Fifteen minutes later, they were walking down a rutted one-lane road that cut through dense trees and undergrowth. Recent rains had saturated the ground and Hudson’s heavy truck would have sunk like a two-ton stone in this mud, so they were hoofing it the mile or so to the cabin. No quick getaway if a knife-wielding maniac had taken residence. Good thing Shaney was small and quick, like a rabbit.
The silence from inside of the truck followed them as they walked. No one could ever accuse Hudson of being chatty. Comatose maybe, chatty never. Even the thick woods seemed to be unusually quiet. Well, there was no sound…until the buzzing started. The air was cooler under the canopy of sugar maples, spruces, and pines. Couple that coolness with standing water in the ruts, and that was prime breeding ground for mosquitos.
Shaney smacked at the back of his neck and his bare arms. The buzzing next to his ears had him twisting and turning to smush the little suckers before they got him. The further they walked, the more mosquitos swarmed Shaney. He smacked a fat plasma-filled parasite, no doubt back for Shaney seconds, and the bug exploded blood across his arm.
“Blood-sucking little fiends!”
Hudson gave him a sideways glance, as if Shaney were anything but the convenient helper he’d hoped for, and then halted. He pulled a spray can from the black canvas bag he’d carried from the truck. Holding the can out to Shaney, Hudson wordlessly raised an eyebrow.
“Hell yes!” Shaney exclaimed, popping the top and surrounding himself in a fog of bug spray.
Die, bloodsuckers!
Snapping the cap back on, Shaney handed the can back to Hudson, who eyed him with a look of apprehension. Silently, he returned the can to the bag. With a quick zip, Hudson picked up the bag and headed on. Shaney followed, taking two steps for every one of Hudson’s long-legged strides. The rear position gave Shaney an eyeful of that tight backside. Yum! He imagined an alpha male like Hudson would only top. Ugh, Shaney, he isn’t even gay! A hot, openly gay man in their town was as rare as sightings of that prehistoric Lake Champlain monster, Champ.
“How old are you?” Shaney asked. The silence was driving him batty.
The side of Hudson’s jaw twitched. “Twenty-six.”
“And Hudson. Is that like Rock Hudson or the Hudson River?
Another flinch in that muscle, but it didn’t seem to be an angry twitch. The man couldn’t be nervous, could he?
“Hudson River.”
“Cool. Named after a river. I think I was named after a three-year-old. Is your middle name River?”
“No.”
“Does anyone call you Huds for short?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.”
And those were the last words they spoke to each other until they reached the cabin.
As the trees thinned, the one-story fishing cabin came into view. Not as eerie as Shaney had pictured in his head. The green paint was weathered and a few shingles were missing, but overall, the building was well-maintained. The windows were the old metal frame kind with single panes of glass. Definitely a summer cabin. Winters in the Adirondacks got downright bitter, often dipping into the double-digit negative numbers. Shaney hated the cold as much as his balls did. Hibernation was his winter activity of choice. This, of course, made the other natives scoff since the area was all about winter sports. They were less than thirty minutes from the Olympic Village of Lake Placid. Maybe if they had something exciting, like Extreme Ice Fishing, Shaney could be drawn out of his warm apartment, if only for the entertainment value. He envisioned ice fisherman sitting on their buckets while skiers pulled behind snowmobiles zigged and zagged around them. One missed zag and fishermen, poles, and fish would all go flying.
“Shaney!”
Shaney looked up to see Hudson scowling, jaw clenched tight, dark eyes glaring. Man, had anyone ever looked that annoyed with Shaney?
“What?”
“Care to join me?” He growled.
“Sure,” Shaney said and followed until the man stopped short. Shaney’s sneaker slid in the mud and he tried to stop, but his body plastered itself to Hudson’s backside. Shaney’s arms automatically wrapped tight around Hudson’s waist to steady his legs.
Oh, hells bells, this feels so good. The heat from Hudson went straight to Shaney’s groin and, for just a second, Shaney breathed in leather and earth and sweat. When his brain caught up, Shaney jumped back as if his body had touched a hot surface.
Hot is right, he thought as his sneakers slipped again, and he ended up sprawled on his back in the mud. Without hesitation, Hudson reached down and grabbed Shaney’s wrist, yanking him upright.
Hudson surveyed Shaney from head to toe and Shaney felt every inch as a caress. Why did Hudson make Shaney squirm in his skin, make him desire the feel of the strong man over him, under him, behind him…anyway he could get him? Only two hours with the plaid-covered hunk, Shaney’s sexual tension had risen to levels that were about to blow his heads off—all three of them.