Page 4 of Cade

CHAPTER 3

Weston

I loathed coming home to Jasper Springs. I’d never really felt like I fit in, in the quaint, charming little town. Part of that surely had to do with the fact that I’d never spent more than the summer there, despite it being the town my family’s business had been a part of for practically my entire life.

But being as my mother insisted on sending me to the highest accredited private schools my father’s money could buy, that probably had a lot to do with such things, and my father only saw it as a means to an end.

Because to him, one day I’d take his place as CEO of Rhodes Enterprises, whether I wanted to or not. This company, this legacy, belonged to me.

Not to mention all the money that came with it...

But to me, the town of Jasper Springs was just so... idyllic. Like something out of a damn rom-com movie.

The only thing to really do in the town was go to the damn bar. Nightlife was non-existent in Jasper Springs, and I’m pretty sure the closest club was at least an hour away in the city. At least the bartender could make a good Manhattan.

I was about to throw in the towel and ask for the check, because quite frankly, if I had to listen to the asshole on stage screeching along to Nickelback a second longer, I would have gone insane. I noticed the man across from the bar, the one who was sitting with Nickelback’s rejected soloist, was staring at me.

I was used to being stared at, quite honestly. At the risk of sounding like an ass, I knew I was in fact, the best of both worlds when it came to my inherited good looks. My mother’s pedigree was very visible in my bone structure and my dark green eyes, while I got all of my father’s swagger and his full, thick chestnut hair.

Though the way this California-surfer cutie was looking at me went far beyond appreciation. His pretty little blue peepers stared at me with hunger and longing, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Perhaps a good roll in the hay was just what I needed to get through this god-forsaken trip.

Hometown Heartthrob was actually pretty cute, if I was being honest.

I trailed my gaze over his form. I could tell by the polo shirt he was wearing, which looked a little tight around his arms, that Pretty-Blue-Eyes took good care of himself, went to the gym at least. But the way he sat on his barstool, how he hunched over just a bit, and blushed when he realized I had caught him looking, told me that he wasn’t overly confident in himself.

I’ve always loved a good, shy boy. They’re usually the dirtiest bastards in bed.

The screeching man finally finished his song, and not a moment too soon, breaking the adorable target out of his daze. I did make it a point to slowly saunter over in his direction, deciding on the way exactly which song I would select to make the damn fool drop to his knees.

Then I’d buy him a drink, and take him back to my hotel so he could really drop to his knees and suck my cock like a good, dirty boy.

As I walked past him, I made a point to get as close as possible, shooting him my telltale look that I was well aware made men like him weak.

The look that told them without a single word that they were mine for the night and they’d do as I asked.

It wasn’t like anyone usually lasted longer than that anyway, and by the time the sun came up, I would be off somewhere new. Long-term relationships didn’t typically work for me.

My father liked to remind me that he was the same until he and my mom had set up shop in Jasper Springs. Until he’d met my mother, he had also been content with ‘being a bachelor’ as he called it. But after moving to Jasper Springs, and meeting my mom, they’d both settled down here after my mother got pregnant with me. Some people hated the constant traveling and jet-set life, like her. But business called for more jet setting after I was born, and the city was more manageable when we traveled so much.

Though I never hated it, in fact, it had been the only constant in my life. I didn’t know how to stay in one place, because I’d never had to and there was a sort of poetry to that. New experiences, new men, new ways for me to pretend I was someone else...

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about the contrast sometimes.

Putting down roots, waking up to the same man every day, pushing a cart at the nearest Whole Foods while I drink my wheatgrass shake.

But was that really who Weston Rhodes was beneath the veneer of expensive suits and top notch clubs?

I shoved the thought aside as I grabbed the microphone from the DJ, whispering my song choice in his ear. I didn’t see the point in shouting in the loud, god-forsaken place.

My father always told me you didn’t need to be loud to make people listen. Whispering forced them to listen to you, they couldn’t be distracted that way or some shit.

The intro beats filled the space and the stage lights were bright, but I didn’t blink. Instead, I only focused on finding Pretty-Blue-Eyes where he sat, and gave the best karaoke performance of my damn life.

Of course, I wouldn’t have settled for anything less, and neither should he.

Something happened as the song droned on, as our eyes fell on one another. I knew halfway through as I watched his chest rise and fall, as I watched that hunger in the man’s eyes turn into a starving need, that I had him.

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