Wasn’t happening.

Not tonight, anyway.

Tomorrow morning, when he came back to work, maybe he’d be in a better mood. If not, Hudson would just have to deal with it.

Hudson watched Teague continue to unravel in front of him. He’d sensed the volcano slowly building inside the man for some time now, and he’d been waiting for that moment when Teague erupted. It had been part of the reason Hudson had interfered when no one else had bothered to jump in. Watching Teague wail on that guy in the parking lot… Hudson hadn’t wanted to see Teague go to jail tonight.

That was why he’d interfered.

Or so he told himself.

“See you in the mornin’,” Teague grumbled, not meeting Hudson’s eyes.

He hated when Teague did that. It was hard enough for Hudson to communicate, but when Teague refused to look at him, it was impossible. Although Hudson could hear just fine, there was no way he could communicate anything to Teague in return.

But he knew when to leave well enough alone. As pissed as he was that Teague was taking out his anger on the tools, kicking them around like a recalcitrant child throwing a tantrum, he knew not to push the man.

What he really wanted to do was back Teague up against the nearest wall, crowd him with his body, and feast on his mouth until the fight drained right out of him. But he couldn’t do that. They worked together, sometimes closely since Hudson was often needing help when the marina’s small boat repair shop got overloaded. The last thing Hudson wanted to do was make things more uncomfortable between them.

“Sometimes I wish you could talk,” Teague muttered as he walked away. “That way I’d know what the fuck you were thinkin’.”

No, little boy, you don’t, Hudson thought. The things that he thought about where Teague was concerned… Those were better left locked right there in Hudson’s head where they belonged.

“Night,” Teague called out but didn’t bother looking back.

Hudson didn’t even offer a wave as he watched him disappear through the side door and out into the night.

For the longest time, Hudson had wanted to get his hands on Teague, to thrust his fingers in that spikey blond hair and devour Teague’s smart mouth with his own. Sure, the fantasies had gone much, much further beyond that, to the point Hudson’s body would hum from arousal so strong, so powerful, he could hardly contain it.

But he knew better than to do something about it. Teague was too young, too immature. He was a player; he enjoyed going out to the clubs, spending the night with different men, and that was the opposite of what interested Hudson.

Admittedly, Hudson had difficulty establishing relationships with people because it wasn’t easy to do when he couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate how he felt. His inability to talk seemed to intimidate most people, and he’d spent most of his life alone.

He’d gotten used to being alone.

So, as always, he would pretend that Teague didn’t affect him the way that he did, and he’d find a way to deal with the hard-on pressing insistently against the zipper of his cargo shorts. Maybe if he dealt with that, he’d have a better chance of dealing with Teague tomorrow.

Because he got the feeling this wasn’t over yet.

Sixteen

Wednesday night

“Hey, boy,” Michael Strickland greeted when Cam walked in his father’s front door.

“What’s up, Pop?” Cam replied, smiling as his father dropped the footrest on his favorite recliner, placed his newspaper on the table, and sat up straight. “Doesn’t look like you cooked for me.”

Cam’s father’s lips quirked beneath his thick white mustache. His wire-rimmed glasses slid down his nose, and he pulled them off, folding them and laying them on the table beside him.

“Didn’t know you were comin’,” Michael told him, hands resting on the armrests.

“Yeah, well…” Cam hadn’t exactly known, either, but here he was. “How ’bout pizza?”

Michael reached for the phone. “Same as usual?”

Cam nodded, then flopped down on the worn sofa that faced the flat-panel LCD television hanging on the wall, stretching one leg out on the sofa. There was a baseball game on, but the sound was muted.

This would work.

He watched as the pitcher circled the mound, spinning the ball in his hand as he prepared for the inning. His father’s voice sounded from beside him as he rattled off their pizza order, then hung up.

“What brings you by?”

“Just wanted to chill.”

It wasn’t unusual for Cam to show up at his father’s house unannounced. They were close, usually spending one or two days a month out on the water, several more hanging at the house to watch TV or work on one of the old cars his dad was attempting to restore.

“Things good at the marina?”

Cam nodded, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach. “Busy.”

“Not a bad thing, huh?”

“Not at all.”

“How’re the boys?”

“Keepin’ it lively,” Cam told him, turning his head to look at his father. “You know how they are.”

Cam’s father was close to Roan, Dare, and Teague, and he wasn’t merely interested because of the fact he’d invested money in the marina years ago. Roan had been practically family since they were kids, spending as much time at Cam’s parents’ as Cam had at Roan’s. They’d been inseparable. And then shortly after Cam had graduated from high school, he’d met Dare when he’d worked at the Inks Lake Marina. They’d worked side by side and had become quick friends. Before he knew it, the three of them were hanging out often, and as he had with Roan, Cam’s father had welcomed Dare into their lives easily.

It was the way Michael Strickland was. Ever since Cam’s mother had died unexpectedly, Michael had made a point to show Cam and Cam’s sister how much he loved them each and every day. According to Michael, life was short; not a second should be wasted.

And through the years, they’d developed a close relationship filled with mutual respect and love. Michael would even stop by the office just to chat with Roan or Dare or even Teague when Cam wasn’t there. Rumor was, Dare was helping Michael to learn sign language so he could communicate with Hudson more effectively as well.

In turn, they’d all forged a bond with him as well.

“How’s Teague? Still ornery?”

Cam smiled, turning his head back to face the television. “Not sure he knows how not to be ornery.”

“I heard there was an altercation down at the marina last weekend.”

Cam glanced at his dad again. “How’d you hear about that?”

“Dare. I stopped in to chat yesterday but you weren’t there.”

Heat infused Cam’s face and he turned away again.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and Cam had to wonder whether Dare had told Cam’s father that he was out on a date. Gannon had called at the last minute and offered to take Cam to dinner, insisting they go to a restaurant rather than eat in. Cam had reluctantly agreed, meeting Gannon halfway at a small café.

“Did you have fun?” Michael probed, his gruff tone filled with amusement.

Well, that answered that question.

Cam choked on a laugh. “Yeah.”

“Dare said he thinks this one’s serious.”

Cam shrugged. Serious or not, he wasn’t going to explain the details of his relationship with Gannon to his father. Not yet, anyway. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how things were going. The last thing he wanted to do was get his father’s hopes up.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Michael noted.

“I didn’t say that,” he argued.

“Didn’t have to.”

Cam didn’t look at his father, not sure he wanted to see the concerned look on his face. He pretended to be interested in the television, but that was easier said than done when there was a commercial on.