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He’s standing at the window, sighing. “I think half the crew is as in love with her as I am,” he continues morosely. I can hear his heart splintering right down the middle.
Oh wait—that’s the sound of the cheap blinds parting as he presses his nose to the glass.
“I could kill that Max guy,” he says suddenly, whirling away from the window to start pacing. “I heard they used to date. He told me so himself—gloated about it.”
I start typing louder, really pounding on the keys, sending a message that goes unnoticed.
“You know what, though? I’m not going to let that stop me. I think she’s into me.”
She’s not.
“Last week, she brought me a cookie after lunch.”
What?! That scheming…
She brought me one too!
Then I remember it’s a chocolate chip cookie we’re discussing here, which only serves to heighten my anger. I shouldn’t care about this. It’s silly.
“Hudson, get out.”
“What?”
“You’ve been annoying me for the last ten minutes and I have work to do.”
He rushes toward the door, making quick apologies.
That’s not the last I see of him that day. Nope, as I round the curve of the trail heading to Rose Cabin after dinner, there’s Hudson standing on the front porch with Taylor’s hands clasped tightly in his. Her back is facing me, which means I’m treated to a full view of Hudson’s pleading eyes.
I can’t hear what he’s saying to her over the hum of the forest, but she squeezes his hands and a moment later, he’s flinging himself at her, mouth attached to hers like one of those algae-sucking fish.
She doesn’t push him off right away like I assumed she would. She steps back slowly, shakes her head, and then reaches out to pat his arm.
I think Hudson’s about to cry, but then he nods and forces a smile.
That’s when I reach them.
“We’ll still be friends, right? This won’t change anything?” she asks.
Hudson nods. “Friends.”
Then he catches sight of me and sobers, wasting no time in scrambling down the stairs.
“Evening,” he says as he rushes by.
I glance after him for a moment before returning my attention to Taylor.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt,” I tell her, tone deceptively kind. “I can make myself scarce if you two need some alone time.”
She crosses her arms and I’m momentarily lost in the sight of her standing there, bathed in the warm light of the sunset. The effect makes it so her eyes are bright amber. Her hair is shining chestnut and mahogany, curling loosely around her shoulders. Her lips are bright red and slightly swollen from Hudson’s amateur attempt at courtship.
As I see her just like this, Hudson suddenly has my deepest sympathies. Maybe if I were a weaker man, I’d be in the same boat.
“If you must know, he asked me out to dinner and I told him no. Don’t tease him about it,” she pleads, scowling at me. “He means well.”
I start up the stairs. My arm brushes her shoulder as I start to pass, but then I stop abruptly, glancing down at her.
“Be truthful—how many men have asked you out while you’ve been here?”
She shrugs and looks away, squinting toward the sunset.
I was expecting her to laugh me off.
“You shouldn’t lead them on,” I add dryly before continuing inside.
She catches me before I reach the door, hand shooting out to grab my forearm. “Lead them on?! What are you talking about?” She waves her other hand down her baggy clothes. “Hardly!”
“The clothes don’t hide a thing.”
She groans and pushes past me as if all of a sudden she’s in a hurry to get into the cabin before me.
It’s futile. Once we’re both inside, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.
She walks to the bathroom, drags a hand through her hair, and then turns back, scanning the room as if looking for something to throw at my head.
I stay by the door, lean back against the frame, and watch her, more amused than I’d ever care to admit.
“Are you going to start packing?” I ask with an inquisitive brow.
She stumbles mid-pace and glances up, her eyes flaying me. “Why would I pack? Are you trying to fire me again? Because—”
I smile, and my good humor only makes her angrier. “It’s Memorial Day Weekend starting tomorrow after work. Everyone’s off for three days.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks, and there, right there, is my answer. She’s not going anywhere. Isla will be so happy when she arrives to see Taylor will be spending the weekend with us.
Of course, Taylor doesn’t know that.
Taylor thinks she’ll have a few days to herself. She assumes I don’t know she defies me and hides out here on the weekends, parceling off just enough food from the mess hall so she won’t starve but not so much that someone would notice anything’s been taken.
I’ve wondered why she doesn’t leave. Any guy here would give her a lift home if she asked for one, and yet she doesn’t ask. She doesn’t impose. She stays here and she reads the books I keep bringing for her, titles I intentionally pick with her in mind.
