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But the other part, the more wary part, knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. That part knew I was attracted to him, worryingly so, and that the tension between us would eventually need an outlet. But did I want to get involved? Especially when a little boy was caught in the mix? As far as I could tell, he didn’t have a mom around. Would he get attached? Would I?
My head spun as I leaned against the counter, sipping my coffee. Hudson was an enigma, and a goddamn annoying one at that. Did I want more of that in my life? More stress, more confusion, on top of trying for a baby? No, absolutely not.
So why did I type those stupid fucking numbers into my phone?
It rang once. Twice. Three times, and the phone crackled to life. But the voice on the other end wasn’t what I was expecting—no, it was much smaller, much higher, and much cuter.
“Hi, Grandma!”
I didn’t know what to say. It was Jamey, definitely, but why did he think I was his Grandma?
“Hello?” He asked when my silence hadn’t been enough for him.
“Uh, hi, Jamey. This isn’t your Grandma,” I said, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
“Why?”
I chuckled, glancing over toward Hudson’s house. Through an open window, I caught a glimpse of a tall, muscular form, covered by a thin, tight-fitting long-sleeve shirt and blue scrubs on his bottom half. He looked like he was picking up something from the floor. “Can you bring the phone to your dad?”
“Okay,” he chirped. I could hear the sound of shuffling, followed by tiny footsteps. “Daddy! The lady said she’s not my grandma!”
Hudson’s deep voice was too muffled to hear, but he was standing straight now from what I could see, his back to me as he looked down at his son.
“I dunno. Why isn’t it Grandma?” Jamey complained.
More muffling, more shuffling, and the phone switched hands. I watched him as he looked at the number on the screen before raising it to his ear.
“Hello, Sophie.” That’s the voice I wanted to hear.
I watched as he turned toward the window, his eyes locking with mine through the reflective glass. I bit down on the nail of my thumb, searching for the words I wanted to say, but coming up empty.
“I’ll do it,” I said quietly.
His sigh of relief was audible even through the phone, and I could see every drop of stress melt away in his body. “Does that mean the uh…” He lowered his voice. “…fake engagement is a go?”
Sighing, I leaned forward with my elbows on the counter, toward the window. “I don’t know yet.”
He took a few steps toward his, sidestepping something on the floor, and looked directly at me. It made goosebumps pop up all over my skin, forcing a shiver up my spine. “That’s okay. When can you start?”
“Today.” I glanced at the time on the microwave and looked back at him. “Give me thirty minutes to get dressed and grab my stuff.”
“Perfect. I need to leave at eight-thirty, so I can at least give you a tour of the house and show you where everything is before I need to go.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
A short pause. It felt like an hour as he stood there, eyes locked on me, a little grin spreading across his lips. “Sophie?”
“Yes?”
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
What the fuck is he?—
I glanced down, confused. My cheeks warmed as if I’d been drinking when I realized that the top of my robe had come loose, and in my leaning position on the countertop with my biceps against my chest, I’d parted the fabric on one side.
My entire left breast was out.
“Oh my god.”
