Chapter 15

15

Hudson

Hudson’s Words To Live By:

When you’re overwhelmed and exhausted, ask for an extra pack of those cinnamon cookie things on the airplane. They won’t fix anything, but they’re very tasty.

The flight home was long as hell. I’d expected to see Charlie still there when my phone alarm went off, but he must have ducked out after I’d passed out. As much as it had stung, I couldn’t blame him. If his preference was for a one-and-done, it made sense he didn’t want an awkward run-in the next day.

But it still rankled. Maybe it hadn’t been anything special to him, but it sure had been to me. Seeing the empty bed next to me put a painful lump in my throat that refused to go away.

My night with Charlie had changed things. Kissing him had gotten me harder than any encounter I’d ever had with a woman. Something about being with him had made me feel like I could be myself more than I’d been with a woman. Maybe I could be rougher or bossier, or maybe I could let go of worrying about being polite and gentle for a little while. When he’d taken control during our last encounter, I felt like I’d floated way past normal sex into some kind of upgraded sex stratosphere. Whatever it was, it had blown my fucking mind. And even more than the sex, I knew with Charlie I’d never felt quite so… myself before.

After realizing that, I began to second-guess every relationship I’d ever had. The guilt swamped me. Had I ever given any of my girlfriends my true self? Was it because I was supposed to be with men all along? Was I gay?

No. I didn’t think so. I’d been plenty attracted to the women I’d dated. Granted, I’d never truly been in love before, but I’d honestly cared for and enjoyed the women I’d been with. Did that make me bisexual? I didn’t like that term. It had always seemed… limiting. Like there were only two choices. What about nonbinary people or transgender people? Bisexual implied you liked both sexes, but what about gender? It was all so confusing to me. I tried to recall conversations with my siblings about sexuality.

Was I pansexual maybe? Would that be more accurate?

Did it matter? Did I have to choose a label because of this strange change in my circumstances?

No. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t anything different than I’d been before. How could I suddenly not be straight after all these years? And if I wasn’t straight, what would everyone say when they learned all the Wilde boys were gay or bi? It was too weird, too unbelievable. I couldn’t stand being in the spotlight on a regular day, but being the punchline in a joke about the “last one finally succumbing” seemed like hell on earth to me.

I needed to shut my fucking brain down and put the crazy night behind me. I decided to relegate it to what it truly was: my one wild night. No one needed to know. My family sure as hell didn’t need to know. They would ask me questions until the cows came home, until Grandpa’s long-dead cattle came back from the dead and came home. That’s how insane the inquisitions from my siblings would be if anyone found out I’d kissed a man. They’d label me and revisit my entire past. They’d force me to the clubs and set me up on dates “just to see” who I might be attracted to under this new reality. No, thanks.

So there it was. What happened in Ireland stayed in Ireland.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie Murray. The Charlie I’d fallen so quickly for turned out to be one of the Murrays who’d be devastated to lose control of their family pub. And I was the one to make the recommendation to Bruce Ames about the acquisition. How would Charlie feel if he knew what I’d really been there to do? Would he hate me? Would he be happy? Did he know the business was in money trouble?

I didn’t want to do anything to upset him, but at the same time, my promotion was riding on this project.

Thinking about it had exhausted me. I hadn’t been able to sleep on the plane and when I’d attempted to work on my laptop, I hadn’t been able to focus. Thoughts of Charlie had consumed me until I felt sick with worry. Why had he left that morning? Had I done something to upset him? Had I let him down somehow? My biggest fear was having done or said something that made him feel as though I was using him. Had he felt like I only wanted to experiment with a man, any man? Because that wasn’t it. Did he know I couldn’t possibly have felt this way for another man besides him?

What if his feelings were hurt? What if he tried to erase the memory of me by staying in Cork another night and going back to that bar to find someone else? I couldn’t bear the thought of another man seeing what he looked like when he came, touching his smooth skin and hearing his sweet laughter. He was so kind… what if someone took advantage of him? What if he fell in with a new guy and got left again? It would break his heart.

By the time I landed in Dallas, I was confused and overwhelmed. Instead of driving home to my apartment in the city, I drove straight to Doc and Grandpa’s ranch in Hobie.

As soon as my car came to a stop in front of the old farmhouse, the front door opened and a motley crew of three dogs came scrambling out. I reached down and threw my arms around the coonhound.

“Grumpy Gus,” I murmured into his mottled brown fur. “Sweet boy.”

Grandpa stood at the front door, illuminated by the porch light. He held a kitchen towel in his hands as if he’d been drying dishes when he heard the car, and I could see the confusion on his face at the sight of me. I hadn’t called or texted to let him know I was coming and I had to look like death warmed over. I knew it didn’t matter—they’d be happy to see me regardless.

After a quick pet on the head for the two smaller dogs, I brushed my hands together and stumbled up the steps and straight into Grandpa’s arms. I was taller than he was now, but the broad shoulders of the lifelong rancher had always made me feel safe. His strong arms wrapped around me and held me tight. My eyes stayed dry, but it was a close thing.

“It’s okay. You’re home now,” Grandpa said gruffly. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine, I’m sure. Come inside, son.”

I followed him inside without meeting his eyes. My feet automatically led me toward the sitting-room side of the kitchen where Doc was dozing in a recliner with a worn afghan pulled over him.

“Liam, sweetheart, wake up,” Grandpa said. “Hudson’s here.”

Doc’s eyes were unfocused at first, but as he realized I was really there, a big smile overtook his face.

“Hey. I thought you were in Ireland on business?”

“I was. I just got in this evening.” I took a seat and kicked off my shoes before putting my feet up on the coffee table and slouching down into the deep cushions of the sofa.

Grandpa sat next to me and squeezed my knee. “We’re glad you’re here. How did it go?”

“Fine.” I shook my head. “I mean, the work was fine, but…”

I didn’t even know how to begin. I had a moral dilemma, and I needed their guidance.

Doc and Grandpa projected their usual calm and soothing air. Doc was one of the most patient men I’d ever met, and Grandpa wasn’t far off. The two of them were so easy to be with, I knew if I didn’t speak up on my own, they’d simply leave me be. They’d never push or prod.

“I guess there’s something I need your help figuring out,” I began. “I was sent over there to assess a historic pub and brewery for majority-share acquisition. The assessment was straightforward, and it’s definitely a good investment for Ames.”

Grandpa sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So what’s the problem?”

I picked at the worn edge of a sofa cushion near my thigh. “While I was there, I met a few members of the Murray family and learned all about the pub’s history.” I looked up at my grandfathers. “It’s truly amazing. They’ve been there for hundreds of years, right at the Cliffs of Moher on the coast. It’s gorgeous and… special. The property has been in the family for so long, I can’t picture it being owned by an American, a stranger to the Murray family and someone who doesn’t give a damn about all that history. It’s… it’s not right.”

“Why are they selling the shares?” Doc asked. “I assume it’s not something Ames is considering taking by force. If the family is selling and Ames is buying, that’s really all there is to it.”

“I don’t think they want to sell. From what I could piece together, it’s owned by two brothers, Sean and Devlin. Sean always managed the books, but about ten months ago he remarried and moved to Brazil. Since then, Devlin, who used to manage the brewery operations, has had to do his best with the finances on his own. I found evidence Devlin made some mistakes with the accounting and wound up trying to make up for it with his own money. It’s all fine now, except I’m guessing Devlin is in personal financial trouble. If that’s the case, maybe he’s selling his shares because it’s the only way he can recoup his personal investment. Once I got to thinking about it, I remembered something Bruce mentioned before I left on the trip. I think Devlin originally wanted to sell only a portion of his shares, but Bruce said he wouldn’t consider it unless it was a majority share in the business.”

“Hmm,” Grandpa mused, rubbing the coonhound’s big furry butt with his bare foot. “So maybe he doesn’t need as much money as this transaction would bring him, but he doesn’t feel like he has any other option.”

I shrugged. “I mean… this is a ton of assumption and speculation. But that’s what I think.”

Doc shifted in his recliner to face me more fully. “So what if you could find an investment option with Devlin that would be just as exciting for Bruce but would save the pub from being majority owned by Ames?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering. I can’t see how Bruce truly wants to own a historic pub in Ireland as an investment. Honestly, I think he took a trip over there, liked the feel of the place and the taste of their custom brews, and wanted a piece of it. It’s more of a pet project than an actual serious addition to his portfolio. So how do I finagle it so he gets his pet project without messing with the ownership of this historic pub?”

Grandpa stood up and stretched. “Let me grab us some thinking juice,” he said with a wink.

“Bailey’s please,” Doc called out with a grin. “On ice if it’s not too much trouble, sweetheart.”

“Anything for you, dearest,” Grandpa teased. “Hudson?”

“Same. Thanks.”

I turned to Doc. “What about beer distribution rights in North America?”

“Does the brewery have capacity for that?” he asked. “You’d have to research the profitability of it. Make sure it’s as good of an investment if you’re going to recommend it instead of the acquisition.”

“Are you going back over there?” Grandpa asked.

“I don’t think so. I have to give my report to Bruce on Monday and see what happens. On the one hand, if the acquisition happens, I might get to go back over there and it will go a long way toward helping me make VP at Ames. But if it doesn’t, then the Murrays will get to retain more control over their family business which would make Ch… them happier. So… I kind of have to hope the acquisition falls through. But that will mean I don’t get to go back to Ireland again.” I shrugged. “At least that family will have retained ownership of their legacy. That’s more important than me making vice president anyway.

“I wonder if I could come up with other ideas in case Bruce doesn’t like the distribution one,” I mused. “Something that would be a win-win for both Ames Investments and the Murray family.”

Doc scrambled out of the recliner and came over to pull me into his arms. He smelled familiar, and his hug was comforting.

“You’re a good man, Hudson Wilde,” he murmured into my hair. “Not everything can be solved tonight. Now head to bed and get some sleep. You’ve got to be dead on your feet. No problems get solved on a low tank of fuel and sleep.”

He was right. After wishing them both good night, I made my way to the guest room and fell into bed. I’d only have Sunday to get my brain together for work the following day, so I needed all the sleep I could get.

Despite my best intentions, I fell asleep to memories of my hands and lips skating across creamy skin sprinkled with freckles. The vision of Charlie’s freckled face smiling at me from across the Fig and Bramble bar made me feel safe and comfortable. Happy.

While I slept, the four-leaf clover I’d found outside the pub sat on the bedside table safely ensconced in a tiny keepsake jar I’d found in the airport gift shop in Cork.