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“So meet me after.”
“I shouldn’t. I don’t really know how late we’ll go. Maybe Starr will be sensible for once in her life and prove me wrong.” I shrug, realizing that I just gave two conflicting answers.
“Then meet me for lunch before you go out.”
“Hudson,” I start to object.
“Come on. It’s lunch. We’ll catch up. I’ll have you back to your sister with plenty of time for your night of debauchery.” He holds his hands up in a pretty please gesture.
I chew on my bottom lip, knowing I probably shouldn’t say yes but also really, really wanting to. Before I can answer a tall blonde appears at the mouth of the hall not far from where we’re standing.
“Hudson, there you are. Come on, everyone’s waiting.” She crosses toward us, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah, I got him. Give me five.” She stops two feet from where we’re standing and ends the call.
I can’t help but look her over. She’s tall, thin, dressed in a tight pencil skirt, and ruffled cream blouse, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. I’d guess she’s in her late thirties and even though her expression says she just sucked on a lemon, it’s clear she’s very pretty.
“What the hell are you doing out here? Patrick is in there waiting.”
“Relax, J. A couple minutes isn’t going to kill him.” Hudson shakes his head.
“No, but that doesn’t meanhewon’t killme,” she clips, her eyes finally landing on me like she’s just now noticing I’m standing here.
“Who’s this?” She swivels toward me, her eyes giving me a long once over.
“J, this is Lennon. Lennon, my PR Manager Jane. J for short.”
“It’s nice to meet you, J,” I start but she immediately cuts me off.
“Yeah, yeah, you too.” Her tone is clipped and laced with frustration but it’s clear it has very little to do with me. “Seriously, Hudson, we have to go. It took me weeks to arrange this interview.”
“I’m coming.” He nods his head toward the hall she appeared from, gesturing for her to give him a second.
“You have one minute, Hudson. Or I swear to god I will drag you there by force,” she warns, spinning on her high heels before quickly stomping away.
“Ignore her. High strung as they come but if you can get her to calm down a little she’s actually not so bad.”
“I get it,” I say, even though I really don’t. “I guess I should let you get to it.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you agree to have lunch with me tomorrow.”
“Hudson.” I blow out a slow breath, trying to remind myself of all the reasons I shouldn’t.
“Come on. It’s just lunch.” He takes a step toward me and I instantly get a waft of his scent. Deep musk with a hint of sweat. The combination leaves me feeling a little light headed and a lot turned on. “Besides, you kind of owe me one after leaving me hanging the way you did.”
“I didn’t leave you hanging,” I argue.
“No?” He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a long moment, a small smile playing on his mouth. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“Well perhaps your memory isn’t that good,” I quip, having trouble fighting my own smile when his spreads into a full blown one. His entire face lights up.
“Lunch. We can work out the details later. Just say you’ll come.”
I feel my resolve waning, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t seem to resist him. Especially with the way he’s looking at me.
“Fine.” Rolling my eyes I cave, not able to say no despite how badly I wish I could. “But you’re paying, Mr. Hot Shot Country Star.” I reach out and shove playfully against his hard chest.
He catches my wrist mid-air and turns it upward, dropping his lips to my palm the same way he did that night five years ago.
“It’s the least I can do.” He looks up at me and winks before straightening his stance. “I haven’t touched a drink and yet I can feel the familiar burn of Tequila,” he murmurs more to himself than to me. I instantly recognize it as a lyric from the song he started his set with.
