by Box Set
“I’m not… That is, this thing, it’s just between our characters. I’m not gay, or bi, or whatever.”
“Right you are,” Lorne says, like he knows I’m talking bollocks. He turns straightaway and heads for the wooden shack that’s ostensibly home to our bathroom. I watch him disappear from sight, but it’s not until I’m alone beneath the stars that it dawns on me what I’ve just done.
How big a fucking twerp am I? He flat out offered what I wanted and I turned him down.
“Shit! Lorne.” I sprint after him and burst into the tiled paradise. The taps are running and I have to wade through clouds of billowing steam to find him. He’s poised, frozen by the edge of the enormous hot tub. “I mean yes. Yes, you should totally…blow me…”
It’s right as the words are tumbling out that the clouds part enough for me to realise he’s not the only person in here.
Clothes litter the floor. A pair of ladies boots lies discarded by the towel rail.
There’s a woman in our hot tub. And she’s not just any woman, she’s Lana frickin’ Bow.
Chapter Three
Mikayla Ashton
The heat of the water is just what I need to soak away the woes of the last week at work. I love my job, but the research has hit a snag and I need to adapt the experiment to generate the data I need without rendering all the results so far obsolete. Of course, it hasn’t helped that I’ve had Edward Aster on the phone all week nagging me over his next game launch. Don’t know when he’s going to get the message that I’m not actually interested in being a media icon or the face of his intrepid female explorer-come-serial killer.
Yeah, so he reckons all games are like that and her body count isn’t actually that high compared to other market leaders in the genre, but personally I take offence at how many people I randomly shoot just because they’re in the way. What’s it teaching people? That it’s fine to pop off your rivals if you want something badly enough? Well, if that were the case I’d have blasted him to smithereens ages back.
Not that Edward is a rival, just a pain in the butt. The fact is, in the real world you need to compromise and find non-lethal solutions, like going off grid.
I stretch an arm out of the water again to check my phone. Still zero bars. Excellent. That means there’s no possibility of us having another tedious conversation about me doing the official game launch next weekend. I wouldn’t mind so much, but I hate being photographed and I’m a respected botanist, thank you very much, not a noodle-brained, over-endowed dilettante who’s forever holidaying in totally inappropriate places.
The snow should prevent him arriving in person to harangue me, assuming he manages to determine my whereabouts. He’s not past using illegal means to track me down—phone triangulation or something. But, back to the issues of these Western blots. I stuff another chocolate in my mouth, and I’m just about to submerge myself beneath the surface in pursuit of clarity, when the blasted wind blows the outer door open wide. The temperature in the room instantly plummets. Shoot! I should have turned the key in the lock before I got in the tub, but it hardly seemed necessary when there’s no one around for miles.
I raise my head, thinking maybe I can throw something to close the door again, only to find it’s not the wind that’s blown it open. There’s a man…OhJeezushellandfuckin’shit! A very large, very naked, and perfectly put together man standing in the room gawping at me, in the same wide-eyed, disbelieving way I’m sure I’m looking at him.
“Whoa! Who the fuck are you?”
We speak and fall silent near simultaneously, both expecting a response, but neither willingly volunteering the information. He’s no gentleman looking at me like that. I gather a barrier of bath foam in front of me.
“You need to leave.”
“The hell I do, I have this place booked. You need to vacate my tub.”
His tub? I grab the wooden handled loofah and brandish it before me like a lethal weapon. “Look buddy, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I think you’ll find that I have this place booked for the weekend.”
Shoot! Why is there no signal on my phone? I totally need there to be a signal on my phone. How else am I going to let the world know there’s a naked lunatic on the loose before he murders me? Lana would totally be prepared for such eventualities. She’d have harpooned him by now or wrapped her thighs around his neck and taken him down with some impressive martial arts move involving a flying leap from a sitting position.
“Not possible,” he says. “As I have it booked.”
“Yeah, well obviously one of us has screwed their dates up, and it’s not me.” At least, I pray it’s not me. It probably is me. He seems confident that he has a right to be here, but maybe that’s just a man thing. He’s certainly not shy about the fact he’s standing before me in the altogether flaunting everything he’s got. Me, I’m not so keen on this level of exposure, or the fact I can feel his interest raking over my skin. Thank God for bath foam.
“When’s your booking for?”
I can’t help it, my gaze sweeps over his naked form. He doesn’t make the slightest attempt to cover up his junk, which is right at my eye-level. The guy’s a natural blond. It’s hellish embarrassing that I know that before I even know his name. Not that I need to know his name or anything else about him, his ripped abs, and biceps that are probably big enough that I can’t quite circle them even with two hands. If he gets physical, it’s not going to end well for me. My limbs are like twigs in comparison. “19th to the 23rd.”
“Right,” he says. “That’d be the problem, then, since today is the 26th.”
“It isn’t,” I object. I’d know if it was. If it was the 26th, then the game launch would be tomorrow, and yesterday I ought to have been in Dublin presenting a poster to an international symposium. It can’t bloody well be the 26th.
I risk the potential water damage, and grab my phone. A single swipe across the screen proves that it damn well is. I don’t know how I’ve failed to clock that fact before now. The information is right there on the home page right below the current time and the absolute lack of signal bars. Oh, shit! And blondie is staring at me smugly like he deserves a fucking apology.
Well, he can just keep on waiting for that, because this situation stinks, and I’m half convinced it’s a set-up.
Double bookings and mistakes happen, yeah, I accept that. But naked men don’t barge in to remote bathrooms while you’re soaking and get shirty over the calendar date. Also, there’s something achingly familiar about him. I focus on his face and not the other bits of him that are right in my field of vision, but nah, I can’t place him. He’d better not turn out to be some associate of Edward’s.
Is Edward capable of sinking to this level of scumbag behaviour just to get what he wants from me? Yeah, unfortunately, I think he probably is. I’m about to call the intruder over my suspicion and give him an earful, when a second equally naked man bursts into the room.
What are the actual odds of that happening? Two hot, naked hunks in one day? Didn’t realise I’d booked a place in the middle of a naturists winter wonderland.
“Yes,” he yells, before seeing me and coming to an abrupt halt. Unlike the first guy, the newcomer is dark-haired and has more than a few days growth of stubble on his chin. His eyes are two pools of warmth that fasten upon me and dilate. “Blow me!” Recognition ignites fires in the depths of those inky pupils. “Lana Bow.” He squints like maybe I’m a hallucination. “It’s Lana fucking Bow. How are you here? Did you arrange this, Lorne?”
“Nope.”
Blondie…Lorne’s sour enough to be convincing. I don’t think he’s remotely pleased to meet me, unlike fanboy, who hurriedly wraps a towel around his waist, before darting forward and attempting to shake my hand. Um, yeah…no…just a big fat no.
“God, this is awesome. You’re here. You’re like really here, and live, and here…”
Yup, I’m definitely here and still breathing. Although, I suppose it’s possible that I’m
actually somewhere else and this is one heck of a weird fantasy. Although, that said, I don’t remember being somewhere else that I’d suddenly be in a situation where I was dreaming or hallucinating hot naked men arguing over ownership of a bathtub, not even this here whirlpool, which is plenty big for the three of us to inhabit without even needing to brush ankles or anything.
“Look, is this a joke? Did Edward send the pair of you? Cause the answer is still no.”
“Who the fuck is Edward?” Lorne’s fingers curl over the edge of the tub, and he leans forward so as to be on more of a level with me. For a moment I envisaging him plunging face first into the pool.
“She means Edward Aster, the game designer,” his pal explains. He shoves a towel into his friend’s hands. It fails to make it to around Lorne’s hips, but the newcomer doesn’t seem to notice. “So, are you in the wrong cottage or something?”
“Right cottage, wrong weekend apparently.”
“Okay, yeah. That’s a problem.”
This second man has pretty eyes and the sweetest smile, except when it verges on becoming deranged.
“So like, you were supposed to be here next weekend or something.”
“The previous one,” Lorne and I say together. It’s still bugging me that he seems so familiar. I’m sure I should know who he is. Where the hell have we met? Have we met? I don’t think I’d forget him if we had.
“Right,” fanboy drawls. “Of course, because with Here Be Dragons 4 launching tomorrow, you’d be totally too busy to escape to the country. I hear you’re doing a signing at one of the flagship stores in London.”
I smile meekly. Okay, it’s a barely disguised grimace. At no point did I ever agree to do a signing in London or anywhere else, and Edward knows it. This hijacking of my person has got to cease.
“Well, I guess if you’re here, then you’re not signing.”
“Guess not.”
“That’ll be such a bummer for people. Obviously, not for us.” He glances at his buddy. “This is way better than playing the game. Lana Bow in the flesh.”
Yeah, I’d rather we didn’t dwell too much on the flesh part. “Maybe we could get dressed and continue this discussion in the house?”
“Of course.” He takes a step back. “Over hot drinks and teacakes.”
I swaddle myself in the towel Lorne discarded. Neither man averts their gaze as I do so. Good thing I don’t have major body hang-ups.
“Can’t see there’s anything to discuss,” Lorne mutters as I brush off the foam clinging to my shoulders. He’s still made no attempt to cover up. Guess he’s proud of that bod. Admittedly, it’s worthy of appreciation and even agitated as I am, my brain has the capacity to recognise that. However, there’s a time and a place for flaunting yourself, and the introductions stage of a relationship isn’t it. The scowl he’s sporting tells me he’s pissed off too, assuming the tone he’s taken hadn’t already made it obvious. It occurs to me, looking at these two extremely good looking young men, that I’ve inadvertently interrupted something.
“The roads were dicey on the way here, and it’s been snowing pretty steadily ever since. There’s no way she’s leaving here tonight.”
Something clicks into place in my brain. Two guys running around naked in the back of beyond, I’ve gate-crashed a dirty weekend, and I’m betting one, if not both of them, are still officially in the closet. No wonder I’m persona non grata.
I purse my lips, fighting to keep a smile away. I kind of want to say sorry, except part of me is very definitely not sorry. Considering how badly I’ve screwed up jumbling my dates—I’m totally pissed over that research poster, irritated about the lack of solitude to figure out my research tasks, but don’t give a toss about the game launch—I need a nice pick-me-up and stumbling upon a couple of gay guys that I’m going to have to share a cottage with for the weekend is like the Holy Grail of fantasies. I happen to totally get off on the whole guy-on-guy thing. It totally does it for me. It’s one of the things I really miss from my fieldwork days with Rob and Eric in the Amazon. Plus, additional bonus, they’re both so utterly pretty.
Of course, in my actual fantasies they’re not really gay, just mega hot for one another, and for me. Rob and Eric never quite delivered on that score.
“So, shall Lorne and I leave you to dress and meet us in the lounge in a bit? I’m Jasper, by the way.” Jasper and I shake hands, while clinging on to our respective towels.
“You may as well properly finish your bath,” Lorne grumbles. “It’s not as if there’s any rush. We’re all stuck here.”
“Thanks. I will, I think.”
He turns away. He is totally and utterly deliciously pissed with me. I’m going to have to work on ingratiating myself. “Would you like to borrow my dressing gown? It’s awful cold out there.”
He doesn’t even flick a glance at my snuggly purple bathrobe. “No need.”
The man is seriously hard core. That or just insane stepping out into that wind and snow with not a sausage covering him. Jasper troops after him, muttering to himself under his breath.
“Lana Bow. Can you fucking believe it? Lana Bow just turns up in our bathroom on the Here Be Dragons 4 launch weekend. It’s a fucking miracle.”
“Hey, you know that’s not actually who I am,” I call out after him, but I’m not sure he hears. Lana Bow is a video game sprite. She’s make-believe. I’m Mikayla Ashton. I have a first class degree and a doctorate, and I had a fucking great career until my former roommate decided to make me his muse.
I chuck the towel and submerge myself beneath the foam-covered water again. The temperature has cooled so that it’s no longer as pleasant or relaxing as it was. I open the hot tap, but that just spurts icicles into the water. Fuck it, now I’m agitated. I came here to hide from humanity, to provide my mind with the solitude and serenity it requires to work through the issues with my research. Interacting with anyone, let along two strangers wasn’t on the agenda, even if they are super-hot, super-cute strangers. It’s not as if all that muscle is going to be interested in wrapping itself around me. I might as well stare at a pretty picture of some model as gawp at what’s mooching around here.
Dammit! It doesn’t help that Jasper recognised me either. If there’s one aspect of this gaming situation that really causes me issues, it’s that I can’t go anywhere anymore without some bugger identifying me. The last botany conference I attended, I had some bright spark in the audience ask me about an obscure gaming Easter egg. As if I have a fucking clue. I’ve never even played the games. I don’t need to adventure vicariously. I do that shit in real time. Only without the body count.
I’m going to have to sit down and talk to Edward. He needs to find himself a new muse to act as his Lana Bow, before her existence leads to the complete destruction of my identity. My failure to turn up and present that poster may already have cost me my next round of university funding.
Chapter Four
Lorne Everett
I am way hotter than some pixelated chick, no matter how much her arse wiggles when she runs.
Fucking hell! Of all the permutations of crap that could possibly happen, how do I land the version of reality where the one person who could utterly divert Jasper’s attention winds up in our bathtub? How is she even a real person? Lana Bow is a goddamned video sprite. Yes, she’s enough of a gaming heavyweight that even I’m acquainted with her, but the woman’s NOT real. Leastways, she’s not supposed to have a physical form.
Okay, deep breath, so Mikayla is insistently not Lana Bow, but she is her image made flesh, and I’m not convinced that Jasper sees a difference. Is it bad if I start hoping this is all in my head, and that actually we pitched the car into a spin on the icy roads and landed in a ditch somewhere, and that everything that’s happened over the last few hours is simply a side-effect of head trauma?
No, I don’t really want that. I certainly don’t want to brush away the memories of Jasper in my arms. It’s only the last ten minutes or so I want t
o unwind. We could fail to discover the existence of the bathroom and as Jasper suggested, just piss out of the door.
Aw, fuck!
The flakes are coming down thick and fast again as Jasper and I make the icy dash back to the cottage. We’re only outdoors about thirty seconds, but the cold creeps up through the soles of my feet and the wind bites. Jasper reaches the open bedroom door first. He darts inside, whereupon he starts gathering his strewn clothes.
He’s bleached from the cold, his skin’s whiter than the towel he’s knotted around his waist, except for where it’s red around the extremities. I guess I’m in a similarly frostbitten state. I shake off the tingling sensations as my body thaws, but I don’t dress. I stand with my back to the door.
I can’t believe another girl is about to screw everything up for me. He was almost mine. I heard what he said. It was about to happen, until fucking mermaid girl appeared in the tub, boobs floating on the water, hair slicked back to show off her impressive bone-structure and water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. Jasper would have been a goner, but the fact she’s Lana Bow has his inner geek squealing like a Japanese school girl over her favourite idol. He’s still smiling to himself over the thought of her.
Five minutes ago, that lunatic grin was over the thought of me wrapping my lips around his cock. It was going to happen. He was ready to let me, and we both know it would have had nothing to do with the script.
Well, you know what? I’m not giving up. Not yet. Not when there’s so much potential between us. When Jasper ducks to scoop his jeans up off the floor, I come up behind him and hook an arm around his waist, then slide my hand down towards his cock. There’s no actual skin on skin contact made, but sometimes a disturbance in the air around you is all it takes. He turns immediately, barely containing a yelp of surprise. His lips are tinged with blue when he faces me, and his eyes as wide as saucers.