Chapter 3

3

Hudson

Hudson’s Note To Self:

Not everyone offering you sausage is referring to dick.

When I walked into the historic Fig and Bramble pub and guesthouse, the first thing I saw was a gorgeous woman behind the bar. She had long red hair full of thick waves and was wearing an oversized fisherman’s sweater hanging off one pale, slender shoulder. Her skin looked so smooth and delicate, I suddenly imagined brushing the hair away from her neck and dropping an openmouthed kiss on the exposed surface to test how warm it was.

My heartbeat kicked into high gear. I’d never had such a visceral reaction to catching a glimpse of someone like that.

Before I could get a closer look at her, she turned her back to do something at the cash register. I took a spot at the bar and peeked over the wide wooden surface to see more of her. I noticed the ivory sweater hung down almost to her knees where a pair of snug-fitting blue jeans were rolled up to capri length the same way my sister Sassy did hers back home in Texas. My slow perusal continued down over slim, smooth ankles to a pair of well-loved gray Converse sneakers. What was it about her that was pushing my buttons?

I took advantage of the fact she was still facing away so I could check her out. As she shifted from foot to foot, I caught the barest hint of the curve of her compact ass under the bulky sweater. The stretched-out neckline fell farther down the exposed shoulder until I could see the rounded outline of small but well-defined deltoid muscle. It reminded me of a woman I’d dated several years before who did CrossFit. Heather had been insane about her workouts and sported biceps that made even my brothers envious. Imagining this delicate creature behind the bar in a skimpy sports bra and tiny workout shorts with damp tendrils of hair sticking to her neck made my pants noticeably tighter.

When I sensed the woman was finished with the register but still hadn’t noticed me, I spoke up to get her attention. It took me a moment after she turned around to realize the bartender wasn’t a woman at all. I’d been lusting after a man. I’d been getting hard for a man.

But he had such feminine features. He was downright gorgeous, regardless of his gender. It took me a minute to gather my wits and regroup. So what if she was a he? Did it matter? Of course not. I might have been straight, but I could still appreciate a beautiful human being of any gender or sex.

In addition to all of the things I’d noticed about him before, he also had stunningly bright green eyes the color of the clichéd four-leaf clover I’d happened upon just outside the door to the historic building. There were a few freckles scattered across his nose, and his dark eyelashes were made even darker by a thin smudge of eyeliner.

My confusion over lusting for a man had caused my nerves to kick in, and it’d been all I could do not to stare at the gorgeous creature behind the bar as he’d been getting the drink for me. Once I’d admitted I had no idea what any of the items on the menu were, he’d gone and asked me the loaded question about liking sausage. Since my brain was still subconsciously chanting dick doesn’t matter, the question caught me off guard. Not to mention my traitorous mind had decided to remind me at that exact moment of the words of the little old lady on my flight. Taco versus sausage.

I’d never once been attracted to a man. And I’d had plenty of opportunities to know if I was. My brothers had dragged me to dance clubs many times and paraded good-looking men in front of me for years. Never once had I felt the telltale butterflies of attraction to a member of my sex until that moment in the bar.

The minute I’d locked eyes with him, I’d felt like we were the only two people in the room. I’d noticed his name tag and decided right away I wanted to feel his name on my tongue. Was that weird? That was probably weird.

He was noticeably smaller than I was, maybe five foot seven inches with his shoes on, and every bit of him was covered in the smoothest, creamiest skin I’d ever seen on a man. Scratch that… the smoothest, creamiest skin I’d ever seen on anyone. Except for the smattering of freckles. And, man, those freckles were killing me. They made him look… almost… god, was it possible I thought this guy was adorable?No. I was just having a moment of lusting after a redhead who looked like a woman who just happened to be a man. Plenty of people had a thing for redheads, even if I’d never particularly thought of myself as one of those people before.

I’d wondered at my reaction to him. There was a part of me that still thought he was the sexiest human being I’d ever seen.

Sexy.

A dude.

Jesus, Hudson, your brothers have brainwashed you into scoping out dudes. And if it was acceptable to maim little old ladies, I might have to look up the one from the plane.

I was going to kill my brothers. I should have known going to gay clubs with them would make me start seeing every man as a potential hookup. But why this time did it feel more like he’d be one for me rather than any of them?

I shook off the silly thoughts and shrugged. “Sausage is good. I mean… fine. That is… I’d be willing to try your sausage, yes. Well, not your sausage, I mean the sausage. In the dish. The sausage dish. What is it again? Just sausage? Anything else in it besides… sausage?” I gulped.

Shut up, Hudson. How many times are you going to say the word sausage?

The bartender blinked at me again, only this time he had a smirk to go with it.

“Dude, you don’t have to have it. I can recommend something else for you, no problem.”

I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “No. Someone suggested I try new things. Bring me whatever you like best.”

There was a mischievous teasing in his eyes. “Well, I mean, if you want to know what I like best… it’s definitely the sausage.”

He was gay. Why did that make my stomach flip over and over even more? It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to being around gay men. I was. I totally was. Gay was fine. I was fine with gay.

Gay.

Was the word stuck on repeat in my brain or something?

I slammed the rest of my pint and pointed to the empty glass. “And another one of these too please,” I croaked.

As the evening progressed, the bartender—Charlie…Charlie was his name and it fit him perfectly—got flirtier and flirtier while I got drunker and drunker in an effort to cover my discomfort. There was something about the way he moved that drew my eyes to him like a magnet. Whenever he spoke to me, I felt my face heat and my tongue tie in knots. I stammered and babbled like an idiot in a way I’d never done before, but through it all he was calm and kind, asking questions about where I was from and how my flight had been. I tried explaining the mix-up that had led me to fly into Cork rather than Shannon, the tiny rental car I’d barely fit in, my attempts to navigate roundabouts going the wrong way from the wrong side of the car. But I could barely get a word out without stammering.

Instead, I focused on lining up the salt and pepper shakers, my knife and fork, and the bottles of condiments near me on the bar. I squared the drink napkin and straightened the one left by the man who’d come for a quick pint and left already. After that, I snuck my hand sanitizer under the bar to do a once-over. The bar was hundreds of years old, after all. No telling what was baked into its surface after all this time.

Every now and then I’d sneak a glance at the sweet bartender. At some point, he’d shoved up the long sleeves of the sweater, revealing the slender muscles of his forearms. His skin was peppered with a few freckles there too, and I noticed his hands gripping the bar towel tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

There was a small window open behind the bar letting some fresh air in. The slight breeze ruffled the reddish waves around Charlie’s ears and shirt collar, catching my attention and making my fingers itch. I’d never seen hair that color. It was like a mix of all the different shades I’d ever seen on another redhead. Strawberry-blond streaks mixed in with deeper auburn hues and even some carrot-orange bits. I wondered if it was so varied because he spent much of his time outside.

“See something you like?” Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow.

I felt a lump form in my throat at being caught out, and my mouth opened before I had a chance to stop it. “Your hair is really, uh, nice. Different.”

Oh my god, I did not just compliment the man on his hair.

My face ignited with humiliation, and I worked desperately to keep from gasping at my own inappropriateness.

“Um, sorry,” I stammered. “I only meant… that, ah… I’ve never met someone with… Oh, hey, do all Irish people really have red hair? Ha. Um, and I found a four-leaf clover. So, that’s a thing that happened. Weird, right?”

Oh my god. Kill me now.

Charlie turned to stare at me. “Are you feeling okay?”

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

“Maybe I’m a little jet-lagged. I think it’s going to be an early night for me. It’s late my time, I think.” I scrambled for any excuse.

His lips turned up. “Let’s see… it’s ten in the evening here, which means it’s the afternoon in the States.”

Oh. Well.

I looked down at my beer and took a few more sips. No justifiable reason for why I was being weird.

“I liked the coddle,” I said out of the blue a few minutes later. Charlie was pulling a pint for another customer, but just as he looked up to answer me with a grin, I felt someone slide onto the seat next to mine. Charlie’s grin quickly died.

“I like to cuddle too,” the woman said with a chuckle. “Are we listing things we like in bed?”

I turned to her in confusion. We were at a historic inn in rural Ireland. It was about the least likely place for a random pickup as I could imagine outside of maybe a cathedral.

The woman was younger than I was by about ten years and had similar red hair and freckles to the bartender. I flicked my eyes back to Charlie to take another look.

For comparison purposes only.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at the woman before wrinkling his forehead in confusion. “Cait, what are you doing?”

“Can’t a girl meet a nice man in a pub?” the woman asked.

“You’re dating Donny. Plus, you already know this man,” Charlie growled. Something about the tone of his voice made my stomach clench with nerves.

The woman, Cait, looked back at him. “No I don’t. How would I know him?”

“Because you sent him here,” Charlie said.

I realized I’d had three too many beers when I couldn’t make out the hidden meaning in their exchange. And I sure as hell couldn’t remember ever meeting the woman next to me.

I risked a glance back at Charlie and felt a low whimper in my throat. That’s it. It was time for me to go to bed. I was there for work, not… whatever this was.

Instead of getting up, I took another long sip of beer from the never-ending pint.

Cait looked between Charlie and me before humming, as if she was trying to decide something. “Yes. Yes I did. You two have a great… night,” she said before patting me on the back and leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Go for it. I hear the man sucks dick like a Hoover.”

Beer shot out of my nose and all over the bar top. The young woman laughed as she walked out of the pub. I scrambled for some napkins and flashed an embarrassed apology at the bartender.

“So sorry,” I stammered. “So, so sorry.”

His grin was cute as hell. “What did my sister say to you?”

I choked again and squeaked. “Sister? Your sister? That woman was your sister?”

Charlie’s laugh surrounded me like the warm air of a mild summer evening, familiar and comfortable, buzzing with possibility. I wanted to hear more.

“Yes, she’s my sister. Judging from your response, I’d say whatever she whispered was extremely inappropriate.” Another chuckle.

“You have a wonderful laugh,” I said on a sigh.

Oh fuck.

“And I need to go to bed,” I added quickly. “Check please.”

He looked at me funny before turning to the register to prepare my tab. He seemed to pause for a moment, and then he returned to the spot across from me. “On the house. Don’t worry about it.”

I handed him my credit card. “No, I insist. I’m here on business anyway, so my company pays for it.”

He glanced at the card before handing it back. “My treat. I enjoyed the company, Hudson.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss,” I tried again.

He laughed. “No worries, mate. I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger.”

I stood up, a bit unsteady on my feet. “I can see why,” I mumbled under my breath. There was something seriously weird about the guy that must affect everyone around him. Like voodoo magic or witchy spells. That was it. It wasn’t just me. He was mesmerizing to everyone.

I smiled up at him. “Good night, Charlie. Thank you for the coddle.”

In an effort to get out of there before saying more stupid shit, I spun around and ran right into a thick wooden beam holding up part of the room.

What happened next was a bit of a jumble. A few people gasped, someone cursed, and I was fairly certain I apologized more than a reasonable amount.

“I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just need to get to my room,” I said. “I might need some help finding it. The lady said it was up the stairs and down the hall and down another hall and up another set of stairs and I can’t remember where my room is, so I might need some help finding it.”

Soft laughter and strong arms. I remembered those. The smell of beer mixed with honeysuckle and fresh air. I wanted more of that smell. It was warm and inviting… different.

“You smell good,” I told the strong arms.

“Not me, him,” said a gruffer voice I didn’t recognize. “I smell like pork sausage and arse.”

More laughter, only this time it was the familiar good laughter I knew was Charlie’s.

“Was that your sausage I ate?” I asked as politely as I could. I opened my eyes to see who was helping me up the stairs, but all I could see was a large burly form in a wrinkled black chef’s coat. “It was delicious. I’m glad I tried something new. The old ladies were right.”

More easy chuckling.

“Well, I made the coddle. Dunno about any old ladies. Now up to bed with you.”

There was the sound of a door being opened, and then I was on a bed in my small room at the inn above the pub. The soft quilt smelled like fresh laundry detergent, and the dim light from the bedside table lamp made Charlie’s freckles fade.

“That’s a shame,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “I like your freckles.”

I felt my shoes and socks being removed. Charlie’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “For a Texas boy, you sure do have a low tolerance for beer.”

“I took some medicine. Think maybe that’s what happened,” I said, remembering the antianxiety meds I’d taken on the plane. “Sorry. So sorry.”

A cool hand smoothed over my forehead, and I leaned into the touch.

“No need to be sorry, gorgeous,” he whispered. I could feel the cool slide of his silky hair falling against my cheek. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I would have really liked to have taken you to bed tonight the proper way.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and my lungs felt tight. I opened my eyes to see Charlie’s face inches from mine. His lips were dark, shiny, pink, and full, and his eyes were the same vibrant green I’d been lost in all night. I was pretty sure this was all a dream.

“You’re really beautiful,” I told him, reaching out to tuck the fallen hair behind his ear. “My brothers would love you.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Your brothers?”

I nodded, which made my head spin. “But they can’t have you.”

Charlie’s smile was slow and sexy as hell. “Why not, Hudson? Why can’t they have me?”

“Because you’re… you’re mine,” I admitted, closing my eyes to fully appreciate the dream. I brushed my thumb over my chest and felt my heart hammering along as if it had never been this excited before.

The feel of soft lips on my cheek, the gentle hands removing my belt, the careful tucking of a blanket over me… all of those things made me fall even harder into the dream. The rational part of my brain puzzled through which of my single brothers would make the best partner for Charlie while the complete lunatic side of my brain kept chanting mine mine mine all night long.

When I awoke the following morning and remembered all of it in a single flash of mortification, I chalked it all up to mixing prescriptions with alcohol. Yeah, that was it. That was the reason my dick filled out when I remembered Charlie’s long hair and freckled nose. The medicine and alcohol thing.

Thank god I’d only interacted with the bartender and possibly the chef. Seeing as how I was there representing the firm I worked for, it would’ve been a disaster if I’d made that drunken scene in front of the manager, or god forbid, the family who’d owned the brewery for generations.

I showered and dressed in a button-down and suit pants before gathering my messenger bag and making my way downstairs to search out some food. I kept my head down and tried desperately to ignore the jitter of nerves in my stomach. The night in the bar had been so out of character for me. What the hell would I do if I had to face Charlie or the chef again? I would die of mortification. Hell, I was already dying of mortification.

And a hangover.

Thankfully, breakfast for the inn customers was served in a different room than the pub. It was a sunroom full of windows and various-sized round wooden tables and chairs. The food was set out along two sturdy sideboards on one wall, and an older woman in an apron wandered through the room offering coffee and tea.

“Take a seat anywhere, love,” she called to me from across the room. I selected a small table and set my bag down before going to help myself at the small buffet. I was too hungry to allow myself to worry about whether or not the other guests had used sanitary methods to serve themselves from the communal trays.

When I was halfway through eating and most of the way through my first cup of coffee, a large older man rushed into the room and seemed to take over the entire space with his personality.

“Are you Hudson Wilde?” he asked with a big grin, as if he already knew the answer.

“Yes, sir,” I said, standing up and holding out a hand for a shake. “And you are?”

“You don’t remember me from last night?” There was a twinkle in his eye that said he sure as hell remembered last night.

Fuck.

“I’m afraid last night I made the mistake of mixing medicine and alcohol,” I confessed. “Forgive me.”

He had thick red hair and a ruddy complexion. By his girth, I assumed he’d been the chef who’d helped me up the stairs with Charlie the night before.

“Well, now. You’re not the first young man we’ve had to cart up to his room after a few too many pints.” His voice was so boisterous, I couldn’t help but look around in hopes no one was sharing in my shame.

No such luck. Eyeballs were everywhere, and they were all focused on the stupid American.

“Devlin Murray. Owner of this fine establishment. Nice to meet you, Hudson.”

Oh dear god.

Of course the man who’d seen me fucked up the night before was the owner of the company. That was just my luck.

Shitty, shitty luck.

He took the other seat at my table and waved to the server for a cup of tea. Once he took his first sip, he seemed to study me. I gulped down the bile rising up in my throat.

“What do you need from me to make your assessment?” he asked, losing the smirk and becoming all business.

I tried my best to act normal and swallowed another gulp of coffee in hopes it would quell the incessant desire my mouth had to begin spouting apologies like a lunatic again. I’d never felt so off balance before. So much for trying something wild… all it’d done was make me lust after a gorgeous guy, fall at said guy’s feet, and ramble incessantly like the water that slid over the mossy rocks in Sugar Creek back home. “Well, I’d like to start with a tour of the place so I can see what’s included in the real estate assets. Then I’d like to go over some questions I have about P&L statements and—”

“Whoa,” he said, holding up a big paw. “I’m going to stop you right there. Tour. We’ll begin with that. I’ll pair you up with our best tour guide, and then I’ll meet you in the brewery so you can show me this little tap invention I’ve heard about. Sound good?”

I nodded, grateful he’d dropped the embarrassing events of the previous night and focused on the job ahead. I was a bit surprised Bruce Ames had mentioned my tap ring, but I took it as a good sign I was on my way to returning to Bruce’s good graces now that Darci was seeing other people. Maybe Bruce had thought it would make a good icebreaker.

“Good,” Devlin said, looking around before settling his gaze back on me. “Listen, I’d like to keep the purpose of your visit quiet if you don’t mind. No sense in worrying anyone about changes before it’s even a done deal, yeah?”

I nodded. Despite rumors to the contrary, not everyone involved in corporate acquisitions was an unfeeling asshole. And confidentiality was a large part of our business.

“I understand,” I assured him. “Let me just finish my breakfast and I’ll be ready for the tour. From what I saw of the place when I came in last night, it’s gorgeous.”

A bittersweet expression stole over the man’s face. “That it is, Hudson. That it is. This property has been in my family for nine generations. If the acquisition takes place, it will be the first time in over two hundred years the property hasn’t been majority owned by someone in the family. Ever since my brother moved away last year, it’s just been me in charge. It’s not the same.”

His words stayed with me long after he’d left to arrange my tour guide. As I finished the last bites of my food, I realized how important it was I keep the purpose of my visit to myself. If this historic brewery and inn had been in the Murray family for that long, there was no telling how upset the locals would be when they learned it could be majority owned by an American investment firm within weeks.

The woman in the apron asked if I needed anything else.

“No, thank you. I’m all set. I just need to know where to find my tour guide.”

She smiled up at me. “Och, that’d be Charlie. You can find him in the bar across the way.”

Charlie.

No.

No no no.