“No, you.” I moan a little. “I said what I had to say. Your turn.”
“So, funny story,” he says. “But once again, I think you’ve beaten me to the punch.”
“I’m sorry I punched you, Hudson.”
“You can punch me again, if you want, if you’ll just say you love me again.” Water sloshes over the rim of the tub onto the floor as I roll onto my belly and wrap my arms around his neck. He sits us both up, and I drape my legs around him, rocking against him, slowly.
“Stop.” He groans. “It’s my turn to talk, and now you’re not making it easy for me.”
“Mmm …” My hips have a mind of their own, and they won’t stop grinding. He reaches around to grab my ass and makes me stop though.
“I don’t want either one of us to be underwater or incapacitated when I say this, Georgia. I want your full attention.”
“Say it already, then.” His efforts to literally bring me to a grinding halt have done little to quench my desire.
“I’m falling in love with you, too, Georgia Starr. And I really wish you’d let me go first. Because I had a whole plan.”
“I like this plan.” I smile coyly, sliding against him.
“This is exquisite torture. But it wasn’t the plan. I made you dinner, remember?”
“Dinner was your plan? In a mug?”
“Not just any dinner. Wait a minute. Don’t move a muscle.”
He’s up and out of the tub, and back, so quickly and lithely that he barely has time to drip on the tiles.
“You know what they say, Georgia.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it?” I guess, spying the mugful of my favorite comfort food.
“Truth.” Hudson smiles. “But I was thinking of another phrase. It goes more like this: ‘If you like it, then you better put a ring on it.’”
My mouth falls open. Hudson places the mug on the stool beside the tub.
“Are you kidding me? Are you proposing to me with pasta right now?”
“I guess so, in a way.” He laughs and lifts the spoon. “I’m proposing that we give this—us—a chance. What do you say?”
I’m speechless, so it’s just as well that my mouth is full of food. I swallow slowly.
“Look, I know it’s early days, but a not-so-wise man said something to me earlier today.”
“Who was that?” I manage to get out.
“It was Walker, of course. He said, ‘When you know, you know.’” Hudson reaches over, pulls a spaghetti ring from the mug, and raises it up to the light. I hold up my pinky finger, and he slips it on the tip.
“He does have a point.” I lift up my hand to admire the decoration, but Hudson leans forward to grab it and slurps it off, teasing between my fingers with his tongue.
“Hey, that was mine!” I protest.
“Mmm … I couldn’t resist,” he says, licking his lips.
“Later, Hater!” I push away from him and retrieve the mug of pasta from the stool, feeding myself another spoonful.
“I really thought you hated me,” he says. “Which was a problem, considering the way I was feeling about you.”
“I thought you hatedme!” I laugh.
