“No!” I shout, dropping the phone. “No, no, no. No fucking way!”
“Yes way.”
“You cannot. You don’t even have a cat.”
“That’s actually a long story,” Hudson says.
“And this is how you tell me?” I reach out and poke him in the chest. Hard.
Actually, it’s a pretty nice way to tell me, all things considered. But I’m not sure how I feel about it. Or him. Though his chest really is nice.
“I know it’s not ideal, but honestly, I didn’t know how else to break it to you, Georgia. You clearly hated me the minute you found out who I was.”
“How long have you known?” I ask.
“Not long. Just since Saturday night.”
“Saturday night?” I ask. “How? Was it something I said?” I don’t recall mentioning Cookie or the Petfluencer Challenge at all.
“It was your tattoo.” Hudson catches my hand and turns it over, rubbing the tattoo gently. His touch sends shivers to all the right places.
“So, you weren’t only buying my pet costumes to knock them off …” I muse. “Let me see that photo of Oliver again?”
Hudson whips out his phone and pulls it up. “Listen, the phone’s not a big deal for me, and I know this challenge is important to you. You can’t do it without the phone. And I don’t think Oliver can do it without Cookie.”
“You tagged me from the Farm & Holm account.”
“Not me, the social team. It was just a suggestion. They loved Cookie’s feed. There’s other stuff in the box, too, by the way.”
“If you think this is getting you off the hook …” I step out from behind the counter just as Hudson moves forward, and once again, we’re blocking each other’s way.
“Like what?” I ask, moving left. He moves sideways at the exact same moment, continuing to block me. I’m so close I can see his stubble. So close I can smell him.
“Some stuff for the phone.” Hudson holds up his hands as we step sideways again, still squaring off.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” I ask.
“No.” He laughs. “Scouts honor. I’m just going to stay right here until you say it’s safe to move.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Maybe it’s the smell of him. Maybe it’s the nearness. Maybe it’s the revelation that he’s been Oliver all along. Anger, wonder, and confusion. Something in me is crumbling. I can’t continue to hold up this barrier. I’m shaking with the strain of it.
I want to keep hating him so much. But I can’t.
“I also brought you more Band-Aids,” he says, pulling a handful of colorful bandages from his pocket.
I break.
I slap at the wall, flipping off the lights. Darkness gives me the element of surprise. Then I take two steps back for momentum and fly at him in the dark, shoving him backward toward the wall.
He doesn’t see it coming, but he also doesn’t resist me. Is it three steps or ten? I don’t even know. We’re tumbling together, and physics have stopped making sense. There’s just a throbbing beat, quick and slow at the same time. Somehow, we both hear it because we’re moving together in perfect sync. Back, back, back until he slams against the mural wall, pinned there.
He pulls me against himself, groaning, and I can tell I’ve made an impression. A big one. I can feel his need.
“What are you doing, Georgia?” he whispers, leaning down to breathe me in. My hands slide under his sweatshirt, palms grazing the smooth skin of his chest. He sucks in a breath as my fingers glide across his chest and over his nipples, causing my own nipples to sting and harden in response.
“Exactly what I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw you.” I shock myself with the raw honesty of these words.
