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Her whole body looks relieved, and she nods. “Yes.”

“You’re in guesthouse five?”

She nods again.

“Okay, I’ll go get some drinks and meet you there.”

Erin blinks once. “Yeah, okay.” She walks in the opposite direction of the fire pit, toward the guest houses, and I head toward my house.

There’s more alcohol in the main lodge, but I don’t want to take the chance that I’ll run into Leo and Asher and they’ll ask why I’m going anywhere with two glasses. They would give me shit about it even if they don’t have any right to.

This is probably a bad idea. Scratch that, it is an extremely bad idea. But I’m beyond caring at the moment. Erin is beautiful and interesting, and I want to know more about her. If anything else happens, then so be it. Never an expectation, of course, but the thought crosses my mind. Either way, she needs something other than a group of drunks right now.

Here we go.

3

Erin

God, it’s probably stupid to agree to this. I’ve found that trying to drink your sorrows away doesn’t usually end well. But one drink isn’t going to kill me, and there’s no chance that I’m going to turn down a drink with Hudson—the hottest man on the planet.

No matter that my mind is swimming in sadness again because I remember why I’m working at the clinic and not getting ready to go back to school. Hudson will be a beautiful distraction.

My parents did the kindness of getting me my own guest cabin so I don’t have to stay with them or with any of their friends. It’s a cute little house with one bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room. This place makes me want to come back here and stay longer without my parents. It’s the perfect place to get away.

There’s a fireplace here, and on an impulse, I start a fire. It’s not great—I don’t have a lot of experience starting fires—but they left good kindling, and within minutes it’s crackling merrily.

Maybe this is as good as sitting on the couch at home with Netflix.

Only minutes later there’s a soft knock at the door, and suddenly my heart is pounding in my chest. He’s here, and when I open the door my eyes see nothing but him. I hadn’t noticed that he was in casual clothes at the barn and not hiking gear, but I notice now. And the way the Henley sticks to his skin and shows off every inch of muscle is fucking fantastic. Jeans that fit him perfectly and make me wonder how delicious he looks walking away.

As he brushes past me, I realize that I didn’t turn on any lights other than the fireplace. The whole atmosphere is much more romantic than I intended. I’m not exactly mad about it. But I wonder what he’s thinking right now.

Hudson has a bottle of whiskey and two glasses that he puts on the coffee table. “Sorry,” he says, that rich as chocolate voice brushing across my skin. “This was all I had.”

“That’s okay.” I clear my throat, trying to make my voice less breathy. “I like whiskey just fine.”

He chuckles. “Woman after my own heart.”

I curl into the corner of the couch, somehow comfortable enough to do that, and he pours us each a glass. The warmth of the whiskey is comforting. He pours himself one too, leaning back on the couch and slinging his arm over the back of it like he was born to be there.

Silence.

It’s both awkward and not. I feel like I should say something, but at the same time the quiet with the crackling fire is nice. We both sip our whiskey.

“So you pretended that you were having a great time here?” He asks softly.

“I did.”

“Is it everything you hoped for, now that you’re really here?”

I smile. “I was thinking while I was waiting that this would really be the best place to get away for a while. When I’m not here with my parents, of course.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be able to take the time to come back.”

“Maybe.” Another sip. “Though I really am sorry about them. I had no idea that they would end up…like that.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “They’re definitely not the worst that we’ve had. Though I have to say that when you showed up with them yesterday, I was surprised. Doesn’t seem like your crowd.”

“It’s not really.” I hesitate. I already told him the truth once earlier. Should I tell him again? Hudson—basically a stranger—didn’t sign up to hear all of my drama when he asked me to have a drink with him. But the way that he’s looking at me right now makes my tongue loosen a bit. Though that could be the alcohol, too.

Fuck it. I do work too hard. And I don’t have anyone to talk to about it besides my parents, and if I did talk to them about it, I would only get scolded for keeping things from them. But they were also so disgustingly supportive of me in every aspect that I can’t vent to them. I can’t bitch or let anything out. Not really.

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