Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys 10)

“Thanks,” Miles said, but Alexander had already ended the call.

Grimacing a little—he really hated being an inconvenience to someone he barely knew—Miles looked at his phone and typed a message to Zach, telling him that everything was fine. There was no way in hell he could tell his overprotective brother that he had already managed to lose his wallet and his ID. Zach would never let him live it down.

But before Miles could send the message, his phone went off again. It was an unfamiliar number.

Miles answered.

“Miles Hardaway?” someone said. “My name is Tom. I’m Mr. Rutledge’s driver. I was sent for you.”

Miles sagged in relief and smiled.

***

Miles fell asleep in the car, so he wasn’t actually sure how long the trip to Rutledge Manor had taken. When he opened his eyes, the car had already stopped, and the driver was gently shaking him awake. It was already dark outside.

“We have arrived, Mr. Hardaway,” the driver said, straightening up.

Miles pulled a face. “Please call me Miles.” It was strange to be called Mr. Hardaway by a man who looked old enough to be his grandfather.

Shaking his head, Tom just smiled at him like he was an adorable but very unreasonable child.

Suppressing a sigh, Miles smiled back faintly and got out of the car.

He blinked, staring at the enormous house.

Miles wasn’t exactly a stranger to huge mansions and luxurious lifestyle. His brother Ryan’s boyfriend was an actual lord whose family owned several castles in England and Scotland. But Miles had never stayed there even for a night; he was supposed to stay here for an indefinite amount of time.

It was a little bit intimidating, to be honest.

And was it normal for the house to be illuminated so brightly? The lights were turned on in practically all the rooms.

He asked Tom about it.

“Actually, no,” Tom replied, retrieving his suitcase. “There’s a company event tonight to celebrate Rutledge Enterprises’ partnership with the Caldwell Group.”

Great. Not only was he dumped on the Rutledges without any warning, but he was also crashing their company event.

“Tom, maybe we shouldn’t…”

But either Tom hadn’t heard him, which was entirely possible, considering his age, or he chose to dismiss Miles’s misgivings.

Miles followed him into the house, trying to remember what he knew about the Rutledges. Not a lot. Alexander had mentioned them a few times, and if Miles remembered correctly, they were a gay couple. That was pretty much all Miles knew about them.

“I’ll go find Mr. Rutledge,” Tom said, handing Miles’s suitcase to a maid.

Miles nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked around with interest. It didn’t take him long to start feeling a little self-conscious in his t-shirt and jeans. He looked completely out of place in this elegant hall that screamed of money and privilege, standing out like a sore thumb among those finely dressed guests. He was attracting a lot of looks, and Miles didn’t flatter himself thinking that it was because he looked amazing after his transatlantic flight. He probably looked like a mess.

Maybe he should go for a walk.

The more people stared at him, the more attractive the idea seemed until Miles finally gave in, figuring that it would be a while before Tom would be able to get his employer’s attention. Besides, Tom could always call him when he found Mr. Rutledge.

Since the sounds of people and laughter were coming from somewhere to his left, Miles wandered in the opposite direction, toward the right wing of the manor.

It was quieter here, though he still met an occasional guest. They looked at him with slight confusion, but no one spoke to him, which suited Miles well enough.

Before long, he found himself on a beautiful terrace that looked out upon the garden.

Miles dropped himself into the chair in the darkest corner of the terrace and rolled his head from side to side, trying to work out the kinks in his neck after his long flight. God, he was knackered. He wondered if it would be too rude if he took a nap here. It was quiet and peaceful enough.

But just as he thought about it, there was the sound of footsteps and male voices.

Grimacing, Miles moved his chair deeper into the shadows. If he was lucky, those people wouldn’t notice him sitting behind that huge plant and would leave soon. He wasn’t really in the mood for more curious stares.

The footsteps and voices came closer.

They belonged to two men.

The taller man made an irritated sound. “All right. Half an hour. I’m staying another half an hour and then I’m leaving.”

“Mr. Caldwell, you can’t leave so soon,” the other man said, his voice pleading. “The press will have a field day!”

The first man—Caldwell—shrugged. “It won’t be the first time, or the last.”

“With all due respect, sir, but it’s one thing when your name is linked with some Hollywood actress, and completely another when you refuse to stay at a company event in honor of the partnership between the Caldwell Group and Rutledge Enterprises. You can’t seriously—”