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“No, I mean, you’re that crazy chick,” he draws out, moving his eyes over my leggings, then my off-the-shoulder lavender-colored t-shirt. He nods to my sandals. “Birkenstocks. Oh yeah, you’re crazy. I’ve taken one of those upside the head more times than I can count.”
I brace my hands on my hips. “Why do you keep calling me crazy?” I hate that word. Hate. It.
“I saw you, that day at Deuce’s brother-in-law’s house,” he says, peering over the half wall to inspect Ivy’s space. “Beating that other woman to a pulp.” He mimes choking himself, smiling, and says, “Strangling her, too.”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t know the specifics. I’m not crazy,” I tell him.
“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in an innocent act of contrition. “You don’t gotta lie to me. I love crazy chicks. They are the freakiest in bed.”
My head tips to the side on its own, I swear. “Bragging about sexual conquests is super slimy, just so you’re aware.”
“Aware,” he retorts, reaching for one of Ivy’s sketches of a butter knife being sharpened by a black-haired vixen wearing a corset. “Don’t care.” He smiles, his shaggy blond hair making this morning’s coffee climb up my throat, along with stomach acid.
“You’re so full of yourself,” I say, knowing I should wear the filter since this is Ivy’s mentor now but god, I do not know how women can stand men like this. Men that think because they’re talented they can treat women however they please, and can get out of their awful behavior because they have a penis and a sexy smile. Barf.
Before Trace can hit me with a retort to further make me gag, the shop door dings, gathering my focus. Trace looks to the door, too.
Hudson emerges from the stream of sunlight as the door swings shut, bringing the darkness back to the space.
“My legal brother-in-law.” He smiles, closing the distance as he shakes Deuce’s hand, pulling him into a hug. Over Deuce’s shoulder, Hudson’s dark eyes come to mine. Heat simmers in my belly, melting into my groin, flooding my panties with warmth and wetness. The way I get instantly wet for him is one of the many signs pointing to him being my soulmate. But in the light of day, after what happened last night, I can’t take pleasure in the rush of heat between my thighs.
I’m too worried about what he’s thinking.
Deuce and Hudson take a few steps away from Ivy’s station, Deuce’s arm draped along Hudson’s mountainous shoulders. He’s wearing his black jeans this morning, and a Gray Farms long-sleeved button-up, the same color as his jeans. I could bottle him up and drink him down, but right now, all I want to do, surprisingly, is talk to him.
When he returns to where Ivy and I are lingering, his focus lands on me, making my skin hot. “Dolly, would you like to take a walk?”
I nod, and follow when he turns toward the door, pulling and holding it open for me. Ivy winks, and I know I’ll catch up with her later, so I trail behind Hudson until we’re in the middle of the sidewalk out front, sunlight warm on my nose, the winter air nipping at my cheeks.
“Dolly,” he starts, his eyes holding mine in a way they never have, simmering with intensity. “Did you make your bank card PIN my birthday by choice?”
Oh fuck. It’s happening. I lick my lips, my nostrils flaring as I trap a breath in my chest, willing to exhale it normally.Stay calm, Dolly.Now is the time to make sure heunderstands you’re not crazy, all the things you’ve done aren’t because you need a mental healthcare professional.
You did those things because he’s yoursoulmate, I remind myself, as I tuck hair behind my ears and clear my throat. With a straight spine and my chin held high, I meet his gaze.
“Yes. I wanted it to be a combination of numbers I’ll never forget.”
His nostrils flare, and his broad chest rises as he holds his breath.
“Your birthday is perfect for that.”
He studies me, as if my answer doesn’t provide the clarity he’s looking for. But I want him to find that clarity, and know that I am transparent for him.
“I’m an open book, Hudson. When it comes to you, I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” I say bravely, my confidence faltering for a terrifying moment.
What if he doesn’t find my passion endearing? What if…
No.Stay true, Dolly. Stay the course. He’s yours. He will understand the depths of your love and welcome it with open arms, as long as you tell him the truth.
“I took you home last night, do you remember that?” he asks, stepping closer to me, his shadow engulfing me.
“Juniper told me,” I admit. “I unfortunately don’t remember.” My nerves get the better of me, and I shift my weight on my feet, blinking up at him. “Would you like to sit down for the rest of this conversation?”
He nods, still focused intently on my face. “That’d be good.”
I want to slip my hand into his and link them, swingingthem as we walk to the bench that will forever, after today, be our bench. The place where he realized I’m his girl.
But I walk next to him and we sit at the same time, leaving a foot between us so we can easily angle our bodies to talk. His hair is shiny today, and he’s not wearing his cowboy hat, which I love. I love him that way, too, though.
