“Like you or anyone in your family can begin to identify with that issue.” I sneer. “And that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Let’s just speak plainly here, shall we? I know what you’re up to, Hudson Holm! I know you’ve been knocking off my clothes. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
I try to stand up in the booth, to even out our height difference, and I knock my plate. Xander scrambles to keep my drink from spilling, then places a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down into my seat.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, G?” he hisses in my ear.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hudson says. There’s a muscle twitching in his jaw. “But I assure you that if there is an issue about copyright for any of the items we’re producing, our legal team will be investigating it and getting to the bottom of it.”
“Oh, please, cut the act. Just pull up the Farm and Holm site.” I reach for the flip phone and open it, only to realize I’ve got phantom phone syndrome. I’m still feeling an Internet connection in my hand when there is none.
Hudson stares at the flip phone and raises an ironic eyebrow.
“Seriously? I think you’re going to have to find a dial-up connection to use with that thing,” he says.
“Pull it up on your phone, then. Every single one of the pet clothing designs on your site are obvious knockoffs of my line. It’s causing brand confusion.” I point at Emily. “Just yesterday, she couldn’t tell whether a suit she saw online was yours or mine. I had to set her straight.”
Emily shrinks back into her seat, and I apologize for putting her on the spot. She shrugs.
“It’s true,” she says.
Hudson speaks cooly. “These are some pretty serious accusations you are making. Like I said, if there’s been some sort of issue, our team will definitely want to look into it. But in the meantime, how can I be sure your line isn’t a knockoff of OUR stuff?”
“Because my stuff isn’t crap!” I growl back at him.
“Well, I’d sure hope not. Not at those prices,” Hudson says. His thigh is still pressed hotly against mine, but I refuse to give up any ground. “Just a tip … maybe if you focused on producing something that could scale, you could sell more stuff. You wouldn’t have to charge so much.”
“You think I should just give up on earning a living wage? Maybe I should skimp on materials like you do? Or maybe you think shelter pets and people like me don’t deserve nice things?” My claws are on full display now. “Listen, Mr. Cashmere sweater collection, I’m not going to apologize to you for caring about quality. You can stick your silver spoon—”
“So just to be clear,” Hudson interrupts, “you’re saying you don’t want to use the event space, free of charge, no strings attached? Am I hearing that correctly? Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
Kenna’s head is in her hands. And Emily is still biting her lip, eyes wide, glued to the scene I have caused.
Xander looks horrified. “Nonsense. Of course we want the space. And I’m happy to come to Lilly’s party. Let me talk to my sister. I’m sure we can all work this out.”
“Great. That’s settled. It’s a go, then,” Hudson says. “Oh, and I spoke to Jackson last night. Thanks for tapping him, Emily. He had to teach today, but he said he’s down to livestream the entire event. That should open it up to a much broader audience”—Hudson turns to me, speaking slowly and enunciating as if I need extra time to process—“which will be great for the shelter pets.”
Kenna begins to clap her hands when she hears this, then looks at me. The ice lasers coming out of my eyes are enough to pause her hands in midair before they can connect again. She glances down and places her hands in her lap.
Hudson slides lithely and quickly out of the booth. “I honestly think this will benefit all of us and our mutual goals.” He smiles warmly at everyone, but his knowing eyes stay glued on mine and only narrow slightly when he says, “Let’s stay in touch.”
hudson
I’m not adequately preparedfor this.
Sure, I’d braced myself for this meeting with Georgia today. I suspected she’d be less than cordial upon figuring out who I am—Hudson of the cursed Holm clan, brother of Bryce, the dog hater, evil landlord, and all that. But I am not physically ready to be crammed into a booth beside her. Not just beside her. Against her.
Our bodies are touching, hip to knee. Some of this is inevitable. I wasn’t built for tiny diner booths. My size tends to turn these seating arrangements into much more intimate encounters. But this is more. This is a battle. She isn’t just touching me. Georgia ispressingher thigh against me. Is she marking her territory, or is she trying to get rid of me? She’s ticking against me like a time bomb that’s about to explode.
Why is she so pissed off at me, exactly? I’ve never done anything to her. Farm & Holm isn’t perfect, but we’re not exactly evil either. And I’m not my brother’s keeper. She’s so damn mad. Possibly the crazy kind as well as the angry kind. So why am I so turned on by her again?
Dammit. Damn her. I steal tiny looks at her between pleasantries.
Georgia Starr is wild-eyed and ferocious-looking today. Dangerously gorgeous. No makeup besides that red lipstick. Her hair’s a mess, but that tousled look suits her personality perfectly. Nobody tells Georgia Starr’s hair what to do. Meanwhile, the baggy sweater may be hiding her curves, but her jeans … the way her tight jeans are clinging to her thighs makes it difficult for me to focus. There’s an embroidered vine snaking up her leg that disappears under her sweater. I want to reach under there, run my fingers along its path, and see where it ends.
I know I won’t sleep well tonight. I’ll be replaying this scene in this booth over and over again in my head.
Is she really accusingmeof knocking her off?
“How do I knowyouhaven’t knocked off our designs?” I fire back.
