Jonathan Frost is an instrument of the Fates, doing their bidding without question, though sometimes the consequences are hard to bear.
For Mason Foley, when the Fates puts the beautiful, magical Jonathan in his path, he’s enchanted, but also hesitant, not sure if he can put aside his misgivings and accept the love the Fates have gifted him.
The chalet seemed recently renovated; the hardwood gleamed, plush carpet cushioned his steps. His room proved more than comfortable, with a couch and coffee table facing a large fireplace, coals glowing on the hearth. A table for two in an intimate bar area sat directly on his right. To his left, a separate room held a queen-sized bed and dresser in dark wood, a flat screen television perched on top of its lacquered surface.
Mason tossed the garment bag on the bed. He needed to hang up his suit, but he’d do that after a shower. He peeked into the tiled bathroom, delighted to find a whirlpool tub along with a shower stall. Maybe he’d soak in the tub instead. A yawn escaped him, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink, and chuckled. His dark blond hair was sticking up in spikes from the storm, his brown eyes heavy lidded from lack of sleep. He wondered if there was wine in the bar fridge and went to check, and heard voices in the hall outside his door.
Expecting his errant luggage, he opened the door, and paused. Jonathan stood a few paces down the hall holding Mason’s bag, his back to him. A woman with flaming red hair stood toe to toe with him, her dress a spring green velvet, her posture menacing.
“Remember our conversation,” she warned, her voice cultured, with a hint of a foreign accent Mason couldn’t place.
“Leave me be,” Jonathan retorted and swiveled away, stopping short on catching Mason hovering in the doorway. Color mounted in his cheeks, his eyes snapping, but he marched up to Mason with determined steps.
“Let me set this inside your room, sir,” Jonathan murmured, passing by Mason, who motioned him to enter. Mason lingered a moment, gaze clashing with the woman’s hazel-eyed glare, before he followed Jonathan into the room and closed the door.
Jonathan had retreated to the bedroom, where Mason heard him moving around a moment before he emerged, minus Mason’s bag.
“I put your clothing in the dresser and hung up your suit, sir,” Jonathan informed him, a quaver in his charming voice. He wouldn’t meet Mason’s eyes, giving his shirt cuffs a tug instead, as if trying to regain his composure. His hair was damp from the rain and curled against his fair skin. Mason resisted the urge to tuck the dark strands behind his ears.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, for some inexplicable reason needing to be gentle with Jonathan. It seemed the woman in the hallway had shaken his confidence and Mason wanted to see mischief dancing in his remarkable eyes again. “Is that person --”
“It’s nothing,” Jonathan stopped him gently. “A misunderstanding.” He took a few steps toward the door and halted, shooting Mason a questioning glance. “Thank you for asking. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”
Is he offering? If so, he tempted Mason more than he’d like to admit. Jonathan was delightful: sweet and kind and distractingly pretty. And why the hell did Mason picture them in the tub together, Jonathan’s legs wrapped around him? Jonathan probably meant he’d bring him a snack or something.
Mason grabbed onto that idea in desperation. “Is there a vending machine close by?” he blurted out and could have smacked himself. What an inane question, but Jonathan merely widened his eyes then shook his head, a smile tugging his full lips.
“No, sir. We try to keep the chalet as close to an authentic German inn as possible.”
“Of course. Never mind. Well, I think I’ll just have a bath then hit the sheets.” And why the fuck am I explaining this to you? “Err ... goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
Jonathan started for the door again but Mason put a hand on his arm to stop him. Jonathan made a soft sound, clearly startled by the gesture.
“I want to thank you for making me feel so welcome tonight. It was a shitty drive up but you’ve made it worthwhile. I think I’m going to like my few days here.”
Jonathan’s stance relaxed as if he was willing to talk for a few minutes. Mason gave himself a mental shake. It was well past midnight. Jonathan probably had things to see to before he could go home. Mason found himself surprisingly reluctant to let the beautiful man leave.
