3. Hudson
Chapter 3
As I followed Lance to his family’s ice cream shop, I made a decision.
I wasn’t going to give up on getting him in my bed.
Maybe it was a disaster in the making, but Lance Ingram had fueled my dreams as a teen, had been the epitome of sex-on-legs in my early adult years, and was silver-fox gorgeous now. I wasn’t sure where he placed himself on the sexuality spectrum, but the fact he was on ClickC*ck was enough for me.
One night.
That’s all I wanted.
I didn’t buy the whole I’m home for good game.
He left.
He stayed gone nearly a decade.
Yeah, he was back, but he’d get bored of small-town living after all that time in the city. It was just a matter of time before he finished sprucing up the Sweet & Creamy, handed it off to someone else for a profit, and hightailed it out of town.
And I wanted a piece of him before that happened.
What happens if he stays? Might get weird. What if once turns into something more? He seemed pretty determined.
I shook my head as I pulled into a parking spot next to Lance on Main Street. I wouldn’t let it happen. I’d had more than my fair share of hookups and never felt anything for any of them.
Sure, I’d had a crush on Lance back in high school.
Even pined a bit for him in my early adult years.
But he’d fled to the city and I’d written him off. Hadn’t even given the guy a single thought in eight years. That had to be proof I wasn’t into him, wasn’t gonna fall for him or any shit like that.
I just wanted a night or two of sweaty, dirty fun.
Then we’d go on with our lives—which likely would mean Lance would be back to his big-city-life before the peach trees bloomed again.
I could live with that.
And if he demands a date in exchange for the sex?
Slamming my truck door, I chewed on that one for a bit. I didn’t date. Period.
Lance unfolded his six-foot frame from his truck, and I bit my lip. The pretty silver hair sparkling in the sunlight, those jeans that fit his perfect ass like a glove, the crow’s feet at his eyes when he squinted against the brightness.
How good would we look together? Our builds were similar, and I could picture our long limbs tangled, our bodies pressed together.
True, I didn’t date.
But for a chance at Lance Ingram, my gay ass might just be willing to go to dinner.
The Sweet & Creamy Dairy Palace had been around since before I was born. Set up like the quintessential old-fashioned ice cream shop. Black and white checkered floor, original dark wood cabinets, shelves, and furnishings. Swivel stools at the bar. A row of booths with red and black cushions. Ten small, round tables designed to seat up to four. And one large, round table in the back for a party of ten.
The freezer, complete with glass windows where customers could see the ice cream and pick their flavor, held up to six varieties of ice cream at a time. Old-fashioned scoopers, glass dishes and milkshake glasses, and red and white striped straws completed the look. Shakes were mixed by hand with old-fashioned mixers. Waffle cones were made on-site. Sugar cones, cake cones, and to-go cups were all designed to spark nostalgia.
“Damn,” I said, taking a deep breath. “You could have blindfolded me and I would have known exactly where I was.” I ran my hand over the bar top. “You’re keeping the soda fountain, right?”
Lance smirked. “Yeah, it’s one of the main draws. You still like a vanilla Coke float?”
“If it’s a real vanilla Coke, not the new stuff.”
“Only real vanilla syrup here.”
I grinned, my mouth watering at the thought of the sweet concoction.
Or maybe I was drooling over how fucking fine Lance was. He was gorgeous eight years ago, but indescribably handsome now.
He gestured for me to follow him behind the bar.
Twenty minutes later, Lance had walked me through the ice cream shop’s inner workings and we settled in the back office to discuss his ideas.
He studied me over his desk, long frame stretched out in the chair. “What is it you have against dating?”
“When did you decide you’re gay?” I shot back.
Lance just stared at me for a bit. “We can trade,” he offered. “I don’t know that gay is the right word. I’m attracted to men and women both, people really, maybe masculine slightly more than feminine.” He shrugged. “But random, casual sex with strangers isn’t my thing.”
I cocked a brow. “Then ClickC*ck is the wrong app for you.”
He pursed his lips. “Yeah, figured that out pretty quickly, but it didn’t hurt to explore a bit.”
He waited.
I waited.
Lance’s steely gaze never wavered.
Huffing out a sigh, feeling like I was in the principal’s office for throwing a rotten peach at Theo Rawlson in third grade, I shifted in my seat. “Dating means getting to know someone. It means getting close—I mean, I guess bad dates don’t lead to that, but most people see the end game of dating as something permanent. I don’t want permanent.”
“Don’t you?”
His question punched me right in the chest. “Nothing is permanent. That’s the problem.”
“Why not just be a serial dater instead of just a bunch of one-nighters?”
“First, it’s not like I’m sleeping with a different guy every night of the year. Second, one night doesn’t allow feelings to get involved. Dating opens things up to connections and shit. They’re going to leave eventually. So, I just don’t let it get to that point.”
“Just fuck and leave?”
I shrugged. “If I don’t stay, they can’t leave.”
The words echoed in my ears. It was the first time I’d spoken my little life motto out loud.
Lance’s mouth turned down. “You deserve more than that.”
“And you want to give me more? Ask Casey Joe for my hand in marriage and live happily ever after until you decide you’re bored in Hick Town, USA and you leave? Again?”
Lance huffed. “This is my home, I’m not leaving.”
“You did.”
“That was then, I’m back to stay.”
“So, you love me? Want to marry me? Think Dad will be fine with you fucking his son?”
He sighed. “I do love you?—”
My eyes must have shown my disbelief because he amended his words.
“I’ve known you since the day you were born. You and your brother have always been special to me.” Lance shifted in his seat. “I don’t know what it is I feel toward you right now—it’s very new and very different than anything I felt for you in the past. Different than anything I’ve ever felt for anyone at all. I can’t say it’s a happily ever after situation, but I’d like a chance to find out.”
“And explain to Casey Joe?”
He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, Hudson, I don’t know. I just…I don’t know…don’t want to shut it down if it could be something.”
“And I don’t want to run the risk of being left behind again, so we’re right back where we started. We’ve always been friends, that will have to be enough. Plus, we both know Dad would castrate you if he found out you were dickin’ his baby boy.” In all actuality, I wasn’t sure how Casey Joe would react. Did he know Lance wasn’t straight? Would that be a problem? I had a sneaking suspicion that Dad would be angry if Lance and I were doing the fuck buddy thing, but if he knew Lance wanted something serious, he might eventually come around. Of course, he’d likely kill us first and ask questions later, so it wouldn’t really matter.
“I maybe haven’t been around for a while, but I’ve known you your entire life. I know the type of man you are. I can’t explain the draw, but it’s there whether I understand it or not.” Lance took a deep breath. “I just wish you’d allow yourself to be loved and happy the way you deserve.”
“We’ve only been talking for a few days,” I said, although Lance wasn’t the only one to feel the pull.
“Which is why this whole situation has me all wound up. It’s different. I’m not saying I’m the one to change your outlook on life?—”
“My life is just fine.” I cut him off and leaned forward in my seat. “Now, let’s talk business. I’ve got a shit-ton of work to do with the orchard and the store, plus helping Henry at the bar. I don’t have time to take on a huge amount of extra, so let’s see what we can figure out.”
The glint in Lance’s eyes told me he wasn’t done pushing this conversation, but he gave a slight smile and nodded as if he was willing to concede at least for the time being.
“I think the Sweat & Creamy Dairy Palace, The Juicy Peach general store, and Riggs Family Orchard need to combine their forces,” Lance said.
I shrugged. “We already sell your ice cream at the store and you use our peaches every season.”
“I think it needs to be more than that,” Lance argued. “The place I used to run made good money, but when I partnered up with the mom-and-pop diner around the corner, both businesses saw a major profit increase.”
Not gonna lie, the potential of increasing our profits—especially since the orchard’s bottom line had taken a direct hit thanks to Billy’s drinking and letting everything go—had me intrigued.
“Partnered up? How? What more could we be doing?” I asked.
Lance pulled a legal pad from his desk and slid it across to me. “Some of these are things we should have been doing from the beginning. Some are things Mom would have never gone for. We don’t have to do every single item right away, but I think there’s a lot we can do for each other.”
I scanned the list.
Sell Roadhouse peach simple syrup at DP and Juicy.
Merchandise- sell at all three- t-shirts, stickers, mugs to start with.
Funny/play on words type things.
Canned peaches from Juicy to sell for ice cream toppings.
DP sells peach crumble in a jar to pair with ice cream.
Both places sell margarita and daiquiri mixes.
All three places have gift certificates available for purchase- customers can get all of them at one place instead of having to go place to place.
Offer discounts between Juicy and DP- bought ice cream at DP? Show receipt and get percent off a pie or crumble at Juicy.
With my head spinning, I brought my eyes up to meet Lance’s. “Someone’s been a busy brainstormer.”
He smiled. “Just feels like we’re losing out on business. Business means money.”
“Wow, never thought of it that way,” I deadpanned, smirking when Lance rolled his eyes. “What’s this funny, play on words thing?”
“You know how certain businesses play on their name or what they sell to be funny with innuendo?”
I nodded, not completely following.
“Come on,” Lance said, a hint of embarrassed frustration in his voice, “I can’t be the only one who thinks The Juicy Peach and Sweet & Creamy are funny. Dairy Palace shortened to DP?”
For a brief second, I thought about playing dumb, but I put Lance out of his misery with a chuckle. “So, you want to slap some innuendo on t-shirts and hope a bunch of people with the sense of humor of teens and tweens will buy them?”
Lance’s cheeks pinked, but he shrugged. “T-shirts, stickers, magnets, mugs—at least to start with.”
“You have a list of these funny things?”
“Maybe a few, but we can brainstorm over lunch in the next few days.”
I glanced at the list again. “Seriously, between the orchard, the store, the bar, and a handful of odds-and-ends type jobs I do around town, I don’t have a lot of time to take on extra.” Lance knew about my handyman side hustle from way back, but I wasn’t about to tell him about the massage business. It wasn’t all sexual, I did plain ol’ massages just to loosen up muscles and help people relax, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t be super excited to hear I’d added sex worker to my resume.
Lance cocked his head. “What do you do in your free time?”
Frowning, I shook my head. “Free time? Doesn’t compute.”
His brows shot up. “Free time. What you do to relax, rejuvenate, take time for you in the interest of your mental health and well-being?”
“I don’t have time for any of that.”
Lance continued to stare at me before a breath left him in a whoosh. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“No. There’s truly no time for me. I take care of jobs around town, I work at the orchard and the store trying to make sure they don’t go under, I help Henry at the bar. When I’m not working, I pretty much have time to eat, shower, pay some bills, and go to bed. Sometimes I listen to a podcast in my truck—” I broke off. “What?”
He shook his head. “You’re young. People my age have often figured out that working themselves to death isn’t worth it. The youngins—younger than you even—are all about keeping their mental health a priority—sometimes to a fault, if you ask me. But you seem to be in that middle group that thinks there’s some prize for constantly being busy and never taking a time out for you.”
I didn’t really have anything to say to that.
Lance huffed. “I have several goals now that I’m back home and I just added another one to the list.”
“What’s that?” I’d be lying if I wasn’t hoping he’d say he’d changed his mind and now wanted one dirty, sweaty night with me.
“I’m going to make sure you learn how to take a break,” Lance said, one hundred percent serious. “Working yourself to death isn’t a life.”
I snorted. “I’m not working myself to death. I like to stay busy. Taking a break feels wasteful. If I’m not doing something, I get restless and anxious. It’s easier just to keep going. I’m healthy and content, you don’t need to worry about me.” Not like you’ll be here that long anyway, I thought, but I wasn’t in the mood to ruffle Lance’s feathers any more than I already had.
Again, Lance looked as if he wanted to argue, but he just tapped the notepad. “Can you do lunch tomorrow? Bring your best ideas.”
I had a lunchtime massage the next day—just a regular one with a lady in town who had no clue about my other massage services. “Can’t, I’ve got plans.”
“Day after?”
I shook my head. “I’m actually pretty booked up for the next three or four days. How about Monday? In the evening? I can do like six at the bar.” I’d be able to stay and help Henry after our meeting.
“It’s Thursday,” Lance said, frustration lacing his words.
“Take it or leave it.”
“That works,” Lance said.
“Sounds good. See you then.”
“Careful.”
I quirked a brow.
“Almost sounds like we’ve got a date.”
I grunted and stood. “We have a meeting to discuss a business relationship while eating food. That’s not a date.”
Lance stood from his desk and stuck out his hand. “Either way, I’m looking forward to working with you, Hudson. I’m happy as hell to be back home and excited to increase business for both of us.” We shook and made our way to the front door where we said our goodbyes.
I then proceeded to spend the next three days dreaming, overthinking, and fantasizing about Lance Ingram. I wanted him like no man I’d ever wanted, but it was more than that.
It was good to have him back in Haven Grove.
I was happy to be working with him—I’d liked his ideas and we had a good chance of making something really good with our businesses.
But more than anything, seeing Lance, spending even just that little bit of time with him, sparking a connection I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing over the last eight years…all of it did something deep inside me. It was like I’d had a Lance-shaped hole in my life and hadn’t even known it. From the moment he walked into Glazed Buns, something had changed.
I breathed easier.
Smiled more genuinely.
And looked forward to the future.
It wasn’t like I could let any of that shit go anywhere—obviously, I’d just be asking for trouble. But I wasn’t going to lie. I liked the thought of Lance being home.
With me.
And wasn’t that just a selfish, fucked-up, crash-and-burn disaster waiting to happen?