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“What time is it?” Jack yawned and stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal a patch of sun-kissed skin with a happy trail leading downward. Mendez’s teeth ached to nibble that perfect flesh.
“Almost sunrise.” Mendez forced his gaze to stay on the road. “We’ll be in Willow Point in about eighteen hours.”
He didn’t like up and leaving, not telling anyone where they were going. Mendez’s boss was going to shit kittens over this, but it was his job to stay with Jack, no matter what. He’d have to smooth things over with Ian when he got a chance to call him.
And Huck? Mendez hadn’t been working for Jack long, but he knew the neurotic manager was going to blow his lid when he found out Jack bailed. Not that Mendez gave a shit about Huck, but he didn’t want Jack getting into any kind of trouble.
Mendez had already been told about the letters that kept being sent to Jack. Bizarre letters that had risen Mendez’s hackles. He’d read each one. The first one had been nothing but praise from the fan. About how much he loved Jack’s voice and the songs he sang.
Then the tone of the letters had started escalating. The second one was about how pissed the fan was that Jack never wrote him back, telling Jack that he thought he was too good, how he thought they would be perfect together, if only Jack would get his head out of his ass.
Now the fan was obsessed with Jack, extremely obsessed, stating that Jack had written his slow ballads for him, just for him, how he spoke to the fan’s soul.
There were a lot of unbalanced people in the world. Mendez had seen his fair share of lunatics. He knew the fan would only escalate even further, taking more risks, so maybe getting Jack out of Vegas really was a smart move.
Remove the man’s obsession and maybe, just maybe, the guy would move on. Although the letters had been sent to Jack’s Memphis home address. That was scary enough, a crazed fan knowing where Jack lived.
“I need some fuel.” Jack sat up and rubbed his flat stomach. There were dark circles under his hazel eyes, and the sides of his mouth were pinched, telling Mendez just how much strain Jack was under.
Mendez snorted. “You should have eaten before you drank that entire bottle.”
His mate glared at him. “Are you being my nanny again?”
For some perverse reason Mendez loved getting under Jack’s skin. He liked the fire in his gorgeous eyes whenever he got riled up. “No, sir.”
“We’re on a road trip. Stop calling me sir and stop giving me unwanted advice.” Jack looked out the window as the sun could be seen climbing slowly over the horizon. The soft lighting reflected on Jack’s handsome face, making his hazel eyes lighter.
Mendez gripped the wheel harder so he wouldn’t reach over and touch his mate. Jack looked so fucking lost and vulnerable right now as he gazed at the passing scenery. He’d been reflective and moody ever since his appointment yesterday morning. He’d said it was a yearly visit to his doctor, and Mendez hadn’t pried, but ever since he’d left Dr. Chastine’s office, Jack hadn’t been himself.
“Find us a roadside diner.” Jack looked over at Mendez before lowering his gaze. “I could use a homecooked meal.”
“Whatever you want, Mr. Dane.”
Jack gave a tiny growl that Mendez thought adorable. “I said to call me Jack.”
“Yes, Mr. Dane.” Mendez hid his smile. “There.” He pointed at a sign that said a diner was at the next exit. “Good enough?”
“Sounds perfect.” Jack sank back down into his seat and yawned again. “I need a cup of hot tea.”
Mendez still didn’t know why they hadn’t flown in Jack’s private jet. They would have gotten to Willow Point in no time. Or the closest airport, which would have been quicker than driving there. But Jack had made it clear that he wanted to drive, so Mendez hadn’t argued.
Oh, he’d tried, but his mate was too damn stubborn to listen to reason. Since he didn’t want to get fired from being Jack’s personal security detail, most of the time he kept his mouth shut. Too bad he couldn’t put his mouth to other uses, but that wasn’t in the cards for him.
Jack Dane was a sexy, straight man who had no interest in sharing an intimate life with Mendez, no matter how badly Mendez wanted that.
Chapter Two
Jack needed to get out of the car. What in the world had he been thinking taking a road trip with Mendez? Now they were stuck in the car together, breathing each other’s air, and damn if the guy didn’t smell divine.
When they pulled into the parking lot of the diner, Jack got out, praying his half-hard cock wasn’t noticeable. They had eighteen more hours to go? Shit, he really hadn’t thought this through.
“Are you sure about this?” Mendez asked as he closed the driver’s door. “You’re recognizable everywhere you go. I can go in and order our food and bring it out.”
“I can handle some fans if anyone knows who I am.” Jack was still troubled by his diagnosis, still in denial, and had refused to make a follow-up appointment with Dr. Chastine. Jack had told the guy that he would make the follow-up with his primary care doctor.
Which he would, just not yet. He wasn’t even sure why he felt so desperate to get home. Jack could have taken a week in Greece or some other exotic location, relaxing on a yacht. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He felt home calling to him, and all Jack could do was answer.
First, he needed to answer the call of his stomach. That whiskey he’d consumed wasn’t sitting right in his gut, and Jack needed to eat. He reached for the diner door, but Mendez beat him to it. He opened and walked in first, looking around while Jack waited behind him.
