Page 5 of Amelia and Her Prince Charming
We were in Winterhaven for Dylan’s wedding. He’d professed to want something simple and small with their closest friends and family, but between Dylan’s hockey fame and his fiance, Rosie’s, famous sister-in-law, Winterhaven had enticed eager gossip reporters to come cover the wedding and interview the guests.
Including me.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sleep in here tonight if it meant dodging the persistent reporter from Hot Goss Magazine.
I leaned back against a trash bag and used my arms to make a pillow behind my head.
His gaze narrowed in on me. “Why do you look like you’re getting more comfortable?”
“Make the best of things. That’s always been my motto.”
“I thought your motto was: Everything tastes better with Nutella.”
That was the problem with people who knew you so well. You couldn’t make up new mottos on the spot to fit the situation. “Eating Nutella does make the best of things.”
He slow-blinked in protest. He hated Nutella. And chocolate. And most sugar-based foods, the psychopath. Man, I’d missed him.
“Okay, up and at ’em.” He held out his hand to tug me out of the sinking grasp of trash. “The moose is gone, and I’m uncomfortable with how willing you are to sleep here.”
“I’m comfortable with making you uncomfortable.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he muttered, which made me laugh. I let him pull me to my feet and help me escape the trash can—no easy feat in my tight skirt. I finally made him close his eyes while I hiked the fabric up around my waist, slung a leg over the side, and dropped to the ground.
“How does my hair smell?” I asked him as I readjusted the skirt around my thighs. He tore his gaze away from my ringless left hand, an unreadable expression on his face. Would he think it was disloyal that I’d taken off my ring? I held my breath, waited for what he would say, but he only leaned close and sniffed my head exaggeratedly.
“It smells like happiness.”
“Like garlic bread?”
“Yep.”
“Hey, I need a real hug.” I tucked myself into his side before he could become awkward like he sometimes did and keep me at a literal arm’s length. “It’s been too long.”
“Agreed.” His arm tugged tighter around me. My ear was pressed into the side of his chest, right by his heart. I loved Hudson’s side hugs. They were the personification of a heated blanket on a freezing day.
“Thanks for always being a great friend,” I said into his sweater.
He stepped back with a nod and focused on brushing the remaining trash from his pants. “Anytime,” he said. “Should we head in?”
I nodded. Back into the trenches. But with Hudson at my side, the prospect didn’t seem quite as daunting as before.
Chapter 3
Hudson
Acheereruptedwhenwe walked inside Icy Asps after our interaction with the moose.
“Uncle Hudson!” The excited squeal was my only warning before a tiny body launched itself from a chair and into me. Quinn’s arms went around my neck and her legs around my waist like the perfect little barnacle.
I hugged my five-year-old niece tightly and nuzzled her neck with a bear-like growl. She giggled from deep in her belly and said, “You’re smelly.”
“I missed you too.” I tickled her sides, and she clung even tighter to me, despite her claim that I smelled. “Well, hanging out in a dumpster with your mom will do that.”
“Hey!” Amelia lightly smacked my arm as she laughed. “It was life or death. And the death of my shoes for sure.” She looked regretfully at her bare feet.
“Hudson saved you?” Quinn asked.
“Yes. As usual.” Amelia gave me a soft smile that was like a punch in the gut because it didn’t mean what I wished it meant.
