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He squinted, wishing he had his reading glasses, though the black ink was in neat lines.
Hey!. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m a baker, so this is my way of saying hi and if you need to borrow a cup of sugar, you know where to find it. Hope the move in went smoothly, and if you need to know where all the good stores are, I’m your man. Take care. -P
Hudson reared back. This was a hard no. A hardhellno. He wasn’t going to become besties with some baker who wanted to give a fucking muffin basket to strangers. That was the exact kind of person he wanted to avoid.
Rolling back in, Hudson went to the nearest box labeled office and began to rummage through it. He crumpled up the post-it, then found a sticky note pad and a sharpie, and quickly scribbled back a response.
Not interested.
Simple and to the point. He attached his note to the muffin plate, then set it on the side table and moved to the sofa so he could enjoy his meal. He did everything in his power not to think about the neighbor—and how he was young, and good looking, and normally Hudson’s type.
He was in no position now to be any kind of anything to a person like that. Someone kind for the sake of being kind. Or maybe a creepy stalker, he reminded himself. He knew better than to assume these days.
The burrito quickly distracted him from the rest of his thoughts, and then the show on ice fishing did the rest. He had his legs propped up and his heavy blanket on, and it wasn’t long before he found himself slipping into a much-needed nap.
A loud thudding noise of something heavy hitting the wall dragged Hudson from his sleep. He sat up with a startled gasp and threw his legs over the sofa to stand up. Or, well, he tried. It had been years now, but every now and again he still attempted to fly out of bed when something scared him, and it almost always ended with him landing in a huge heap on the floor.
This time, he managed to catch himself with a string of nasty swears, glancing up through his shaggy hair that badly needed a cut. Eli stood there—in all his broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed glory—arms over his chest, his expression vaguely amused.
“What the hell?” Hudson growled, pushing himself up to sit. He wriggled his toes and turned his ankles in a circle to try and get as much feeling to return as possible. “Jesus, I thought you were breaking into my house. I almost floored you!”
Eli snorted. “The fuck did you think you were going to actually do to me, bud?”
“Tackle you, sit on your face, and suffocate you with my ass cheeks,” Hudson muttered. He shifted to the edge of the sofa cushion and attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Four,” Eli told him.
That checked out with the way the street was kind of pale from the late afternoon fog. They never got it as bad as Fog Alley in San Francisco, but they got the edges of it nearly every day in Seaport. Hudson had moved there with his family when he was sixteen, but almost three decades later, he still hadn’t adjusted to the dim afternoons.
Rolling his neck on his shoulders, he gave his cheeks a quick slap as Eli began to wander around the room. He felt silently judged, though he knew his friend wouldn’t be that much of an asshole about how long it was taking him to unpack.
Eli had tried to convince Hudson to let the moving company unpack things since they had the service and he could afford it, but he wasn’t ready to give up that much of his independence. Maybe when he was old and every one of his bones were arthritic and weak, he’d consider it.
But for now, he could damn-well do it himself. Even if it took a month.
“Stop,” he said, groping for the watery soda he had left from his meal. It tasted like shit, but it soothed his dry throat. “I’ll get to it eventually.”
Eli rolled his eyes, then passed the little curio table where he stopped and stared down at the plate of muffins. “What the fuck are these? Did you bake?”
“Hellno. Those are from my neighbor,” Hudson grumbled. He sat back and lolled his head against the cushion so he could see out the window. The fog was heavier than usual, and he was glad he’d gone home early.
Eli frowned down at the plate. “Your neighbor sent you muffins with a note that says not interested? What the hell did you offer him?”
Hudson sat up straight. “No. That’s whatIwrote. That fucker thinks he can just leave muffins on my doorstep like it’s nineteen-fifty-seven. He even told me I could borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Wow,” Eli said dryly, “what a sociopath.”
Hudson flipped him off, then eyed his walker and quickly grabbed it, tugging it close. It slammed against the edge of the table, but he didn’t care. The rubber grips were firm under his hands, and he stood up with an eager desperation. He’d need to piss soon, and he wanted to be up on his feet.
His body ached as it stretched properly, and he could immediately feel his feet start to plump up, but he didn’t care. It was heaven. “You don’t have to hang out,” he said as he took his slow, shuffling steps toward the little hallway. “I’m not exactly great company right now.”
Eli sighed. “When are you ever? But I actually have a fuckton of work to get done, so I might take off.”
Hudson nodded and waved him off, pausing when he reached the hall arch, and looked over his shoulder. “Could you drop that plate back off next door?”
Eli frowned. “You wantmeto return your neighbor’s gift with that asshole note?”
Hudson shrugged. “Why not? I’m not going to eat them, and I don’t want him to think we’re going to be friends.”
