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I turn, my words getting lost in my throat when Hudson stops directly in front of me. Without any warning he pulls me into his arms, hugging me so tight you would think we were old friends and not two people who slept together one night a life time ago.
“Hudson,” I force out as he steps back, his eyes taking me in from head to toe.
“You never called.” He smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“I, uh, yeah. I lost your number,” I spit out the first excuse I can think of, feeling the heat instantly flood my face.
“You lost my number,” he says slowly, studying me.
“Yeah. You know me, I’m always losing things. Well, I guess you don’t know that about me. Anyway, you were incredible out there. I mean truly. So good.” I shake my head, trying to stop myself from rambling.
“Thanks.” His lips tip up and that damn dimple makes an appearance, doing funny things to my chest. I look away, realizing that Colton is no longer next to me.
“I didn’t know you were playing tonight,” I quickly continue. “In fact, I didn’t even know you were still playing,” I admit, because I feel like I need to keep talking for some reason. “Hudson James? I thought your last name was Demasi.”
Five years ago I was all cool and calm. Tonight I feel like I’m gonna vibrate out of my own skin from the nervous energy coursing through me.
“You remember my last name.” He smirks.
“You remembered mine.”
“Good point.” He chuckles low in his throat before answering the name question. “James is my middle name. I got signed about a year ago. My debut album dropped two weeks ago,” he offers several answers in one quick go.
“That’s incredible, Hudson. Truly. You definitely deserve it. When you said you were a musician I had no idea.” I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from saying more.
“So you’re in Nashville for a...” He eyes the front of my shirt, quirking an eyebrow. “Bachelorette party?” he finishes the statement.
“My sister’s,” I confirm.
“Starr.”
“You remember my sister’s name?”
“Kind of hard not to. Starr. With two Rs,” he repeats what I told him that night at the bar.
“Right.” I laugh to myself. “She’s forcing us to wear these shirts all weekend. It’s kind of ridiculous.”
“Not at all.” He smirks. “I think they’re nice.”
“You just like them because you can pretty much see right through them,” I counter.
“There she is.” He chuckles.
I lose myself in his eyes, in his smile, in the way he’s looking at me like I’m the sweetest damn thing he’s ever seen. It’s all too much and yet not enough.
I’m instantly transported back to the last time I was in Nashville, watching him kiss that girl like he hadn’t been in my bed days before. It’s irrational of me, just like it was the night it happened, but it doesn’t take away the sting I still feel when I think about it.
“How long are you in town for?” his question breaks into my thoughts.
“Oh. Uh. We leave Sunday morning.”
“Perfect. Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” His request catches me a little off guard.
“I can’t.” I hitch my finger toward my shirt. “Maid of honor duties and all.”
“What’s your plan?”
“My sister is determined to drink at least one drink at every bar on the main strip. Money says I’ll be carrying her back to the hotel by nine.”
