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)
Enjoy your day.
H.
The handwriting makes my stomach do a weird flip. I toss the card in my desk drawer with the others and tell myself I don’t care. I rip into the overpriced salad like it personally insulted me. I focus on my spreadsheet, but every time I hit a fresh cell, the scent of peonies hits me in the face. It’s like the jerk knew exactly how to distract me.
I’m not supposed to like this. I’m not supposed to like him.
And yet every damn morning, I wake up with my mind on high alert, pulse beating like a drum. Secretly hoping Hudson himself, with his broad shoulders and impossible confidence and his voice that haunts my dreams, actually shows up. Freaking hell.
The worst part? I keep telling myself I don’t need anyone, least of all a billionaire rancher with control issues and a smile lethal enough to get past my defenses.
But every day, it gets a little harder to believe my own BS. I shouldn’t feel anything for him. But my heart didn’t get that memo.
It’s been a long day, and I’m looking forward to getting back to my small apartment. By the time five o’clock rolls around, my head's pounding harder than a jackhammer. I grab my latest gift from Hudson, a leather-bound journal and fancy pen set, and drag my tired rear end out to my car.
The drive home is supposed to be my mental reset. I’ve got silence, blessed AC, and nothing but the beautiful Silver Spoon Falls landscape to stare at. Pure solitude. Then my Civic lurches like it hit an invisible cow in the road and starts making a noise that sounds like “dying chainsaw meets blender.” My heart drops as the dashboard lights explode. The engine promptly coughs once and gives up, like even it can’t deal with life.
“Oh my God.” I slap the steering wheel and coast to the shoulder. I sit there, just practicing relaxation breathing while wondering if the problem will un-happen if I ignore it.
I turn the engine off and wait fifteen seconds for it to reset. I turn it back on, hoping this works like it does on my old iPhone. No such luck. Nothing happens. I’m about to look up tow trucks online when headlights flare in my rearview.
Freaking hell. Where did he come from?
Hudson parks inches from my bumper and stalks up to my window. I roll it down just enough to hear what he’s got to say. “Things don’t look good for your car.”
“No kidding.” I cross my arms, leaning back in my seat. “Are you here to be helpful or do you just plan on giving me a running commentary on my car problems?”
Hudson leans down, arms braced on either side of my door. He’s so close I can see the hint of five o’clock shadow along his jaw and the scar over his eyebrow that I keep pretending not to notice. “Pop the hood and I’ll try to be helpful.” He smirks, and there’s something smug about it that should piss me off. It doesn’t. It just makes my insides do that weird twisty thing that’s become my new normal.
With a dramatic sigh, I pop the hood.
Hudson walks to the front of my car and stares at the engine for several moments before whistling. “Hell, sweetheart. It’s worse than I thought.”
That’s what I was afraid of. “How bad?”
“We’ll have to let the professionals tell us.” He walks back around to my driver side. “Give me your keys.” Without thinking, I hand over my keyring over to him. He messes with it a few seconds, then hands me back the ring with my house key on it. “I texted one of the mechanics who works on the ranch. He’ll tow your car in and take a look at it.” He opens my driver’s door and leans in to put the key under the floor mat.
“But, but…” I blink several times.
“And I’ll give you a drive home.” Hudson helps me out of the car before my mushy mind catches up with what’s happening.
“We’re just going to leave my car on the side of the road?” I ask as he helps me up into his truck.
“It’s not like anyone is going to steal it.”
Damn. He has me there.
The inside of Hudson’s truck is a shock of cold air, leather, and pure testosterone. Damn. I’m in so much trouble. My spine barely hits the seat before he’s climbing in beside me, all broad shoulders and annoyance wrapped in one gorgeous package.
He throws the truck into gear, and we drive. I watch the darkening fields fly by, pretending I don’t keep sneaking glances at his hands. They’re rough and steady. The kind of hands I wouldn’t mind on my skin, but Jesus, I need to get a grip.
He doesn’t ask for my address, which doesn’t surprise me at all. I’m betting he probably ran a background check on me right after our first meeting. Hudson pulls up in front of my apartment and hops out. He comes around to my side and opens the door before I’ve even unhooked my seatbelt. He holds out his hand, his palm warm and steady, and my insides turn to mush. No fight left in me. My feet hit the pavement, with my grip still locked in his.