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My heart rate slows as a heated blush blankets over my features.
Now I did it.
My mother was right when she said my mouth gets me in trouble. I can never seem to just permit things to fly.
It’s half her fault.
Ever since I can remember, my mother was always trying to fit me into her little box. She was always dictating my life and never allowing me to be my own person. My clothes were picked out for me, my toys and books. She suffocated me, and I rebelled.
“Since we’re handing out unsolicited advice,” I chime in, balling my fingers into fists because I need this position. My roommate, Mia, just got fired from hers two weeks ago because she mouthed off to her boss. I’m starting to see a trend here. “You might want to find me a replacement before you start coming up with any decisions that might cost you a bit.” I tuck my chin downward to cast my gaze on Goliath and all the strength he’s probably going to use to throw me out. “My social media game is on point, and most of the boys barely know how to remember their own appointments without me. I’m literally the reason why they’re on time for work.”
He slowly lifts a brow as if unimpressed. “Are you now?”
“You haven’t noticed a change?” His unyielding stare doesn’t leave much as to if he has or hasn’t, but I push on. “I apologize for throwing you under the bus like I did with my mother. I definitely don’t intend to drag you to some appalling family get-together where you’d have to socialize. Unless…”
He doesn’t respond to the bait I just threw out, and he would be the answer to the unrelenting complaining Mom would be throwing at me for those seventy-two hours.
And I’m desperate right now.
The thought of handling my mother alone for an entire weekend makes my skin crawl. Even though I know Hudson is never going to go for this.
Especially since he’s looking at me like he’d never take me out for ice cream and that I’m some venereal disease.
“You know I can do a pretty mean car wash.” Still nothing. “And I’m an excellent cook. I can bring you lunch every day.” Crickets. “I’ll work on Rapture Ink’s social media off the clock. I’ll run a bake sale that’ll bring in a bunch of dudes to check out everyone’s work. Don’t all men love sugar?”
“Now you’re trying to sell yourself to me?”
Wow. And just to think, I’ve been missing out on all this charming chatter.
“It’s called a favor, Mr. Stoll.”
“You just called me Hudson out there like you knew me intimately,” he retorts sourly. “Don’t stop now.”
“I’ll owe you,” I quickly apprise again. “I’ll make sure your coffee never runs out.” He only continues to stare grumbly at me. “One weekend. I’ll even clean this place up.”
Because it’s a fucking dump.
“And the storage closet?”
Holy shit, are we making progress?
“Sure.” I bob my head like I’m bouncing down a dirt road with a bunch of potholes. “And you can wear whatever you want.”
“That’s a given.”
“Simplest night of your life.”
“Doubtful.”
“Sooo…” I shift my weight under his persistent stare. Maybe Miles was right before, and he does need to get laid. “Is that a yes?”
“No.”
Oh my God.
Alright, I give up. It was a stupid thing to do anyway, and I’ll just come clean with my mom tomorrow.
“Can I go?”
