“Yum. So how did you get into this stuff? It doesn’t seem to be your sort of thing.”
“I don’t really remember how I got into it. I was fan for a while, and then started going to events when I could and I met some other fans, and then a few riders…”And then I let Jack take me back to his hotel room once.
And that was that. Jack was the hottest fuck ever, and they’d clicked like it was meant to be. Except Jack wasn’t looking for more and had let him down easy but firmly.
I’m not that guy.
“It just kind of happened.”
But it hadn’t happened just one year.
Jack had found him the second year. The third. Then the fourth Jack had texted him on his birthday. He’d been embarrassed to admit he couldn’t remember Jack’s birthday, but once Jack told him, he never forgot it.
“It’s an exciting, dangerous sport, and these riders just kinda put everything on the line, you know? Have you never been?”
“No. I mean, I’ve done my research now. I don’t want to look like an asshole, but this is new to me.” Okay, that was fair, and decent.
“Well, cool. We’ll sit with some people who know what’s up, and you’ll learn. It’s not complicated, just fast.” He glanced around one more time before heading to the hostess stand. Lots of cowboys, but no sign of his. “Two, please.”
“Of course.” She tapped and clicked on her iPad, then looked up and smiled. “This way, please.”
They wended through the restaurant, and he was surprised at how many riders nodded to him, recognized him.
“Wow. They like you, huh?”
He’d seen it before, but he’d always assumed they were greeting Jack. He didn’t walk around much without Jack except at the show venue. “I’ve been around a while. I go to the Anaheim show every year, and this last time, I was working on our glove with some of them.” That had to be it. It had to be work.
Jack was definitely going to find out he was here now. He hadn’t considered that people would know him, or care one way or the other that he was there. He’d figured Jack wouldn’t know until they ran into each other.
“You in there?”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.” He picked up his menu to cover while he tried to figure out if this little make-Jack-want-him-around-more plan was going backfire on him.
By the time they’d ordered and gotten a glass of wine, he was feeling better, like he could relax. It wasn’t like Jack was going to pounce him, right?
“My wife asked me to bring her something. I wish she’d told me what she wanted—maybe a T-shirt?”
“Pasties.”
“Shut up.”
“Maybe one of those showgirl headdress things.” Hudson could make lots of great suggestions with a straight face.
“You are no help.” Paul laughed and sipped his wine.
“I don’t really understand women very well to be honest.”
Paul snorted. “Lucky for you, you don’t have to.”
“Men have their own issues. Especially cowboys. But amen to that.” Speaking of issues and cowboys, his phone buzzed, Cowboy Jack popping up with a text.
Jack
You rly in Vegas?
“Jesus Christ, word travels fast.”
“What word?”