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“Wine,” he said. “Naturally. Ooh, breadstick things and crackers and…what’s quince paste? Huh. Body chocolate! Flavoured condoms and lube! Is this…” He inspected the packaging. “It says it’s a personal body massager, but it looks like a vibrator to me. Holy crap. Liam! Your parents have given us a sex basket!”
Liam’s face did something complicated. “Sorry! Mum was talking about doing baskets, as part of the honeymoon experience…”
“She knows we’ve only been ‘dating’ for two weeks, right?”
Liam’s flush was gorgeous. “She’s a bit overbearing. We’re probably lucky she’s not already planning the wedding.” He didn’t meet Ambrose’s gaze. “We can just ignore it.”
Ambrose paused with one finger dipped in the jar of body paint. “Or, we could eat the good stuff, and then I could be obnoxious about the brand of lube she bought over breakfast?”
Liam’s face did the complicated thing again. “Can we…can we talk about that?”
“About what?” Ambrose asked, licking body paint off his fingers. He didn’t miss the way that Liam’s gaze was drawn to his mouth, and a thrill ran through him, as quick and sharp as electricity.
Liam sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. “Can you…can you be an arsehole without it being about other people? Like the Turkish thing with Orhan.”
Ambrose looked away briefly to hide his burning face. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”
“I know.” Liam chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “And, like, if you’re obnoxious about the lube, that’s going to make Mum feel bad.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “God, I can’t believe I’m defending my mum’s choice of lube. Actually, I can’t believe that sentence just left my mouth. It’s just that she’s worked really hard on these cabins, and on the gift baskets too, and it’ll upset her to think she got it wrong, you know?”
“Yeah,” Ambrose said. “I get it. What about…I tell her she got it right, instead? Equally cringey but doesn’t upset her. I like your mum,” he added, and found that he meant it.
Liam showed him a relieved smile. “That would work, I think. Like the stuff you did for Kelly’s parents. The multi-level marketing and the cult and…” He went red.
“The porn,” Ambrose reminded him helpfully, dipping his chocolate-covered fingers into his mouth again. He held up the jar. “Want a lick?”
Liam blushed scarlet. “I’m—I’ll pass, thanks.”
Ambrose regarded the jar thoughtfully, if only to stop himself from focussing on how adorable the pink tips of Liam’s ears were. “We should ask for another jar tomorrow. Tell them you’re a two-jar kinda guy, with how tall you are.”
Liam went even redder and huffed out a laugh. “You’re a fucking menace.”
“It’s the cornerstone of my business plan,” Ambrose agreed cheerfully.
He opened the breadsticks and dipped one in the chocolate, then took a bite. “It’s sexy Nutella on toast,” he decided.
Liam grinned. “Right? I’ve never got what the big deal is with body paint. You just get all sticky and there’d be pubes in your chocolate.”
“Or chocolate in your pubes,” Ambrose said, just to see Liam blush again. Liam responded by picking up one of the throw pillows on the bed and pelting it at him. Ambrose ducked, laughing, then plopped himself on the bed again, settling back against the headboard. “Four-poster,” he observed. “Probably in case anyone wants to break out the handcuffs.”
Liam paled. “Please don’t mention that to Mum. She’ll have a set added to the bedside drawers just in case.”
Fuck, he really was cute with those wide brown eyes and that deer-in-the-headlights look. Ambrose wasn’t sure how someone as reserved as Liam had come from a family as boisterous as the Connellys—maybe he was a throwback—but Ambrose found himself increasingly drawn to Liam’s whole awkward turtle demeanour. He gave himself a mental shake. Liam was cute, but it wasn’t what Ambrose was here for.
He was here for five hundred bucks, and the sooner this weekend was over and he was back in Sydney, the better. Mum was clearly starting to spiral—she wanted Ambrose to come and help find whoever had broken in and stolen her Bert Newton photograph—and Ambrose needed to be there before she crashed. He wondered if he should text Isadora and see if Mum had already started to hassle her as well. Usually it was Ambrose she called for help, not just because Ambrose lived locally, but because it was Ambrose who was her little star, the kid just like her, the one who was going to be famous. Isadora had never been interested in acting, or the theatre, or the stories Mum spun about her amazing career and all the wonderful people she’d met. As a kid, Isadora had been jealous of Ambrose, but she was having the last laugh now wasn’t she, safely far away from the drama in Brisbane? Well, that was unfair, because none of them were laughing. But it was Ambrose that Mum relied on, because he’d been her little shadow once upon a time. She only called Isadora when things were about to get really messy.
He thought about texting Isadora but decided it could wait. If Mum had called her, Issy would have let him know.
Besides, there was a selfish part of him that wanted to just enjoy this weekend—as much as he could while he was working, anyway—and pretend that this was real, that Liam was his boyfriend, and that he really was welcome somewhere for a change. If Mum got to live in her fantasy world all the time, why shouldn’t Ambrose at least get a weekend?
He forced a grin and screwed the top back on the jar of body chocolate. “Do you think if I suggested it, she’d get anchor points screwed into the bedposts? Maybe I’ll float the idea of Velcro restraints.”
“Please, no. She’d have the sewing machine out and a pair whipped up in ten minutes flat.” Liam groaned.
Ambrose laughed. “Your family is pretty great.”
“Yeah,” Liam said, shooting him a shy smile. “They are.”
“But a bit overbearing when it comes to you being single,” Ambrose said, wondering if he could draw Liam out on that any more.
