Page 34 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
"How old were you?"
"Nineteen when I prospected. Twenty when I patched in." He rubs a hand over his beard. "It wasn't all bad at first. We did charity runs, helped some local businesses with security. But over time, things changed. Got darker."
"And that's when you wanted out?"
"Silvie was born," he says simply. "Held her in my arms and knew I couldn't raise her in that life. Took another couple years to make the break clean, but I never looked back."
The raw honesty in his voice touches something deep inside me. "Thank you for telling me that."
He nods, then surprises me with a question of his own. "Your father. Why does he drink so much?"
Now it's my turn to tense. "That's complicated."
"We've got time," he says gently.
I sigh, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. "It got worse after Mom died. But I think it started before that.He worked for the sheriff's department, and there's been this massive corruption investigation since Sheriff Jones died."
"I've heard rumors," Hudson nods.
"Dad blames himself for not speaking up sooner about what he knew. I think he feels like he's constantly letting Mom down by not being braver."
Hudson's expression darkens. "So he drowns his guilt in booze while neglecting his daughter. That's not grief, that's selfishness."
"He wasn't always like this," I defend automatically, then pause. "But you're right. It is selfish."
"If I lost someone I loved," Hudson says quietly, "I'd hold tighter to those still with me, not push them away."
The simple truth of his statement makes my eyes sting. "That's what I never understood. How he could love her so much but seem to forget I existed."
"Some men don't know how to handle pain except to numb it," Hudson says. "Doesn't make it right."
"No," I agree softly. "It doesn't."
Our eyes meet across the space between us, and something shifts in the atmosphere. Hudson's gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes, a question in them.
"Violet," he says, my name almost a sigh.
"Yes?" My voice is barely a whisper.
"It's our wedding night," he says, the words sending a shiver down my spine.
"It is," I agree, my heart pounding.
"Would it be completely inappropriate if I wanted to kiss my wife right now?"
The formal phrasing makes me smile despite my nervousness. "I think that would be completely appropriate, husband."
He moves slowly, giving me time to change my mind, but I meet him halfway. Our lips touch, soft and questioning at first, then with growing confidence. Unlike our courthouse kiss, this one isn't for show. It's just for us, unhurried and exploratory.
I sink into it, my hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. His hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek with surprising gentleness for such a large man.
The kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against mine, drawing a small sound of pleasure from me that seems to embolden him. His hand slides from my face to my neck, then lower, hesitantly skimming the side of my breast through my tank top.
My body tenses involuntarily at the intimate touch, and Hudson immediately pulls back, concern in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out, embarrassed by my reaction. "I just... it's been a while."
"No apologies needed," he says, moving back to give me space. "We can stop."
