Page 14 of Winning the Dad

He turned to Romero. “Your mom would’ve been so proud of you, buddy.”

Romero’s eyes had also grown misty. “I know, Dad. I imagine her looking down on us and smiling, celebrating with us from wherever she is.”

“I like that thought.” Jack’s voice was still rough.

Only when I caught a curious glance from Lucas did I realize I was still holding Jack’s hand, and I quickly let go. Oops. Did he suspect anything? Maybe he’d chalk it up to me being a touchy-feely guy, which I was. One could only hope. The last thing Iwanted was for the boys to discover what had happened between Jack and me.

If only because it would ruin the chance of doing it again tonight.

5

JACK

After an elaborate but delicious lunch, we went to Romero and Lucas’s hotel room. Well, a suite, really. Good on them for splurging on that. It offered a grand view over the Strip—probably even more spectacular after nightfall—and had a full-sized living room attached to a luxurious bedroom. I couldn’t imagine having enough money to afford that on a regular basis.

We chatted easily. I’d feared awkward silences, but the conversation flowed naturally. Sawyer entertained us with stories about his more colorful clients, and Lucas shared some of his experiences as an RN. I hadn’t asked, but Lucas had to be Sawyer’s biological son. Not only because of the similarities in their features, but they also had the same storytelling style, gesturing with their hands as if acting out each sentence. I loved it.

Romero and I mostly listened. We’d always been introverts, though if you asked my son the right questions, he’d talk your ear off. Anything having to do with wildlife, forests, or the outdoors, and it was like throwing a quarter into a jukebox and getting at least fifteen minutes of music.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” I asked when there was a lull in the conversation. “Are we doing anything for dinner or afterward?”

Lucas and Romero exchanged a look. “We have tickets to see Cirque du Soleil at eight-thirty tonight,” Lucas said. “For all four of us.”

I understood what he implied. They’d sprung for lunch and those tickets but offering dinner as well would strain their budget.

“If you haven’t made plans yet, I’d love to treat you to dinner,” Sawyer said before I could speak up.

“Are you sure, Dad?” Lucas asked. “I don’t want you to feel?—”

“Of course, kiddo. It would be my pleasure. And I’m looking forward to the show tonight.”

I checked my watch. It was three o’clock. Dinner would be at, what, six? What if we parted ways for those hours in between? That would give Sawyer and me a chance to…connect again.

“How about we take some time to nap?” Sawyer suggested, once again a step ahead of me. “Or”—he winked at his son—“do other things.”

“Dad!” Lucas groaned, rolling his eyes, but Romero laughed.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“Et tu, Brute?” Lucas asked his new husband, but their eyes softened, and they leaned in for a soft kiss. Oh yeah, those two would use the time for “other things.” No doubt about it.

“I’ll make reservations and text you the details.” Sawyer rose. “Come on, Jack, let’s leave these two lovebirds alone.”

He was so smart. By focusing on Lucas and Romero, we had the perfect excuse to leave…and we knew they’d be otherwise occupied for a while.

I got up too and, with a wave at the two boys, followed Sawyer out of the room. As soon as we stood in the hallway, we turned to each other, electricity zinging between us.

“Not here,” Sawyer said hoarsely. “Not where anyone can see.”

We didn’t speak as we took the elevator down to his floor and walked through the hallway to his room. His hand shook a little as he held his keycard in front of the reader and pushed open the door. I followed close on his heels, and the second the door was shut behind me, I reached for him.

Our lips met, crashing into each other, and I kissed him frantically. Jesus, how was it possible I had missed this man in the few hours we hadn’t been able to touch? I needed to taste him again, feel him again, press my body against his. I wanted to drink him in, eat him, fucking feast on him.

Sawyer tasted like the wine we’d had with our lunch, like the espresso we’d had afterward. I inhaled the heady mix of his cologne with this musky scent that was uniquely him. I was so fucking addicted to it. To him.

I loosened my tie and kept kissing him, only taking my lips off his for a moment to pull it over my head. He dragged my jacket from my shoulders, and I eagerly helped him. My clumsy fingers struggled with the tiny buttons on his dress shirt. Impatient, I gave it a good yank. Fabric ripped and buttons flew, but I didn’t care. Neither did Sawyer.

Finally, I had my hands on his bare skin. I ran them along his chest, his belly, slipped to his back, and squeezed his ass.