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A touch on my arm had me turning my head to the right to see the flight attendant with a silver tray of steaming moist clothes. “Hot towel?”

I grinned and gently pulled my hand from West’s. She gave me a towel and motioned toward his sleeping form.

“I’ll give it to him. He needs to wake up anyway.” The flight attendant smiled and dropped another hot towel in my left hand before stepping to the row behind us.

“Hey, West. We’ll be eating soon.” I handed him the warm towel when he opened his eyes. “You dozed off for a few minutes.”

West smiled. “I guess I relaxed enough to doze. I didn’t sleep well last night. My nerves were giving me fits. I guess nerves are good, but I tried really hard to get a good night’s sleep. Hopefully, I’ll have an easier time tonight.” His left eyebrow arched quite attractively.

Was he hinting at what I thought he was hinting at? Oh, god! Was this a sign? Was this divine intervention telling me he wanted what I wanted?

I decided to try to play it cool. “Well, then don’t have too much coffee, okay? Caffeine stays in the system longer than people think.” There. That was safe.

Weston laughed. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Fuck! Why did that have my cock growing in my shorts?

“Oh, I’m definitely not Claude.”

I grinned. “No. You’re definitely not.”

After checking Steph and Alexis into the hotel, West and I collected the bikes I’d shipped there, put them inside the RV, and we were on our way. The ladies invited us to get dinner at a nearby restaurant, but Weston wasn’t hungry, so we declined and left them to their date night.

I drove through the arched entrance of Bubu Bear’s Jellystone Campground just outside St. Charles, Missouri. St. Charles was what many people called quaint. I’d never been fond of quaint.

I’d seen my fair share of small towns when I was riding competitively. Stayed in a lot of youth hostels around the world, and it was fun in the beginning, but not having a familiar bed every night wore thin. When I stopped competing on the cycling circuit at thirty, I was satisfied that I’d lived my dream and was ready for the next one.

My level of competing wasn’t as high as some of the professional cyclists I competed against. Nevertheless, I’d been proud of myself when I ended my competition days and began supporting other riders.

Competitive cycling was a younger man’s game, and once I got into building bikes instead of riding them, I believed I’d found my purpose. It surprised the fuck out of me, but I wasn’t unhappy with the direction my future was headed.

“This is cool.” West glanced around the whimsical campground, pointing to the multicolor flags lazily swaying in the breeze as we rounded the half-circle drive where the check-in cabin was located.

“It’s different, all right.” I pulled over to a small parking area and turned off the motor of the rented RV, glancing at West from my peripheral. He was wearing a smile, which was good.

“I’m going to check us in, and I’ll be right back. Look up the menu,” I pointed to the little pink café near the entrance of the park, “for the Pic-a-nic Basket Café.”

I laughed at the imagery that took me back to a conversation I once had with Claude when we were riding our bikes from Mahanttan to Long Island.

“My favorite cartoon to watch with West is ‘Yogi the Bear’. Yogi sounds just like Fred Flintstone. Those were my favorite cartoons when I was a kid—yes, we had colored television back then—and when they’re on television these days, I coerce Weston to watch with me so I don’t look like an old fool.” His boisterous laugh always made me smile.

West’s big golden-brown eyes stared at me for clarity. “Uh, what now?”

“Yogi and Bubu? The Yogi Bear cartoons? I know you’ve seen them.”

West laughed. “Wait, is it one of the really old cartoons that sometimes play on the Cartoon Network? The bears at the campground that Dad used to watch with me when I was a kid?”

“Yeah. Claude was an asshole sometimes, but he loved you very much. Always remember that, Weston.”

I closed the door of the RV and went into the campground office to check in. When I returned to the vehicle, I found West speaking with a couple who came out of the little café. When he saw me, he motioned me over, where I placed my hand on his neck just under his soft brown hair. No, I wasn’t possessive much.

“Bridges, this is Kayley and her husband Raj. They’re here to ride the trail...well, Raj is. Kayley is his support person, though she’s not riding with him like you are with me. Anyway, they said the café is great.”

I extended my hand to shake Raj’s hand, then Kayley’s. They were a cute young couple with a great future ahead of them, if the loving look they shared was any indication.

When I glanced at Weston Aames, my heart pinged. Would West and I ever look at each other the way Raj and Kayley looked at each other? How much did I want that?

“Good food?” I asked Raj.