Chapter 21
twenty-one
HUDSON
“What time are you heading over to the party at the Dog?” Autumn asks, walking into my office wearing a silver form-fitting dress. She’s been spending every free moment she has over at The Salty Dog, which in any other lifetime would be great because it would mean my sister isn’t nagging me to death.
But actually, it’s made my life harder. Twice last week I drove off the ferry, intending on stopping at the bar to see Skyler before I headed home to my kid, only to see Autumn’s car parked outside.
This keeping our relationship secret from everybody else is getting tiring. And annoying. I said as much to Skyler this week during our date.
This time she insisted I come to the bar again, even though the renovations weren’t finished. She cooked for me, then we fucked, and she sent me home annoyed because goddamn it, I want her in a bed.
I’ve never had to work so hard in my life to get a woman to want to see me. When we’re together it’s perfect. We have fun, we talk, she makes me laugh like nobody else ever has. Mostly because she likes to tease me, which is good because nobody else does that either.
I make sure she’s satisfied. Multiple times. And yet it still feels like I’m trying to catch a cloud whenever I think of her.
“I’ll be over there at eight,” I say to my sister, remembering she’s actually standing there and asking me when I’ll be going to the opening night. Truth be told, I’m a little pissed because when I was messaging – okay sexting – with Skyler last night, she made it clear that I was going as an investor and not as her date.
“But it starts at seven.”
“I have a meeting at six, and then I have to go home to see Ayda,” I say patiently. And she pouts.
“But I want you to see the bar before everybody arrives, it’s spectacular. Honestly, Hudson, your guests are going to go crazy over it.” She beams at me, and I almost tell her I’ve already seen it, but then I remember.
Nobody can know.
Ah, fuck that.
“I’ll see it,” I tell her. “When I get there.”
“Who has meetings at six anyway?” she asks. “Are you telling the truth?”
I usually have an infinite well of patience for my sister. But it takes an act of will not to bite back at her.
“My lawyer wants to talk to me,” I say.
“What about?”
“I don’t know. I guess I will as soon as I speak to him.” I lift a brow.
“You will be at the party, right? You got a babysitter, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” One of the women who works at the hotel is looking for some extra cash to save for her wedding. Turned out she was a nanny before she came to work for us in reception. I’ve introduced her to Ayda and the two of them got along. Of course, I’ll have the nanny cams on too.
I’m not an idiot.
“I’ll be there,” I say firmly. “I wouldn’t miss your grand opening.”
“It’s not mine, it’s Skyler’s.” She tips her head to the side. “Are you sure you can’t sneak out and come with me now?”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I really have to make some phone calls before this meeting if I want to make it to the party at all.”
“Okay. But be there by eight. I mean it.” She widens her eyes at me.
Since when did I let myself get bossed around by my kid sister? I’ve no idea, but it’s clearly catching, because now I’m being dragged around by my balls by a pretty little daydreamer who makes me explode every time I’m inside of her.
I’m a fucking goner and I know it. But I’m still putting up a fight anyway.
* * *
“The answer is no,” I say firmly to my lawyer. “I don’t even know why you had to ask that.”
“Well first of all because you’re the client not me, and I take my instructions from you.” He looks amused at my outburst. But he shouldn’t. I’m fuming at the presumptuousness of the letter Ayda’s grandparents have sent him.
They’re demanding that Ayda stay with them during the summer for six weeks. In England and without me.
Because they feel it’s important for her to learn about her heritage without the influence of the other party. Their words, not mine. Because clearly they can’t even stand to say my name.
“You know what happened the last time they took her to England,” I say, my voice thick. Because I still haven’t gotten over it. Strictly speaking, they weren’t the ones who took her to England. That was her mother, right before she was involved in an accident that took her life and completely turned Ayda’s upside down. But after the funeral, instead of releasing Ayda back into my care like any normal fucking grandparents would, they refused to give up custody and made me wait for months, fighting through the courts for the right to bring up my own daughter.
“I already let them see her four times a year. That’s more than they deserve. Tell them no, and tell them if they make any more idiotic requests, they’ll be lucky if they see her again before her eighteenth birthday.”
He shakes his head. “I think I’ll leave that last part out.”
“Whatever. It’s not happening. Now I have to go. I’d like to see my daughter before she goes to bed tonight.”
He ends the video call and I stand up wearily, more ready to go to bed than to a damn party where I have to share the woman who I desperately want to have more of.
But first I’ll go home and read my daughter a book, kiss her goodnight, and thank God that she’s here on the island and safe.
Once upon a time, that’s all I wanted in life. Now I want the fucking fairytale.
The only problem is, I’m no Prince Charming.
* * *
SKYLER
The entire population of Liberty seems to be squeezed into The Salty Dog for the opening party. There are five of us behind the bar – me, Jesse, Autumn, plus the two prior employees she introduced me to who used to work for my dad. And still we’re being run ragged trying to serve everybody who’s lined up at the bar.
After tonight we’ll provide table service, but for the re-opening Autumn suggested we have everybody line up for their drinks, because we don’t have enough staff – or tables – to deal with individual groups.
In an hour we’ll lose Jesse to the stage, but I’m hoping by then everybody will have a drink in their hands and be chilled. Still, as Autumn tells me when she reaches past me to grab some bottles of soda, this is a good omen.
“What can I get you?” I ask Eileen, who’s across the bar in front of me. She was the first here – she was literally standing on the porch waiting for us to open. A little while ago I saw Mylene stand at the door then walk away as soon as she spotted her twin inside.
“A club soda, please.” Eileen looks around, her brows knitted. “I’m not one for drinking alcohol.”
“Club soda coming up,” I say, grabbing the wand and starting to fill the glass.
“Actually,” she says, leaning in like she’s about to tell me a secret. “Put a little vodka in there too.”
Biting down a smile, I put a shot of Grey Goose in and pass her the drink. As she takes it, I glance over her shoulder, the way I’ve been looking over every customer’s shoulder when I serve them, waiting to see his black, broody stare and stupidly perfect suit storming through the bar.
Because Hudson Fitzgerald definitely storms everywhere he goes. I’m getting used to it. In fact, I find it a turn on.
Making him laugh is almost as enjoyable as making him come.
A group of men walk in, jostling and laughing, and I lift my hand up to wave hi to the contractors I invited after they finished, because I believe they should get to enjoy themselves after all their hard work. And they did work hard – they finished the final few snags at four this afternoon.
It’s past eight by the time I see Hudson standing at the door, nodding at one of the locals. They’re talking to him and he’s listening patiently, even though he has his resting bastard-face on.
And yeah, a shiver runs down my spine because I know what that face can do. I know what that body can do.
I let out a long breath.
“There he is!” Autumn’s face lights up when she sees her brother. “Hudson! Want a beer?” she shouts out.
He looks over at us, his jaw tight as his gaze roams over to me. My chest tightens as our gazes lock.
I know he has a babysitter for Ayda tonight. It would be so, so easy to ask him to stay over with me tonight. In my bed. To wake up with his arms around me.
“I’m gonna head over to the stage,” Jesse whispers in my ear. His warm voice makes me jump. I turn to look at him and we both smile.
“What’s your opening number?” I ask him.
“It’s a surprise.” He grins at me. We really are fast friends now. It’s strange how close I feel to him in a non-amorous way. So it doesn’t annoy me one bit that every woman who’s not staring at Hudson is staring at my friend as he saunters over to the stage and picks up his guitar, sitting down on the stool and forming the chords he uses to tune the strings.
“Imma take a quick bathroom break,” Autumn says, since the line at the bar has dwindled down to pretty much nothing. Everybody’s too busy getting excited about the live music to order drinks right now.
“Of course.” I hug her. “Thank you. You can go enjoy the rest of the party with Parker. You’re the one who did all the hard work to make this happen.”
I gesture around us. The walls are painted a soft, ocean blue, the oak stained floor gleaming in contrast. And the tables with their cream leather upholstered chairs add a luxurious touch. But she’s still kept the heart of the place. The jukebox – in full working order – is in the corner, and when there’s no band playing, it will be echoing the music my dad loved.
I wish he’d seen it. I wish he knew what this place was like now. But I push that thought away because today is for happy things.
“I loved every minute of working on this place.” She winks at me. “You’re so much nicer than my last boss.”
I laugh because we both know her last boss – and her next one – is her brother. After the bar she’s scheduled to start designing the interior of the retreat center he has planned on the north of the island. In the little fishermen's cottages he showed me before we made love on the beach.
And now I’m blushing. I lean on the bar as Jesse introduces himself to the crowd – who he pretty much grew up with and know exactly who he is. They give him a loud cheer anyway and I can’t help but grin.
“This one is for our new resident and the owner of the bar.” He winks at me and leans in, his fingers softly strumming before his low, graveled voice starts to echo through the microphone. I swear my whole body turns to goosebumps as he starts to sing the first line of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac.
Jesse loves seventies rock as much as I do – another fact we’ve discovered since we’ve been sitting around, listening to music whenever he visits. And he knows I love this song most of all. About a woman who’s taken over by a free spirit. Nobody can pin her down. Nobody can really have her.
I love the way Stevie Nicks sings this song, especially live. The way she twists and turns on the stage. The way she’s so beautiful and untouchable and is like a goddess.
When Jesse reaches the part where he sings that she’s been taken by the sky, he looks over at me, and for some reason my throat feels tight. I love that he’s sung this for me. I love that we have this friendship.
This place is starting to feel like home. Something I never knew I needed.
I take a deep breath and turn to see Hudson staring at me too. Then he looks at the door marked ‘private’, the one that leads to the apartment I’ve been living in but have never let him in.
Then he inclines his head at it, and my heart starts to slam against my chest.
I still can’t quite work out this hold he has over me. Maybe I don’t want to work it out. All the best magic is spoiled by peeking behind the magician’s curtain.
Sometimes people come into your lives for a reason. I wonder if I needed this, the ache, the desire. If it’s what keeps me anchored here long enough for me to grow roots.
That thought would usually make me panic. If I’m being honest, it still does a bit. I know I’ve effectively put down roots by keeping this bar and starting to run it, but I also know that Hudson would buy it off me in a second if I wanted to leave. At a profit, too, thanks to the investment he’s put in.
“I’m going to grab something I forgot,” I whisper in Maud’s ear. She’s one of the two seasoned bar staff who’ve come back to work here. She doesn’t blink an eyelid at the fact that for a little while there’ll only be two of them behind the bar.
There’s a security monitor in the apartment living room, so I’ll be able to see if an unexpected crowd forms. But right now everybody’s dancing between the tables as Jesse segues into a faster song – “Jesse’s Girl” – which really makes me grin.
As soon as I hit the code on the door to my apartment and walk inside, I can feel him right behind me. He’s not even touching me, yet I’m shivering.
The door clicks closed behind him, and without saying a word he’s cupping my face and kissing me hard, pushing me against the wall until his body is pressed hard against mine.
His tongue slides against mine, his palm digging deep into my hip as he hitches up my skirt with his other hand, his fingers tracing a line of fire on my thighs.
“Hudson,” I breathe, when he reaches my panties. His thumb brushes me there, through the cotton and my eyes roll into the back of my head.
“I just need you,” he says, his voice thick. And for some reason that hits me right in the heart. It’s like an arrow, piercing me deep.
He needs me.
When has anybody ever needed me? When have I ever wanted anybody to? I’ve spent most of my life actively avoiding that kind of attachment. And the few times I’ve let it happen I’ve gotten hurt.
I love my sister and my mom, even if I don’t understand them. But they don’t need me. They never have.
But this man does. He dips his head to my neck, kissing it until I feel like I’m on fire. My nipples harden against the cream paisley cotton dress I’m wearing, making me feel needy.
Through the wall he’s currently got me pinned against, I can hear the vague beat of the song. It’s almost as fast as my heart. Hudson drops to his knees, pushing my skirt up around my waist, burying his head between my thighs.
And he inhales, long and slow.
I twist my fingers into his hair, feeling so on edge even though he’s barely touched me.
“That song,” he murmurs, kissing one thigh then the other. “That’s you. Exactly you.” He looks up at me, from his place on the floor. “You’ve bewitched me.”
I scrape my fingers through his hair.
“Let me stay tonight.” The way he’s looking up at me makes me ache in places I didn’t know I could ache. “Let me hold you. Let me stay.”
My chest clenches. “You know you can’t.”
He doesn’t move his gaze from mine. “For somebody so free spirited you have a lot of rules.”
“For a reason,” I say softly. For more reasons than he knows. He’s the only person I need to have rules around right now.
If I break them, I’m afraid I’ll break myself.
“You’re afraid,” he murmurs, sliding his thumb along my panties. Then he slides it under the elastic, touching me, making my legs buckle. “But you don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He circles his thumb, the shocking pleasure he creates sends all thoughts of words out of my head. “Let me take care of you,” he says softly, and I don’t know if he’s talking about right now or something else. I’m not sure I care. I’m so fixated by the teasing sensations created by his thumb and the way he’s still staring at me, those dark eyes locked on my face. He quickens his movements and my inner thighs tighten in response.
He slides a finger inside of me, followed by another, coaxing pleasure from me with one easy movement. His thumb circles, his fingers curl, and my body starts to quiver with the impending orgasm I know he’s determined to give me.
I tighten around him and his gaze narrows. “Come for me,” he whispers, curling his fingers hard, kissing my thigh as I start to fall over the edge. I have to steady myself on his shoulders, and still nearly fold in two, the orgasm so strong he has to put his hands on my hips to keep me upright.
When I finally gain control of my body, he stands up and kisses me. “One day, we’re doing this in a bed,” he tells me. “Even if it kills me.”
Before I can answer him, he’s stalking out of the apartment door, looking every inch the grumpy, furious man he was when we first met. He’s annoyed at me. At my rules.
Maybe I’m annoyed at myself.
I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My body still feels the aftermath of my orgasm, all shaking and full of pleasure.
Sometimes it feels like that man uses sex as a weapon. But right now, I’m not sure I want to declare a ceasefire.