Secret Hudson: A Finding Nolan Novel, #2

By K.S. Thomas

 

Royce Lemmi went from being the bullied little freak in high school to rock and roll demigod in the blink of an eye. While playing to packed stadiums filled with screaming fans night after night is a daily reminder of how far he's come, most days Royce can't help but see that tortured soul from before, anytime he looks in the mirror.

 

Kieran Hudson has never spent a day of his life questioning who he was or what he wanted. He spends his days tending to his mother's store, but his nights are dedicated to exploring the world through the lens of his camera and exposing beauty in the most unexpected places.

 

When Royce and Kieran's paths cross in a twist of paparazzi fate, they both react true to form. Royce runs to hide the weakness he fears, behind the success he now depends on, while Kieran never wavers on what he wants or who he wants to be with. And he's going to do what he does best to convince Royce he's right.

All Kieran has to do…is expose the beauty in the place Royce least expects to find it. Himself.

 

**This is a M/M Romance. It contains adult content/ adult language**

 

*All Finding Nolan Novels are stand alone stories. However, due to recurring characters and the way each story builds on the one before it, they are best read in order.*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Never Did Point North Publishing
• Release date: Nov 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502205698

K.S. Thomas

Originally born and raised in Bremen, Germany, I currently reside in sunny Florida with my teenage daughter, our coyote, a three-legged roo, and a tamed wolf (AKA, our dogs). I like to think we have a bit of a Gilmore Girls thing going, except my kid is obsessed with dance not books, and I’m (much to my increasing disappointment) appropriately aged to have a teenager.    I love coffee and yoga and the ocean and cooking and asking 'none of my business' questions whenever possible. While I spent my childhood certain I could be a Disney princess, sitting here, surrounded by my crystals, smudge sticks and tarot cards, eager to get out to my garden and walk on the earth in my bare feet and chat with the lizards about not eating my plants, I’m pretty sure I grew up to be the witch. The good sort. And, obviously, I write romance novels. That is, after all, what brought us together. Our love for...well, love. And who can blame us? Love has the power to bring out the best and the worst in us. It can make us strong or be our greatest weakness. It can make us move mountains or make us do some of the dumbest shit in the history of dumb shit. In short, love is entertaining as hell.

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First of all, I would love to thank all of the wonderful writers I have met through Rachelle Ayala’s Romance in a Month Class. Not only have I been writing up a romantic storm ever since I joined the group, but I have met some truly amazing and supportive women whom I hope to continue this journey with for a long time to come.

While the Finding Nolan Series might never have come to be had it not been for participating in #RIAM, Secret Hudson in particular would be in really rough shape if it hadn’t been for the following individuals who took the time to read the first drafts and then offered their invaluable feedback. So, thank you – Lyssa, Tawnya, Stephanie and Michele.

Of course, having said that, I realize the first draft would possibly never have been finished at all had it not been for my brilliant and creative friend, Dara, who in a late night moment of pure genius, led me directly to the source of inspiration I needed in order to find the perfect ending for Royce’s story.

Lastly, before I tie this up and let you all get to the more entertaining part of this book, I would also like to take a moment to thank Tami – thank you for being my ‘author’ fairy godmother!

As always, I owe an ocean of gratitude to those I love and am lucky to be loved by ~

Your support means more to me than you will ever know...

Stay Caffeinated,

K

CHAPTER ONE

ROYCE

There’s a knock on the door almost simultaneously to it opening.

Royce? It’s Ava.

What’s up, buttercup?

The coffee here blows. I’m going to make a store run. Need anything?

I stare down at my legs, fully dressed in jeans, socks and shoes, then back over at the TV screen. I’ve been awake, showered, clothed, and watching a Gilligan’s Island marathon since five a.m. What I need, is to get out of this fucking hotel room.

I’m sure I’ll think of something once we’re there. I point the remote straight at the captain’s head and pull the trigger. Thank God, that’s finally over.

She makes a face at me. You’re going to come?

I’m sorry. Is that a problem? Not twelve hours ago she asked me to follow her into the bathroom to keep her company while she showered. Now seems like an odd time to suddenly require some privacy.

Ava reaches for the baseball cap hanging on the doorknob and straps it over my head. Not anymore. She points at the nightstand behind me. Hey, grab those shades too, would ya? I really don’t feel like getting attacked by the paparazzi pre-shower and wearing my sweats.

You showered. I know. I was there, remember? I slide on the shades anyway. I’m not in the mood for a morning mob either. I’m no Blaise Nolan, but in lieu of Finding Nolan’s front man, people seem to be happy to settle for the lowly bass player in a heartbeat.

Um, that shower was ages ago. Do you know how much I’ve sweat in the meantime? She leads the way out the door, in spite of her apparent nastiness.

Gross. I know we’re close Ava, but I do not need to hear about your sweaty sex with Blaise. I reach for my wallet and room key on the way out.

Ew! I went for a run this morning, you jackass! For the record, I don’t have unattractive, sweaty sex. I do it all nice and pretty like...you know, the way they do it in the movies. All sensual and magical.

I nod, even though she has her back to me. Yeah, I hear that all the time about hetero sex. How magical it is. Ava turns her head briefly and acknowledges the sarcasm with a dramatic eyeroll and her standard half-smirk but doesn’t bother to respond. We’ve had the hetero sex talk plenty of times before in the past. She knows where I stand with it. Preferably at a safe distance where I can pretend it doesn’t exist.

Vaginas don’t scare me exactly. I mean, they seem innocent enough, and I can see the convenience of it all, one piece fitting into the other. But I’ve taken sex ed. I’ve seen that sweet little flower chicks claim to be sitting on morph into monsters big enough to spit out a watermelon on a moment’s notice. Don’t tell me there isn’t something shady about that.

If straight dudes want to stick their dicks in there, I say do so at your own risk. Someday that beast may decide to swallow instead of spit, and then what the fuck are you going to do?  Be fucking dickless, that’s what.

We’re in the elevator going down to the lobby when I notice Ava is still grinning.

What?

She chuckles before she answers, You look nervous. Thinking about penis-eating vaginas again?

The thing drools blood, Ava! It’s clearly carnivorous.

The mocking grin falls from her face. Okay, now you’re just being disgusting. And you know I can’t keep up in below the belt verbal combat before I’ve had my coffee, so that was an entirely unfair attack.

I jerk my brow in feigned shock. What attack? It was merely an act of self-defense. You started it. And it will count. And we’re calling it a truce.

Fine.

Fine.

I’m pretty sure Ava mutters something else after, but the elevator doors open, muffling the sound of her voice, so I have no problem claiming the last word for myself. At least for the moment. Things will pick up again sooner or later. Not necessarily on the same topic, but ridiculous banter between Ava and I is the foundation on which we have built our friendship.  Maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but what we have is solid, and time and troubles have proven it more than once. Ava isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I. And it isn’t just because of the legally binding contract I have with her as my manager. She’s my friend. My best friend.

So, how are we getting there? I’m guessing you didn’t call for a limo, since you’re trying to avoid the extra attention. Although, part of me kind of wants to see what it would be like to roll up in front of Wal-Mart in one.

Ava gives me a half-assed version of her ‘you’re stupid’ glare. The store’s like two blocks from here. We’re walking.

Hold on one fucking minute. What? I don’t want to walk. What if someone does recognize us, sorry, me? Then what? We’ll have no mode of escape.

Well aren’t we feeling a little big for our ego britches today? It’ll be fine, Royce. If it comes down to it, I’ll shield you with my very body. And I’m stinky and gross, so it will actually be effective in blocking any horny bitches tempted to throw themselves at you. She grabs my hand and drags me through the lobby, out the front doors.

It’s gorgeous outside. Perfect weather for walking actually. I’m not about to say that out loud though.

So, how come you were up so early? She’s strolling right along, like she knows exactly where she’s headed. Which is funny, because the store is in the opposite direction. But we’re relaxed and I’m enjoying my moment of total normalcy, so I keep my mouth shut about it and keep walking.

Couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about Garrett. We broke up three months ago, but then I saw his face pop up on TMZ last night, standing next to some grey-haired George Clooney type, minus the womanizing obviously, and all I could think about was why every one of my exes always seems to move on to happy ever after within months, sometimes only weeks, of dumping me. What am I? The lucky gay boy? Kiss me once and find your soul mate? It’s fucking bullshit. Even if it is a completely irrational line of thinking.

Garrett’s a dick and you’re better off without him. Plus, if he’s into fucking grandpa, you should take being rejected as a compliment. Just saying. Ava’s version of glass half full always comes complete with sexual jokes and the f-bomb. It’s one of my favorite things about her.

Hey, wait a minute. I think we went the wrong way. She stands at the intersection looking really confused. I swear, last night there was a store here. We passed it on the way back from the stadium.

I point back to where we just came from. Stadium’s that way. So is the store.

She presses her lips together tightly, a clear sign she’s holding back a slew of insults. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?

I dunno. Was kinda getting into your little morning walk idea.

She pulls at my hand and starts marching. This time in the right direction. Come on.

We barely make it past the hotel again when, despite our pre-emptive measures, we collide with the friendly neighborhood paparazzi and our peaceful stroll turns into a manic race.

What happened to shielding me with your sweaty, stinky body, Ava? I’m already out of breath from running less than a block. Apparently, I seriously need to add some cardio to my workouts. An undeniable flaw in my gym routine since Ava, the runner, left me in her dust the second the papz started shouting nonsense about her and I hooking up, and whether or not Blaise knows about it. There are so many ridiculous things wrong with their theories, I’m tempted to turn around and set them straight. Plus, it would give me a solid out on why I never caught up to Ava. And I’m definitely never catching up to her.

That was against women! When it comes to the life sucking photogs, you’re on your own! she screams back. Or at least I assume it was a scream. I’m so far behind her, it’s more like a faint whisper in my ear.

Next thing I know, I briefly look down at my own feet to avoid a near stumble, only to find she’s completely out of sight when I bring my eyes back up.  Isn’t until I spot the stand holding the ‘we are open – caffeine awaits’ sign still shaking from her zooming by, that I realize where she’s gone. Even in a crisis, that girl never passes up a cup of joe.

With the camera wielding vamps still hot on my trail, I know there’s no way they’ll miss seeing me follow her inside, but since there’s nowhere else for me to go, I really don’t have much of a choice.  So, I make a mad dash for the door and take solace in knowing that at least they won’t be able to get in. Even if that means we’re never going to get back out either.

There’s a jingle of wind chimes and the heavy door slamming shut behind me, announces my arrival. No big surprise, Ava is already sipping something from an oversized mug while chatting up whoever is behind the counter. I can’t make out who it is because the place is so fucking cluttered you can’t see much of anything beyond the tip of your nose. The only reason I even know I’m looking at Ava is because I recognize her hot pink tank top. It has Introverts Unite written on the front of it in some funky, swirly font. The one other thing I can make out, is the giant purple and green cup she has in front of her face.

I see your coffee instincts are in top form as usual.

Oh my GOD, best coffee EVER!

I walk around a huge display of papier-mâché masks I hope are more for viewing than wearing and am finally able to see Ava’s face. She looks like she’s in coffee heaven.

You’re only saying that because you just had a near death experience. I’m sure it’s no better than say...the coffee I make you.

Her eyes go wide as she shakes her head back and forth, very dramatically, I might add.

No, Royce. You don’t understand. He put Nutella in it. She whispers Nutella, like it’s a secret spell or something. Like you aren’t allowed to say it out loud or else mountains of the chocolate hazelnut spread will sprout up all over town. Although, if that were actually the case, Ava’d be shouting, not whispering. Anyway...

Gimme. I wanna have a sip and see what this coffee crush of yours is all about.

She snatches her cup away before I can touch it.

No fucking way, dude. Get your own. For one brief moment, I catch a glimpse of Gollum from the Lord of the Rings as she hunches herself over her own version of ‘my precious’.

Alrighty then. Dial back the crazy, Ava. I’m sure it’s not the last cup you’ll ever have. I turn around and finally find myself standing face to face with the java magician. And he is fucking hot.

HUDSON

Helllllllooooo Royce Lemmi.  I was already fairly certain the chick who stormed in here was Ava Jennison, famous for the musician she’s banging, but seeing Royce Lemmi wander in after her, there’s no denying I am in the company of Finding Nolan fine-ness.

Nutella latte for you as well? I have to force myself to stop wiping the counter. I’ve been re-wiping the same spot for at least three minutes. Whatever dirt was there, is either gone for good or here to stay, and continuing to swish my towel back and forth will only make me look like an idiot. I don’t want to look like an idiot. I want to look good.

Maybe I will never be more than the random guy who made Royce Lemmi his coffee once, but I’m going to do everything within my power to be sexiest damn barista he’s ever encountered.

Hm? he stares at me like maybe he hasn’t understood the question. Then, Miss Jennison giggles and slugs him in the arm. He asked if you wanted coffee, asshole. Why don’t you pay a little less attention to his mouth and a little more to what’s coming out of it?

Holy shit. Is she implying what I think she’s implying? Is Royce Lemmi gay? I watch as he shoots her a dirty look and I gather she was onto something. I try to smirk, but my attempt at cocky backfires and I wind up grinning from ear to ear like a jackass, unable to stop the corners of my mouth once they begin moving.

To keep Royce from seeing it, I quickly turn around and get to work on that latte, even though he hasn’t actually ordered it.

Sorry about that, his deep voice rumbles behind me.

I glance back at him over my shoulder. My lips finally more manageable, I venture a small smile. Nothing to be sorry about.

CHAPTER TWO

ROYCE

Ava is fucking unbelievable. If I thought there was a chance in hell, I’d ever be able to make it back to this coffee shop on my own, or otherwise, I would pay for my coffee and then run back outside to face the paparazzi rather than deal with the humiliation she’s bound to inflict on both myself and the innocent, albeit beautiful, man standing behind the counter.

Here, see if you start crushing on my coffee as well. He hands me a large teal and brown cup. I nod. Unable to say anything else. For a moment I thought he meant me crushing on the coffee, as well as on him. Then I remembered using that term in reference to Ava’s feelings for her Nutella latte and it all made more sense.

Nevertheless, I wind up holding my breath for a good forty seconds or so, wondering if she’ll call me out on that one as well.

Isn’t it, like, the best thing you’ve ever tasted? She’s back to gushing over her beverage. I sip mine several times and still don't get a taste for it. I’m too busy thinking about tasting other things. Namely the guy behind the counter.

Yeah. It’s great.

She frowns. I don’t think you’re fully appreciating what’s happening in that cup. I mean, I’ve added Nutella to coffee before, but this, this is some sort of coffee Nutella magic. It’s creamy and sweet, and there’s no little brown specs of un-melted Nutella floating around. It’s perfectly blended.

It’s coffee, Ava.

Bite your tongue, Royce! We never use that tone with coffee. She takes her ‘precious’ and stalks off.

Sounds like your friend is really serious about her caffeine, Cute Coffee Guy jokes.

You have no idea.

And, enter awkward silence.

Then, bring back Ava.

Hudson - that’s the name of this store, right? I can hear her, but I can’t see her.

It’s Hudson House. Why? Cute Coffee Guy comes out from behind the counter to find her.

That mean the owner did these? Because they’re phenomenal! I follow Cute Coffee Guy until we're both standing in front of her. She's pointing up at some photographs hanging all along the side wall of the shop.

Actually, no. She’s an artist too, but mostly sculpting. Maxine Hudson. Her work is over there in the corner. She’s on a big vase kick right now.

Ava looks disappointed. Bummer. I don’t suppose you know how I could get in touch with this Hudson, do you? I’d love to schedule a shoot with the boys. I bet it would be incredible.

Cute Coffee Guy seems surprised. Are you serious? He turns to me. Is she serious?

Probably. I mean, it’s part of her job, so....

Wow. I would love to shoot the band! And just like that, multiple statements are streamlining my brain. One, Ava and I clearly haven’t been nearly as incognito as we made ourselves believe, considering the paparazzi and Cute Coffee Guy recognized us pretty much instantly. And two, Cute Coffee Guy is actually Cute Photographer Guy.

Wait. You’re K. Hudson? Shit, that was easy. Ava laughs.

It’s Kieran, but you can call me Hudson. Most people do. He holds out his hand to her.

Avalon Jennison. But only use that when you’re pissed at me. Otherwise, it’s Ava. She turns back to include me. This is Royce Lemmi. But you probably already knew that.

Hudson goes to shake my hand and I take it, holding it just a fraction of a second longer than I should.

"Nice to meet you, Hudson. So, you make amazing coffee, and you take pictures like these? You may want to go hide somewhere. Ava