1
Jack lived for the Anaheim events—seriously. He got to see the kids, but then they all went to Disneyland. There was a ton of affordable food, decent hotels, and…Hudson.
For years, he’d had his own personal hot little bastard in Anaheim. Hours in bed, making the bedsprings scream. Pizza delivery twenty-four-seven. Four nights of bliss with one of the ones he never once got tired of.
He’d spent more time with Hudson in bed than out, and it was easy to picture the man with a lock of blond hair plastered across a wide forehead, and half-lidded blue eyes staring up from the pillows. That was the first image that came to mind, but Hudson knew how to wear a pair of jeans, too, the arms of a polo stretching around muscled biceps.
Not bad for a geek.
Hudson couldn’t ride a horse or throw a loop, and Jack was fairly sure he didn’t know what a piggin’ string was, but the fine motherfucker did make his eyes cross.
He had driven down in a convoy with Mackey, Sid, and Tommy—and they had been having a ball on the pretty drive along the coast from Portland. He’d expected to hear from Hudson by now; he’d even texted twice, which was once more than he usually would for any other booty call, but nothing. Not even those little dots.
Shit, he hoped Hudson was okay. It wasn’t like the man not to return his texts, but if Jack didn’t hear something soon, well, he’d just call.
It was the decent thing to do, after all. What if Hudson had been in an accident or something?
“So we won’t be seeing you at dinner, I hear.” Sid winked at him as Mackey was checking in.
“Oi.” Tommy laughed. “Only place you’ll see Jack this weekend is on the dirt. He always hasplansin Anaheim.”
“Plans?” Sid asked, and Mackey nodded.
“Plansplans. Pervy dirty many-condom plans.”
“Wait.” Sid gave him a confused look. “How is that different than every other weekend?”
That got a laugh from Mackey and Tommy, and he was about to say something snarky himself when his phone vibrated in his hand.
[Plane was delayed and traffic in LA sucks.]
Oh, hell yeah. That was the best possible answer. [Got a room at the Hilton Anaheim. 322. CUSoon]
[Sounds good.]
Tommy peered over his shoulder. “Is lover boy standing you up?”
“He is not, thank you. Nosy.” He couldn’t help his grin, though, not for love or money. “His flight was late.”
“He flies in for you?” Sid asked, and his grin just got wider.
“I’m that good.”
“Every year, so fucking smug. It’s disgusting.” Mackey clapped him on the shoulder. “Speaking of disgusting, see you on the dirt. I’m taking Sid upstairs for a nap before showtime.”
Tommy sighed. “Sounds like my cue to find the twins. We should have made them drive with us.”
“You should just get your own hotel room, man.”
“Oi, the twins would cause a disaster. Can you imagine? They’d be bouncing off the walls like a ‘roo.”
“Quick before he changes his mind.” Mackey laughed and steered Sid toward the elevator. “Later, y’all!”
“Mother needs a day off.” Tommy winked at him. Grainger and Hayden—the twins on the bull-fighting team—stumbled into the hotel lobby looking wide-eyed and lost. “Oi! Boys!” Tommy waved. “Off to babysit, mate. Later.”
“See ya.” Jack waved and headed for the bar, getting a beer while he waited for Hudson. He loved watching the fine son of a bitch walk into a room.
Or out of a room.