Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
“I’m glad you ended up here.” Hudson rests his forearms on the table, folding his hands together. His voice is softer, but no less certain. “I’m falling for you, Tinsley.”
My mind zeroes out. For maybe the first time in years, I’m not prepared with a cutting comeback. Hudson’s just staring at me. No smirk, no swagger. Honest-to-God vulnerability shining from his stunning eyes.
My heart pounds away in my chest as I sit there, frozen, while my mind attempts to reboot. All my warning systems are flashing, my internal shields scrambling to re-arm. But it’s too late. He’s already inside whatever fortress I built. The walls are gone. I’m exposed, raw, and somehow more alive than I’ve ever been.
I could tell him to slow down. That we don’t know each other. That it’s just physical, or some dumb effect of the water in this crazy town. But I don’t want to.
Hudson watches me like the world depends on what I’ll say next.
“I’m falling for you, too, Hudson.”
The burgers arrive, massive and stacked with lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese melting over the sides. The fries are crisp and golden, a little uneven, the way homemade ones are supposed to be. For a while, we don’t talk; we just eat. I realize, halfway through, that I was starving.
Hudson polishes off his burger in three bites, then leans back, arms crossed. “Told you they’re the best.”
I nod my head, mouth full. “I’ll give you this one.”
He smiles, broader this time, and I feel the effect in my own face. The waitress checks on us, drops the check, and Hudson looks at it then looks back at me.
“Is it alright with you if I pay for our dinner?” he says.
Darn. He really is learning. “Fine. But I’m leaving the tip.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
We sit a few minutes longer. The booth is small enough that our knees keep knocking, and I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose or if he just takes up too much space for it to be avoided. Either way, it makes my pulse jump every time.
We leave the diner, the bell on the door jangling as we step out into the thick Texas night. Hudson puts his hand at the small of my back, just for a second, guiding me to the truck. The heat of his palm lingers there, even after he opens my door and I climb up.
The drive back to my apartment is quiet, but not in a bad way. The silence is comfortable. Hudson doesn’t rush the drive. He takes his time winding through Silver Spoon Falls, arm draped casually over the steering wheel, glancing at me now and then. By the time we reach my place, the sky’s a bruise-colored blue and the porch light at the front of my building is the only thing burning bright on the whole street.
My apartment is in a three-story brick walk-up. It’s small and crowded, but I like it. The steps creak under my feet as we climb to the landing. Hudson follows close, not crowding me, but close enough that I can feel the static of his presence sparking up my spine.
At my door, I dig for my keys, aware of him at my shoulder, quiet and patient. I unlock it, and before I can come up with a polite brush-off, I hear myself ask, “You want to come in?” My voice is even, zero tremor. I don’t know if I’m more surprised or relieved to find I actually mean it.
Hudson just nods and steps inside, taking up all the space even when he stands perfectly still. My apartment is clean, but small. Sparse furniture, cheap but chosen with intent, every piece exactly where I want it. There are my favorite art prints on the walls and a stack of battered paperbacks crowds my coffee table. The only light is a single lamp in the corner, casting a cone of gold over my secondhand couch.
He looks around, then at me, and says nothing. Just steps in and shuts the door behind him.
“I usually have a rule about not letting strange men into my home,” I say, toes digging into the welcome mat. “But you’ve passed all my tests so far.”
He grins and walks over to stand next to me. “I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart.” He shifts and the air snaps tight. He cups my jaw with one hand, gentle but decisive, and his thumb sweeps across my cheekbone.
“I want to kiss you more than I want my next breath,” he breathes out.
“Then kiss me.” I’m done fighting my feelings for him.
His kiss is nothing like last time. Not a heat-of-the-moment, hands-on-the-doorframe kind of kiss. This one is slow and deliberate, like he’s got all the time in the world and he’s going to use every second of it. I melt against him, my mouth opening on a sigh I don’t bother hiding. His other hand finds my hip and pulls me closer to his hard, muscular body