Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
My heart sunk like a brick. “No. No one told me.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I would have thought they’d drag you along with them. It’s not like you ever complain about going to a gay bar with everyone.”
I felt stung. It would be one thing if West and Nico were going on their own, but to take Charlie without even asking if I wanted to join them? I was their connection to him. I was the one who’d introduced them. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised they hadn’t included me after I’d declined to join them the previous weekend. Charlie had clearly decided I wasn’t into him like that anymore. I assumed he was still pissed about our aborted attempt to hook up in my truck the week before Darci’s accident, but since I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to talk to him about it, the awkwardness between us remained.
After Sassy and I finished moving the furniture, I kissed my sister on the cheek and headed back out to my truck. I couldn’t help but text my asshole brother.
Hudson: Thanks for including me, jackass.
West: What, Dallas? I didn’t think you’d be interested in dancing with a dick in your ass.
I felt my face heat up at the idea of a dick in my ass. My own dick expressed interest in the concept, especially if the dick in question was attached to a certain long-haired beauty with an Irish temper.
Hudson: When have I ever complained about going out with you guys?
West: We haven’t left yet. But if you want to come, pack a bag. We’re staying at Saint’s.
I thought about it. Did I really want to go and be tempted by Charlie’s tight ass and sinewy body? I couldn’t imagine the agony of watching him dance with other men, and after last week’s episode, he sure as hell wasn’t going to want to dance with me. Clearly the idea of me going was a terrible one. Darci was working overnight shifts at the hospital, which would mean I could finally get some good nights’ sleep in my own bed.
Hudson: No, I guess I’d better stay here. Been a long week.
West: That’s what Charlie said. He told us you wouldn’t be able to go.
Well, well, well. Now it made more sense. They hadn’t included me because Charlie had suggested I wouldn’t want to go. Did that mean he didn’t want me to join them? And if so, why? Because he thought he knew what was best for me? Or maybe he thought he knew what I wanted? Or wanted to be able to hook up with random strangers without me watching over him?
Fuck that.
Hudson: Changed my mind. I ain’t an old man just yet.
West: If you say so. Pick you up in an hour at the bunkhouse.
By the time I walked over to the bunkhouse with a duffel slung over my shoulder, I was spoiling for a fight. Only I’d decided the best way to fight fire was with fire. If Charlie wanted to pin me as a straight arrow who couldn’t handle being at a gay bar, he was going to be in for a rude awakening. I may not have wanted to fuck around with his feelings by leading him on, but I certainly wasn’t above flirting with other guys to show him just how comfortable I was going out dancing with my brothers.
I should have known by the way I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about him that things with Charlie would soon come to a head.
And by the time I got into West’s SUV, I hoped to hell they came to a head while Charlie Murray and I were both naked.
28
Charlie
Charlie’s Luck:
Just my luck when I’m at my absolute horniest, Hudson tags along.
When Hudson turned up for our second trip to Dallas, I let out a decidedly unmanly squeak. Nico shot me a smirk from the front seat, but I did my best to brush it off.
“Sorry, just pinched myself with the seat belt,” I muttered.
“Sure you did,” he replied, deadpan. The man was clearly onto me.
Hudson slid into the big SUV next to me, and I couldn’t help but catch a whiff of his scent. It was the same unique smell I always noticed first thing in the morning when we rode together to work in the cab of his truck: a combination of whatever laundry soap he used and the sharp, sporty scent of his deodorant. When we’d gotten together back in Ireland, I’d made a point of inhaling the delicious smell from his pits like some kind of psychopath. The minute I caught a whiff of that familiar smell in the narrow confines of the vehicle’s back seat, I felt my dick perk up and act like a bloody nuisance.
“Hey,” he said before clearing his throat. “Hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”