Page 54 of Lucky Laces
“You saw the email from operations?”he asks.
Hudson looks back.“Yeah.”
“Good.The schedule will be a little off for a bit, but we’ll be back on track soon.And if your leg is up for it and Doc clears it, we’d like you to travel with the team on the road trip.”
“Okay.”
Jean-Michel glances over to me, something in his bright blue eyes I can’t read.
Or maybe don’twantto read.
Then he looks at Hudson.“Well, that’s everything on my list.”He flicks his stare down to his watch.“I’ll leave you two to discuss the details.”
My mouth drops open.
This wasn’t the plan when Jean-Michel showed up on my doorstep to check in on me.We were supposed to look in on Hudson, make sure he knew how thankful we were for the wholesavingme thing (and maybe also for the whole giving me the best orgasm of my life thing, though Jean-Michel didn’t know that part) then discuss logistics for the next couple of weeks.
But before I can formulate any of that, my boss tosses me a long, unreadable look, tosses a goodbye over his shoulder, and walks right out of Hudson’s front door.
Eighteen
Hudson
Her face would becomical if?—
Hell, who am I kidding?
Itiscomical.
And beautiful.
Then the softclickof the front door closing jars us both out of our stunned silence.
Diana reacts first.“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
My brows flick up.“About what?”
Pink on her cheeks, her eyes sliding away.
“My leg?”I say, pushing off the island and moving toward her, the stitches barely pulling now.Or maybe it’s that I’m feeling nothing even close to pain.Not now that she’s in my house, myemptyhouse.“You’ve already apologized for that.”
Teeth pressing into her bottom lip.“I know.I just—” A breath, and I watch her shake herself, try to focus.
Yeah, I don’t want that.
I like her befuddled.
I step closer…then closer still, not stopping until my socked feet are brushing the tops of her shoes.“You just what?”
“Jean-Michel and I showed up on your porch without warning.”
I shrug.“It’s not the first time one of the guys from the team has randomly shown up on my doorstep.”I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.“Did he call and make arrangements?Or just appear on yours too?”Taking advantage of our closeness, I lean in, inhale the scent of her.“You smell like apples.”
“It’s my shampoo—” She blushes.“Wait, what?”
I don’t bring up the whole my sniffing her thing, just shift a little closer so that the foot separating us turns into just a few inches.“Did Jean-Michel randomly show up on your porch or did he call and give you a warning first?”
A beat, her eyes warm and liquid on mine, her mouth curving.“He just showed.”
