Adam hasn't asked him.

It’s been thee days, and while he appreciated Greg’s advice and enthusiasm, Adam decided to stay the course. Focus on the job. No extra time spent with Graham. No extra complications. Just full commitment to a new plan, ‘Project: Avoid Graham.’

Except ‘Project: Avoid Graham’ has been an a fiasco. An unmitigated disaster, even. Another item to add to the list of his many, many failures. It was hard enough with the whole ‘always being hyper aware of where Graham is at all times’ thing, never mind the ‘lying awake in bed wondering what, or whom, Graham might be into' thing.

But what’s strange is that, not only has Adam been unable to avoid Graham, he has actually seen him more in the last three days than ever before. He’s everywhere - around every corner, in every room and hallway. It’s as if life, the universe, Kim, Rose, and Rachel have all been conspiring to put Graham at Adam together as much as possible.

First there was the vague injury that Kim cited as the reason she couldn’t help Graham install new crown moldings in the first floor guest rooms. That meant Adam had been left holding the ladder as Graham climbed up directly in front of him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his waist was at eye-level, exposing a wide stretch of lower abdomen and hipbone as he reached overhead with that nail gun. Over and Over. Hours of his day spent staring at that taut plane of flesh, dusted with golden hairs that grew courser towards his centre line, and darker as they travelled lower -

No. Stop.

So, yeah. That had been a great way to avoid Graham.

Then, the next day, Rose had rushed in and kicked Adam out of the office to make ‘private phone calls,’ and sent Adam to room 105. When he arrived, Graham was kneeling on the ground wearing only a tank top, his round shoulders and thick arms straining and rippling with effort as he struggled to figure out why the radiator was giving off so much heat. Adam had to get down onto the ground with Graham to apply pressure to a wrench as they fought… and grunted… and moaned… and hissed… and swore. Eventually, when the sticky valve had finally surrendered, and the radiator had hissed and released, they’d stepped away from the wall, both drenched in sweat.

Afterwards, Graham had turned to thank him, but Adam couldn’t look at him. Not all at once. Didn’t dare. So he stole glimpses. A glistening patch of golden chest hair. Perfect nipples pressed sharply against the ribbed cotton of his shirt. His face, flushed with exertion. Adam had mumbled something absolutely unintelligible and scrambled out of the room.

Another great moment from the ‘avoiding Graham’ highlight reel.

On top of that, the tension of the last week has been building up for Adam. Things are still strained between him and Rose, and while the renovations are — finally, miraculously — going well, the booking situation is still dire. And adding to the stress, he still can’t seem to find any media outlet interested in covering the inn, or the grand reopening. Things are decidedly not going well. He hangs up the phone after another unsuccessful call to the local radio station, and rubs the back of his neck wearily, grateful for the moment alone.

But the silence is brief. A joyous giggle, followed by a maple-syrup-smooth voice to his right.

“Careful,” the voice says.

Graham comes into view just on the other side of the large double doorway that leads into the dining room. Rachel is seated comfortably on his shoulders, absolutely beaming. She has handfuls of Graham’s hair in her hands and is using them to steer him, Ratatouille-style. She giggles again as she directs him to duck and walk towards the reception desk.

As the two approach, Adam fights the urge to run back into the office and slam the door shut. Instead, he steadies his breath and fixes his face with an impassive expression.

Graham cocks his head, concern filling his gaze. ‘Everything okay?’ he mouths, trying to ensure Rachel can’t hear him. In response, Adam gives an unconvincing, tight smile.

Graham looks dubious but nods, then he reaches up to Rachel, his puppet master, and gives her feet a gentle tug. “We’re headed to the hardware store. Need anything?”

Rachel is all business, despite her giggles. "Where's the list? We know there's a list."

He feels his cheeks redden as he hands Graham a piece of paper. The daily list, which he would have left on the desk while hiding in the back office if Kim hadn't needed to run out for some errands, leaving him Adam at the reception desk.

Graham reads the list, then tucks the paper carefully into his front shirt pocket.

“This is perfect because we have to go get a —" He reaches up to Rachel, who fishes around in the pocket of her hoodie until she pulls out a yellowed plastic rectangle.

"Switch plate cover!" She proclaims proudly.

"Nope. The other thing." Graham says.

Rachel shoves the switch plate cover back in her pocket and pulls out another treasure, this one much smaller. She looks at it, puzzled.

"This thing. Whatever this is." She says, a bit less certain this time.

Graham reaches up and takes it from her. "A washer ring."

"A washer ring." She repeats.

They are an adorable pair and Adam is (reluctantly) impressed by Graham's ease with Rachel. His warmth, and patience and —

Nope! Stop.

"Okay." Adam fights to keep his expression neutral.

Rachel pushes her hands back into the tousled garden of Graham's blonde curls and for a moment Adam imagines winding his own  —

Nope!

"Thanks." Adam says. Then, for Rachel's benefit, he adds. "To both of you. Great work."

Rachel beams and Graham gives one of his smiles that crinkles his eyes and first lifts one side of his mouth, then the other.

"Thanks, boss,” Graham says.

For some reason, at the sound of those words, Adam feels an extremely involuntary tingle in  a place where -

Nope! No tingles. No smiles. No eye contact.

Rachel begins to steer Graham again, but she's got a lot to learn about being a puppet master. Graham ends up backing up first, then drifting towards the sitting room as they make their way, slowly, towards the kitchen. As she steers Graham dangerously close to a large side-table, Rachel dissolves into a fit of giggles. Adam has to fight to keep a smile off his face. He is a serious person, unaffected by this tomfoolery, this lolly-gagging, this dawdling, faffing about, shilly shallying.

He wonders, briefly, why all of his thesaurus words for ‘wasting time’ sound so British. And so… stodgy.

"Hey, Rachel." Adam calls out. "Are you sure Graham wants you with him... All day?"

"Of course!"

"Did you check, though?"

Rachel gently pulls Graham's head back and leans forward so she's looming over him like some pint-sized overlord.

"Graham. Would you like me to be with you all day?"

Her question doesn't leave much room for disagreement so when Rachel relaxes her grip for a moment, Adam looks at Graham. Be honest.

"It's all good. She's learning all the tools. It's like having a well-trained dog."

Rachel giggles in mock outrage. "Hey!"

Graham reaches up, his hands hovering at Rachel's sides, threatening to tickle her. She squirms and lets out a 'woof' of surrender. He looks to Adam.

“Anything else?” Graham asks, and there’s something searching in his tone. His question is tentative. Testing. It’s clear he has noticed the change over the last few days. Adam feels a pang of guilt.

Adam nods back. Once. Businesslike. “All good here.”

A shadow of worry furrows Graham’s brow, but before he can say anything more, Rachel begins steering him once again.

"Alright,” Graham calls out. “Guess we’re on the move.”

Adam watches the lurching progress he makes with Rachel on his wide shoulders. Can't help but notice the way his jeans cling to his long, thick —

Nope! Get thee to a nunnery.

#

A few hours later, Adam has the office door closed. It’s good that he’s getting some actual time alone because, right now, at this moment, he may be having a small mental breakdown. A ‘lil ‘menty b’ for his troubles. His neck is drooped, and his head — heavy, so heavy —  rests on his folded arms. It’s a pathetic tableau, but at least it’s quiet.

A soft knock on the door pulls Adam back from the edge of a spiral.

“No thanks.” His voice is muffled as he calls out through the nest of his arms.

But whoever is one the other side of the door doesn’t hear him, or chooses to ignore him, because he hears the door open anyway. He lifts his head wearily, and -

Graham is here. In this room, even though the door had been closed to prevent exactly such a distraction. Adam's face feels hot, and he's very aware of the creases on his face from the fabric of his sweater. He stands quickly. Guiltily.

"Are you okay?' Graham asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Adam steps back as if Graham might be incredibly nearsighted and this small adjustment might make him invisible. 'What? Yeah. I'm fine.'

“Are you sure?”

Adam wipes at his face. “Sorry.” He searches his brain, but finds he doesn’t have the bandwidth to lie. “I was feeling... a bit overwhelmed. Needed to disassociate.”

Graham’s gaze is steady, searching. “And this morning?”

Adam shrugs. “Just busy.”

Unconvinced, Graham steps forward and closes the door gently behind him. “This may sound weird, but… are things okay? With us, I mean?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Adam stammers, suddenly feeling very aware of how small the room is. How close the walls are. How there’s no window. “Things have just ben busy.”

“Yeah,” Graham is nodding, his eyes fixed with a disappointed stare, as if Adam is 1,000 piece puzzle with a piece missing. “You just said that.”

The look on his face, his troubled dark eyes, make Adam’s stomach flip. The concern is so genuine that he wonders how this can be the same man who was canoodling — or colluding — with Tess the other night. It doesn’t make sense. But nothing does. Including the buzzing feeling of his skin whenever he’s in the same room — hell, the same building — as Graham.

“Sorry.” Adam’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“Can I - do you need anything?” Graham asks.

“No. I’m good,” Seeing the worry furrowing Graham’s brow, Adam softens. “But, thank you.”

Graham shuffles his feet, scuffing the rug with his toe, and if Adam didn’t know better, he’d say Graham was nervous. And there’s something so vulnerable, so endearing about the action, that Adam feels his chest crack open like a cream egg and, against his better judgement, some of the gooey stuff leaks out. He feels his resolve slipping.

“So,” Graham says. “I was thinking we’ve been working a lot lately.”

Adam nods, anticipating Graham’s next question. “Oh, my God, of course. Please take a night off. A day, even. I don’t want you working yourself to death.”

“Yeah, um… I was actually thinking you’ve been working a lot, too.”

Adam feels like he wants to collapse, wants to break down and tell Graham that, even if he worked 24 hours-a-day for the next thirteen days, it wouldn’t be enough. No amount of work will guarantee that they can keep the inn. But he doesn’t say that.  He simply nods, his lips pulled into a tight smile. Operation: Avoid Graham.

“Okay, well… so I wanted to see what you’re doing tonight" Graham asks, as if the question requires great effort..

Adam shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know... Sunday night…” He points to the laptop. “Probably finish the website, then… reality TV? Maybe I'll pour a glass of wine, pass out before I can finish it?"

“Okay, well… I think I have a better idea,” Graham says.

"Better than falling asleep mid-Vanderpump?”

“You need a break.”

“From Vanderpump?”

Graham smiles, but more out of sympathy than genuine amusement. “No,’ he says. “From this place.”

“Do I?” Adam asks, currently finding it very hard to remember why he’d been trying to avoid Graham.

“Yeah." Graham’s expression is playful, and his eyes glint. “Find me when you're done here today. We’re getting out of here for a bit.”