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The drive back to my apartment is quiet, but not in a bad way. The silence is comfortable. Hudson doesn’t rush the drive. He takes his time winding through Silver Spoon Falls, arm draped casually over the steering wheel, glancing at me now and then. By the time we reach my place, the sky’s a bruise-colored blue and the porch light at the front of my building is the only thing burning bright on the whole street.
My apartment is in a three-story brick walk-up. It’s small and crowded, but I like it. The steps creak under my feet as we climb to the landing. Hudson follows close, not crowding me, but close enough that I can feel the static of his presence sparking up my spine.
At my door, I dig for my keys, aware of him at my shoulder, quiet and patient. I unlock it, and before I can come up with a polite brush-off, I hear myself ask, “You want to come in?” My voice is even, zero tremor. I don’t know if I’m more surprised or relieved to find I actually mean it.
Hudson just nods and steps inside, taking up all the space even when he stands perfectly still. My apartment is clean, but small. Sparse furniture, cheap but chosen with intent, every piece exactly where I want it. There are my favorite art prints on the walls and a stack of battered paperbacks crowds my coffee table. The only light is a single lamp in the corner, casting a cone of gold over my secondhand couch.
He looks around, then at me, and says nothing. Just steps in and shuts the door behind him.
“I usually have a rule about not letting strange men into my home,” I say, toes digging into the welcome mat. “But you’ve passed all my tests so far.”
He grins and walks over to stand next to me. “I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart.” He shifts and the air snaps tight. He cups my jaw with one hand, gentle but decisive, and his thumb sweeps across my cheekbone.
“I want to kiss you more than I want my next breath,” he breathes out.
“Then kiss me.” I’m done fighting my feelings for him.
His kiss is nothing like last time. Not a heat-of-the-moment, hands-on-the-doorframe kind of kiss. This one is slow and deliberate, like he’s got all the time in the world and he’s going to use every second of it. I melt against him, my mouth opening on a sigh I don’t bother hiding. His other hand finds my hip and pulls me closer to his hard, muscular body
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, and the world narrows to that single point of contact. His breath is slow and steady.
“Tinsley,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t want to rush this.”
I nod, eyes closed. My hands are on his chest, fingers bunched in his shirt. I can feel the hard beat of his heart under my palm.
“I want you,” I admit. “But I don’t know how to do this.”
He smiles, barely there. “We’ll figure it out.”
He kisses me again, quick this time, and then he looks at me like he’s memorizing the moment.
“I’ll see you Monday? For the car?”
I can only nod, my throat too tight for anything else.
He’s halfway to the door when I say, “Hudson?”
He turns, hand on the knob.
“Thank you. For everything.”
He inclines his head, one hand braced against the door frame. “Thank you for letting me in. I’ll see you Monday.”
After he leaves, I lock the door behind him and sit on my couch, the imprint of his hands still on my skin, and listen to the soft tick of the wall clock.
I realize, for the first time in a long time, that I’m not scared of needing someone. Or of someone needing me.
CHAPTER NINE
HUDSON
I set my alarm for five-thirty, but I’m up at five. I lie there on the edge of the mattress, the ceiling above me already glowing a sickly pre-dawn blue. The ranch house is quiet except for the distant sound of a cattle truck shifting gears as it grinds down the county road. After downing a cup of coffee, I dress and head out to my truck. I spent all day yesterday missing Tinsley, and I can’t wait another second to see her.
I drive over to her apartment building and park in the shade. It kills me that she insists on coming out to meet me, but I wait impatiently for her to appear. She strolls out right on time, dressed for the heat. Pale blue T-shirt, black jeans, hair braided over one shoulder. As she walks to my truck, I hop out and rush around to open her door.
“Morning,” I whisper against her soft lips as I pull her curvy body close.
“Good morning,” she breathes as my lips cover hers. Before things get out of control on the busy Silver Spoon Falls street, I pull back and help her into the passenger seat.
