of my back. He nods to a space at the end of the mantle. “But you missed a spot.”
I shake my head with a secretive smirk. “That piece hasn’t come in yet.”
“Yeah? Color me intrigued.”
Tristan drops his clipboard onto the bar with a loud clatter and looks over at us brightly. “That’s it then, right? We’re done?”
Marcus nods thoughtfully. “Other than hiring some waitstaff and a few others . . .”
While Marcus and Tris start discussing résumés, I wander over to the big window. The wind picked up this afternoon, promising a winter storm, and Elliott Bay is a turbulent gray, white caps dotting the roiling surface.
TheSeattle Timesphotographer, a lovely man with a mustache named Arthur, arrives and has a blast snapping pictures of Marcus and Tristan and the pub’s interior.
“This is such a warm space,” he gushes, his fingers sliding over the wavy patterns on one of the tabletops. “It has thecharm of a swanky restaurant with the feel of a homey sports bar. Truly, well done.”
Marcus smiles widely. “That’s all Jeremy. He’s very talented.”
“I’ll say,” Arthur says, gazing around before his eyes come to me. “Do you work for a design firm?”
“Oh no,” I say, flushing under his scrutiny. “I’m freelancing until I can open my own firm.”
Arthur’s eyes light up. “I also photograph forGRAY Magazine. Have you heard of them? I think you’d make a great feature as an up-and-coming designer.”
A spark of excitement races through my stomach. “Really?”
“Of course. Give me your contact information, and I’ll show the editor these photos and introduce you.”
With the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, I scramble over to my messenger bag and pull out a business card, almost dropping it in my eagerness to hand it over. He gives me a nod and a kind smile, then turns back to Marcus, who looks so fucking proud, and Ipreen.
“Will your brother be around soon?” Arthur asks, pocketing the card. “I’d like a photo of the both of you. I can come by again.”
Marcus is still staring at me, his expression so affectionate that it’s making my blood sing. Tris rolls his eyes and elbows him, and Marcus looks over at Arthur apologetically. “Huh? Oh, yes, of course. He has his hands full running our location in Vancouver, but I’m sure he can carve out some time.”
“Perfect! Then, I’ll be in touch. It was so nice to meet all of you.”
When Arthur is out the door, Tris starts to gather his belongings. “I’d stay for a drink, but my gran needs a ride home from strip poker night.”
“That’s okay, Tris.” Marcus gives me a hungry look. “Jeremy and I have plans.”
“We do?”
“We definitely do.”
