He chuckled and relaxed into the booth, stretching this thick arm across the back of his seat. “Another man who couldn’t satisfy the insatiable Alexis Lawson.”
I chuffed. “Well, he tried. Once.”
His blue eyes bugged out of his face. “No fucking way. You slept with him?”
“I was dating him. Why not?” I took another sip, surprised with how refreshing and cold our pitcher was this time. I chalked it up to the fact that it was on his tab and not my own.
“I didn’t even think you liked him.” He squinted and his square jaw rocked to one side.
“I didn’t.”
“Then why sleep with him? You were only dating him because your mother—who I love as my own—doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
I took a deep breath and gave him the ugly truth. “I was hoping he had secret big dick energy.”
He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, come again? Big dick what?”
“You know. Some guys”—I gestured to him—“just exude this big dick energy. I was hoping he had hidden big dick energy.”
“And?” He blinked at me, waiting.
I shrugged. “Not so much.” Then I took another long drink and stared down into the glass, totally convinced that the beer was colder than it had ever been. I wasn’t complaining though. It was getting me through this conversation.
“Wait.” One of his eyebrows lifted, and I could have sworn he blushed. “You think I have big dick energy?”
I didn’t have anything to hide. “Hell yeah. You’re all buff and manly and stacked. All that swagger you toss around. Plus, I know your dick is big.” Facts were facts. Big dicks were big dicks. And I didn’t make the rules or hand out the dicks.
I refilled my glass and poured a little more in his.
“You’ve never seen my dick.”
“Oh, yes I have. I saw that monster your senior year of high school when we went skinny dipping at the Foresters’ pond.”
He scratched the back of his neck and grimaced. “Don’t look at my dick.”
“Well, I haven’t since then.” I laughed. “But I bet the damn thing is even bigger now.”
He readjusted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable about talking about the size of his genitals. Though he had nothing to worry about. I had seen it for sure. Forgive the pun, but I had a really good, hard look at it—and it was impressive. If he weren’t close enough to be family, I would have chased him and his big ol’ hog around that whole summer until I’d gotten him. Well, that and our neighbor Lauren and him had something going on—or at least that was the feeling I got when she’d been around back then. Turned out they kind of did, then really did, and then didn’t at all.
It’s a shame she let that beautiful wiener go.
He waved his hands in front of his face. “Mercy. Uncle. Shut up. I don’t want to talk about my cock with you.”
“You don’t talk to anyone about your cock, let alone show it. Craig wasn’t a winner, but at least I got laid this year.” For the record, it had not been good, and in hindsight, no sex would have been better. I wasn’t going to let Hudson know that though.
“I’ll have you know I get laid. Plenty. Thank you very much.”
I nodded, pursing my lips sarcastically. “Sure you do.”
“I’m serious.” He stood and nodded at the dart board near our table, and I slid out too. “At least I don’t have to have my mommy get me any dates.”
Now I’m not advocating for violence, and believe me, I’d never really hurt the big oaf, but I might have gut-checked him.
“Uff,” he groaned when my fist connected with his rock-hard stomach.
I shook my hand, wondering who’d been injured more.
Watching me flex my grip open and closed, he chuckled. “Serves you right. Didn’t Cal or I ever teach you how to throw a punch?”
“Guess not.” I bent over the booth to retrieve my darts. Yes, I had my own. The ones at Huey’s were shit, and we all had our own for that reason. I had kickass black ones with neon-pink-and-green tails, and Hudson’s were a boring matte gunmetal gray. “I think you just said that because you can’t win unless my hand is as jacked as your dick.”
I straightened, wishing for the millionth time I was a few inches taller so I could measure up to Hudson or my brother. But there I was, just under his shoulder, glaring up at him and pursing my lips like the smartass I was.
He grinned down at me, not commenting on my theory. “You know what, Lex. You’re smart. You’re pretty. You’re loyal. If it weren’t for your smart mouth and your no-fucks-given attitude, you’d be a good catch.”
My second punch must have shown improvement, because he was still buckled over after I shot a one-seventeen and my hand felt fine.
“Hudson?” my secretary, Libby, called over the intercom that Saturday morning. It was Lauren’s weekend with Jack, so Libby had met me at the office to work on the mile-high stack of filing that had gotten backed up over the last few weeks.
We’d been slammed with new jobs and all the warranty work on the subdivision we’d completed last year. Working six days a week was the only way to catch up. Most everyone, including Libby, liked the overtime, so it was something of a win-win.
“Yeah?” With sweat beading on my forehead, I kept doing sit-ups. I’d gone for a run that morning, but with no way to break away for a trip to the gym at lunch, the floor of my office would have to do.
“Dr. Calvin Targaryen Lawson, MD is here to see you.”
I barked a laugh, which gave me a stitch in my side. That motherfucker.
“Let his royal highness in,” I called back, but Cal was already strutting through my door at least three shades darker than he’d been when I’d seen him last. A honeymoon in Bermuda would do that to a man.
I pushed up off the floor, wiping my hands on my shorts before shoving one in his direction. “You do realize it’s not necessary for her to announce your arrival like a damn sultan every time you get here, right?”
Normally, he would have brought it in for a back pat, but after eyeing my sweaty T-shirt, he kept it to a brisk handshake. “It’s been three years, Hudson. I’ve gone through the entire cast of The Office, Parks and Rec, Harry Potter, and now, next week’s Dr. Calvin Khal Drogo Lawson, MD will round out Game of Thrones. Why does she still ask my name every time I get here?”
“Probably the same reason you told her your name was Dr. Calvin Dumbledore Lawson, MD the first time you met.”
“Yeah, but that was funny. This is…odd. She’s, like, eighty. What if she has dementia?” He scratched his head. “Oh shit, you aren’t letting her do your payroll, are you?”
No. I wasn’t letting her do my payroll. And only part of that was because she was in fact eighty-four and not as sharp as she’d once been, according to her. Libby Patterson was something of the Hud Construction grandmother. She knitted booties and a blanket each time one of the crew had a baby, and she kept a spiral-bound planner with every single employee’s birthday handwritten inside. Not a day passed when she wasn’t shuffling out into the equipment bay to give one of her “loves” a special celebratory hard candy. To be honest, filing, keeping up with birthdays, answering the phones, and announcing Cal over the intercom were the brunt of her duties, but she was part of the Hud family, so she wasn’t going anywhere.