Page 18 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
"That's my girl," Ivy says approvingly. "Now go home and put on something that says 'I'm your sexy as hell future wife but also appropriate to wear around children.'"
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. "Any other advice?"
"Just be yourself," Ivy says seriously. "That's who those girls responded to today. And I have a feeling that's who Hudson is responding to as well, whether he wants to admit it or not."
As I drive home to prepare for dinner, I can't help but wonder if this crazy plan might actually work—not just to save Mom's house, but to create something new and unexpected.
CHAPTER FIVE
HUDSON
We’ve been back home for over three hours now. Physically, I’ve been running around, cleaning after the girls, entertaining them, breaking up arguments, navigating Silvie’s mood, and prepping spaghetti. Mentally? I have to force myself to be attentive and push away all thoughts about that wildflower angel whose scent won’t leave me.
I love my youngest, but damn it, she is relentless and doesn’t even know how much she’s contributing to her father’s torture. When Violet drove away last night, I determined to avoid her existence until her sunflower demeanor erases from my mind and body.
Sanford wasn’t even phased by my bad mood last night when I called to curse him out. The fucker was elated.
“Don’t you see? This is so much better,” he enthused. “Only you, Hudson, would ignore a pot of gold in front of you as you piss on the rainbow it’s attached to.”
“She’s young, Sanford. Really fucking young,” I growled.
“Like, underage, child-bride young?”
I hate this guy sometimes. “No. But twenty-two is still much younger than me,” I tried to reason. In truth, I wanted to drill that into my own head last night to justify my need not to give in to those thoughtful blue eyes that saw too much.
The rest of the conversation was a useless back and forth, where Sanford thinks bypassing Ever After Mountain Match could be a better option for the case. Not having time to keep arguing, I rushed him off and got back to my girls.
Now, I’m here, replaying every look, every smile, the small touches I couldn’t avoid, and the rush of static electricity that turned my body into live-wire buzzing. The thing I can’t avoid is the memory of how she spoke to the girls. How she smiled and engaged with them. She even handled Silvie like a pro.
My phone buzzes from the kitchen counter. It’s a quarter to seven. Why is Kristy calling? She never checks in on the girls when they’re with me.
“Yeah,” I answer, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear while I drain the fat from the cooked ground beef.
“Hello to you too,” Krista sasses.
She never gives a shit about how I answer. “What do you want?”
“For fuck’s sake, Viper, don’t I deserve some respect for popping out–”
“Don’t call me that again.” My voice is low and vibrates, my skin crawling with her having the audacity to use my old road name. “You know that’s not who I am anymore.”
Her heavy sigh is dramatic. “You’re so sensitive today. Are you on your period? Is this how you're acting with the girls?”
“Kristy, I’m in the middle of cooking for our daughters. What is this call about? You never call during my visits.”
She scoffs. “And this shit is why I fucking hate you sometimes. Is this the kind of shit you’re telling your bigwig lawyer to tell the judge? You’re not going to take them away fromme, Hudson. Stop draining whatever money you hid from me all these years and give it up.”
Yeah. The first time she drove up to the finished house I built for my family, she lost her shit in the front yard. Thankfully, I’m far from any neighbors. She demanded more money for child support. My lawyer shut that request down real quick. I used to send the girls separately an allowance, until Angie let slip that her mother was taking that too.
Now, I keep the money for them in piggy banks, each with their name on it, and they can spend it when they’re with me.
“Again, the purpose of this call was for?” I steer us away from the usual fight. Glancing at the oven time, I have ten minutes before Violet shows.
“Listen, I need you to keep the girls until Monday night,” Kristy says, with attitude, mind you.
I pause, equally happy to have them longer but also suspicious.
“Everything okay?” I ask. My gut tells me this might be some bullshit she’s pulling, but I try to give her the benefit of the doubt.
