Love Signals: An opposites-attract, forced proximity, only one bed, revenge romantic comedy (Love St

10. The Nasty, Hairy Surprise…

Allie

Well,this week has been one hell of a roller-coaster. Not just meeting Hudson, and having it all recorded and shown on national TV. And not just finding out Hudson’s a big fat liar (which he totally is). Not just pawning him off on whoever will take him for the last few days (which is not-so-surprisingly easy due to him being famous and charming AF). But the biggest rush came just before midnight last night when Frank and I had a little breakthrough. Well, actually, it might be a really big freaking breakthrough, to be honest. I don’t want to get my hopes up (too late—they’re stratosphere-level high), but he may have detected a Black Widow Pulsar, which is a neutron star that shoots out pulses of radiation that are so regular that back in the day, they were originally thought to be actual aliens, and in fact, were nicknamed Little Green Men, or LGMs. (See? Scientists can be funny.) Anyway, this one is located approximately 6,500 light years from Earth, and if Frank really did find it, it means he’s figuring out how to capture actual signals from outer space, which is really the whole damn point.

I was so excited, I could hardly sleep, so I’ve been back at the office since six. I gave Frank ten thousand recordings to listen to—all of which have pulsars on them. It’s been over an hour and I’m still waiting for him to get through them all to see if he’ll key in on the pulsars, and only the pulsars.

And as to Hudson Finch, I’ve managed to successfully offload him all week, which has served two very important purposes: a) allowing me to continue full-speed ahead on my project, and b) keeping me away from Prince Charming, who, let’s face it, is exactly the kind of asshole I fall for. He’s charming, popular, and a total liar.

I’m just about to text Tina to ask her to ‘watch him for the day,’ when I get a message from Keenan.

Keenan

Allie, I’ve noticed Hudson has spent the last several days with people on the team who are not radio astronomers. I thought I made it clear that he is your responsibility. Please make him your first priority going forward.

Damn. He caught me. But I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so close (for real this time). I glance at the list on my desk of ways to keep him out of my hair. No problem. I’ll just hand him my Astronomy 101 textbook, a pad of paper, and some pens.

I text Keenan back:

Me

I thought it prudent to start Hudson with a high-level overview of what various team members do in order to provide him with the big picture of our work, but if you want him to stay with me, I’ve got lots for him to study here.

My phone pings, but instead of being a response from Keenan, it’s an email that makes my stomach drop instantly.

Email from [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: How’s Frank?

Al,

I saw you on Entertainment Nightly the other night. You’re going to be Hudson Finch’s babysitter? Does this mean you’ve given up on Frank?

Inquiring minds want to know.

L

Seething with rage, I hit reply.

Nope, not even close. In fact, Frank found an LGM last night so suck it, you rat bastard.

I stare at it for a second, then delete it. No way am I telling him anything about what I’m doing. He’d immediately start looking for pulsars too, and knowing my luck, that’ll be the breakthrough he needs to get his stupid AI working. Oh, and as if it’s not obnoxious enough that he’s also working on an AI system, he named his Drake (also after Frank Drake, you know, because he can’t possibly think of anything on his own, even a name).

What should I write back? I suppose I could not reply at all. That’ll feel good. Sort of. Not as good as gloating and calling him a bastard. But still, good(ish). In the name of professionalism, however, I should probably say something. Also because I want that S.O.B. running scared.

Perhaps you should consider an alternate theory. What if Hudson’s shadowing me because I have loads of free time on my hands at the moment?

Okay, so this sort of makes me a liar, but not really because I’m just posing a question. Besides, lying to a lying, cheating, thieving waste of air doesn’t count. I’ve got my mouse hovered over the send button and am trying to decide whether to hit it or not when I’m startled by the sound of Hudson’s voice.

“Good morning, Allie.”

Dammit. I sent it.

I glance up, only to see him looking ridiculously hot again today. He’s wearing tan chinos and a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms, which are flexed, by the way, because he’s carrying the largest fruit basket I’ve ever seen in my life. “Oh hi, I didn’t think you’d be in this early.”

“I really wanted to talk to you.”

“Right, sorry. I forgot.” I didn’t forget. I’m just not interested in whatever bullshit he’s about to spew about why he lied the other day.

He walks over and places the basket on my desk. “This is for you. As a thank you for tutoring me. Well, once we actually get started.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of fruit.” Like seriously, so much fruit. I won’t need my Activia yogurt for a while. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Also, he didn’t. He probably had that blonde lady do it.

“I wanted to, and unlike the pastries, I actually went to the store myself,” he says, somehow looking concerned and flirty at the same time. How is that even humanly possible? He pulls out his phone and shows me a pic of him next to a man in a green apron. “See? That’s Louis. He threw in the chocolates for free.”

Of course Louis threw in the chocolates for free. This man is a shameless, shameless charmer who just goes around getting whatever he wants from whomever he wants it from. And now, he’s got an innocent grocer involved. Well, not me. I refuse to be tricked into giving him … whatever it is he wants from me. I’m not falling for it. No way. No how.

Although it is sort of nice of him to go pick up a gift for me.

Sitting back in my chair, I narrow my eyes a little, not sure how to respond.

“I lied the other day when I said I’d been to your parents’ bakery. My PR team wanted footage of me giving the pastries to your team so they set the whole thing up,” he tells me, leaning against my desk. Oh wow, there’s that scent again. I’m pretty sure they bottled him to make a new version of Old Spice body wash called Lick Me. “I couldn’t admit it on TV, but I was going to fess up that afternoon, then Chad … stopped by and you pawned me off on him, then on Edward, Virgil, and Gwen, likely because you’d already talked to your parents, who told you I was never there.”

“Yup. Something like that.”

He rubs the back of his neck, which honestly does something to me. “How to make a good first impression, right?”

“It wasn’t the best way,” I answer.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “The thing about life in Hollywood is that it’s all just bullshit, you know? Everything you see. It’s just smoke and mirrors, but if you’re there long enough, you start to believe the lies yourself.”

“Sounds awful.”

“It can be. But it’s got its perks too.” He means shagging supermodels.

For some unknown reason, I stiffen slightly at the thought, then give him a quick nod. “Okay, well, thanks for telling me the truth. I mean, you were basically caught so you knew you had to, but still.”

His face turns a little red and he nods, his expression filled with regret. “You’re right. I was caught and I knew it. But I promise from here on out, only the total truth.”

Part of me wants to tell him all is forgiven and give him a big hug—like a really tight hug where I press my everything up against his everything. It’s a lonely part of me that hasn’t been touched in a very long time. But the rest of me knows better. “Good, because if we’re going to work together, it’ll go much smoother if you’re honest with me. I don’t have any patience for liars. Like, none.”

“I know. You’re allergic to them.”

Now my cheeks are the ones turning pink. I feel the heat rising and I let out a small smile. “Yes, I am.”

“What about lentils? Are you allergic to them too?”

“I just don’t like them.”

“So, you also lied.”

I let out a reluctant grin. “Yeah, but mine doesn’t count.”

He smiles down at me. “How exactly?”

“Because in my case, I said something snarky and I was trying to cover it up, on account of you being a VIP around here.”

“Ah, okay, gotcha.”

“But I promise not to lie again either. So long as you don’t do it first.”

Hudson presses his hand to his heart. “I swear. No more lies. In fact, while you’ve got me in the confessional, I don’t wear glasses.”

“Contacts?”

“Nope. Twenty-twenty vision. Those were fakes the other day.”

“Really?” Damn, because he looked seriously sexy in them. Wait, I mean, good, because he looked way too sexy in them.

“Yup. Bought by my stylist, who also bought the pastries.”

So, the blonde is his stylist, not his girlfriend. Zia Fernanda was right. “Huh.”

“Smoke and mirrors, Allie, that’s all it is,” he says, pushing himself off my desk and standing up. I glance at his butt as he walks toward his desk. The word ‘taut’ pops into my mind, so I force my eyes back to my screen. The last thing I need is to get caught staring at his nice ass. Or any other totally muscular part of him.

“Oh here, I’ll put the fan back on so it doesn’t get too hot for you,” he says, pressing the button.

A jolt of guilt comes over me. Another lie. Who am I turning into? “Thanks, that’s really helpful.”

“How’s your AI system coming along?”

“Not bad. He seems to have detected a Black Widow Pulsar,” I answer, feeling the excitement building in my chest. “Do you know what a pulsar is?”

Hudson shakes his head.

“Oh, well, it’s a neutron star.” I take in the blank expression on his face. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m proud of Frank because he managed to detect something from outer space for once.”

His eyes light up. “Wow. That’s impressive. I’m proud of myself when I manage to build anything from IKEA without having leftover pieces.”

Laughing, I say, “As you should be. IKEA furniture is nearly impossible.”

“Right? It’s always those little metal brackets. I don’t even know what they do.”

“Nobody does.”

We exchange a smile, which immediately makes me feel guilty for making him think the only reason I’ve been pawning him off is because I was mad at him when it’s mainly because of my project. “The thing is, this system I’m building is time-sensitive. There are other teams in the world working on the same thing, and even though we should be working together, we’re not. It’s a race to the finish and whoever cracks it first is going to be a very big deal in the SETI world.”

A look of understanding crosses his face. “So, the timing on having me show up couldn’t be worse.”

“Pretty much.”

“Gotcha. Well, the last thing I want to do is hold you up. Why don’t you stick me in a corner somewhere with some videos to watch or something? Or maybe I can just quietly observe you, you know, like Jane Goodall and the chimps,” he says, quickly adding, “I don’t mean to compare you to a chimpanzee. Sorry.”

“I’m actually not as insulted as you’d think.”

“Really?”

“No, Jane Goodall does good science,” I answer. “Look, it would be extremely helpful if I can get you set up doing some independent learning, at least for a few days. Then, when I’m past this big hump, I can bring you in and let you in on what I’m doing, and hopefully it’ll help you.”

“Sounds good.”

A chime from my computer tells me Frank is finally finished. I glance at the screen, feeling torn between excitement to see what Frank did and disappointed that our conversation has to end just when it was getting fun.

Hudson nods. “That sounded important. Why don’t I go get us each a coffee and let you get back to it?”

“That would be amazing,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

Standing, he says, “How do you take yours?”

“Now you’re going to know all my bad habits,” I answer, feeling a little embarrassed to tell a man who probably hasn’t touched a grain of sugar since he was a child how I take my coffee. “There’s a disgustingly sweet french vanilla creamer in the fridge that has my name on it. Just keep pouring it in until the coffee’s lukewarm.”

He bursts out laughing. “Okay, one disgustingly sweet coffee coming up.”

“Thanks,” I say as he walks out into the hall. “Oh, and you can have some too if you like.”

He won’t because sugar is for mortals, but I felt like I had to offer.

Okay, he’s gone. Now I can concentrate for a few minutes. As soon as he gets back, I’ll set him up with the SETI Guys podcast. But for now, I need to see what Frank was able to do.

I start reading the report he spit out, but honestly I can’t even concentrate.

Okay, calm down, Allie. Just calm down and focus. You need to forget about Mr. Handsome because time is ticking. So, just … don’t think about how warm and delicious it felt when he laughed at your coffee order.

Focus.

I chew my lip for a second, then pick up my phone and text Gwen, who I still can’t believe isn’t sitting next to me.

Me

You in yet?

Gwen

Yup! Just caught a peek of Hudson walking to the lunchroom. He said hi to Virgil and me. He’s like every Disney prince rolled together into one human man.

I put in my ear buds and dial her number. As soon as she picks up, I say, “I’m just calling to see if you can come here and slap me across the face because I really need to focus but my brain is completely scrambled at the moment.”

She laughs, then says, “Good luck with that. I have a feeling everyone in the building is going to be struggling to think straight until he leaves. Is he, like, ridiculously charming or is it just me?”

“Nope, he’s charming,” I answer. “Oh, and guess what? He brought me the biggest basket of fruit I’ve ever seen to thank me for helping him.”

“Seriously?” she asks, her voice going all high and squeaky.

“Yup.”

“You’ll be able to lay off your Activia for a while.”

“I had the same thought.”

“He’s so sweet.”

“He also fessed up about not going to my parents’ bakery.”

“Oh good.”

“No, not good. Very bad, in fact. I need to keep thinking of him as a total dick,” I say, standing up and touching the rim of the basket.

“Life’s not fair sometimes. You’re just going to have to put up with having a handsome, charming, thoughtful guy follow you around all day.”

“Although we really don’t know that he’s not a total dick, do we? I mean, he literally possesses the ability to make thousands of women fall in love with him all at the same time, and he doesn’t even have to look directly at them to do it,” I say. “Someone with those skills could easily pretend to be a good guy. For all we know, he’s really quite evil.”

“Why do you sound happy about that possibility?”

“Because if he’s evil, I can continue ignoring him and get my work done,” I say. “Speaking of my work, I better see if I can get a few minutes in before he gets back from getting us coffees.”

“He’s getting you a coffee?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You’re nuts. Now, get to work.”

“Doing it,” I say, ending the call.

But instead of focusing, I stare at the basket for a second, my face heating up at the fact that an actual movie star bought that for me.

It’s very sweet. And thoughtful. And it’s also way too big and distracting to stay on my desk. I pick it up and carry it over to the two-drawer filing cabinet that sits against the far wall, then set it down. Hmm, what’s in here? Oranges, two bunches of the freshest-looking green grapes I’ve ever seen, bananas, pears wrapped in gold foil (for reasons I don’t understand), a box of chocolates, kiwis, strawberries, a bottle of what looks like very nice red wine, and a pineapple. Plucking a grape out of the bunch, I pop it in my mouth and take a bite, tasting a burst of juicy sweetness.

I pick up the box of chocolates and open it. “Why, yes, I think I wi?—”

I freeze because, out of the corner of my eye, I spot something moving in the basket. That was probably my imagination, right? On account of all the excitement. Nope. There it goes again. My heart pounds as my brain tries to reconcile what my eyes are seeing.

It’s a tarantula.

A mother fucking tarantula.

It must have been hiding in the bananas. Fucker.

I dry heave, then let out a scream, throwing the box of chocolates at it before running full speed to my desk, where I go in search of a weapon. Grabbing my stapler, I jump onto my chair so I’m kneeling, only to realize that it’s on wheels. It slams into my desk, my stomach hitting the back of my chair, causing an involuntary ‘oof’ sound. Bracing myself, I watch, my pulse racing as I see the spider crawling out of the basket and onto the floor.

I gag, then scream, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! It’s coming for me!!!”

Down the hall, I hear the thumping of footsteps. Thank God! “Heeeellllppp!!!” I scream, my stomach lurching again.

Hudson comes rushing in carrying two mugs, both of which have liquid dripping down the sides.

I point at the floor. “A banana tarantula!”

“What?”

“Spider! Big one! Hairy!” Dry heave. “Right there!” I point more forcefully this time as if that’ll help him to actually see it.

He crouches down, glancing around at the floor. “Stay calm. I know what to do.” He sets down the coffees on his desk, then picks up my wastepaper basket and flips it over, emptying its contents onto the floor. “We just trap him in this.”

The spider must understand English because he scuttles toward me at a furious pace, as though I’m going to save him. “No! Scoot! Go back to the bananas!”

Oh my God, it’s going to climb up my chair. Remembering I’m holding a weapon, I throw the stapler at it, only to miss completely and watch helplessly as the stapler bounces off the floor and hits Hudson, who is hunched over trying to trap the spider with the garbage bin, right on his chiseled jaw. He drops the bin.

“Oh my God, your gorgeous face! I’m so sorry!” I gasp.

The spider moves closer and I forget all about Hudson’s poor beautiful face. I gag, then scream. “Get him! He knows I ate the grape! He’s coming for me!” I scramble onto the top of my desk, standing with my back to the wall.

“It’s okay, Allie.” Hudson moves slowly, his voice quiet. “If we stay calm, he’ll stay calm.”

The spider scrambles toward my chair.

“He doesn’t look calm,” I squeal.

“That’s because we’re not calm,” he says, lowering his voice a little more. “Now, come on, little buddy. I’ve got you.” He takes a couple of tentative steps toward the spider, picking up the bin again.

I gag, then say, “Crush him with it!”

“I’m not going to kill him.” Hudson glances at me, his eyes narrowed. “I’m just going to trap him and we’ll find a safe place to release him.”

Apparently, the spider doesn’t like that idea because he stands up on his back legs and rushes toward my desk, which causes me to dry heave repeatedly.

Hudson sets down the bin and says, “Why don’t I get you out of here?”

“Yes, please. That’ll definitely help calm things down in here,” I say as if I’m not the problem.

Hudson takes a few steps toward my desk and I launch myself at him, nearly knocking him off balance. And now, he’s carrying me fireman-style, as I lift my feet, head, and hands as high in the air as humanly possible. Oh, this is awkward. And humiliating. And also, I somehow feel so safe in his arms. Like there’s no way that big hairy spider is going to kill me. And also, he really does smell fucking amazing. I need to find out what kind of soap he uses.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” Hudson says, which does all sorts of things to me that I cannot believe, given the circumstances.

“I’m not normally hysterical. I just have a thing about tarantulas,” I say as he carries me to the hallway and sets me down.

“Understood. They’re creepy,” he tells me, placing his strong hands on both of my shoulders. “But think of it from his perspective. We’re so much bigger. He’s just an innocent little guy who accidentally hitched a ride from South America in some bananas. Tarantulas aren’t poisonous so he couldn’t even hurt anyone if he wanted to. You stay here and I’ll just go get him out of your office.”

He winks at me, and dammit, if that’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. My heart is pounding, my adrenaline is rushing. I stop myself just before I breathlessly tell him he’s my hero. “No, Hudson! Don’t go back in there! We’ll call an exterminator.”

He smiles at me. “Don’t worry about me. I played one on television.”

I spot Chad walking toward us. “Chad! There’s a tarantula in my office. You need to help Hudson get him out of here.”

“Why would I help?”

Tilting my head, I say, “Come on, Chad. We all know you have at least one pet tarantula.”

He glares at me. “I do not.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he says, “Oh, fine, I did have one. Tarantulina Jolie. But she died.”

“Exactly, so get in there and help!”

Hudson holds one hand up. “No worries, Chad. I’ve got this.”

God, what a man. A manly, manly man. He walks back into my office, calling over his shoulder, “It’s fine. Really. He’s not trying to hurt any—ONE!!!!” Hudson clutches his ankle. “Fuuuuccccccckkkkkk! He bit me!”

Chad rushes in, shouting, “Hudson, noooo!!!!”

Grabbing Hudson around his waist, Chad pulls him out of the room, the pair of them reminding me very much of two soldiers on a battlefield. He shuts the door behind him while Hudson drops to the floor, writhing in pain.

“Oh God, that hurts,” Hudson groans. “So, so much.”

“That’s because that isn’t a tarantula,” Chad says, peering through the window of my office. “It’s a Brazilian wandering spider. Completely fatal if he doesn’t get treated immediately. Call 911.”