On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)

“Regrettable decisions? Such as?”

“Stupid investments. And right when I was getting back on my feet after those, the real estate market went tits up, and suddenly that adjustable rate mortgage hadn’t been such a good idea after all.”

Jason grimaced. “That’s why I’ve been hesitant to buy anything.”

“Buying is okay. Just don’t be stupid like I was, and you should be fine.”

“Except you know more about this sort of thing than I do.”

“Thanks to the school of hard knocks, sure.” Blake sipped his wine. “I’ve got people who know more than I do—I can certainly connect you to them.”

“That would be appreciated. Any advice you can give me, as well.”

“Well.” Blake set the glass down and folded his hands. “You’re renting your flat, correct?”

Jason nodded. “Whether I want to or not, buying in South Kensington would be . . . somewhat out of my price range.”

“But there are other areas of London where the prices are more reasonable.” Blake quirked his lips. “By London standards, anyway. I’m fairly sure that what I paid for my house would get me a broom closet in London.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Jason half shrugged, idly swirling his wine. “I mean, I suppose if you wanted a renovation project in a dodgy part of town and were willing to eat beans and toast for a few years . . .”

Blake laughed. “You know, you’re probably right. How do people afford to live in that town?”

“Easy.” Jason took a sip and set his glass down with a delicate clink. “We dance half-naked and sell our arses to pay for—”

The waitress appeared, balancing a tray of scampi on her hand and eyeing Jason uncertainly.

He cleared his throat and smiled as color bloomed in his cheeks. “Oh lovely. Appetizers.”

“Right.” She glanced at the tray, then set it down between them. “Can I, um, bring anything else?”

Blake smothered a snicker. “No, I think we’re fine. Thank you.”

She nodded, and got the hell out of there.

Jason covered his eyes. “For fuck’s sake . . .”

Blake didn’t hold back his amusement this time. “Well, well. Apparently it is possible to embarrass you.”

“Oh, come on now.” Jason lowered his hand. He tried to glare at Blake, but then laughed too and rolled his eyes. “I may be a rentboy, but I do have some couth.”

“Of course you do.”

Another eye roll, and a muttered, “Bloody Yank.”

“Whatever.” Blake chuckled and gestured at the platter between them. “Scampi?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Jason studied the carefully arranged circle of shrimp covered in sauce and spices. “Have you had these before?”

“Not these. But you can’t go wrong in this place, so I’d be surprised if they weren’t good.” He paused. “About as surprised as a waitress who just heard—”

“Fuck off.” Jason huffed, and then moved one of the spicy scampi to his plate. Arching an eyebrow, he added, “I’d bet good money she also figured out that’s where you acquired me.”

“Acquired? I wouldn’t put it quite that . . . crudely.”

Jason shrugged as he cut off a small piece of the scampi. “Well, this is a business arrangement, isn’t it?”

“Fair point. But . . .” Blake wrinkled his nose. “I’m still not sure I’d use that particular term for it. Though I guess there’s no point in dressing it up when you’re essentially renting people.”

Jason studied him, and after a moment, laid his fork down, the piece of shrimp still on it. “It’s funny. I don’t run into many men who even consider how odd it is to be hiring someone like this. Renting their body for an evening, as it were. Does it . . . does it actually bother you?”

“If I think about it too much, yeah.” Blake swallowed. “And the first time I came into Market Garden, I felt guilty. It seemed . . . exploitative. Paying someone for sex, I mean.”

“It can be. I can’t imagine working like this for any other place. Frank makes damned sure everyone at Market Garden is safe. The background checks are mandatory and thorough, and he has no qualms at all about throwing people out if he thinks they’re dodgy.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not really. I’m quite surprised by how little it happens, if I’m honest.”

“Me too, but I’m glad to hear it. I like that place, and I’d hate to think it was a bad situation for the guys who work there. So yes, the whole ‘renting another person’ thing still doesn’t always sit well.” He met Jason’s eyes. “But then I run into guys like you who are not only okay with it, but enjoy it.”

Jason smiled. “Therein lies the key, wouldn’t you say? As long as both parties enjoy what they’re doing, then what’s the harm?”

“Well, assuming he’s genuinely enjoying it, sure.”

“And if it’s any consolation,” Jason said, picking up his fork again, “I do genuinely enjoy it.”

“Good.” Blake smiled back. “So do I.”