Page 33 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
"Which side do you prefer?" he asks, voice rough.
"I usually sleep on the left," I admit.
"Perfect. I take the right."
Another small compatibility that shouldn't please me as much as it does.
I slip under the covers on my side, the bed so large there's a good two feet between us. "This is a really comfortable mattress."
"Memory foam," he says, setting his book aside. "Got it when I built the house."
"You really built this entire place yourself?"
He nods, a hint of pride in his expression. "Every board, every nail. Took almost two years."
"That's incredible, Hudson." I prop myself up on one elbow, genuinely impressed. "Most men can barely hang a picture frame straight."
A small chuckle escapes him, the sound warming me. "I've always been good with my hands."
The innocent statement takes on new meaning in the intimacy of our shared bed. My cheeks flush, and I see his ears redden slightly.
"I should turn out the light," he says, reaching for the lamp.
"Wait," I blurt out. "Can we talk for a bit? I don't think I'll sleep right away."
He hesitates, then settles back against the headboard. "Sure."
"Tell me about your work schedule," I suggest, needing something neutral to focus on. "So I know what to expect."
"I'm usually out of the house by seven, back by five," he explains. "But I have some flexibility. Hunter & Co. is pretty understanding about family needs."
"That's good," I nod. "And what will my responsibilities be while you're at work?"
"You don't have any obligations to me, Violet," he says firmly. "This is your home now too. Do whatever you want during the day."
"I meant with the girls," I clarify. "When they're here."
His expression softens. "I only get them on weekends for now. And since it's Christmas break, they don't have school to worry about." He shrugs. "Usually they sleep in, then it's breakfast, some TV time, maybe outdoor activities if the weather's good. Nothing complicated."
"I can handle weekend activities and cooking," I offer. "I love to cook, so meals won't be a problem."
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to," I interrupt. "That's why I'm here, right? To help create a stable home for them."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Thank you."
We fall silent again, but it's more comfortable now. I fidget with the edge of the blanket, gathering courage for a more personal question.
"Hudson? Can I ask you something about your past? With the MC?"
His body tenses slightly, but he nods. "I guess that would be fair, given the circumstances."
"Why did you join in the first place?"
He's quiet for a long time, and I worry I've overstepped. But then he sighs, shifting to face me more directly.
"I was young. Stupid. Looking for family, I guess. My dad died when I was sixteen, mom worked three jobs to keep us afloat. The club offered brotherhood, purpose, protection."
