Page 17 of Hollis (The Moore Men #2)

Ten

Hollis

“ D ude, what the hell is with all this traffic?” I grumble. “It’s fuckin’ Wednesday. Where is everybody goin’?”

Remi chuckles from the driver’s seat, turning his head to meet my gaze before returning his attention to the road. “Would you relax? You’re not even drivin’, so why do you care?”

“Maybe I’m just really excited for campin’. Ever thought of that, smartass?”

“Or you have a serious case of road rage,” he throws back, flashing me a dimply grin.

I snort. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little of that too.” But also, I am excited too.

This week is the annual Station 14 A-shift camping trip, which is always a fun time, but this year is particularly exciting, thanks to my new Hive friend, who I’m fairly certain is Ford, based on that little goose egg he dropped the other night.

It would make total sense… The us ername, him being newly single, him being older.

There’s no way it’s not Ford, but I have no hard and solid proof… yet.

It’s nearly three in the afternoon by the time we finally make it to the campground.

What’s typically a two-hour drive ended up being closer to three, due to all the damn traffic we hit.

Once everyone gets their shit unpacked from their vehicles, it’s a race to get tents up before we lose sunlight.

Thankfully, Remi and I are no strangers to camping, so we’re able to get both our tents ready in no time before helping the others.

Ford and Chandler are the only ones who don’t need any help.

You’d think since this is an annual trip that’s gone on for several years now, everyone would be better at this type of shit, but apparently not.

With that done, we dive right into getting started on the food.

Ford mans the grill, like he does every year—that man is particular , to say the least, about his meat—while the rest of us get everything else ready.

“Yo, Hollis!” Remi calls out.

Glancing over at him while I shuck the last husk of corn, I tip my chin by way of response.

A grin stretches his face as he holds up an unopened bottle of Don Julio Blanco, the question loud and clear.

“Oh, hell yeah. Count me in, brother!” After I bring the tray of corn over to the grill and get a greedy eyeful of the man in front of it, I shuffle over to the long folding table Remi’s standing behind while cutting the limes.

“Who else wants one?” he asks.

Millie, Sam, and Kian join us while I open the roll of mini Solo cups and line them in a row. Grabbing the tequila and twisting off the top, I fill the cups to the brim. “Ford, Chandler, James, none for y’all?”

“Can’t leave the steaks,” Ford mutters, not bothering to look up from the grill. Boring.

I flit my gaze over to where James is getting the fire going. Shaking his head, he says, “Nah, not yet. I can’t do tequila on an empty stomach or else I’ll puke and pass out before the night even starts.”

“Chandler…” I purr, shifting my attention to where she’s propped up on the tailgate of Ford’s truck, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a Kindle in her hand. “Get your fine ass over here and do a shot with us.”

Her gaze lifts from the device, meeting mine as her lip twitches. “Absolutely not.”

Arching my brow, I fold my arms over my chest. “And why the fuck not, Miss Girl?”

“Because the last time you fed me tequila, I ended up dancing with you on that picnic table over there, belting out the words of Baby by Justin Bieber with my top off, and my wife was pissed.” Chandler chuckles before adding, “And I’m not really tryin’ to catch her wrath for a second year in a row. So, not happenin’, Moore. Nice try.”

Ford spins around and gestures toward all of us with his spatula. “Nobody is gettin’ naked this year,” he growls.

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

Holding up my hands in front of me, I bark out a laugh. “Damn, Cap, layin’ down the law already. No tequila for Chandler and no strippin’ and dancin’ around the fire tonight?” I shrug, clicking my tongue. “Kinda borin’, but alright.”

Giving me a deadpan stare with furrowed brows and a tight jaw, he turns back toward the grill without bothering to respond.

I huff a laugh and pass out the shots, which the five of us throw back before I crack open a cold beer and turn on some music.

It’s not long before the food’s done and we eat.

I’ll give it to Ford; he may be a stuffy when it comes to letting loose on these trips, but my man sure can grill a ribeye. Goddamn, that was delicious.

Several hours later, all of us, except Chandler, who took her ass to bed around nine, are sitting around the fire, shooting the shit while music plays softly in the background—a superior playlist, of course, because it’s mine.

Most of us are a handful of drinks deep, and between the crackling fire and the tequila swimming through my bloodstream, I’m feeling pretty toasty.

Even Ford is working on his second beer of the night.

Kicked back in a folding chair, a fresh cold one in hand, I’m halfway paying attention while everyone talks shop.

Remi’s been a firefighter for long enough that I’ve picked up on most of the lingo, but some of it still goes over my head.

Their stories never fail to amuse me, though.

The phone tucked away in my pocket taunts me as I flit my gaze across the campfire, taking Ford in and if he really is the man I’ve been talking to on the app.

When FireInMyVeins let it slip that he worked at a firehouse, I’ll admit, there was a brief moment of panic at first, wondering if this man I’ve been talking to for over a month now, who I’m now also sexting, could be Remi.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of us ran across the other on a dating app.

That thought was almost enough to make me delete my profile altogether.

I mean, if it was him, that’s Remi… my best fucking friend and somebody I could never look at in that way.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to piece together that it couldn’t be him.

For one, Remi isn’t fresh out of a relationship, and for two, my profile isn’t anonymous, and there’s no way Remi would swipe on me, knowing who I was.

Not to mention, I’ve seen Remi without a shirt on hundreds of time during our friendship, and he’s nowhere near as fuzzy as the guy on the app.

I’m one hundred percent certain it’s not my best friend—thank god—but damn , that moment of panic was real.

Especially because it would’ve been a real fucking bummer to find out the glorious cock I was drooling over belongs to somebody who’s like family to me.

Well, that, and it’s usually not the smartest move to fuck your best friend, but there’d be no way I couldn’t take a cock like that for a spin.

Safe to say, I’m thrilled about not having to worry about ruining my friendship with Remi by insisting he fuck me immediately.

Nudging me with his elbow and momentarily pulling me from my thoughts, I look to my left at Remi. “Turn it up,” he says, nodding toward the speaker my phone is connected to.

The beginning of Shania’s Any Man of Mine is playing, and I chuckle to myself as I reach into my pocket and grab the phone, doing exactly that.

Remi and Millie simultaneously belt out the lyrics, singing the classic country song like it’s their birthright.

Laughter from the rest of us mixes in with their loud, obnoxious singing.

After I pound the rest of my beer, I join in as the next song plays, followed by the other guys, and by the time Song of the South comes on, Ford’s even out of his chair and singing along.

It’s a damn miracle we don’t wake up Chandler with how loud we are.

Nights like this are exactly why I love coming on these trips every year.

It’s a chance to let loose and forget about responsibility for a couple of days.

I’ve always been more relaxed and easygoing than my dad and brother, something I get from my mom.

Working side by side with them, day in and day out, can get a little suffocating.

Being out here with my best friend and the people who are like family to him is a much-needed reset. It’s good for the soul.

Toward the end of the song, Ford reaches behind his head and tugs off his sweatshirt. My mouth dries, because in the process, his shirt rides up, revealing a whole hell of a lot of his abdomen, including a hidden tattoo…over his ribs.

A compass .

Holy. Shit. It’s him.

FireInMyVeins is Ford.

I was right.

A layer of goosebumps pops up over my arms, the hair on the back of my neck standing up as the sweet confirmation settles deep in my groin.

The man I’ve been talking to—the mystery man with the nice cock—is Captain Ford Wesley.

And the best part? I may be just now figuring out who he is, but he’s known who I am. Ford’s been knowingly flirting with me.

Not some random guy on an app.

Me.

Fuck me, that’s so goddamn hot.

What a dirty, sneaky man…

Every part of me wants to call him out on it right this second, to quit wasting time and get to ripping each other’s clothes off, but I know I can’t.

Not yet. Somehow, I manage to school my features and continue on with the night.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually, I step away from the group in search of something to drink.

Flipping open the lid to one of the coolers, I pull out a bottle of water.

It’s late, and if I don’t want to wake up with a pounding headache in the morning, I need to hydrate with something other than beer and tequila.

I prop my ass on the edge of one of the tables as I crack open the bottle and down a few gulps as I try to figure out a plan of action.

Twisting the cap back on, I set it beside me, then grab the pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, deciding now would be as good a time as any to enjoy a quick smoke break.

Nobody on Remi’s crew smokes, and they all have no problem reminding me how bad it is for me any chance they get.

I take a long, slow drag, letting the smoke and nicotine fill my lungs while my gaze takes in the sight before me.

Everybody except Remi and Millie is back in their chairs, amusement gleaming in their eyes as they watch the drunk pair slow dance to Paramore’s The Only Exception and serenade one another .

After a moment, like he can sense me thinking about him, Ford’s eyes slide over and lock onto mine.

An electric buzz courses through my veins as a smirk tugs on the corner of my mouth.

He holds my gaze for a few seconds before shifting his focus back to Millie and Remi.

It’s impossible to miss how his jaw pops and the harsh way he swallows, causing his Adam’s apple to bob in his throat.

Even though I have all the proof I need to know, without a doubt, that the man I’ve been talking to is Ford, getting him to admit it out loud is going to feel so fucking satisfying.

And I’m going to do just that by the end of the night.

The anonymity has been fun, but now that I’m certain the guy is Ford, somebody I’ve always been attracted to, somebody I’ve hung out with before, and somebody who has known this entire time who he’s talking to, makes this so much sweeter…

and hotter. Taking one last drag, I put out the cigarette, tossing the butt in the trash as I wrack my brain on how this should play out.

I could always take the straightforward route by pulling him to the side and telling him what I know.

In my experience, being blunt and to the point is often the way to go.

However, this situation is different. Knowing what I do about Ford—about how flighty he’s already been on the app, and about his past—I quickly decide that plan wouldn’t work for a multitude of reasons.

Whatever I do, it’ll have to be smooth and careful.

If I spook him, I run the risk of scaring him off.

Or worse, embarrassing him. Neither of which I want to do.

My desire to pursue this man is still a huge fucking mystery to me, though.

Sure, Ford is sexy as hell, but even before knowing his identity, I was drawn to him.

And yeah, I already wanted to fuck Ford, but this feels…

different. I wanted to fuck Ford in a one-and-done type of way.

A conquest. A fantasy come to life. But this guy, the man from the app…

Well, he intrigues me in a way that doesn’t feel one-and-done, which isn’t like me at all.

Yet knowing all of that, I still can’t let it go.

I’m like a dog with a bone. Honestly, though, it does make sense.

Getting laid has never been hard for me, and not even in a conceited way either.

I’ve always been a more naturally flirtatious person, so finding somebody to get sweaty with typically doesn’t require a whole lot of effort on my part.

And don’t get me wrong, sometimes that’s exactly what I need—a quick, easy release—and usually what I prefer.

Something I don’t have to think too hard about.

But this isn’t something I can get easily.

This guy—both the man from the app and Ford, the man in real life—is someone I have to put in effort to get.

It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had to do any chasing, and that’s usually half the fun. So, the reason I’m hyper-focused on him, so intrigued by him, and why I’m so adamant about fucking him, is because it’s a challenge. He’s a challenge.

And fuck me , if I don’t love a good challenge from time to time.

It’s not long before we call it a night.

After James puts out the fire and we tidy up the campsite, everyone heads to their respective tents.

As soon as I have mine zipped, an idea forms. An idea that erases any bit of tiredness I was feeling a moment ago.

Quickly stripping down and sliding into my sleeping bag, I reach for my phone and pull up the chat with my not-so-mystery man, my heart pounding as my thumbs fly over the screen.

KnockinBoots: You up?

My lips curl into a grin when his response comes through not even a minute later .

FireInMyVeins: As a matter of fact, I am.

KnockinBoots: Are you as horny as I am? *evil smirk emoji*

FireInMyVeins: Maybe…

Arousal floods my system, and I swallow thickly, my cock throbbing beneath the covers.

Here goes nothing…

KnockinBoots: Well, maybe I can help you with that…