Page 4 of Amelia and Her Prince Charming
“Oh,” I breathed out. “That makes sense.” Even I knew not to mess with momma animals.
He pushed his body up so he hovered over me. He studied my face slowly, that gaze of his always taking in more than I wanted him to. Was he seeing the dark circles under my eyes? The stress lines around my mouth? Of course he was. The real question I wanted answered: What conclusion had he come to?
“You’ve always got to make an entrance, don’t you?” I asked, sounding more breathless than I’d intended.
He snapped out of whatever reverie he’d been in. He pulled himself up to sit beside me in a bed of trash bags. He offered me a hand and tugged me up beside him.
“How’s Winterhaven been so far?” he asked.
I looked around at the rancid trash and then down to my bare feet. “It’s treating me well.”
His lips twitched in an almost smile, and victory zinged through me. He tipped his head back against the wall of the bin. I could see his pulse still racing in his neck. “I’ve lived here my entire life, and a moose has never once charged me.”
“Good thing I’m here to give you new experiences, then.”
“Good thing,” he repeated, his voice sounding strained.
In every way that Shiloh had been outgoing and playful, Hudson was serious, reserved, and so delightfully dry. It made teasing him way too much fun. And when I managed to get a reaction from him, it felt like the biggest win.
You would think that we wouldn’t be such good friends with a dynamic like that, but since we’d met in our college Freshman English class, we’d clicked. Jane and Lizzy. Delicious bread and gluten. Lists and the Oxford comma.
He tilted his head toward me. “But if you could cool it with close animal encounters for the next couple of weeks, I’d appreciate it.”
“No promises,” I said. “And you’re welcome for giving you the opportunity to be a hero.”
He scowled, but I saw the glint of humor in his eyes.
“Do you think it’s gone?” I asked, afraid to peer over the edge and see it glaring at me. I might talk a lot of smack for someone my size, but I had zero desire to go toe-to-hoof with a moose again.
He stood and scanned the forest behind the restaurant. “It’s gone, but probably not far if its babies are anywhere nearby.”
“So, we'll sleep here tonight, then?” I said, only half-kidding.
“Yep. At least we won’t go hungry.” He motioned to the split open trash bags where flies buzzed around creamy pasta that smelled like it had turned hours ago.
My stomach lurched. “Too far, Hudson.”
“My apologies,” he said dryly. “I should never joke about gluten.”
“It was insensitive, and I’m offended.”
“I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” He paused as if deep in thought. “I know! I’ll save you from getting stomped on by a moose.”
“Meh. Already been done. You’ll need to go bigger.”
He grinned, the full one that made me feel like sunshine was lighting up inside of me. It had been way too long since I’d seen that smile.
We settled into a comfortable silence, the kind I only ever seemed to manage with Hudson. With everyone else, I felt compelled to fill any quiet with chatting, but with him, I could take a deep breath and just exist.
I was so happy to gain him as a brother when I married Shiloh, but then Hudson started med school right after the wedding, and for so long, we were lucky to see him in person once or twice a year.
Then Shiloh died two years ago, and Hudson saved me. He moved to Montana and worked nights at a local hospital. But during the day, he cooked and made sure my bills got paid and registered Quinn for preschool and encouraged me to wash my hair at least every other week and did a million other things I didn’t notice and couldn’t care about at the time. He kept our lives functioning until I awoke from the sleepy haze of acute grief six months later. Then he went back to his life in Alaska, and things at home weren’t the same without him.
“Where’s Quinn?” Hudson asked.
“Inside the restaurant with Dylan, Bret, and Gage wrapped around her tiny finger.”
“We’re all completely helpless in the face of such cuteness.” He knew as well as I did that they would protect my five-year-old daughter with their lives. Dylan, Bret, and Gage had played hockey with my late-husband and had been his best friends. A relationship they took seriously, even this long after his death.
