by Bru Baker
“Oh, I doubt that will be necessary,” Mateus said. He shot Crawford a sultry look and winked. “I think Crawford will keep me plenty busy.”
Crawford coughed to cover a laugh and tugged on their still-joined hands. “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he said to Michelle over his shoulder as he led Mateus toward the elevators. “I’ll be missing breakfast tomorrow morning, Davis. I’m sure you understand. I’ll see you for the morning management meeting. If there are any last-minute things that have come up, just e-mail them to me.”
Mateus growled playfully. “Don’t, actually. No working on our wedding night.”
Crawford did laugh at that. “All right, then. I’m sure anything Davis has to tell me will keep till tomorrow anyway.”
He had no doubt he’d have several tersely worded e-mails in his inbox before they even got up to the room, but the teasing was worth it for the look on Davis’s face. He was absolutely livid but had to smile for appearances’ sake. It was a face Crawford was unfortunately well acquainted with, since Davis had worn it for most of the public functions they’d attended together for the last few months of their marriage.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the rest of the management knows to give you a wide berth tonight,” Davis said tightly.
Shit, he hadn’t thought of that. George would not take this news lightly, even though it wouldn’t impact Crawford’s ability to do his job at all. It wasn’t like Crawford could tell him he wasn’t actually on his honeymoon.
“He’s all yours tomorrow,” Mateus said as the gleaming brass doors opened. “But for now, say good night, Crawford,” he drawled.
“Good night,” Crawford said dutifully, letting Mateus pull him into the elevator car.
As soon as the doors closed, Crawford collapsed against him, both of them laughing hysterically. Crawford wouldn’t put it past Davis to pull the elevator camera footage and watch their ascent, but all he’d see was the two of them wrapped around each other, giggling. Which would probably do more to sell their marriage, in fact.
Crawford put his key card in the slot and hit the button for the top floor. The elevator started to move, and Crawford took a small step away, reclaiming some of his personal space.
“You’re scary good at pretending to be my adoring husband,” Crawford said when he’d gotten his breath back. “Appropriately territorial and all. That was amazing.”
“I didn’t have to pretend to hate him. He’s a jackass,” Mateus growled. “I wanted to punch him.”
“You aren’t alone in that. My brother actually did punch him at a party once.” It had been horrible at the time, and Crawford hadn’t spoken to Adam for two weeks afterward. Now he just wished he’d listened to his brother when Adam had warned him what an ass Davis was. And that Adam had hit him harder.
The elevator opened on an elaborately decorated marble foyer. It was like a miniature atrium, and the skylight overhead cast the entire room in a rosy glow. The sun would be setting soon, and Crawford bet the view from the suite’s terrace would be spectacular.
The crazy day caught up with him all at once, and Crawford nearly stumbled with the sudden slam of exhaustion. “Do you want to just have room service deliver dinner? Or did you have your heart set on going out and seeing some of Vancouver?”
Mateus had walked ahead into the room and was running his hand lightly over all the flat surfaces. The leather sofa looked buttery soft, and all the mahogany tables were so glossy they shone like mirrors. There was no harsh overhead lighting here like there would be in most of the rooms downstairs—the penthouse suite was lit by dozens of lamps, and they’d all been illuminated when they got off the elevator. Either someone had been up here before them—unlikely, given the last-minute nature of the reservation—or they were on some sort of timer. Crawford made a mental note to look into that. It was a nice touch, having them on when a guest came in, but lighting a room that was unoccupied was an expense the hotel definitely didn’t need.
It all felt ridiculously romantic, especially the way the city was beginning to light up in the twilight outside. Somehow this gigantic suite felt much more intimate than the car had, and Crawford figured they were in for an awkward evening—especially since he only saw one bed through the french doors into the sleeping area. The couches here were too fancy to be pullouts, and while they looked comfortable enough for lounging, neither of them were long enough to accommodate either of their lanky frames. He could call down to the desk for a rollaway bed or even insist on being moved to a room with two beds, but that would cause all kinds of talk among the staff. He’d already sparked enough gossip by showing up married—he couldn’t be an effective leader if everyone was tittering behind his back about how he and his new husband had spent their honeymoon night sleeping separately.
The elevator dinged before he could broach the delicate subject of their sleeping arrangements. The bellhop entered with their suitcases, along with someone from room service pushing a cart that had a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and a small but impressive three-tiered cake.
“Compliments of the management,” the man said as he pushed the cart in. “Congratulations on your marriage! Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do to make your honeymoon memorable.”
The bellhop took both suitcases into the bedroom area, then opened up the terrace doors for them. “In case you’d like to enjoy your champagne outside. The hot-tub controls are just inside the door,” he said with a wink. “There’s a smaller balcony in the bedroom that overlooks the courtyard. It’s not quite as private, but that view is lovely as well.”
Crawford wanted to cringe away in utter embarrassment, but instead he pulled out his wallet and tipped both men generously. They left after the bellhop explained how to set the elevator to Do Not Disturb, which Crawford did as soon as it closed behind them. He didn’t favor floors where the elevators opened up directly into a guest’s room for exactly that reason.
Mateus had pushed the cart out onto the open balcony and uncorked the champagne.
“It’s beautiful out here,” he said, pouring Crawford a glass. “I can’t believe this is ours for the night. Would it be terrible if I admitted I really want to get in the hot tub?”
He sounded too giddy to be making a pass, so Crawford let himself relax. He didn’t want Mateus to think he’d set any of this up to seduce him. He’d never take advantage of him like that. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy what had been given to them, he supposed.
“Let’s wait till it gets full-on dark. I bet the view is even better then.” He scooped a finger through the icing on the bottom tier of the cake. “I guess our wedding is official now. Cake and champagne. It’s the full package.”
“Don’t forget the rings,” Mateus said. He held up his hand and wiggled his ring finger. “I admit I took a lot of pleasure in rubbing it in Davis’s face earlier. I’m sorry if I made things more difficult for you in the long run.”
“You’ve already apologized, and I’ve told you it isn’t necessary. I honestly wasn’t sure it was possible to render Davis speechless, so I’m in your debt for that.” Even though Davis probably wouldn’t shut up about any of this for the rest of the trip. Still worth it, though. Just for those few moments where Davis had been completely taken aback.
Mateus took a long sip of his champagne and studied Crawford with a hard-to-read expression. Crawford tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. Professional life aside, it had been a long time since he’d actually cared what someone thought of him. He didn’t like the idea that Mateus might be examining him and finding him wanting in some way.
He swallowed his stolen frosting and coughed awkwardly. “So, dinner? We can get room service back up here pretty quickly, if that’s still what we want to do.”
Mateus wrinkled his nose. “Would it be awful if we ordered takeout instead? I’m thinking the room service food would be fancy, and I’m not in the mood for that.”
Odd words coming from a man drinking from a two
-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne. Crawford decided it was probably best not to share that detail with Mateus, even though the wine was comped to the room. Mateus had been tense anytime money had come up, and Crawford didn’t want to spoil the moment fighting about it.
“We’re not too far from Chinatown. I’m sure some place would deliver, or we could go out, walk around.” He’d been so tired on the way up, but the night air and the champagne had revived him. Add to that his desire to get out of their room for a bit. It was ridiculous, since it was just a name, but being in the honeymoon suite had made Crawford uncomfortably aware of their situation ever since they’d gotten off the elevator. They were probably the first married couple to stay there who’d just pledged not to have sex after making their marital vows.
Mateus tossed back the last of his champagne and put the flute on the cart. “Let’s do that. I’d like a walk. I’m—” He pursed his lips, and Crawford realized it was the face he made when he was searching for the right word. “—antsy is the word, maybe? Too much sitting. I like being more active.”
Crawford grinned. “My mom always called that squirrelly.”
Mateus lit up. “I love that. Squirrelly,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue in a way that made it sound absolutely delicious. “Squirrelly. Yes. Let’s take a walk, eh?”
Crawford could do with burning off some energy himself. He looked down at his rumpled suit. He’d have to send it out to the dry cleaners this week, which was something he’d planned to do anyway, since it was a good way to evaluate the hotel’s amenities. “Do you mind if I change first?”
Mateus waved his hand. “I’m in no hurry.” He poured himself another glass of champagne and wandered around the small terrace off the sitting room, poking at plants and looking out over the city.
Crawford hurried into the bedroom and shut the frosted french doors behind him. He leaned his head against them for a moment, enjoying the way the glass felt cool against his skin. He hadn’t really had a moment to himself since he’d left for the airport that morning, and he needed a little silence to digest everything that had happened.
He needed to call Adam and tell him about Mateus. And soon. He didn’t want to go into that meeting tomorrow morning without at least having the name of an immigration attorney in Vancouver who could help them if things didn’t just get rubber-stamped the way they hoped they would.
He slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed his brother, sandwiching the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could unpack at the same time. It took five rings for him to answer, and Crawford already had his jeans and a light sweater in his hand by the time he heard Adam’s voice.
“Let me guess,” Adam said, his tone light and full of teasing laughter. “You’ve already killed Davis, and you need me to recommend a lawyer who can get you off.”
Crawford chuckled darkly. “Well, you’re half-right.”
“Ah, seriously? You’ve already bludgeoned him to death? Was it his hair? His attitude sucks, but it was always that Justin Bieber hair that made me want to do him physical harm.”
“Davis is alive and well, unfortunately. But I do need the name of a good lawyer up here.”
Adam was quiet for a beat, and then the sound of his sigh carried across the phone. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
Chapter Eight
MATEUS dropped down onto the couch he’d spent last night sleeping on and rubbed a hand over his face. He’d slept poorly, both because of the uncomfortable position and because he’d been hyperaware of the fact that Crawford was sleeping in the bed that was only a few feet away.
It had been bearable, but only just. And even then only because he thought he’d be flying back to the States today, putting some much-needed distance between himself and Crawford. He wanted to climb the man like a tree, which would be a terrible way to repay him for the amazing favor he’d done for Mateus. The favors he continued to do for Mateus. Like now, letting him stay with him for the next two weeks, since the immigration office had made it clear that Mateus had to be with his new husband when he traveled back into the United States or risk being detained by Homeland Security.
The agent at the border had mentioned something similar, but Mateus had been too panicked to really listen. Neither he nor Crawford had, apparently, since that condition had come as a surprise to both of them. Once the conditions for Mateus’s entry into the US had been laid out, it made sense. Even with the marriage certificate, the border patrol would need to see that they were actually together. Mateus had never really thought about how couples proved their marriages were legitimate. He’d never really had to think about it, because he’d never planned to fake-marry someone to get a visa.
He shifted on the sofa and groaned. There was no way he was going to be able to spend the next two weeks on the couch. Even switching nights the way Crawford had suggested would be a major pain. And Crawford was so paranoid about the housekeeping staff finding out that they weren’t sleeping together. They’d had to remove all of the bedclothes and pillows from the couch before breakfast was delivered that morning.
Mateus was not a morning person. That was not going to stand. He couldn’t be folding sheets every day before he even had coffee.
Early morning paranoia aside, Crawford had been amazing. Which Mateus was beginning to think must be his default, because he’d been his knight in shining armor ever since they’d met a little less than twenty-four hours ago. Every time something unexpected and awful happened, Crawford was there to smooth it over and come up with a solution that sounded perfectly reasonable in the moment. Like getting married to keep Mateus from getting deported. Like inviting Mateus to stay with him in his fancy hotel because the immigration office was closed for the night, and then joining him for Chinese food before staying up late eating cake and drinking flat champagne out on the terrace even though they had to be up early the next morning. He’d been totally cool and collected through everything, aside from his tendency to bite his bottom lip when he was nervous. As tells go, it was an obvious one, but since his lips were so delectable anyway, it came off as attractive. Everything about him was adorable, even his nervous tics.
Which brought them to the latest rescue. He’d chewed the hell out of his lip while absorbing the news that he was stuck with Mateus for the rest of his trip, since Mateus couldn’t get back into the United States without him. If things kept going at this rate, Crawford’s lip would be a bloody mess by the end of his business trip, and Mateus couldn’t have that. He’d have to figure out a way to ease the tension. They hadn’t had time for much discussion after the immigration officer had dropped that particular bit of news on them, since Crawford had been rushing to get to a morning meeting with Davis and the hotel management staff. He’d even had room service send lunch up when the meeting went long and he had to miss their promised lunch date.
Not that it had been a date. Though Mateus very much wished it had been. Could you date your husband? He huffed out a laugh and burrowed deeper into the couch. Maybe he’d nap. And when he woke up, he’d be back at the orchard in the sunny yellow guest room Bree had painted herself. The room that would make a perfect nursery, if only Mateus wasn’t currently living in it.
He just seemed to put people out no matter where he was.
Mateus sighed and made himself get up. He could wallow in self-pity, or he could make the most of things. He took a quick inventory. He was legally married to a gorgeous man—who had made it abundantly clear he didn’t want to have any sort of physical relationship with Mateus. But it was for a noble reason, however misguided. Maybe with enough time, Mateus could convince him that it wouldn’t be taking advantage of anything for the two of them to give in to their obvious mutual attraction. And maybe it could lead to something more.
God. What was this, a Disney movie? Of course it wouldn’t lead to anything more. The situation was already ridiculous and extraordinary on its own. And fairy tales, the real ones, usually ended up with dead mermaids and
stepsisters who cut off their own toes. Not forest creatures cleaning houses and kisses from Prince Charming.
Mateus needed to take care of practicalities before he let himself freak out over the situation he was in. For one, he was out of clean clothes. There was a boutique downstairs, but it looked so high-end he probably couldn’t even afford a pair of briefs there. So he’d have to venture out and find a mall or something. A Walmart or Target would be even better, but he didn’t like his chances of facing off against Davis again wearing a three-dollar T-shirt. He wasn’t going to be an embarrassment for Crawford, which meant he’d have to find a way to swing some decent clothes.
Crawford had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t have to worry about the cost of the hotel room or food while he was there since it was Crawford’s fault they were stuck in Vancouver for the next however long. That wasn’t the view Mateus took of it, but he appreciated the generosity. So at least he didn’t have to worry about meals, though he was determined to pay Crawford back for all this someday. Probably some someday far in the future, but Mateus wasn’t going to let the kindness go unpaid.
Duarte had offered to send him some money when they’d spoken last night, but he and Bree couldn’t afford that, and Mateus didn’t want to stretch their already thin budget any further. Maybe he could have them ship some clothes to him, though. He’d brought all of his clothes with him when he’d come to the States three months ago. He still had furniture and other things in storage in Lisbon, but he’d known even then that it was unlikely he’d be returning home at the end of his three-month visa. He just hadn’t imagined how many hoops he’d have to jump through to make that happen.
Convincing Duarte he hadn’t been kidnapped by a psychotic Canadian who wanted to harvest his organs had been difficult. He’d told his brother that his visa had been reset as soon as he’d entered Canada and that he’d met someone interesting on the plane and decided to stay in Vancouver with him for a bit to blow off some steam. Duarte had been suspicious, but after Mateus had promised to check in at least once a day, he’d loosened up and sounded so happy Mateus was having fun that Mateus had been eaten up by guilt after he’d hung up. He hated lying to Duarte and Bree, but if he told them the truth, they’d insist on getting involved, and they definitely couldn’t afford an immigration lawyer. The barn needed a new roof, and that was the priority right now. That and the baby.
