Chapter Text
Gabe’s first thought as the island comes into view is that it’s the sort of green he usually associates with movies—gorgeous but somehow unreal.
Gabe’s second thought, as the ferry putters along, is that it’s probably inconvenient. He’s not sure, of course—Tofino, the closest town, apparently doesn’t have a real airport, but one could drive from Victoria or fly from Vancouver, except that apparently it was important to get the full experience. And that was taking the ferry across…whatever body of water they were on, Gabe wasn’t sure, and being on a boat with sea air in his hair.
“I still think we should have flown,” EJ says, echoing Gabe’s thoughts as he comes up next to him at the rail of the boat. He’s looking a little green; boats apparently don’t agree with him.
“You don’t enjoy the sea air?” Gabe asks, grinning at him as he inhales deeply. It tastes of salt and freshness, even though objectively they’re not far from cities.
“No,” EJ scowls. He’s been grumpy since they flew in; Gabe’s pretty sure he’s just not over the jetlag yet. He’d been pretty excited about this assignment before they left London. “Or I’ll enjoy it on shore.”
“Aw, it’ll be okay.” Gabe claps him on the shoulder. “Just imagine you’re on horseback.”
“Being on horseback is nothing like this,” EJ mutters, and clenches his hands around the railing. “How much longer do we have?”
“Fifteen minutes, I think.” Gabe’s still looking out at the green. “Gonna survive?”
“No,” EJ tells him. “I’m going right to the spa. There is a spa, right?”
“Yeah, there’s a spa.” Gabe’s looked through the resort website dozens of times—he probably has it memorized. It was the best prep they could do, half a world away. “Or we can go to the bar.”
“I vote bar,” Mikko says, coming up behind them and throwing an arm over EJ’s shoulder. “Come on, Johnson! It’s a paid vacation!”
“It’s not a paid vacation,” Gabe tells them, but EJ’s lips are twitching.
“It’s a paid vacation,” Mikko retorts. “We are getting paid to go to a resort and eat and drink and play. That sounds like a paid vacation.”
“We’re being paid to determine—”
“So we’re being paid to do as much as we possibly can,” Mikko puts in. “Stop being a grump, Gabe.”
“Yeah, stop being a grump, Landy,” EJ agrees. Gabe gapes at him.
“I’m being a grump?” Gabe demands. “EJ’s the grump!”
“I’m a grump who’s going to enjoy my paid vacation,” EJ retorts. “You’re a grump who’s going to be working too hard to actually enjoy anything.”
“We can get him drunk,” Mikko suggests, leaning around EJ. “He’s fun when he’s drunk.”
“I’m always fun, excuse you,” Gabe protests. “And I will not be working too hard. I will be working just hard enough.”
EJ snorts. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“I will,” Gabe declares. He’s—fine, he’s maybe a little bit of a workaholic, but that’s a virtue. That’s why he’s where he is today at his age. That’s why Bednar had pulled him aside before they left, discussing how important it was he do a good job on this project, how the partners were watching. Gabe knows what that means.
EJ snorts again. Mikko doesn’t make a noise, but his skepticism is clear.
“I’m sending both of you home,” Gabe tells them. “I’m going to get co-workers for this project who appreciate it when I get them the best assignments.”
“You won’t send us home,” Mikko says, confident like he isn’t the junior on this project and Gabe can’t make him do all the grunt work if he wanted to, and smacks Gabe’s shoulder. “You love us too much.”
“I really don’t,” Gabe lies. Both his friends ignore him until the announcement comes on, telling all drivers to go to their car and pedestrians to gather their belongings.
They get all their stuff, which isn’t easy, when all of them have enough for months at the resort, then trundle off the boat. Gabe takes in a breath of air—somehow fresher than any city he’s been in—and looks around for the person the resort said would pick them up.
EJ spots him first. “There,” he says, nodding to the guy holding a sign with the Rumble Mountain logo and ‘Landeskog’ scrawled under it and looking down at his phone. “Let’s go. Sooner we get on the bus, sooner we can get to the bar.”
“I thought you wanted to go to the spa,” Gabe points out.
“I reconsidered,” EJ tells him, and herds him and Mikko over to the guy.
“Hey. You’re from Rumble Mountain Resort and Spa?” Gabe asks, when they get close. The guy looks up. He’s a big guy, blonde, with a square jaw and blue eyes that flick over each of them like he’s checking them off.
“Yep. You’re the Landeskog party?”
“We are,” EJ agrees. “Are we waiting for anyone else or can we go?”
The guy’s lips twitch. “Nah, everyone else is already on the bus with Tys, you’re the last of them. Need help with anything?
“We’re good,” EJ barks, before Gabe can say that he really wouldn’t mind a hand with juggling two suitcases, a backpack, and a computer bag. “Let’s go.”
The guy’s definitely grinning now, which is better than being put off by EJ’s grumpiness. Gabe will give him points for that.
“Okay, come on.”
He leads them away from the port, towards the parking lot.
“I am sorry for EJ,” Gabe says, catching up to the guy. “He doesn’t do well on boats.”
The guy shrugs. “It’s better than the woman who came off the boat and puked on my shoes. Tys never lets me live that one down.”
Mikko cocks his head. “How is it your fault?”
“Apparently I didn’t dodge fast enough,” the guy tells him, still smiling like the teasing from this Tys guy doesn’t bother him. “Anyway, he’s the one who almost broke his foot when someone dropped a suitcase on it, so I generally come out ahead. Here we are.”
He stops at a van of the type Gabe associates with hotels and serial killers, knocks on the front window. It opens, and another guy swings out of the passenger seat—probably the Tys he was talking about.
He is…very cute. All short brown curls and bright brown eyes and cheekbones and broad shoulders and thighs. Gabe straightens, just a little, as his gaze settles on Gabe. “These our stragglers?” Tys asks the guy who was escorting them.
“Yep. The last.”
“Awesome, I’ll load them up.” Tys turns to the three of them. “You guys can get in, I’ll put these in the back.”
“We can help,” Gabe points out. EJ makes a noise that is as much a laugh as a cough.
“Much as I might like to see that, this is my job,” Tys says, then turns a little red. His friend makes a noise uncannily similar to EJ’s. “I mean, don’t worry about it, it’ll just be a sec.”
“Yeah I bet it will,” EJ mutters. Gabe elbows him hard, and pushes him towards the door. Gabe glances back once—the view of Tys loading up the suitcases is as attractive as anticipated—then gets into the car.
There are two other couples there, so the three of them file into the middle seats. A second later, the blonde guy gets into the driver’s seat, then another moment later, the back slams shut and Tys gets into the passenger seat.
“We’re good,” he tells the driver, who turns the car on.
Gabe’s crammed against the window, next to Mikko who as the youngest got bullied into the middle, so he can turn to look out the window. So far it just looks like a city—maybe a little greener than other ones, but nothing special. Not the most auspicious starts. A highway is a highway.
Once they pull onto the highway, Tys spins in his seat, so he’s facing the back. He’s grinning. It’s a great smile, the kind of smile that makes it hard not to smile back. “Hello all!” he calls. The other couples, who had been chatting quietly, shut up. “Welcome to Vancouver Island, the most beautiful and all around best spot in all of Canada and likely the world.” The driver makes a noise. “And don’t listen to anyone who says anything about the Maritimes,” Tys goes on cheerfully patting him on the shoulder. “We’ve got a bit of a drive until you get to luxury and pampering and drinking and all that good stuff, so get comfortable. If you need water or soda or a snack, we’ve got those up here, so you can just shout. If you want to agree on a music choice, we can put it on, but I warn you, don’t make it driver’s choice.”
“Or co-pilot’s choice,” the driver retorts loudly. Gabe bites down on a smile. Their banter isn’t professional, maybe, but it is charming. “Unless you like Pearl Jam.”
“Pearl Jam is a classic, no one objected,” Tys shoots back. “Anyway. If you want anything, you can just yell for one of us. Our driver is the one, the only, the man the myth the legend—Nate Dogg!” the way he leads into it makes it impossible not to clap—Gabe does, as does Mikko and the other couples. EJ at least isn’t looking as grumpy. “And I am your fearless co-pilot, T-Beauty.”
He gives a little bow, which is interrupted by Nate’s, “That’s not going to catch on. His name is Tyson.”
“Oh, shut up,” Tyson retorts, but he’s laughing as he shoves at Nate’s shoulder. “Fine. If we’re going with boring names, this is Nate Mackinnon, I’m Tyson Barrie, and we’ll be taking care of you for the rest of the drive. We’ve got about forty minutes, so sit back and enjoy the ride.”
He swings back around, then leans over the arm rest to say something quietly to Nate.
Mikko jostles Gabe as he leans close to EJ. “I think if we want Gabe to have fun, we have found an option,” he says to EJ, perfectly audibly to Gabe if hopefully not the front.
“He might unwind for a good—”
“Shut up,” Gabe hisses. “I’m not going to—he works here,” he says, looking at the back of Tyson’s head. Sure, he’s cute. If they were at a bar, maybe Gabe would go over, strike up a conversation. But Gabe’s not going to do anything when he’s a guest. He’s not a creep.
“Our noble captain,” Mikko says, patting him on the thigh. “He is very cute, though. You can at least have a nice view, if all the people who work here look like these two.”
“It’s not about the view,” Gabe replies, trying to be stern. In the front, Tyson says something, and Nate bursts into chuckles. Gabe is maybe very curious about what he said. Whatever. It’s been a while since he had a chance to get laid. He’s not going to be an idiot about it.
He pulls out his phone instead, to deal with the emails that came up while they were on the boat. EJ rolls his eyes, but he pulls out his own headphones, and Mikko is, as always, out like a light almost immediately. His head falls onto EJ’s shoulder; Gabe very pointedly doesn’t look as EJ readjusts it so it’s more comfortably against him. Catching EJ being nice is one of Gabe’s favorite ways to give him shit, but it’s less fun when they’d annoy other people doing it.
There’s plenty to distract him on his email anyway. Bednar is checking in with them—Gabe retorts they’ve gotten in and are on their way and will report back to him after they meet with on-site management in the morning—and there are fires back home that Gabe needs to put out as much as he can. He trusts Colin back at headquarters, but some things he needs to do himself, especially with the clients that he’s been working on for a while and will freak out if it’s someone other than him replying.
Once that’s done, he switches to notes. The pick-up was smooth, and the ferry pleasant, but the van’s clearly just a little old on the edges—the seats worn in, the ride not as smooth as it could be, the sort of things that have clearly been patched over dozens of time but never with enough money to change anything.
EJ leans over Mikko. “You catch the handmade sign?” he murmurs. Gabe nods, adds it to his notes. The sign was fun and personal, but like the rest of the experience so far, it’s not very professional.
He glances up at the front. Tyson’s saying something to Nate, then glances back, catches Gabe’s eye.
Gabe can’t help it. He smiles, the sort of smile he knows makes him look particularly dashing.
Tyson goes red, grins, then ducks his head and looks away. Gabe smirks down at his phone. That wasn’t creepy, he decides. It’s just a smile, and a hot guy with a cute blush.
///
The resort is nestled on the shore, weathered wood and greens like it’s grown out of the woods behind it. It’s charming, Gabe can admit—a little shabby, but the woman at the front desk, a pretty blonde, smiles widely when she checks them in, gives them the map of the grounds and the schedule of events.
“So, the bars are…” EJ says, leaning closer.
She laughs and shakes back her hair. “Here, here, and here.” She circles the areas. “Plus the pool bar, here,” she adds, circling that. “But if you want my advice, you’d go here.” She gestures to the bar nearest the shore. “It’s the most fun.”
Gabe takes the pen from her, circles it again. “Well then, we will be sure to go there,” he tells her. She giggles, tucks her hair back behind her ear. Gabe has stayed in a lot of hotels in his career as a consultant; he knows that the best way to make the stay happy is to establish a rapport with the front desk.
“So, Gabe, our rooms are ready?” EJ interrupts.
“Yeah,” Gabe says, handing her back the pen. “We can put our bags down.”
“Great. Tyson here can help you with the bags.” Gabe straightens up, but the guy she gestures over is not the one from the bus. The kid who comes over is still cute, if he barely looks old enough to drink, but his smile is also bright under dark curls as he bounces over.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“Can you bring their bags to Suite 12? Nate should have them in the van”
“Sure.” This second Tyson does a little salute, which gets her to rolls her eyes. “Follow me.” He turns to go. “So, where all you all from?” he asks, as they walk back towards the door.
“All over, but most recently London,” EJ tells him.
As they leave the lodge, someone brushes by them, and Gabe turns to see the first Tyson walking over to the front desk—the view’s as good from the back as the front. He ducks under the separator, then pops up next to the girl, who jumps but then rolls her eyes at him and kisses him on the cheek. They lean over the screen together, brown hair and blonde. Gabe only looks for a second, then he follows the second Tyson out of the lodge.
This Tyson never stops talking either; he chatters about everything they pass and the activities and what London must be like—he’s never gone but he wants to once he graduates. Him and two of his friends are going to go around the world, apparently, even though one—Kerfy—thinks that they won’t have the money for a full round trip. Gabe listens politely, because it’ll make this stay more pleasant too for everyone to like him.
So Gabe and Mikko walk down the tree-lined path and listen to him talk as EJ pretends like he isn’t endeared by the kid’s enthusiasm until they get to the suite.
“So you guys are here,” Tyson says, stopping his cart in front of a bungalow. Gabe can hear, faintly, the sound of the ocean, probably from the other side; from this side it’s another classic wooden cabin, cozy and warm looking. Tyson steps aside so EJ can swipe the card Emma gave them at the door, then push it open when the light turns green.
Inside, the door opens into a living room with a sweeping picture window looking out onto the Pacific that dominates the room.
Mikko whistles.
“Isn’t it great?” Tyson agrees, coming in after them with one of Gabe’s bags. “This is one of the best views in the place, you guys must be important. Or rich. Or lucky.”
“Or all three,” Gabe adds, winking.
“My favorite kind of people,” Tyson tells him, then, “So, which room is this going in?”
The three of them exchange looks. “Just leave it here for now, we’ll divide them up,” Gabe tells him. Tyson nods, sets the suitcase down, and goes back outside for the rest.
Gabe ignores EJ and Mikko chatting at the window to make a slow circuit of the cabin. He’s not surprised it’s one of the nicer one—they’re definitely trying to put their best foot forward—but it is nice. The living room’s got two long, comfortable looking couches in a nice light green arranged around a fireplace and a coffee table with brochures about the Island on them; there’s a kitchenette off to the side.
He wanders over to one of the rooms, opens the door. It’s got another sweeping picture window that lets in the light across a queen bed with a white bedspread; when he looks in the bathroom it’s a little small but it has a double sink and a bath that, Gabe can’t help but notice, would probably be big enough for two, even if there’s not much room to stand.
“You calling this one?” EJ asks, sticking his head in.
“Not without seeing the others,” Gabe shoots back. He looks back into the main room—Mikko’s tipping Tyson, who takes the money with another one of his salutes and backs out of the suite.
“So, we divvying up the rooms, then bar?” Mikko asks.
“Meetings tomorrow morning, we can’t—” EJ snorts. Gabe rolls his eyes. “I was just saying we shouldn’t get smashed, not that we shouldn’t go. I could use a drink. But we have to go over our initial numbers and meeting notes first.”
“Spoilsport,” EJ mutters, but Gabe knows perfectly well that if he hadn’t said it EJ would have. EJ pretends he’s not as much of a perfectionist as he is. “I call dibs on the bedroom with the biggest bed because I’m tallest.”
“You’re the same height as me!” Mikko protests at the same time Gabe scoffs that,
“Three inches doesn’t mean anything!”
“Well, then because I’m oldest,” EJ tells them easily.
“It’s not our fault you’re decrepit,” Mikko informs him. Gabe ignores them to go look in the other two rooms. They’re more or less equivalent except for how they share a bigger bathroom, and the one that’s not facing the shore has a bigger bed and a bookshelf.
“Well, I guess this has to be me,” EJ says, looking over Gabe’s shoulder at it. “I’m the only one who can read.”
“What’s the last book you’ve read?” Gabe demands, but honestly he’d rather be able to spend hours in that tub, so they end up with Gabe getting the room with its own bathroom, EJ getting the big bed, and Mikko getting the aisle seat on the way home for not having anything special about his room, which is maybe the least bloody a rooming situation Gabe’s ever seen established in the past few years.
///
They get dinner at the restaurant—the food doesn’t blow any of them away, but it’s fine—then wander over to the Oceanside Bar the woman at the front desk had recommended.
It’s half open-air, half closed, but the open air sections have fire pits lining the edges of the patio right up to the beach, so even the outside is warm enough that Gabe doesn’t feel the need to get his jacket, though he wonders how much money they spend on the wood for those pits. They feel like a liability risk.
The bar definitely isn’t full, and there’s no difficulty getting a space at the outside bar. There appears to be only two bartenders, and they’re both inside; Gabe settles onto one of the bar stools next to Mikko and a set of girls about Mikko’s age.
“Think this is peak?” EJ asks, his voice low.
“It is summer,” Gabe says. He’d assume that’s peak season out here.
“Not great,” Mikko agrees. Then. “But we are not on the clock now, so I need a menu.” He reaches around Gabe for the cocktail menu that’s sitting in front of the women. “Excuse me,” he tells them, and takes it. It gets them smiles, and a quick look that makes it clear they’re taking in just how tall and blonde Mikko is.
But then the women turn back to each other, giggling among themselves. Mikko looks a little disappointed, but that’s quickly fixed by looking at the menu.
“Oh, this looks excellent,” he says, scanning it. “Look at all the vodkas!”
“That’s one thing down, then,” EJ agrees, leaning over Mikko’s shoulder.
Gabe could look, but instead he just leans against the bar, looks across the grounds. They’re peppered with people—not empty, but not crowded either, like the rest of the resort. It makes Gabe’s job harder.
“Hey, sorry for the wait, what can I—oh, it’s you guys!” Tyson—the first one—comes around the bar.
“Hey, it’s Tyson!” Mikko says, grinning at him.
“You remember us?” Gabe asks. Tyson’s wearing a black polo now, and it’s a good look on him, tight through the chest.
“Sure. B cubed.”
“B cubed?” Gabe asks.
“Our three blondes,” Tyson tells him. “Grumpy blonde, smiley blonde, and big-headed blonde.”
Gabe scoffs as the other two laugh. “My head’s not that big,” he protests.
“Well, it was that or hot blonde, and Nate said I’m not allowed to nickname customers hot anything anymore after—well. I’m not allowed to.” Tyson’s still smiling, though he’s a little red, but Gabe grins.
“I think I like hot blonde better.”
“I mean, it’s less descriptive, though.” Tyson tells him. “That could be all three of you. Big headed blonde, I mean. Then it’s clear who I mean.”
“And did you need to talk about me a lot?” Gabe asks. “What were you gossiping about, up in front?”
Tyson flushes again, and he chuckles, a little nervous and a little uncomfortable and a lot cute. Gabe wants to—but he cuts that off. Some casual flirting is one thing. Anything more is unacceptable.
“It’s staff’s privilege to talk about our customers,” Tyson tells him, lifting his chin in a way that Gabe thinks is meant to sound condescending but comes off a little brattier than Tyson was probably going for. “Can’t tell you what was said.”
“Other than that Gabe has a big forehead,” Mikko cuts in. He sounds delighted. “You said I was smiley?”
“It seemed right,” Tyson tells him, grinning back at him. Gabe leans back, takes a breath. “So, what can I get you?”
“I want that,” Mikko announces, pointing at the drink on the menu with a description about a paragraph long.
“Not warming up at all, eh?” Tyson asks, and grabs something from above the bar. His hands are large and long-fingered, and Gabe can’t help but watch them as he grabs a vodka bottle. “Just diving right in. My kind of man.”
“Or the kind of man who will be hungover for his meeting,” Gabe puts in. Mikko turns to him, wrinkling his nose. EJ snorts.
“Don’t pay him any attention,” Mikko tells Tyson earnestly. “Just because he doesn’t know how to have fun doesn’t mean I don’t.”
“For sure, we can ignore Captain Tight-Pants over there,” Tyson agrees. He shoots Gabe a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “The fun table can be over here.”
“I know how to have fun,” Gabe mutters. “Just not before meetings.”
“So you only know how to have too much fun?” Tyson asks. He’s still making Mikko’s drinks, and despite his chatter he’s moving surely. “That doesn’t sound like the worst.”
“You’ve never seen him hungover,” EJ inserts. He’s just been watching, which definitely spells trouble. “What is even going into that thing?”
“More to the point, what isn’t?” Gabe asks.
“If you have to ask you aren’t ready to know,” Tyson tells them, then starts shaking the cocktail shaker. He pours it out into a margarita glass—it’s a lurid red that looks a little like blood—and sets it in front of Mikko. “There you go.”
Mikko’s eyes light up as he takes a sip. “That’s—wow.”
“Right?” Tyson smiles, smug. It’s a good look on him. “It’s my favorite.” He gives him another smile, then turns to EJ. “Anything for you? We know the buzzkill over there won’t get anything.”
“I’ll have a whiskey, neat,” Gabe says before EJ can reply. “McClellan, if you have it.”
Tyson presses his lips together, but he turns behind the bar instead of saying anything. Gabe doesn’t get why. He likes whiskey. It’s a respectable drink. Even if it’s not as fun to watch Tyson make.
Tyson pours out the whiskey for Gabe, then gives EJ the beer he asks for. “All set, then?” Tyson asks.
Gabe looks at his co-workers. Mikko looks nothing less than gleeful with his concoction, and EJ is definitely satisfied. “I believe so,” he tells Tyson, smiling at him. “Thank you for your help.”
Tyson opens his mouth, then closes it, going red. “I. Yeah. I mean. You’re welcome. Well. It’s my job,” he stammers a little. “I—so what are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, clearly trying and failing to save face.
Gabe manages not to smirk. Maybe. He tries, at least. “We have a meeting.”
“Well, yes. But after that. Do you have plans? To have fun, if you know how?”
Gabe looks at EJ and Mikko, who both shrug. They hadn’t made any firm plans, other than debriefing the meeting and setting tasks. “The spa was on the menu,” Gabe tells him. “And—”
“The pool,” Mikko puts in. “A lot of lying near it.”
“The spa’s great. Do you have something scheduled yet? You can’t go wrong with any of them, but—I think Karen’s on tomorrow, her hot rock massages are…” He does finger kisses which should and do look ridiculous, but somehow work anyway. “Or Maria’s facials are top notch. Or—”
“Anything else we should be sure to do tomorrow?” Gabe cuts in, before they get the entire spa menu. Not that he’d be opposed, per se, but he’s not actually into the spa that much.
“Well, tomorrow there’s a hike that should be good—it’s in the afternoon, I don’t know when your meeting is. But it’s always a gorgeous view, and you can sometimes get the beginnings of sunset. And—” he cuts himself off this time, as someone at the far end of the bar leans over the table. “Sorry, I’ve got to do my job, I guess.”
“I guess so,” Gabe agrees. “Thanks for the tips.”
“And the drinks!” Mikko adds, and Tyson does a little salute thing before he scoots away to the other side of the bar.
“So, hot blonde.” EJ is definitely laughing at him. “You sure you’re still not going to have any fun this job?”
“Don’t,” Gabe tells him, yet again. “Do we have a game plan for tomorrow?”
“Yes, we have it all set,” Mikko rolls his eyes at him, but he humors Gabe in talking through their presentation again. So Gabe doesn’t comment when it devolves into office gossip, not the least because he’s interested in Comes’ new job too. He chats, and watches over his shoulder as Tyson laughs and chats and serves drinks and how his biceps move as he does. It’s fine. Gabe’s sure he won’t see him again all summer.
///
“Very impressive,” Mrs. O’Connor says, when they all sit back down at the conference table, presentation over. It’s just the four of them in the room, which Gabe hadn’t really been expecting—he’d figured other corporate officers would be there, maybe the board—but he guessed they’ll be there for their final presentation only. It’s a family company after all, tightly held by her; she doesn’t need board approval for bringing in consulting.
“Thank you,” Gabe tells her, smiling the sort of smile that generally works with old ladies. “We’re excited to get started.” EJ and Mikko both murmur their agreement.
“Good.” She folds her hands in front of her. She’s a tall woman, white haired, with the sort of frailty that comes with age and weaker bones. But her eyes are dark and sharp as she looks at the folder of documents they’ve come up with so far, then up at the three of them. “May I be frank with you?”
“Of course.” Gabe gives her that smile again. She doesn’t seem particularly impressed, but he thinks she’s softening. “That’s what we’re here for.”
She nods, then glances over her shoulder, out the picture window that overlooks the resort and beyond it, the blue sweep of the Pacific, out into infinity. Framed like that, she looks like she makes sense here, even in her dark, well-tailored skirt suit. It makes Gabe feel somehow uncomfortable—out of place. “Rumble Mountain has been in my family since 1938,” she tells them. They all know this already—it’s in the files—but they listen politely. “My grandfather bought the property back before there was anything else here. He built the first hotel building himself, him and his sons—he named it too, which maybe explains that. My father didn’t build the rest of it, the expansion, himself, but he might as well have. If it went under…my parents and my father’s parents would be turning in their grave. They made this what it was.”
“Well, we’re here to stop—”
She cuts Mikko of with a look, not stern but enough to quiet him—she’s clearly a good manager. “But I’m also old, and I’m tired. None of my children have any interest in the hotel, either running or keeping it. If we’re going to have to figure out what’s going to happen to it, I want it to be now, while I’m still alive and I can make sure it’s taken care of.” She flicks her gaze to each of them in turn. “That’s why I hired Sakic Consulting. I’m trusting you boys to tell me what’s our best approach. How I can keep this place together, or let it die with dignity.”
“Yes ma’am,” EJ says, and he doesn’t even sound like he’s joking.
“We’ll do our best,” Gabe promises her. He’d do his best with every project he’s assigned, of course—it’s why he is where he is, and this one is especially important anyway, with that partnership offer tantalizingly unarticulated—but this one’s going to be more. Some projects always are. “We’ll help you do what’s right for the hotel, and for you.”
“Good.” She nods, then stands up. The three of them get to their feet too. “Let me know what else you need—I’m having Chris send over the numbers you requested, and you’ll get the weekly reports. We’ll meet again in a week, once you have your feet under you here.”
“Sounds good.”
“And—” she smiles, and there’s a twinkle in her eye. “Enjoy the resort.”
“We will,” Mikko assures her, and they all shake her hand as they walk out into the lobby the executive offices open off of. It had been empty other than the secretary when they came in—early, because apparently Mrs. O’Connor started her day early—but now there’s clearly more motion in the other offices, and, sitting on one of the couches—
“Him again?” EJ mutters, in disbelief, as Tyson scrambles to his feet. Next to him, the driver—Nate?—gets to his feet too, even as he says something under his breath to Tyson.
“Oh,” Tyson says, and there’s a wealth of meaning in that word. He’s in what seems to be the resort uniform of khakis and polo again; it’s still a good look on him, even if his hair is a little messy in ways that make Gabe wonder how long ago he woke up. Who he woke up with. “You’re the people who want to close us down.”
“Tys,” Nate hisses. Gabe just smiles at him. He’s not not used to this, when people hear about his job. He’s done this spiel before.
“We aren’t trying to close anyone down,” he tells Tyson. “We’re trying to determine what is the best outcome for—”
“So how to fire most of us,” Tyson cuts him off, his arms crossing over his chest.
“No!” Mikko protests. “No, it’s not—we just make things efficient, so most people can keep their jobs, or get proper severance, or—”
“Oh, severance, that’ll really help, “Nate says. His hand’s on Tyson’s shoulder, and he’s looking at the three of them with the same sort of sneer Tyson has. “Come on, Tys. Let’s go get our—”
“No.” Tyson shakes his head. He’s still looking at Gabe, and there’s fire in his eyes and a challenge in the set of his chin. “No, you can’t just shut us down.”
Gabe sighs. “We’re not trying to shut you down, we aren’t evil, or—”
“Is that one of the options, though?” Tyson demands.
“It’s not off the table,” Gabe has to admit—he’s not going to lie. Especially not to placate resort workers who really have no right to be questioning him or his job here. It was Tyson’s boss who hired him. And he doesn’t particularly like when he gives bad news, but spreadsheets don’t give ambiguous answers, usually. The answer is the answer. “So—”
“So I’ll prove it to you,” Tyson interrupts again. He’s getting a little flushed.
“Shit,” Nate mutters, like he knows what’s coming.
“I’ll prove it,” Tyson says again.
“And how are you going to do that?” Gabe demands. “We have a plan—”
“Sure, you have spreadsheets or whatever, I know.” Tyson waves a hand. “But you don’t know this place. I’ll show you.” He sets his jaw, and he’s glaring at Gabe like he doesn’t think Gabe will take him up on it. Like he thinks Gabe’s too stuck on his—spreadsheets or whatever—to do whatever Tyson has in store.
“Gabe,” EJ says, a warning or a suggestion, Gabe can’t tell, but he’s also incapable of not taking a challenge, especially a challenge from a cute guy.
“Fine,” Gabe retorts, maybe a little…crisp. “You can try to prove whatever you want to me. It’s not going to change the outcome, but you’re welcome to try.”
“I will,” Tyson snaps back.
“Good.”
“Good!”
“Okay,” Mikko cuts in, stepping between them. “Gabe, we should—”
“Meet me by the pool cabanas at 4,” Tyson tells Gabe. “Wear clothes you can walk in.”
“See you then.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Good—”
“Can we be done with this now?” EJ asks, rolling his eyes. “Come on Gabe.”
“Fine.” Gabe nods to him, then steals one more look back at Tyson before he stalks away towards the office they’ve been assigned. Nate and Tyson are muttering about something, and Gabe can see the lines of his profile, how even the unflattering khakis can’t hide a great ass. He is, for better or worse, still very cute when he’s angry.
“So, you have a date, then?” EJ asks, when they’re in the office and the door is closed. “That’s working fast.”
“It’s not a date,” Gabe informs him. The office space is big—big enough for three desks—but it’s still not quite enough room to pace, even if Gabe’s honestly trying his best. “It’s a tour, or something. I guess.”
“Where you’re definitely into the tour guide,” EJ points out. “And he is definitely into you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” That, surprisingly, is Mikko, not Gabe. “I know I joke, but he is our client, or he works for them. And he is acting as liaison now, unofficially. That’s not ethical.”
EJ turns to Mikko, eyebrows raised. “Since when are you the agency employee handbook?”
“Since Gabe wants to be partner,” Mikko retorts. “It would not look good for him, no? To be sleeping with—”
“Gabe is not going to sleep with anybody,” Gabe interrupts. Mikko has a good point, which he should have thought of—technically it’s probably a grey area, because Tyson isn’t any sort of official liaison, but it doesn’t look great, to be sure. “Gabe is going to do his work and then go exploring and then have his tour.”
“Sure,” EJ drawls, but he sits down at the desk closest to the door, and pulls his laptop out of his briefcase.
“I will,” Gabe insists. “So. Debrief. Action items from the meeting?” He prompts, and they buckle down to work.
///
Gabe does indeed work, then explore a little, and then he goes back to the suite and changes out of his suit. He doesn’t know what Tyson has planned for them, but he said walking, so Gabe changes into jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers. And maybe he fusses in front of the mirror for a little with his hair, but he likes to look good, there’s no crime in that. Then he makes his way to the pool cabanas.
It’s a few minutes before four, and Tyson isn’t there yet, so Gabe sits down on one of the deck chairs to wait and pulls out his phone. He’d dealt with most of his email in the afternoon, but there’s something new from Bednar, wanting a check in—he’ll do that on his computer—and a worried email from the client on one of his other projects, whose deadline is coming up and is getting nervous. He shoots him back an email, CCing Colin, to assure him that everything’s on track even though Gabe’s offsite and that Colin can give a more exact timeline and updated data.
Then he pulls out his personal phone. There’s a text from Bea, asking how it is—he sends her back a picture of the ocean, just so she’ll get jealous—and an email from Samuel, asking if he’d like to come to his dinner party, which Gabe sends honest regrets to. Samuel’s dinner parties were always excellent—he was a chef, after all. If there was one thing Gabe regretted from breaking up with him, it was having his meals more often. Now he only got them at casual friend rates.
“Hey, you showed up.”
Gabe looks up—Tyson’s standing there, half-shadowed by the sun. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asks, getting up. Tyson looks a little frazzled, like he ran here, but he’s bouncing on his feet with energy.
“Kind of,” Tyson admits. He runs a hand over his hair, then takes a breath. “I mean. Anyway. Ready to go?”
“Yes. Are you?” Gabe asks. “Do you need a second?”
“What? No. I just came right from an airport run, that’s all.” Tyson shakes out his arms, then. “Right. So. This way.” He leads the way away from the pool, down to the beach. “I didn’t really think much about this, because I came up with it about as I told you to meet me here, but it’s really cool, and it’s something that’s unique to here—you can’t get it anywhere else.” They hit the beach, and Tyson looks back at Gabe, his gaze lingering on his legs. “Are you going to be able to walk in those? There’s a little bit of climbing. I assumed you were fit and all, but—”
“I can climb,” Gabe objects. He’s very fit.
“Those pants are awfully tight,” Tyson points out. He’s still not not looking. Gabe grins.
“Trust me, I can do plenty in these pants.” Tyson goes a little red, and he chuckles. Gabe mentally slaps his own wrist. Flirt is somewhat his usual setting these days, because it helps with most clients, but he needs to stop. “Why did you think I was not going to show up?”
“Because I just sort of decided we were going?” Tyson points out. He’s leading them down the beach now, away from the resort. It’s getting quieter, farther away from any people. “And there’s no reason you should. You’ve got whatever official plan you have.”
“You made a good point,” Gabe tells him. He can see Tyson’s shoulders do something at that, like he’s surprised by it. By anyone telling him he was right? It’s not something Gabe would have thought of, and he still doesn’t think it’ll change anything, but it could be worthwhile. And Gabe is not only thinking that because he gets to hang out with a cute guy, he tells the voice in his head that sounds a little like his sister. “Having an insider’s perspective is important. Of course I was going to take you up on it.”
“An insider’s perspective, right.” Tyson agrees, but he’s smiling, something small and pleased. Like he didn’t expect that answer. “That’s reasonable of you.”
“I try to always be reasonable.”
“Well, yeah, so do I, but that usually doesn’t work out.” Gabe’s startled into a laugh. “And anyway, hot people don’t usually have to be reasonable,” Tyson adds, then Gabe can see the back of his neck go red.
“Yeah?” Gabe asks. He can’t help how pleased he sounds. He’d like to see anyone not be pleased by a hot guy calling him hot. “Do you have a lot of experience with that?”
“I’m a bartender, so—yeah.” Tyson laughs again, easier, and starts telling Gabe a story about what’s apparently the craziest thing he’s seen people do at a bar—not this bar, he’s quick to assure Gabe, but one back in Victoria where he has bartended.
“No, no, I’m sorry, that does not happen outside of American teen movies!” Gabe protests. “There was a bet?”
“There was a bet,” Tyson confirms. “I heard all about it. After she threw a drink in his face.”
“Good for her,” Gabe agrees. “And what did you do?”
Tyson blinks at him. “What?”
“Did you do anything?” Gabe asks. “After you heard. And she threw the drink?”
“I needed that job,” Tyson says slowly. “So—no.” He bites his lip. “I mean. We all made his drinks a lot weaker after that.”
“Good.” Gabe grins at Tyson, and Tyson grins back. He has dimples. It’s—god, it’s very cute. And even from just this conversation, Gabe can tell that he likes Tyson, just, as a person. He’s funny and charming and sarcastic and Gabe wants to see if his flush goes down beneath his shirt.
“Okay, we’re going up here.” Until now, they’ve been walking down the beach, but now Tyson turns up a path into the woods beside it. It’s not quite a well-worn path, but it’s clearly been used, and Tyson obviously knows the way.
“If you’re taking me somewhere to kill me, EJ is officially allowed to take over for me,” Gabe tells him. “So that won’t get you anything.”
Tyson snorts. “I wouldn’t kill you here. It’s too pretty. There are way better places to murder someone on the island.”
“The fact that you have a list is deeply disturbing.”
“I don’t have a list, I just—haven’t you ever been somewhere and thought, wow, this would be a great place to hide a body?”
“No?” It’s only sort of a lie. “Do you think that often?”
“You clearly don’t watch enough crime TV.”
“Or I’m not serial killer.”
“Or you aren’t worried about them enough.” Tyson glances back over his shoulder. “Do you trust everyone you meet to just lead you into the middle of nowhere?”
“No.” Gabe retorts.
“So I’m special?”
“Sure are,” Gabe agrees, and can’t help how his gaze flicks over Tyson, how it lingers a little too long on his lips. Tyson bites at his lip, then looks ahead in enough time to barely avoid stumbling over something.
“So, why are you here, actually?” he asks, hurried. “If it’s not just to say we need to shut down and all lose our jobs?”
Gabe sighs. “It’s—that’s not what consulting is.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Sometimes we have to say that. But we’re just an outside view. We come in to tell management and executives about how to run their businesses more efficiently. What the company does with that information isn’t our concern.”
“That’s easy to say in your thousand dollar jeans.”
“These didn’t cost a thousand dollars,” Gabe protests, looking down. They’re nice jeans and they make his ass look great, but they aren’t that expensive.
“Fine, thousand dollar suits.” Gabe doesn’t say anything. “I mean, it was sort of worth it, or at least, from the point of view of someone looking at you in it, but—”
“I’ll tell my tailor.”
“Yeah, he can put that on his website. Tyson Barrie said his tailoring made Gabe—what’s your last name?”
“Landeskog.”
“Landeskog,” Tyson repeats, trying it out on his tongue. His pronunciation is helplessly Canadian. “Gabe—Gabriel?” Gabe nods. “Gabriel Landeskog.” Gabe has to watch his lips, as they form his name. “Hm. That’s a mouthful.”
“Sorry my name doesn’t live up to your standards.”
“Who ever said a mouthful was bad?” Tyson retorts. They’re still climbing up the path—Gabe can still hear the ocean, so they must be close to it, but he can’t see it through the rocks and trees. It makes it feel like they’re the only two people in the world. “Lots of mouthfuls are good.”
Gabe snorts. Tyson blushes again, but he doesn’t deny it. Which—well, Gabe hadn’t really been fooling himself that they hadn’t been flirting, but this was some confirmation.
“Anyway,” Tyson says, loudly. “You tell places how to run more efficiently. What about us? I know it’s not just how to run efficiently, it’s what Lex is going to do with it.”
“I really can’t talk about that. Confidentiality.”
“You’re here to figure out if she should shut it down or if she can sell. Or if she can convince her kids to get a manager and keep it going.” It’s basically exactly their mandate—Gabe doesn’t say anything, and Tyson shrugs. “I’ve been here a while. I know a lot. And we all know Lex is getting old, and her kids are kind of dicks.”
“Not wanting to run the family business isn’t being a dick.”
“Abandoning your family is.” Tyson says it like a statement, like it’s not worth arguing about. “Taking advantage of everything that’s given you and then just pretending you can do what you want with it when you haven’t even earned it is. Family is family, even when it’s not what you want to be doing—” he cuts himself off, shakes his head. “Long story short, they’re dicks.”
“Have a lot of feelings about this?” Gabe asks.
“Just a little,” Tyson retorts, but he’s chuckling again. “Anyway, here we are.” They take a final turn on the path—and they’re on a bluff overlooking the ocean. The sun’s just starting to drift downwards, and it lights up the water into a sea of sparkles, so bright it almost hurts to look at. The island, or a cove they’re in, skirts around halfway, dotted with trees and birds whirling above it, wheeling out to sea then back to land. There’s a boat in the distance, a sailboat with its white sail hardly visible against the shining sea.
Gabe can feel his breath catch. “Wow.”
“Right?” Tyson sounds smug again; when Gabe turns back to look at him, he’s looking out at the ocean too. His palms are pressed against his thighs, and there’s a drop of sweat from their hike and the sun that trickles down his neck and under the collar of his shirt. The warm afternoon sun is settling in his cheeks and his hair and his eyes and he just looks—warm. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Gabe turns back to the view. “Yeah,” he agrees.
“This is one of my favorite places on the island,” Tyson tells him. “If you time it right you can see the sunset, and that’s really breathtaking, but I have to work this evening so we couldn’t go that late.”
“You take hikes up here?”
“Yeah. A lot of times with the kids, because it’s a pretty easy hike and you can bring a picnic up.” Tyson gestures around the clearing. “But there’s a general hike too. And it’s on all the trail maps.”
“Do you lead a lot of hikes?” Gabe asks. Tyson shrugs.
“Some. I more work the bar and the bus, and I waiter sometimes when I can pick up a shift, and sometimes I’ll do the front desk if Emma needs a quick break. But usually she doesn’t let me. I’m apparently not polite enough.”
Gabe snorts. Tyson grins. “Right? I think there are more important things than being polite. If I had been polite this morning, you wouldn’t get to see this view.”
“I couldn’t have survived that.”
“I know.” Tyson nods, satisfied. “So, convinced you shouldn’t shut us down yet?”
Gabe looks at him sidelong. “Why do you care so much? Isn’t it just a job?” He’s never seen someone who’s just an employee care this much about a place, or at least, not this loudly.
Tyson looks out over the water, something far away in his eyes. “It’s—it’s just a good place. I’ve been here almost ten years now, and it’s…. Good. A good place to be.” He looks over at Gabe, and his eyes are big, yearning. Gabe wants—god, it makes him want to wrap Tyson in blankets, makes him want to give him whatever he asks for. Makes him want to kiss him until he’s smiling and content again. “I just want to keep that.”
Gabe swallows. “I don’t want you to lose that. But I have to do my job.”
“I know. I do. I’m not stupid.” Tyson shakes his head. “But if I can do anything to tip the scale, I will.” He glances over at Gabe. “Even take you on tours.”
“I’m sorry I’m such a hardship.”
“Yeah, if only you were fifty and balding, this would be a lot easier.”
“I’ll put a call into the main office, tell them about your complaint.”
“Good, do that. Say they really need to cut down on sending hot blondes, it’s overwhelming.”
“Isn’t that guy—Nate—he’s a big blonde guy, right?”
“Yeah, but he’s the OG. He’s my big blonde guy,” Tyson explains. Gabe tenses. Tyson twitches. “Or, I mean. Not mine, mine. He’s my best friend. And he’s straight. Or well, mostly, but what a man feels about Sidney Crosby is between him and his childhood poster and I don’t ask questions.”
Gabe bursts out laughing. “You’re so Canadian.”
“It’s not Canadian to like hockey!” Tyson protests. “Or if it is, I am happy to be Canadian.” He narrows his eyes at Gabe. “Do you not like hockey? Either be careful or take a step away from the edge of the bluff.”
“I love hockey,” Gabe tells him, and Tyson nods and grins.
“Good, you’re allowed to say in the country then.”
“I didn’t know that was what was at stake.”
“Yeah, you automatically get deported.”
“We couldn’t have that.”
“No, that would be a problem.” Tyson goes quiet for a second, then, “Where would you go back to?”
“If I was deported?”
Tyson rolls his eyes. “Where are you from?”
Right, he’d had that conversation with the other Tyson. “London.”
Tyson tilts his head at Gabe. “You don’t look like any Englishman I’ve seen.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you’re way too handsome and not inbred enough looking,” Tyson tells him, and Gabe chuckles again.
“I’m from Sweden originally. But we’re based in London right now.”
“Sweden, yeah, that makes more sense. With the hair and the eyes and the Viking thing.”
“Viking?” Gabe asks. If he tosses his hair, he can’t be blamed for it, especially with how Tyson watches the motion.
“Yeah, your whole—thing.” Tyson shakes his head, flushing. “You know what I mean. Not that all blondes are Swedish, obviously, I mean Nate isn’t and I was pretty sure your friend has an American accent so he isn’t, but generally when I have to guess here I—anyway, sorry, you should tell me to shut up instead of laughing at me, hey!” he objects. Gabe is definitely sort of laughing at him, but it’s just—he wants to see how long Tyson can go, a little.
“Sorry,” Gabe says, even though he’s not.
“Sure you are.”
“I’m very sorry,” Gabe tells him, as earnest as he can get, which he’s been told is very earnest. “I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“You were definitely laughing,” Tyson tells him, accusing.
“I’m in a beautiful setting, with good companionship. Why shouldn’t I be laughing?” Gabe asks. Tyson bites at his lip again, does the same nervous chuckle as before, his gaze darting down and away from Gabe. If they were anywhere else—if Gabe were anyone else, if Tyson was—maybe he’d step closer. Maybe he’d coax Tyson’s face up so he’d meet Gabe’s eyes, and Tyson would be half-laughing and blushing and—
“You know, while the resort is here all its guests could be laughing at beautiful setting and good companionship,” Tyson says pointedly, and Gabe rolls his eyes.
“Yes, I know.”
“Just in case you didn’t get it.”
“I did,” Gabe assures him. “I do get it. But sometimes numbers matter more.”
Tyson laughs again, but this one is an ugly laugh. The sort of laugh that hurts coming out and hurts to hear. It doesn’t look like it fits on Tyson. It shouldn’t fit on Tyson. “No kidding.” He shakes his head again, like he’s clearing it. “But I won’t let that happen, so it’s okay. Sometimes numbers can be beaten.” He sets his jaw and glares at Gabe, all determination and fire.
“I hope you manage it.” Gabe does. Partly because he already likes this place, and he doesn’t want it shut down. But mainly, maybe, because he likes that determination, likes how Tyson doesn’t pretend it’s anything else, and doesn’t want that shut down either.
“You actually do, don’t you?” Tyson asks, sounding incredulous. “That makes it harder.”
“Makes what harder?”
“Everything,” Tyson mutters. Then, louder. “Hating you. I was ready to be all up in arms against the evil consultants with their evil goatees and suits and whatever who came in to do whatever they could to combat fun and close us down. But none of you even have a goatee.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Gabe strokes at his own beard. “I’ve seen Mikko try to grow facial hair, though. You’re really better off this way.”
“I understand that.” Tyson pats at his own bare chin, but his eyes are on Gabe’s hands. “But I think I prefer you, anyway.”
The sun’s a little lower now, though it’s still hours from sunset, but it changes the scene, makes the water somehow look a different shade. Gabe looks out at the wheeling birds, instead of at Tyson’s face, or any of the dangerous things about him to look at. Client, he reminds himself. Client and an employee and it would be all sorts of not okay, even if Tyson is definitely flirting back. Even if Gabe’s never really felt this level of immediate chemistry with someone.
“We should probably head back,” Tyson says eventually. He sounds regretful about it. “I have a shift at the bar this evening.”
“Are you ever not working?” Gabe asks. Tyson had still been bartending when they left last night, presumably had worked until close, then he’d been up again by the end of their meeting at 10, and he had been working until he’d met Gabe at 4.
Tyson shrugs. “I pick up shifts where I can, I mean. Who can’t always use the extra cash? Maybe not you, because you probably make more in an hour than I do in a year, but like, normal people.”
“I am normal!”
“You’re really not,” Tyson tells him, glancing over his shoulder as he heads towards the path. It makes him miss something on the ground, or something, because he stumbles, and Gabe acts on instinct to grab his arm and pull him in to keep him upright.
He’s warm. That’s Gabe’s first realization, as he basically tugs Tyson into his chest. He is warm, and he’s heavier than he looks in a way that makes Gabe think of the solid muscle that must be under his clothes, and his indrawn breath is loud as he stumbles into Gabe, looks up at him, his lips slightly parted and his eyes a little glazed.
Gabe can’t move. He should. He should let go and apologize and be a safe two meters apart from now on. But his hand doesn’t move from Tyson’s forearm, and Tyson doesn’t make any move to pull away either. Instead, Gabe watches as his tongue flicks out to wet his lips, as he tilts his head up. This close, his skin looks so smooth—Gabe wants to see if it’s warm too. Wants to know what it tastes like. Wants to see what it would look like stained with his marks.
“Thanks,” Tyson says, barely a breath, barely louder than the ocean.
“No problem.” Gabe licks his own lips. Tyson’s looking up at him, and his eyes are big and ark and watching Gabe’s lips. Gabe could—he shouldn’t—he could—
“We should get going!” Tyson nearly throws himself backwards, away from Gabe. Far away. He’s panting like he ran a race. “Now. We should. Go back. Because I have to—I have a shift. And you probably have like, work or something, because you’re here to be a guest, and I have to tend bar, and we should—go back.”
Gabe takes a long, slow breath, and presses his hands into the sides of his thighs. He’s not going to let himself be disappointed. So they didn’t kiss. It was probably for the best. Even if Gabe’s aching, now—thinking about what might have been.
“Yeah,” he agrees slowly. He doesn’t get any closer to Tyson, but he watches his chest move, watches the flush on his neck. He still wants to know what that would taste like. “Shall we?”
“We shall, your lordship,” Tyson replies, doing something with his voice that Gabe suspects is an attempt to imitate him. “Seriously, bud? I know you’re from London, but that’s a lot even so.”
“It’s a perfectly normal turn of phrase,” Gabe retorts, but the tension’s been broken—probably on purpose. Between them they manage to keep bickering the whole walk back—light and easy and nothing like that moment up on the bluff. They say good-bye without talking about it either, splitting up at the cabanas.
“So, have I convinced you yet?” Tyson asks. His gaze is still like that dare.
But Gabe shakes his head. “Tyson—“
“Then I’ll just have to keep trying,” Tyson tells him, determined, then waves goodbye before Gabe can protest, if he was going to protest and jogs over to the pool where Nate’s apparently lifeguarding. Tyson glances back at Gabe, once, then makes an irritated face at being caught and throws himself into the chair next to Nate.
Gabe takes a deep breath, and heads back to his room.