“What are you doing?” Nate demanded.
Flynn shrugged. “You wanted a bad boy. What? Wasn’t I bad enough?”
Nate shoved his shoulder. It rocked Flynn back on his heels and flashed a brief expression of surprise over his face.
“Don’t feed me that bullshit,” Nate said. “I don’t know what the hell this is, but it’s not about me.”
Flynn wiped wine off his lips with the back of his hand and contradicted him. “Don’t undersell yourself. It’s a little about you.”
“You know what?” Nate said, raising his eyebrows. “You’re not a bad boy. You’re just an asshole. I’m not doing this. Come back when you’re sober, or don’t. It’s up to you.”
Behind Nate, someone wolf-whistled. He jerked around and found Max standing in front of the doors with a shit-eating smirk on his face as he slow-clapped the argument.
“About time, Flynn,” he said. “Just when I was starting to think you’d buck the trend and not fuck up.”
“Max, not now—” Nate tried to say. Neither of them were listening to him.
“Maybe I should have asked you for advice,” Flynn said with a sneer. “You know all about fucking up, don’t you? Almost forty years old, still waiting bar in your daddy’s hotel.”
Dull color flagged across Max’s tanned cheekbones as though he’d been smacked. His smirk slipped into more of a grimace.
“Fuck you.” He shoved past Nate’s attempt to block him and squared up to Flynn. “You think you’re so much better than me? Only person on this island that had the time of day for you was Nate. Now he’s fucked you, and you’ve disappointed him like everyone else in your pathetic—”
Flynn ’s knuckles caught Max on his outthrust jaw and knocked him backward. Nate had to jump out of the way of Max’s suddenly limp body as he hit the tiles with a bone-rattling thud.
“Why don’t you shut up,” Flynn suggested flatly. He shook his hand out while a dazed Max rolled onto his side and nursed his jaw. Blood dropped onto the floor in fat splodges. He looked reluctantly back at Nate. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Get out,” Nate said.
Everyone in the lobby looked around and craned their necks to see what was going on. Out of the corner of his eye, Nate saw the receptionist pick up the phone and speak into it urgently. Nate dropped to one knee next to Max. He peeled Max’s hand off his jaw long enough to check the damage. Blood covered Max’s chin, and his lip was already puffed up and purple. Nate grimaced and dragged a handkerchief out of his pocket to mop up the mess.
“Nate. You don’t get it,” Flynn said.
“I know you aren’t going to convince me this was even a little bit about me.”
Max looked up and smirked bloodily over the handkerchief. “You heard him. He wants you to fuck off, just like everyone else.” He turned his head and spat blood on the marble. “So go before I decide to press charges.”
“You can shut up,” Nate said. He shoved the handkerchief back up over Max’s bloody mouth to muffle him. “Just go, Flynn.”
There was definite regret on Flynn’s face that time. He pushed his hair back from his face and opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he closed it again. With a last apologetic shrug, he turned to leave just as the elevator doors slid open and Teddy limped urgently into the lobby. The two men stopped and stared at each other.
Nate groaned under his breath. That was all he needed.
“Here.” He placed the handkerchief in Max’s hand. “Don’t choke.”
He braced his hand on the cold tiles, ignored Max’s mumble-mouthed complaints, and pushed himself to his feet.
“Teddy… Mr. St. John.” He took two steps forward and stopped abruptly, pinned by Teddy’s cold, gimlet glare. It made his mouth go dry and the back of his neck itch as though he were still a kid called on the carpet because he was caught stealing apples from the cider press. “I know this looks bad. It’s just a misunderstanding—”
“Don’t bother,” Flynn interrupted. “I don’t need you to apologize for me, Nate.”
Teddy curled his lip in a sneer. “Perhaps he’s apologizing for himself, Delaney. I don’t appreciate employees’ private lives bleeding over into my business—especially not when their private lives involve such poor decision-making.”
A flick of anger cut through Nate’s embarrassed discomfort. That his sort-of lover disrupted an event at the hotel was his problem. It was unprofessional, even if he hadn’t encouraged it. But the fact that hehada sort-of lover was no one’s business but his and Flynn’s.
“My private life didn’t turn this into a problem. Max’s mouth did,” he said. From the floor Max protested halfheartedly. Nobody paid any attention. “Flynn’s leaving now, and there’s no reason for him to come back. So unless you want to suspend me, I’m going back to work.”
He waited. For a second, under Teddy’s cold glare, he thought he’d pushed too far and was actually about to be asked to leave. Part of him almost hoped for it. He could go home, get sloppy drunk, and cry on his mother’s shoulder. He wouldn’t even try to pretend he didn’t want to.
