He skipped the room-service menu and turned on the coffee maker. Did he really charge those drinks to his corporate account?
At least, unlike Chuck, Fiona and Parker were good company.
Images of the round of kisses they shared flooded back, searing his skin and blanketing his nagging headache. He smiled. Definitely worth it. He wouldn’t mind seeing them again. Parker said something about videos. What were the odds Wyatt could find him on YouTube?
Probably about one in a billion. It would be more entertaining that local news and early-morning television, though. He opened his laptop and pulled up the site in question. He typed Parker, then paused. This was ridiculous. He hit Enter. Only four million results. Was that all?
He leaned back and scrubbed his face. Yup. Absolutely ridiculous.
He straightened up again, to close the browser, and his gaze landed on a familiar face, three videos down. Parker Travels was the name of the channel. Not the most original title, but the guy had over two million subscribers. Whatever the hell he was doing, it was working. And the most recent upload was from early this morning.
The scent of brewing coffee filled the room, and the drip sputtered into the pot. Wyatt clicked Play. An ad for the latest mobile phone ran, and he let it finish. Might as well let this guy get his monetization. He grabbed a paper cup from the short stack, filled it with coffee, and added a generous amount of sugar.
“All right guys—I think I screwed up, but maybe not.” A tinny version of Parker’s voice filtered through Wyatt’s speakers.
Wyatt settled back into his chair to watch, drink in hand. Parker’s face was illuminated by the screen he sat in front of, that cast the room behind him in shadows that reflected those under his eyes. Lines creased his forehead, and a day’s worth of scruff darkened his chin. Wyatt lingered on the memory of the rough burn that five-o-clock shadow left behind.
“Fiona said she’s going with me, but she was drunk. But she was lucid. But” — Parker raked his fingers through his hair—“I should back up.”
Wyatt didn’t usually care for this kind of thing. He didn’t understand the appeal of an under-produced piece of footage, especially someone narrating to the camera with nothing else going on. Parker had a captivating kind of honest charisma, though. Wyatt would wonder if it was clever editing, but the guy had the same thing in real life.
“So here’s the deal,” Parker said. “I’m doing the contest, and I’m going big. I have a sponsor, signed, sealed, delivered. Never expected to snag one out of the gates, but we drew up the paperwork yesterday, and you guys are going to love it. Grammie’s Pastries are letting me be their face for at least the next month. Longer, if y’all keep voting me from round to round. We just have to use this app Fiona and her brother wrote to schedule some deliveries.”
Wyatt didn’t hear the rest. The words sponsor and Grammie’s Pastries were stuck on a loop in his head. He opened a new tab, and searched for Nicholas Walters. The first result was the same app developer he discovered the other day. The one Grammie’s said was his competition.
This time, Wyatt clicked over to their website. It was clean, attractive, and tiny. He navigated to the About Us page.
Nick and Fiona are a dynamic sibling team who want to share their enjoyment of—
Wyatt closed all the tabs in his browser and shut his laptop. A stunt like this, some charming-as-fuck YouTuber delivering cookies in person and telling the world about it for the cost of room and board? That was the kind of gimmick Grammie’s would get behind, and if it went well, it would destroy Wyatt’s chance at the contract.
He could fix things. Make this work in his favor.
He’d wanted to see Parker and Fiona again, and if they were hitting up cities Grammie’s was in, he had a built-in excuse to travel to wherever they were.
Every company wanted to jump on board with the latest social media gimmick, but very few wanted to be associated with anything less than family friendly. All it would take to send this potential deal into a tail spin was footage of something like what the three of them got up to last night, making it into Parker’s feed.
It was time for Wyatt to ensure he landed this contract.
Chapter Six
Fiona glanced at the guest bedroom door on her way to take a shower. Closed. An odd concoction of relief and disappointment mingled inside. Traces of last night lingered in her head, both the memories and the nagging ache of having drunk too much.
She had fun, and looking back, there were no regrets. She drew a finger over her lips, sinking into the memory of Parker’s kiss. It wasn’t the first time they’d done that, but she’d forgotten how intense it was. The rush that flowed between them... The way he made her feel like the only person in the universe with such a simple gesture...
Fiona shook the thought aside and let Wyatt glide in to take its place. He was dark to Parker’s bright. Consuming, engulfing, and drawing her into a pocket of intensity she never wanted to emerge from.
The overlapping images danced along her skin, tightening in her nipples and making her grateful her vibrator had fresh batteries.
She forced the loose thought away and pushed herself through the motions of getting ready for another day in the office. An hour later, she gave Parker’s closed door one more look before heading to work.
As she walked into the hallway, she heard a latch and Parker’s, “Fiona, wait.”
She locked the front door behind her. She hated to pretend she hadn’t heard him, but if she stayed, he’d want to know if she felt the same as last night. She wasn’t sure if she could walk into this Grammie’s-live-streaming thing with him, but if she’d stayed around and talked to him, she’d say yes before she figured it out.
One thing was for certain—she wasn’t ready to dive into that kind of life the way Parker had, even if she went with him. He’d been running since Gretchen passed away. Always looking for the next way to escape. To hide. To pretend that part of their past didn’t exist.
At least Fiona had dealt with it.
She walked into the parking garage under the building and paused in front of her empty spot. Crap. She’d forgotten she left her car behind last night.
At least the busses were running now, and thanks to Parker, she knew which one would get her to the office fastest. She’d have Nick take her to pick up her car at lunch or something.
When she strolled into the office a short while later, the room was immersed in an eerie symphony of different keyboards being used by people who typed at different speeds.
Nick glanced up when she took her seat, a tiny smile playing on his face.
What was that about? She tried to ignore it, and set up her workstation for the day. The moment she was online, her messenger pinged.
How was the celebration? Nick asked.
Amazing. Terrifying. Hotter than she thought was possible, between that stranger and Parker. She shoved the last thought aside, to revisit it later when she was alone. It was fun.
I didn’t think you wanted to go with Parker.
She stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. Who else would I celebrate with? It’s his news.
I meant on his trip.
Fuck. Even after promising he’d wait for a real answer until she was sober, Parker had run his mouth to Nick. She stood with a huff. “Did he call you before I got here? Because—”
Every head in the room turned a glare on her, and heat flooded her face. She sank back into her seat and ducked her head, wishing she could disappear behind her monitor.
He didn’t call me. Nick’s reply was followed by a YouTube link.
Fiona made sure her earbuds were plugged in and clicked Play.
She watched as Parker told the camera—and five hundred thousand of his closest friends, according to the page views—that she’d said Yes to going with him.
It’s not set in stone. She resisted the urge to send the message in all caps. No reason to yell at Nick over this.
It is now. Grammie’s
has seen it, and they love it. You’re part of the contract, or they’re pulling it.
Jaw clenched, she stomped to her feet again and met Nick’s gaze. He shrugged. She nodded toward one of the sound proof offices at the edge of the room.
“Before you say anything,” Nick said the moment the door was closed, “it’s just for a month initially. You’ll still be on salary. You auto-pay everything, so your bills and your rent will be covered, and I’ll watch your apartment.”
She stalled on a retort. That was what she wanted, right? She was free to go. So why was she hesitating?
“I know, you think staying is the responsible thing to do, but I’ve got you covered. If this goes well, it’ll be huge for us. And I know you want to do it. Go, Red. Take off, keep Parker company for the next four weeks, and enjoy the fuck out of seeing the world on someone else’s dime.”
With her excuses gone, and his support and permission taking their place, her earlier fear came back. What if this was a bad idea? It was safe here. Familiar. Comfortable.
“Take the day off,” Nick said. “Go tell Parker you’re going. Figure out what you need to do on that front. For the rest of the week, we’ll make sure everything is under control in the office.”
“You make it sound so easy.” She found her voice.
“It is.”
“I’m going to need a ride to my car.”
Nick opened the door. “Sure.”
As they headed toward the parking lot, excitement bubbled inside, dancing with her doubts. This was going to be an incredible ride. With a little luck, that would be a good thing. She prayed to God things went that way.
PARKER STOOD IN THE parking lot of the local Grammie’s offices and led his camera up the three stories of glass and steel. “Used to be their corporate offices,” he said to the camera. “They moved to Colorado a few years ago but left a lot of their setup here. We’re about to step inside. I have Fiona with me, but I’ve promised I won’t make her go on camera unless she wants to.”
“Hello.” Fiona wiggled her fingers in front of the lens, her tone light and playful.
For the first day or so, she’d grumbled about being corralled into this, but as the week went on, her scowls vanished, replaced with smiles and excitement as they planned each leg of their trip.
Parker wasn’t complaining. He loved having her here with him—Fiona the Voice—keeping him company while they showed the world how cookie delivery was awesome. “We promised Grammie’s we would only film in designated areas, so you’re about to see a whole lot of lobby, until we meet our first delivery driver,” he said to the camera. “But stick with me. I promise the fun is just getting started. You trust me to show you the ins and outs of wherever I go, and that’s what we’re up to.”
He and Fiona walked into the reception area of Grammie’s. In contrast to the modern exterior, wood paneling, area rugs, and plush furniture greeted them.
A man a few years younger than them smiled and approached the moment they walked through the doors. “Are you Parker? I’m Will.” He extended his hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’m super excited to be your driver for the day. Is the camera on? I can’t believe they’re letting me do this. I’m so excited.”
“Will. Hi.” Parker shook his hand and talked over him before the poor guy could ramble them through another week. “This is Fiona. We’re thrilled to have you showing us around, and yes, I am streaming this live.”
“Oh.” Will’s smile froze in place.
Parker draped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, as if they were the only two people about to hear this. “There’s a secret to doing this right. Forget the camera is there. Or if you have to, pretend it’s another person you’re talking to. One who doesn’t talk back.” He stepped away again.
“Isn’t that frustrating? Not getting real-time feedback from whoever you’re talking to?” Will asked.
“Are you kidding? I love it.”
Fiona and Will gave him matching confused looks.
“You ever think of the perfect comeback a couple hours after the fact?” Parker said.
Will nodded.
“Me too.” Parker winked at him. “But I get to add it in post.”
Will and Fiona laughed. Perfect. Everyone was at ease. They could get something done. Parker and Fiona sat in the back of Will’s car, and the delivery boxes were nestled in coolers in the trunk, protected from being jostled and melted.
Part of Parker’s contract with Grammie’s kept him from saying certain things on camera. Streaming was more difficult—no swearing, no lewd comments, no blatant innuendo—but for the most part, he avoided those anyway, to keep access to all the good sponsors. Part of the prep for this venture was that Nick’s app ran a promo—anyone placing an order with Grammie’s today got delivery for free and agreed to be filmed.
Up-front releases signed, this was about to be the perfect start to the perfect hook, so he could win the perfect prize.
Three hours later, as the three of them stopped for lunch, Parker wasn’t so confident anymore. Every single delivery went smoothly. Which wasn’t a big deal, but it made for shitty views. The most exciting event they had was the young boy who wanted to wave to the camera while his sister watched it inside, on the computer.
Their grins made it worth it, but Parker could almost hear his ratings dropping off with each stop.
Apparently, he’d agreed to a month-long Grammie’s commercial, complete with milk and cookies, and living, breathing Normal Rockwell paintings.
If he didn’t figure out a way to inject some flavor into this, he wouldn’t even get the month. His time would be up at the end of the week.
He glanced at Fiona, who was chatting with Will and doing her best to stay behind the camera. Would she go home early if that happened? And which was more important to him? Winning this competition and securing the sponsorship, or keeping her by his side?
He didn’t know why it was even a question. He’d pick Fiona in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but that was one of the amazing things about their friendship—she wouldn’t make him choose.
Chapter Seven
Fiona’s sneakers echoed off the tile of the airport floor. With no chatter around them, to drown out the noise, her and Parker’s footsteps sounded unnaturally loud. Apparently, not even the most dedicated traveler wanted to catch a flight at five thirty in the morning.
She bit back her five-billionth yawn, as she and Parker made their way to their departure gate.
“This is Salt Lake airport, at un-Godly a.m.,” Parker said.
Fiona wasn’t expected to answer; he was talking to the camera. She was adjusting to the fact that he did that out of the blue, as well as getting used to the idea they were really doing this. Preparing to leave work behind for a month, making travel plans, and figuring out schedules with Parker and Grammie’s—seemed to take an eternity and at the same time didn’t give her enough of a chance to prepare mentally.
“Do they let you leave that on during the flight?” She walked a few steps back from Parker, rather than next to him. It was the easiest way for her to keep out of the filming line of sight.
Parker shook his head. “Nope. I’ll turn it off before we board.”
“But you’re subjecting your viewers to an empty airport terminal in the meantime?” she teased.
“Don’t know. We’ll find out.” He turned the lens toward him, and she stepped to the side. “She’s got a good point, friends. We haven’t had a chance to drink our coffee, and it’s too freaking early to be witty. I’m signing off for now. When we land in Denver—which will seem like two seconds to you, thanks to the magic of editing, I’ll be fun again, and Fiona will be her sweeter-than-cookies normal self.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “Shameless flatterer.” This was the one thing she slid into without hesitation—spending more time with Parker. It was as fun and natural as she remembered.
Parker yanked the camera up again, to talk into it. “One more
thing. Tell Fiona in the comments how much you want to see her on camera.”
“Not likely.” She laughed, but as they reached their gate and she saw a familiar face, she faded off.
Wyatt sat a row back from the gate, several seats between him and the sparse smattering of other flyers. Mr. Big Bad Wolf had teased her dreams a couple of times since their encounter. Sometimes he stripped her down, and others she watched him with Parker.
She wasn’t sure which dream was her favorite, but as the memories of both raced over her, they drew her senses to life, dancing over her skin.
Wyatt looked up from his phone and treated her to a delicious smile that made her feel like she was the main course.
“Not signing off quite yet,” Parker said to his audience as they drew closer to Wyatt. “Want to meet one hell of a smooth-as-fuck bastard?”
Wyatt covered his face. “Not on camera. I want whatever immunity Red has from being filmed.”
The nickname carried a new meaning, rolling off his tongue. More unpredictable, but also tantalizing. Fiona wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but it sent a new wave of fantasies spilling through her. Wyatt pressing her to the wall. Tangling his fingers in her hair. The deep, throaty growl of the way he said Red. Or maybe her imagination would have filled in those blanks regardless of what he called her.
And she should be talking to the people outside her head, rather than letting imaginary versions of them undress her. “I never would have pegged you as camera shy.”
“Professional expectations and all that.” Wyatt smiled.
“Fine.” Parker’s sigh was exaggerated. “I won’t subject my audience to two disembodied voices, but I will share highlights with them later, including any new lines from Fiona’s favorite Big Bad Wolf.”
Wyatt winced. The hint of discomfort made him more approachable, but not any less delicious.
Fiona shoved the thoughts aside. She needed some coffee, stat, to get rid of her wandering lust. And Parker had a point—the Big Bad Wolf line didn’t sound as seductive when it didn’t come through a champagne filter.
Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance Page 4
