Page 24 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
Just when I think he might actually kiss me, Hudson reaches for the whiskey bottle, his arm bumping his empty glass. It tips over, knocking into my water glass, which spills directly onto my chest.
I gasp as the ice water soaks through my blouse, the sudden cold making me jump.
"Shit!" Hudson curses, grabbing for a dish towel. "I'm so sorry."
He reaches out with the towel, then freezes as he realizes where the majority of the water has landed—right across my breasts. His face flushes red as his hands hover awkwardly, torn between helping and backing away.
"Here," he thrusts the towel at me instead, averting his eyes. "God, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so... so..."
"Nervous?" I suggest, dabbing at my wet shirt.
"I'm not nervous," he protests automatically, then sighs. "Yeah, okay. Nervous. Like a fucking teenager." He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know what it is about you, Goldie."
The nickname makes my stomach flutter. "It's okay, Hudson," I say softly, boldly reaching out to take his hand. "I feel it too. This... thing between us."
His eyes meet mine, dark and intense. "There can't be a 'thing,'" he says, though his fingers tighten around mine. "This has to be professional."
"Strictly business," I agree, even as I feel myself leaning toward him again.
"For the girls," he murmurs, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face.
"Of course," I whisper, my heart racing. "Just to get custody."
"VIOLET!" Lucy's voice shatters the moment as she calls down from upstairs. "I FOUND THE PERFECT BOOK!"
Hudson drops his hand and steps back as if burned. He clears his throat. "You'd better go up. She'll keep shouting until you do."
I nod, trying to collect myself. "Right. The story."
"We can... continue this discussion after," he says, not quite meeting my eyes.
"I'd like that," I tell him, heading for the stairs.
I pause at the bottom step and look back at him. "For what it's worth, Hudson, I understand the stakes. I know how important this is to you and your girls. I'm not afraid of what this arrangement would entail, even without the..." I gesture vaguely between us, "physical aspects."
His eyes darken again. "And if I said I wanted to revisit that particular aspect at a later date?"
A thrill runs through me. "I'd say that's definitely a point we could discuss," I answer boldly, holding his gaze.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Go read to my kid, Goldie. Before she wakes the whole mountain with her shouting."
I climb the stairs with a smile of my own, my wet shirt forgotten.
I pullinto our driveway just after ten, my mind spinning with everything that happened at Hudson's. My lips still tingle from how close we came to kissing, and my skin feels electric. Three days ago, I was drowning in worry about losing Mom's house. Now I'm contemplating marriage to a mountain man with three daughters.
Life comes at you fast, as they say.
The house is dark except for the blue glow of the TV in the living room. I find Dad sprawled on the couch, empty beer bottles scattered across the coffee table. He doesn't stir when I close the door, but I know he's not fully asleep—his breathing isn't deep enough.
"I'm home," I announce, flipping on the lamp.
He grunts, squinting against the sudden light. "Bout time."
I start gathering the empty bottles, trying not to let my irritation show. Four months behind on the mortgage, and he's still drinking away what little money we have left. If Mom could see this...
"I've made a decision," I say, dumping the bottles into the recycling bin with more force than necessary. "About the house."
This gets his attention. He pushes himself upright, running a hand over his stubbled face. "What decision?"
