Chapter 6
Hudson
It’s official. I need to get laid worse than Knox.
I’m lusting after a very married, very new mother, who is not only off-limits, but so far out of my league, she might as well be on a different planet.
The phone rings twice before Phoenix picks up.
Not my first choice for a wingman, but Knox is working at the fire station tonight, and Jake and Dylan are going to a car show.
I’m jealous of their honeymoon stage bliss.
The fuckers rarely hang out with us because they’re too busy hanging out with each other.
I want that so badly I can taste it, but it’s not in my future anytime soon since my priority has to be Monica and the kids.
At least until Cam and Ally start school and Mon gets into the swing of working again.
“You free tonight?” I ask instead of saying hello when Phoenix answers. No need to waste time. I’m desperate.
“I can be. This sounds serious.” I hear his smile.
“If I don’t get my dick wet from something other than my own spit, I’m going to blow a gasket.”
“Are you suggesting my spit? Because that’s a no.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I grumble.
“That’s also a no.” Phoenix laughs.
I roll my eyes as I pull on my jeans. “Trust me, if that’s what I wanted, I wouldn’t be getting it from you.”
“Well, now I’m offended,” he scoffs.
“No, you’re not. Besides, you’ve seen Jake’s husband. Dude’s fucking hot and I’m not even into guys. Dylan’s obviously who I’d call. Now are you coming out with me or what?”
Phoenix groans slightly before answering. “Where are we going?”
“Tomahawk,” I answer curtly.
“See you in twenty,” Phoe says, hanging up the phone.
I back my truck next to a black Ferrari, laughing at the pretentious asshole who parked his precious vehicle in the back of the lot, hoping to keep it safe.
My raised Chevy 2500 didn’t cost as much, but it’s far more functional.
Right now, it’s got mud halfway up the sides thanks to the soggy dirt road I traveled down when I took Cam and Ally fishing last week.
When I enter Tomahawk’s, I smile, seeing Wendy behind the bar.
Now we’re talking.
Phoenix is already seated in front of her and I make a beeline for them.
Wendy raises a glass to me. “The usual, Hud?”
“Please.” I flash her a knowing smile.
Wendy and I have gone there several times. She’s a transplant to the area who insists she’s just passing through and not looking for anything serious—even though she’s been here for three years. We mesh well because there aren’t any expectations, but there is mutual respect.
A minute later, she slides an old fashioned my way and then leaves Phoenix and I alone to get into trouble.
Tomahawk is a dive bar. Everything’s cheap and the appeal of the place is you never have to wait to be seated. I’d never eat anything from here, but I assume the liquor is safe enough because…well, it’s liquor.
The clientele is an eclectic mix. Everyone is local because tourists prefer the million-dollar views offered three streets over on the water, which makes me scan the crowd, trying to spot the owner of the Ferrari, but no dice.
Guess you can’t judge a book by its cover as they say.
“You know, if you really wanted to get laid, we should have gone waterfront. You sleep with someone in here, you run a pretty high risk of seeing her again.”
“That’s true, but hitting it and quitting it isn’t really my style.”
Phoenix eyes me over the rim of his glass. “You claim you don’t have time for a relationship, but you feel bad after one-night-stands, and yet you want to get laid. I don’t get yo…oh. You came here for Wendy.”
I waggle my eyebrows at him. Wendy’s solid and she gives as good as she gets.
Rolling his eyes over how uninteresting this night is going to be for him—Phoenix loves to watch me crash and burn—he calls Wendy down to our end of the bar.
“Wendy, love, Hudson here, dragged me away from the pay-per-view fight I’d already paid for under the impression he was going to try and get laid—which as you know, usually results in raucous laughter before he’s successful.
Now, he’s telling me he chose this fine establishment simply to request the honor of your company for the night.
So, could you please throw a drink in his face or otherwise cause a scene to make my time worth it?
” Phoenix asks Wendy, resting his chin on his laced fingers with his elbows propped on the bar.
Wendy looks at me and winks, ignoring Phoenix entirely—another reason I think so highly of her. “You know I’d love to, Hud. That whole backwards hat thing really works for you and hell, I still swear you’re the only guy who can find a clit, but I can’t tonight.”
I don’t expect any details about what else she has going on and she doesn’t offer any, but the sting of disappointment strikes deeply.
“Damn,” I mutter, guzzling the rest of my drink.
“Another?” Wendy asks, swiping the empty glass in front of me.
I huff out a sigh. “No thanks.”
I pull out my card to close the tab and pay for our drinks when Phoenix looks at me wide-eyed. “That’s it? One drink and you’re calling it a night? That wasn’t even worth putting pants on for!” he cries indignantly.
I shrug. “Yeah, I guess I’ve sort of lost the desire.”
“You’ve lost the desire for pussy? Is that even a thing?”
I haven’t lost the desire for that. But I seem to be lacking in desire for everything that goes along with it. Tonight, I just really wanted someone familiar. I need to get this ache out of my balls that has been present ever since my last interaction with Shannon.
Because that is a definite no-fly zone—no matter how many different fantasies play out in my head.
Not only do I have solid morals, I’ve never once acted on an attraction to a married woman and I don’t intend to start now.
Behind us, a group of three women, who all look slightly younger than Phoe and I, grab a high-top table. They pre-gamed pretty hard or are doing a bar crawl because the redhead doesn’t even try to be discreet when she says, “God day-um. Have you bitches ever seen perfection like that?”
Fucking great, here we go.
Phoenix spins his chair around, feet braced on the bottom of his barstool as he leans back, planting his elbows on the bar now behind him, already knowing they’re talking about him.
“Perfection, you say?”
A fit of giggles comes from the table. Shaking my head, I flag Wendy down. “Looks like I’m going to need that second drink after all.”
Phoenix stands behind me and claps his hands down on my shoulders, roughly massaging for a second. “Looks like you can have your pick,” he whispers directly into my ear before turning back to the girls and dragging his chair four feet to their table.
Wendy laughs and slides my fresh drink to me. “For a second, I thought he was kissing your ear.”
I snort, realizing if he was doing that, I’d probably let him for how fucking desperate I am for relief. Which really isn’t good.
Eventually, I let myself be convinced to join their table, but am not surprised when twenty minutes later, Phoe has one girl standing between his legs, one girl draped over his shoulder, and one girl holding his hand across the tabletop.
Three fucking girls and one dude has them all. It’s like I’m not even here. They can’t resist his southern twang or his tight-ass, white t-shirts. I swear to God, Phoenix is like the love child of Glen Powell and Chris Hemsworth, and it’s annoying as fuck.
This is why I wanted to call Jake in the first place.
I drain my drink and walk over to the bar, handing the empty glass back to Wendy.
“Another?”
I shoot my eyes toward the table. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
She gives me a sad smile that makes me feel like shit before I turn back to the table to see Phoenix’s free hand on the back of the thigh of the girl between his legs.
“Hey, Phoe, I’m gonna head out,” I call.
“What? No, come on. Stay. It’s not even nine yet,” he argues.
“Yeah, this isn’t really what I was going for when I came out tonight.”
I have to hand it to him, he might be a little slow on the uptake, but once he sees his harem and me with no company at all, including him, he politely bids the girls farewell—after getting all of their numbers of course—and doubles his efforts to improve my night.
Exiting the bar, he suggests we take a stroll. “Why don’t we just walk along the waterfront and see what we come across. It’s a popular time for bachelorette parties.”
I laugh and scratch my shoulder through my dark grey t-shirt. “And have a repeat performance of what happened back there? No thanks.”
“Come on, you’re never going to get laid with that attitude.”
This makes me laugh harder. “I’m never going to get laid when I’m out with you, you mean.”
Phoenix holds up two fingers. I think he’s going for the scout’s honor symbol, but when he does it, it just looks dirty. “Well, I solemnly vow to flush all the hot pussy toward you and only once you have your woman for the night, will I make an attempt to get myself laid.”
“Phoenix, you get laid eight nights out of the week as it is,” I remind him.
“There’s only seven nights in a week, Hud.”
“That’s my point,” I deadpan. His resulting laugh is dark and low, making even my dick sit up and take notice.
Fucking traitor.
On the way to the cut-through to the water, we pass a nice Italian place.
There are tables close to the large window that overlook the street.
I’ve never been in there because I don’t understand paying seventy-five-dollars for something I’m going to enjoy for thirty minutes and then literally shit out, but others must because the place is always packed.
As we approach, we can see the soft glow of the tea lights on the tables closest to the window. Phoenix is talking about his newest chickens on his farm or some shit as I peer in the window and immediately spot the woman I’m trying so hard not to think about.
I stop walking and just stare.
From where I’m standing, I can’t see her husband’s face, but I’m suddenly overcome with the desire to know more about him. Does he treat her well? How long have they been married? Does he worship the ground she walks on?
As I take her in, I notice she looks the same and also completely different.
She’s no longer crying, but she’s not smiling, either.
Her dark lashes appear even longer than usual as she looks down at her lap demurely.
Her lips are painted nude, and her tan skin remains flawless.
Just like at the lake, she must feel my eyes on her because she raises her gaze and looks directly at me through the window.
Only this time, I see the light of recognition.