Just Ask (11 page)

“You’re a snob.”

“Sorry, but yeah. I am.” He leaned closer to Ryan. “How does it feel to know you fucked a snob, and liked it?”

Ryan laughed, one from deep in his gut, a sound Jordan liked way too much. “Look, I don’t care what you buy, but it has to be something for you—just you. It has to be something you won’t want to resell, and something you like. Got it?”

That was way too easy. “Sell me the waterfall painting, then.”

“Still not for sale, Hill. Just humor me. Please?”

“Fine.” Jordan didn’t know what he’d find at the American equivalent of a flea market, but whatever. He wanted sex later enough to humor Ryan. The marketplace was actually quite busy with purchasers, some obviously tourists, others village inhabitants. The stalls were under a long, covered roof offering shade or shelter from an occasional storm for both sellers and buyers.

They decided to stroll up the entire length of the market corridor before poking in the individual stalls. Ryan explained as they walked, “Saturday is when Fijians traditionally do their shopping. The marketplace has a mixture of wares for sale, from vegetables and homemade foods to baskets, bowls and other items. Blake came every Saturday.”

The fact that Blake came here made it feel a little less of a chore, since Jordan was a man with little shopping experience. Which made little sense, considering he had a whole lot of buying experience stashed under his belt. Just not retail.

“You have Fijian money?” Ryan asked, concerned. “They don’t do U.S. currency at the market.”

Jordan shot him the ‘you’re-an-idiot’ look. Of course he had some. “No, loan me some, buddy.”

“I’m not giving you money to buy yourself something, smart ass. Then I’d be buying it for you.” Ryan leaned in a bit closer, still smelling way too good. The entire population of Fiji would attempt to jump Ryan if Jordan weren’t here to guard him. He smelled that damned good.

“I have money. Relax.”

“Good. You know you’re supposed to haggle, right? Don’t settle for whatever price they want first. It’s part of the Saturday fun.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, wondering if he had a sticker on his head that said market virgin. Really, he could figure it out. How different was it to haggle over the price of a pineapple vs. the price of a casino? “I’ve never paid full price for anything before in my life. I don’t think I’ve sucked in enough fresh air to start doing so today, so relax.”

First, they walked through the assorted stalls of fresh vegetables and fruits, fresh caught fish on ice. Ryan asked, “I know we had fish for dinner last night, but do you want to try some of the local caught varieties?”

“Sure.” Actually, Jordan loved seafood, fish, or shellfish, the fresher the better. He’d eat it every day of the week if he could. “Pick up the fixings for a truly local meal and impress me.”

Ryan grinned. “You’re on. I’ll have them hold the fish on ice until we’re ready to go.”

Next, they moved into the stalls that sold more handmade goods. All of it excellent quality, and Jordan began to feel like an ass for being a snob. His mother would love the woven mats, and Samantha’s kitchen matched the color of the wooden bowls on the next table over. He was sure his sister would love either, or both.

The women in his life loved gifts made by the native people of a land he visited. Unfortunately, Jordan rarely encountered native people in any land, unless they waited on him in a hotel, restaurant, or conference area. His staff did this stuff. But the idea of buying gifts, all by himself, was intriguing. Exciting.

He was about to start haggling when a woman selling pies waved Ryan over. “I have your pie for you.”

“Excellent.” Ryan touched Jordan’s bicep. “Sera, this is Jordan. Blake’s—”

“Blake’s brother,” Sera exclaimed. She rounded the table holding assorted pies and baked goods and hugged Jordan tight, her wiry arms wrapped tight around his waist. She was tiny, coming up to his chest, her dark hair shot with gray and neatly braided. “We’re so sorry for your loss. Blake was a wonderful man. When we were told he’d died, we were upset, losing a great friend as well as a protector of the island. So many developers approached him about selling so they could build up the hotel and make it more of a resort. We’re so glad he never did.”

Well, shit.

“Blake was a good man,” Jordan observed, knowing he’d earn the title as village asshole when he went home and sold everything.

“Pick something out, for your breakfast. On me,” Sera urged, waving to the table laden with pastries and cakes, beaming.

“We’ll pay, but thanks, Sera,” Ryan said. He chose a pastry, took a bite, and gestured for Jordan to do the same. “Delicious as usual.”

They paid, bought more for the next day, thanked her, and moved on. Jordan glared at Ryan over the delicious pastry, definitely pissed. “You took me there on purpose, as a huge guilt-trip.”

“Powerful business mogul Jordan Hill can be guilt-tripped? I’m impressed.” Ryan grinned, and they paused to look at handmade jewelry.

“I’m only human.” But Samantha often told him he wasn’t, and it bothered him. The Jordan who inhaled pollution daily wasn’t vulnerable to guilt-trips. Not in the least.

They strolled to the next one where a man sorted woven mats his wife had made, all excellent quality, definitely gift material. Again, the introductions. Again, the gentleman knew who he was, sang Blake’s praises, and made him feel like a dick. It seemed to be the theme, stall after stall.

“You’re failing your challenge,” Ryan whispered, his hand at Jordan’s back, singeing his skin. If his hand stayed there, it would burn through and melt his spine.

“I like some of the native crafts, but I want to resell it all,” Jordan said, just to be a dick. He didn’t want to sell any of it. He wanted to buy it all and give it away, to his family. Jordan was clueless, but he couldn’t come home from Fiji empty-handed.

“That says something about you, Hill.”

“I’m a born salesman?”

Ryan laughed. “No. Well, yes, but no. This means I need to dig deeper.”

“Sell me the waterfall painting. Or better yet, paint me something I’d want to keep.” Jordan leaned close and breathed in Ryan’s ear, “You. Naked. I wouldn’t sell that.”

Ryan froze and his blue eyes grew lusty. For just a moment, he felt alone with Ryan in the marketplace despite it buzzing with people. But the moment passed quickly, and Ryan joked, “You wouldn’t make any money off a painting like that, anyway.”

“I’d make a killing.”

A strange look came into Ryan’s eyes, one that Jordan didn’t quite get and maybe feared. A look that he felt deep in his gut.

“I’ll be right back. Wait here.” Ryan left his side to go back to Sera. He asked a few questions, Sera pointed, and Ryan nodded. He returned with a triumphant grin. “I know what you might like.”

“Someone else has painted nudes of you?” He frowned, doubtful, and even a little jealous.

“Yeah. They’re hidden all over the island. Let’s go hunt for one.” Ryan led him away from the marketplace, down a side street, and paused. He checked both ways, but the streets were quiet with most people busy shopping. Ryan kissed Jordan, the touch of his lips fleeting. “Come on, we can’t linger.”

But Jordan wanted to linger, wanted more kisses, and maybe to be felt up a little. Yeah, Ryan’s hand on his cock, stroking, cupping his balls—

“Let’s go.” Ryan tugged him out of his daydream. “The man we’re going to see is heading over to the big island for the day. I don’t want you to miss out on meeting him.”

The sound of that held promise so Jordan followed Ryan to a strip of apartments. He knocked on the blue door, but no one answered. “We missed him.”

“Why is he important?”

“Jone shoes the horses for me, but he’s also a master carver. He carves warrior clubs and other really cool things. I thought you might like to see them.”

“I would have liked that.” It wasn’t a line, either.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s gone.” Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Shall we go back? We need to pick up our grocery items, anyway.”

They slowly walked back through the alley, toward the market place, avoiding the puddles.

Jordan hesitated, and asked, “Can I buy items even if I don’t want to keep them? Or does that break some hidden challenge rule that will piss you off.”

Ryan shook his head. Jesus, did Jordan always attempt to find a way around everything? Just do the fucking challenge. Ryan sighed, distracted and disturbed that he’d missed out on what could have been a nice bridging experience for Jordan, introducing him to Fijian culture and heritage. “Why would you buy something you don’t want to keep?”

“Gifts, idiot. I can’t go home empty-handed,” Jordan said with a grin.

Ryan halted in his tracks and blinked, because he would have bet his volcano Jordan had been ready to shirk his challenge. And purchasing gifts was the last thing Ryan expected Jordan’s face to light up about. But sure enough, Jordan was itching to get back to the marketplace, his weight shifting from the balls of his feet to his heels in expectation.

Ryan shrugged, amused, liking Jordan even more by the minute. “Sure. Purchase away.”

Jordan frowned and glanced over at him. “You need to offer an opinion so I don’t fuck this up royally.”

Ryan grinned, even more amused. “You need to ask.”

“Fuck.”

Ryan would pay twenty bucks to see Jordan roll his eyes like that again. He huffed and shrugged his shoulders to his ears, then released them in defeat. “Help me choose stuff? Please? I suck at picking out gifts.”

“Very good, effective asking.” But Ryan could tell, as much as Jordan felt he failed at picking out gift items, he enjoyed doing it, enough to ask for help. He didn’t see Jordan as the type to ask for assistance.

No, he saw Jordan sweeping in, pointing a finger to the desired items and then expecting them to be wrapped and delivered on time and intact. Or he’d have his PA do it. “Sure, I’ll help.”

Jordan narrowed his gaze, taking Ryan in with a skeptical eye. “You good at picking gifts, McCale? Because I have picky women back home, expecting Fijian treasures beyond their wildest expectations. This is a huge challenge, bigger than me asking or finding selfish things to purchase. You up to it?”

“I rock at a lot of things, but I excel at choosing gifts.” Or so his family said.

“Will I discover what more you rock at when seven rolls around?”

The word seven had his cock in fit of hardness, aching, wanting. He’d never wanted a man more, and the naughty images dancing in his mind had to be reflected in his smile. “Yeah.”

Jordan grinned back. “Good.”

****

Okay, so after spending a morning and early afternoon with a more relaxed version of Jordan, Ryan reconsidered shoving coal up his ass to get diamonds. They finished up at the market, Jordan’s arms loaded down with things he’d purchased for his family, Jordan chattering—yes, chattering—a mile a minute about who would like what. Though he’d found nothing for himself he’d hit the mother lode on gifts.

Blake had said Jordan was generous to a fault, and Ryan would have said Blake was full of shit until this very moment. Well, no, not in bed. Jordan was definitely generous in bed. But seeing the look of satisfaction on Jordan’s face as he reviewed his purchases made Ryan want to put the coal away and get out the lube.

“Now what?” Jordan asked, his face flushed with the excitement of haggling. He’d been good at that, no surprise, though he hadn’t gone nearly low enough on the price. He’d been taken for a ride on some of the items, but Jordan didn’t seem to care.

“What else did you want to experience? Snorkeling? Sailing? We’ll ride later, but you know that. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. You can check out the hotel books any day. We can lie by a pool or in a hammock with a book. You can be as busy or as lazy as you want.”

“Can we snorkel at your cove?” The grin on Jordan’s face implied naked. The thought of Jordan’s bare flesh slicing through the crystal clear waters made Ryan ache in all the right places.

“Yes.”

“Then home it is.”

Home. The fact that Jordan said that sent another wave of achiness, one a single guy on a boys-gone-wild weekend shouldn’t experience. His chest clenched and he waved it off as acid reflux. Had to be from the coffee. Way too strong this morning. “You need anything from the hotel? We’re close. Why not grab jeans and boots? You can probably wear my clothes, but I think your feet are bigger.”

“Will we be able to come back tomorrow before our ride to the waterfall?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I have to get…you know.” Jordan shifted uncomfortably, and just the way he shifted told Ryan he was embarrassed by being uncomfortable. “Blake.”

“Oh.” Ryan nodded, morbidly curious. “How big is…the box?”

“The remains will fit in a saddle bag. It’s amazing how fire reduces one-hundred-sixty pounds of man into an eight-by-eight inch box.” For as matter-of-fact as Jordan said it, the pain still lingered in his eyes. But maybe that’s what Jordan did in his world. Soothe the ache by being frank, by breaking apart a company and selling it off, bit by bit.

“We’ll come back, then.” Ryan tugged Jordan to him and kissed him again in a quick claim of his lips. “Until then, you need to focus on your challenges. Buy something from you and learn to ask.”

Jordan narrowed his eyes in that pissed way of his. Good. Pissed was much better than sad. “You didn’t say you were adding the asking as a challenge.”

“I’m going to make you beg at seven,” Ryan promised, unable to keep the cocky tone from his voice. He looked forward to Jordan at his mercy, begging to come however Ryan allowed, be it his hand, his mouth, his ass. All his. “You’ll be way past asking, so I suggest you work on that before.”

Jordan swallowed, in a good way this time, his eyes dark with lust. He squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I can’t promise I’ll beg easily.”

No, Jordan wouldn’t give in easily, but Ryan sensed that’s what he liked from sex. To be cut loose, to not have to be in charge for a change. “Then that will be my challenge.”

Chapter Seven

Jordan lay naked in the hammock secured between two coconut trees, waiting for Ryan to get back with his drink. It was five-thirty, and the sun was going down in a blistering explosion of reds and gold, dipping into the crystal clear water. It was the perfect ending to a surprisingly perfect day, one that left him feeling relaxed and tired in a good way, yet achy for seven to arrive.