5. Hudson
Chapter 5
We’d been chatting on text for around a week and never once did it feel like Lance and I struggled to find things to talk about.
The damn weird draw to him I had would have been much easier to shrug off if things had been awkward between us when we met up in person to discuss the business venture.
But they weren’t.
Despite the fact we’d reconnected over a hookup app, the lifetime between us eased any awkwardness. We chatted easily as we waited for our food, talking about folks around town as if we’d been meeting up for dinner once a week for our entire lives.
Being around Lance was so easy. I loved it and hated it all the same.
Loved it because I’d missed him more than I’d realized and having someone I used to be close with back in town to buddy up with was nice.
Hated it because I’d missed him more than I’d realized and having someone I used to be close with back in town making me want him more and more with each passing day was torture.
Sure, I could have him, but only if I wanted to commit to dating.
I didn’t date.
I had a very valid reason for that.
Staying away from relationships had served me well over the years. My heart was in a good position, completely intact—aside from the heartache of my mother abandoning me—and I didn’t have to worry about breakups or losing another person I loved.
But when I looked into those grayish-green eyes across the table from me, my valid reasons packed up and hightailed it out of there. My heart got googly eyes and pshawed any excuse I’d ever had about avoiding relationships. And my dick panted like a damn dog in heat.
Lance Ingram was a potent drug and I was the junkie right there waiting for a hit—knowing it was a bad idea, knowing it could fuck things up beyond belief, but not caring because all I wanted to do was feed that incessant need clawing in my gut. The need to touch him, to be close to him, to be the reason for his smile.
A lady who’d been working for Henry for years brought out our tray of food and placed plates in front of us. Once she’d deposited napkins and ketchup, she left us with instructions to wave her down if we needed anything.
Lance chuckled and pointed at my plate. “Doesn’t look like grilled lemon pepper chicken or sautéed vegetables.”
“Damn it, they forgot my sparkling water too,” I joked.
My usual on a weekday consisted of a tenderloin and onion rings. Weekends, I’d usually opt for a burger or chicken sandwich with fries. The roadhouse did a mean steak and baked potato one Sunday a month, and salmon and veggies straight from the grill another Sunday each month, but for the most part, they stuck to tried-and-true bar food. The fancier fare always did well and brought in good money, but not enough to abandon the regular menu items.
Henry had pretty much perfected the specials rotation to match up best with which sporting events were taking place locally and nationally. And he had a wickedly keen sense of what folks in town or passing through wanted as each season came and went. He kept the menu traditional and only mixed things up when he knew it would be a good business decision.
“I just like to give Henry shit. He knows I’d rather have a tenderloin than grilled lemon pepper chicken,” I said before taking a big bite of my sandwich.
Lance started in on his fries, dipping them in the cup of homemade ranch off to the side. He groaned. “Damn, there were a lot of things I missed about Haven Grove—a lot of reasons I’m glad to be back for good—but this fucking ranch is hands down the best in all the world.”
I smirked. “How about a t-shirt with The Best Damn Ranch in All the Land for the roadhouse?”
He smiled, bringing a napkin to his mouth to wipe away the smudge of ranch I’d already thought about licking away at least five times. “I like it. See? I knew you’d have some good ideas—just needed to give you enough time to mull it over.”
We continued to chat easily as we ate dinner. Several customers came and went, the locals saying hi to folks they knew, the travelers just stopping by seeming to take stock and quickly judge the roadhouse as a friendly place.
When a man walked into the bar with a black and white striped shirt, I couldn’t help the memory and laughter from bubbling up.
“What?” Lance asked.
“Just thinking about something,” I said, shoving a fry in my mouth.
Lance narrowed his eyes and waited.
I huffed. “See the guy up by the bar with the black and white striped shirt?” Lance nodded and I continued. “Well, when I was about twenty-two, I met up with this guy?—”
“You were doing the no-dating-random-hookup thing all the way back then?” Lance interrupted.
“Duh, you just hadn’t figured yourself out or noticed this fine ass yet,” I teased.
Lance shook his head as if trying to clear the fog. “I didn’t know…” he muttered. “Wasn’t even on my radar…” He blew out a breath. “Damn clueless.”
I wasn’t sure if his little monologue was regarding me, hookup apps, his sexuality, or what, so I left him with his thoughts and went on. “Anyway, I’d picked out this black and white striped shirt to wear?—”
Lance’s eyes bored into mine. “Thought you didn’t date?”
Rolling my eyes with a huff, I said, “Wasn’t a date, I was meeting up with him. Had to wear clothes of some sort. Now, will you let me tell my story?”
His face softened and he smiled. “Sorry, yeah. Tell your story.” His words were gentle and encouraging.
For a second, my chest got all fluttery and tight. I took a long gulp of water, wondering if I’d not been hydrating enough. “Anyway, I have on this black and white striped shirt and I get to the bar where I’m meeting this guy. He buys me a drink and we’re kinda bopping along to the music—I’m trying to figure out how to move things along and get us to the good part of the night. He leans in and says, ‘You look really hot tonight.’ I mean, I’m young and horny so the words go straight to my dick. I try to look all sexy and shit?—”
“Try?” Lance scoffed. “Like it takes a lot…”
Heat zinged through me. “So, I sip my drink and say all sultry-like, ‘Just call me jailbait.’ He nearly chokes on his drink and gives me a weird look. ‘How old are you?’ he asks. I’m not sure where the question came from, but I’m all about getting laid, so I shrug and say, ‘Old enough.’ This guy eyes me up and down and makes some excuse about a migraine coming on. Hightails it out of there. I ended up going home with some other dude, but I was confused for years about why the first guy left.”
Lance, listening intently, frowned. “I don’t get it, why did you tell him to call you jailbait? You know he left because he thought you were underage, right?”
I laughed again, at the memory and Lance. “Yeah, well, my dumb ass didn’t realize until a few years later that ‘jailbait’ referred to an underaged person. I thought people said jailbait when someone was wearing black and white stripes—you know, like a prisoner?”
Lance blinked slowly and then busted out laughing. He laughed until he cried and I just ate my dinner as this beautiful silver fox daddy I’d known since birth wiped tears from his eyes. “Oh god, that’s amazing.”
I smirked. “I can laugh about it now. At the time, I felt like a moron.”
Dinner continued with conversation about the peach trees, the store stock I needed to unload, and the Sweet & Creamy getting ready to reopen. Occasionally, Lance would snort with laughter, and when the guy in the black and white striped shirt walked by, he nearly choked on a fry when he got all giggly again.
I loved every single moment of it.
Once our plates were cleared, Lance pulled his notebook in front of him. “Okay, whatcha got?”
Henry kept the peach-inspired mixed drinks coming while Lance and I dove head-first into planning for world domination between an orchard, a general store, an ice cream shop, and a roadhouse.
I hadn’t laughed so much in years. Honestly, aside from laughing with my brother, I probably hadn’t laughed that much in my entire life.
By the time the “business meeting” ended, we had a plan.
It was a really great plan, even if I did say so myself, and I found myself excited about the prospect of bringing the Juicy Peach and the store back to the height of their glory days.
We planned to approach a local business with what we needed as far as t-shirts. If Francie could take on our order and keep us stocked, Lance and I both preferred giving our business to local folks. If not, we’d look to the guy Lance knew back in the city.
For the bumper stickers, water bottle and laptop decals, magnets, and stickers, I suggested a husband and wife in Haven Grove who were about a year into their Etsy shop adventure. I’d seen their work and I thought they’d likely be able to help us produce exactly what we wanted. And if what we needed was too much, Lance’s guy was set up for bigger orders.
But staying local was a definite plus for both of us.
Henry suggested a lady just outside of Haven Grove who could probably do what we wanted with coffee cups, shot glasses, tumblers, water bottles, and beer mugs. He’d given us her contact information and we already had a phone call in to her to set up a meeting.
Lance was going to talk to his guy back in the city about getting the gift cards designed and printed. Each card could be purchased at any of the four locations, loaded with funds from our shared website—which was something Lance had a guy working on the moment he got the okay from Henry and me—and the money on the gift card could be spent at any of the four businesses. I didn’t completely understand the technical side of it, but Lance had explained that the web designer would set things up so each business kept its own website, but they were tied together as far as the gift card transactions and whatnot.
Word of mouth would be the best way to let people know they could get a five percent discount on any purchase at the four businesses if they had a purchase receipt within ten days from one of the other places. However, we had Lance’s guy working on four signs to put at the registers and a stack of flyers to post around town.
All of the merchandise we’d discussed getting made would come in two categories. First, each item would be available with our tried-and-true logos. We were going to work with the local guy who originally made the logos for the roadhouse, the orchard, the store, and the ice cream shop to have him brush them up just a bit before we slapped them on merchandise.
The second category included the funny and or slightly suggestive phrases available on each item. Lance and I had nearly laughed ourselves silly coming up with ideas, but we’d finally decided on a top ten—with a handful of them being used first to see how things went, and adding the others to the stock as demand allowed.
Opting to use the shortened form of Dairy Palace as DP for the mileage we hoped to get with the innuendo, we’d settled on:
I Rode Hard at Riggs’ Roadhouse
Love That Juicy Peach
I Love Sweet & Creamy DP
The Best Damn Ranch in ALL the Land – The Riggs Family Roadhouse
I Want My Juicy Peach Sweet & Creamy
My Juicy Peach Loves It Sweet & Creamy
DP’d at the Sweet & Creamy
DP My Juicy Peach
My Juicy Peach Got DP’d and Rode Hard at Riggs’ Roadhouse
Sweet & Creamy – The Only Way I Want My Juicy Peach DP’d
Lance could have likely done most of the work himself. Hell, I could have probably pulled off most of the work even while being swamped with the orchard and store. Instead, my stupid ass suggested we have a standing dinner meeting—whether at the roadhouse or one of our places—or at least a phone call every day so we stayed in contact about what was taken care of, what our next steps were, and if we’d run into any trouble along the way.
I didn’t really expect any business issues, but my dick was hoping to get into all sorts of trouble with Lance.
If you’re not careful, your damn heart’s gonna get involved in that mess.
Nah, Lance knew where I stood.
I’d made it all these years without allowing my heart to get broken again. One guy wasn’t going to change that.
Even if that one guy was the sexiest fucking silver fox I’d ever seen.
“It’s good to have him home,” Henry said quietly later that night while I stared out the window washing dishes at closing time.
His words jerked me from my trance. “Huh? Who?”
Henry smirked and gave me a knowing look. “Playin’ it that way, huh?” When my face flamed, he chuckled. “Couldn’t do much better than Lance,” he said.
Scrunching up my face, I scoffed. “He’s Dad’s age,” I argued weakly. “Plus, I don’t do relationships—better than or worse than.”
Henry pursed his lips as if thinking. “Lance seems to be the type who wants more than just fooling around.”
“Yeah,” I said on a regretful sigh about two seconds before I realized I’d given myself away. “Not that I’d do anything with him, serious or casual.”
Henry didn’t buy it based on the way he laughed. “Hudson, I’m not your gatekeeper. You’ve made it this far being true to yourself, I’m not going to try to change that.” He grabbed a glass and rubbed it dry. “I don’t know what’s best, I’m just saying I haven’t seen that look on your face…well, ever. If he can make you smile that way, I’m on Team Lance.”
Allowing his words to sink in, I narrowed my eyes. “You’d support me getting involved with a guy twenty years older than me? A guy who has known me since birth? You’d cheer me on if I said I wanted Dad’s best friend to fuck my brains out?”
Henry slapped me with a towel. “Don’t be a shit. Twenty years shouldn’t matter. I think this is one of those situations where age is just a number comes into play. I might have balked before, but seeing you two sitting out there tonight, I don’t see the age thing being a problem.
“As far as Lance knowing us since birth, that’s just weak. He knew us since birth because he’s Dad’s best friend. He was as much a Riggs way back then as we were. He’s always been like family and we were lucky to have him as a role model as we grew up,” Henry said.
“Okay, how’s it weak? You don’t think people are going to wonder if anything inappropriate was going on way back when?”
Henry snorted. “First, since when do you worry about what people think? Second, anyone who knows Lance—back then, now, or both—knows in the depths of their soul that he would rather gouge his eyes out than do something inappropriate or harmful to anyone, let alone a kid.”
My brother was right.
“And the part about him being Dad’s best friend? Don’t you think that’s going to get a little weird?” I asked.
Henry cleared his throat. “Ah, um, yeah. That part might get a bit dicey.”
I huffed out a breath. “Dicey. Yeah. Like Dad might dice us both to pieces.”
“I think you can see where things go before letting Dad know anything.”
Realizing too late where I’d let the conversation go, I shook my head, doing my best to clear out the hopeful vibes. “Won’t matter. If I get my way, we’ll have something quick and easy—I may even let it go on longer than my usual one-time thing—then we’ll move on with our lives. Dad wouldn’t ever have to know.” I gave my brother a look.
Henry held up a hand. “Dad won’t hear it from me. But anyone with eyes can see that you and Lance are hot for each other, so don’t be surprised if rumors fly. Personally, I don’t see how you could get involved with him and then move on like nothing happened when you’ll see him daily. Don’t know how either of you could watch the other get involved with someone else, but maybe that’s just me and my hang-ups when it comes to relationships.”
The thought of Lance with someone else was an icy hand gripping my balls. Oh, hell no was the first thing that ran through my head.
But I shook the thought away.
I’d hooked up with a couple guys I still saw quite often. I knew they’d gone on to fuck other people. One was married with kids now. Two guys I’d messed around with were now engaged. One guy had just sent me an open house invitation to see the home he’d bought with his new husband.
None of that bothered me in the least.
Why?
Because that was how I liked it. We’d hooked up, things had been good, and we’d moved on. No hard feelings, no feelings at all.
Then why does the thought of Lance with someone else have you feeling downright shitty and ready to eat nails?
As if reading my mind, Henry’s smirk reappeared. “You been doing much hooking-up since Lance came back to town? Many massages?”
I sneered at him. “Been a bit busy,” I bit out.
He just nodded, his eyes sparkling.
“What? I have,” I said, doing my best not to sound like a whining little brother.
Henry shrugged. “Didn’t say anything.”
I yanked the plug on the sink to let the water drain. “Didn’t have to,” I muttered. “Can see it in your eyes. I’ve been busy. Period. Doesn’t have anything to do with Lance.”
“’Course not,” Henry drawled. “Thanks for helping.” He gathered up towels and headed toward the laundry room shared by the roadhouse and the apartment Henry occupied. Stopping, he turned back to me. “Just know it’s okay to let yourself be happy if you find someone worth letting your guard down for.”
I studied my brother for a brief moment before nodding. “Could stand to take your own advice, ya know?”
Henry smiled. “Yeah, well, we’re talking about you, not me.”
My brother walked away, and I wondered if either of us would ever be able to heal enough from our mom leaving to find happiness.
Maybe you just need to find someone worth letting your guard down for. An echo of Henry’s words teased at the back of my mind.
My phone buzzed with a text from Lance.
Lance: Love the shit we got planned. Glad to be doing this with you. Sleep tight.
I reacted to his words with a thumbs-up emoji.
But I smiled all the damn way home.