Chapter 1

1

JACK

L as Vegas was not my idea of a good time.

It was too much. Too many people dressed in outfits ranging from expensive suits to Hawaiian shirts and beach shorts. Too many slot machines clinking and clanking, gamblers muttering as they lost or the occasional celebratory shout as they won. Too many lights, glittering and glimmering, shining and shimmering. Too many scents, with the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke mingling with the all-too-familiar aroma of alcohol and flowery notes of cheap perfume.

If I wanted to be around loud, drunk people, I could’ve stayed home, as I had plenty of those in my bar. My bar, the Double F—officially called the Four Foxes Bar and Grille—had been mine for fifteen years. It might not be as luxurious and opulent as this place, but it sure as fuck was a hell of a lot cozier. And the clientele was a lot better. I knew all my regulars by name and welcomed the visitors and tourists with a friendly smile, an open mind, and a ready glass.

But I’d suck it up because I wasn’t here for me. I was here for Romero. Jesus, time had flown by so quickly. One moment, he’d been this vibrant, energetic kid, always outside getting dirty, much like his mom. And now, my son was a man with a degree in wildlife biology he hoped to put into practice as a forest ranger…and he was getting married. Tomorrow, he’d be a husband, and if I’d correctly interpreted the hints he’d dropped, he also hoped to be a dad soon. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

Damn, I was getting old.

How did people handle that? Was it okay to feel sad and melancholy, even though I loved seeing my son so happy with Lucas? They were a perfect match. If only his mom could’ve seen our son get married. She would’ve loved Lucas. But she’d been gone for sixteen years, taken too soon.

With a sigh, I pushed my chair back from the slot machine that had promised me cash falling but, so far, had only taken my money. Maybe I’d have more luck at the tables, though I knew damn well that in the end, the house always won.

Loud cheers drew me to the craps table, but I’d have to elbow my way to get there, so that was a hard no. People would make room for me—one advantage of being built like the Hulk, but without the green—but that didn’t mean I liked being surrounded by them. People were like alcohol: to be enjoyed in limited amounts and only the high-quality stuff.

Blackjack, then? Two blackjack tables were packed, but a third only had two players. I gave them a friendly nod, took my seat, and handed my player card to the dealer, a young guy named Tim.

“Table’s been good so far,” the guy to my right said. He looked to be in his late twenties and was dressed like a frat boy in an expensive dark blue polo shirt and sand-colored khakis. “Let’s hope you didn’t change my luck.”

Wow, that was quite the welcome, wasn’t it? “I hope so too.” I kept my voice level. Years of dealing with drunk people had given me plenty of opportunity to develop a slow-burning anger.

Tim started dealing, and my first card was a queen of hearts. Not a bad start. Frat Boy got a three and groaned, which only got louder when his next card was a ten. Mine was a ten as well, and I smiled, happy with my first hand.

“That’s not very promising.” Frat Boy glowered at me.

“For you, you mean.”

The other guy at the table had spoken up. He looked to be my age. Unlike me in my standard jeans, black T-shirt, and boots, he was dressed sharply in a crisp dark blue suit with a pink shirt and a pink-and-white striped tie. The Rolex on his wrist shouted money. Good for him.

“Well, yeah,” Frat Boy said. “I don’t give two fucks about your cards, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Suit Guy winked at me, and I grinned.

I won my first hand, making twenty bucks, and my second and third were equally successful. Frat Boy’s mood darkened. “Seems like you took my luck,” he said, his tone barely civil.

Most gamblers were a superstitious bunch, and he was apparently one of them. Their reasonings had little to do with rationality, and I rarely engaged. But I did want to keep playing. “Do you want to switch places?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.”

I didn’t believe in luck, so I didn’t care one way or the other. We swapped chairs, and he nodded his thanks. Small win. Alas, his next hand was shitty, and so was the one after that. “It’s not the chair.” He glared again. “It’s you. You fucked up my luck.”

“Kid, you’ve only won, what, maybe five hands?” Suit Guy said. “You were losing before he sat down.”

“My luck was turning, and then he came and fucked it all up with his bad juju.”

Bad juju? I was too old and tired for this shit. “I’ll finish this round and then find a different table.”

Stupid as it might sound, I hated conflict. Always had. The older I got, the easier it became to walk away. Once upon a time, I would’ve considered that as weak or as a defeat, but now I refused to waste time and energy on unimportant stuff. Life was too short to squabble with strangers over stupid shit.

“You don’t need to leave,” Suit Guy said. “He can find a different table.”

I waved my hand. “It’s fine. I don’t want trouble.”

He chuckled. “No? You look like you’d be good at making trouble.”

Was that a dig at my size? I was bulky, courtesy of the many hours I spent in the gym, and fuck knew people had prejudices. But when I looked sideways, he grinned and winked at me.

Oh. Oh .

He was flirting with me. That was what it was, right? Flirting? I wasn’t used to men hitting on me, but I couldn’t complain about a lack of interest from women, and I recognized the signs. Did he think I was gay? Or bi? That would be a first, and in a strange way, it made me proud.

Before Romero had come out, I’d been technically fine with gay people as long as I didn’t have to see it. I’d seen events like Pride as rubbing it in our faces. “Our” being normal people. The heteros.

Then Romero came out, causing me to take a long, hard look in the mirror. And hadn’t liked what I’d seen. The reality was that I’d been a homophobic asshole, and thinking back on my reactions always left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’d changed, but my past attitude would always leave a stain.

So a guy flirting with me made me strangely happy, as if I’d leveled up. I didn’t look away but did what I would’ve done if he’d been a woman. I grinned back. “Can’t deny I love me some trouble…of a certain kind.”

His eyes widened, but then he treated me to a slow, thorough once-over. “Mmm, I’d be interested in your kind of trouble.”

Tim coughed to cover up a laugh, but Frat Boy muttered an expletive. “Can you guys do that gay shit somewhere else?”

My smile faded. Fifteen years earlier, that could’ve been me. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not homophobic, but no one needs to see that.”

“See what? We’ve hardly exchanged more than a few words, and there’s a good four feet between him and me. Why would that be an issue?”

He mumbled something, gathered the few chips he had left, and stalked off.

“Well, that solved a problem.” Tim sighed with relief. “I love it when the trash takes itself out.”

I only now noticed his rainbow-themed watchband and the discrete little Pride pin on his tie. It sucked that he’d had to hear that too. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? He was in the wrong.”

The other guy scooted a seat over and sat next to me, extending his hand. “I’m Sawyer.”

“Jack.” His handshake lingered a tad too long, but I didn’t mind the warm tingles.

“Where are you from, Jack?”

“A small town called Forestville in Washington, about an hour east of Seattle. You?”

“San Diego.”

Tim had dealt me a two and a nine, so I doubled down. The next card was a ten of spades. Blackjack.

“Nice,” Sawyer said.

“It seems luck is on my side.”

Sawyer winced when he hit twenty-three. “At least the company makes up for my lack of luck at the table.”

He said it smoothly, accompanied by another wink, and I smiled again. Sawyer was easy on the eyes. Romero would’ve probably called him a silver Daddy, and with reason. Sawyer had salt-and-pepper hair, neatly styled, and a slim, fit build. His tanned, angular, clean-shaven face accentuated his brilliant ocean-blue eyes. Eyes you could get lost in.

Sawyer didn’t seem bothered by me checking him out and returned the favor, letting his eyes roam freely over my body. My belly fluttered, much to my surprise. Was it because I felt flattered? Proud that this man would flirt with me? Maybe even honored?

No, that was ridiculous. Feeling flattered or honored didn’t cause this strange softness inside me…or my cock to perk up. No, this was something else. This was…attraction.

Holy shit, I was attracted to Sawyer. Well, that was unexpected.

Tim fanned himself with his hand. “Imma need a fire extinguisher if you two keep this up. I can literally see the sparks fly.”

With effort, I dragged my eyes away from Sawyer. It took a second or two to realize Tim had dealt us a new hand and was waiting for my instructions. What cards did I have? A nine and a ten. That was easy, and I made the hand signal for staying.

Sawyer seemed equally flustered, ordering Tim to hit him with a card when he had seventeen. “Fuck.” Sawyer sighed when Tim gave him an eight. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

Tim grinned. “Not to the cards, at least.”

“What brings you to Vegas?” Sawyer asked me. “Work?”

“Nah, I own a bar back home. I’m here for my son.” No way was I telling him my son was getting married. That made me sound old, for fuck’s sake. “And you? You seem dressed for work.”

“This is my usual fit, I’m afraid. I’m an attorney and am so used to wearing suits I rarely dress in anything else.”

“I can’t remember the last time I wore one. At my sister’s wedding, maybe?”

“This fits you.” Sawyer gave me another thorough look and licked his lips. Oh, he was good. That simple gesture shot straight to my dick. “Anyway, I’m here for a wedding, but I decided to come a day early and have some fun.”

“What kind of fun are you looking for?” Jesus, I couldn’t believe the sultry tone I had pulled off. Deep throat-worthy.

“The X-rated kind, of course.”

“Oh my god, if you two don’t cut it out, I’m gonna spontaneously combust.” Tim fanned himself again. “You’re so hot together. Like a Daddy sandwich I’d love to be in the middle of.”

I snorted. The kid was a riot.

“Sorry, sweet cakes, but you’re not my type.” Sawyer laughed. “I like my men well-seasoned…and built like they can handle it rough.”

My mouth ran dry, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My brain conjured up images of Sawyer and me, like snapshots that flicked through my vision. Kissing, fighting for domination, rubbing against each other, and…

Fucking.

Me fucking him into the mattress, a hand around his throat, pinning him down. And Sawyer taking it, moaning every time I slammed my cock into him. It was…

“Jack,” Sawyer said in that tone people used when it wasn’t the first time they’d called your name.

I blinked. “What?”

“You have blackjack.”

I did? I did. Oops. Tim wasn’t making any efforts to hide his amusement as I sheepishly collected my winnings and placed a new bet so he could deal again.

“My shift is ending in a minute,” Tim said. “It’s been a blast with you two. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’m gonna need an update, and don’t be afraid to share all the details, okay?”

Oh my god, I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or be embarrassed as fuck—the latter was not an experience that happened often anymore. Thank fuck, at my age.

Sawyer grinned. “Will do, sweet cakes.”

When the new dealer arrived, we both tipped Tim some chips. “Do you want to…?” Sawyer made a vague gesture that could’ve meant anything.

“Yes.” I didn’t care what the question was. The answer was yes.

We got up, collected our chips, and left the table. “Where do you want to go?” Sawyer asked.

“No preference.”

“My room?”

“Yes.” Another easy question.

We walked to the elevators, and I took the opportunity to check Sawyer out again. What was it about this man that made my heart beat faster?

“I wasn’t sure if you played for my team.” Sawyer pushed the button for his floor.

Should I be honest? Or would that put him off? Fuck that. I was too old to be playing games. “Up until now, I thought I didn’t.”

Sawyer’s eyes grew big. “You’re straight?”

“Apparently not, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh. Right.” He seemed to process that. “But you’ve never been with a guy?”

“Nope. I’ve watched gay porn, though.”

A ding announced the elevator’s arrival, and we got in. Luckily, no one joined us.

“Why would you watch gay porn if you’re straight?”

I shrugged. “My son came out as gay when he was fourteen, and I wanted to be able to talk about sex with him, so I did some research.”

“Did you find it hot?”

I wiggled my hand. “Not really, but I may have chosen the wrong categories, watching college-aged kids. They don’t do it for me.”

“Same. Makes me feel like a cradle robber. But what changed your mind?”

I couldn’t fault him for being skeptical. “You. You’re hot.”

The elevator doors whooshed open, and we got out. “And that’s never happened?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re okay with it?”

I held him back by his shoulder, and we faced each other in the hallway. “Are you? You seem to have a bigger issue with it than I do.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Fair enough. I don’t like the idea of you regretting this later.”

I chuckled. “I’m a big boy, Sawyer. I’m single, fifty years old, and I know what I want. Trust me, I can handle it.”

Sawyer threw up his hands and laughed. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out of it. It’s not like I haven’t hooked up with bicurious men.”

“Hooking up?” I kept my face blank. “Who said anything about hooking up?”

“What did you think…?” Sawyer sighed. “You’re messing with me.”

I chuckled and pointed toward the door we were in front of. “That your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we gonna stand in the hallway, yapping about hooking up, or were you planning on actually… Hmph?—”

Sawyer’s lips crashed against mine, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss. It was hard and heavy and hot, going from zero to one hundred miles an hour faster than a Formula 1 car. I poured myself into it, pinning Sawyer against the wall and devouring his mouth.

When we came up for air, his lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes dazed. “D-do you wanna come in?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”