Chapter 9 #2
Mrs. Voto’s expression shifted from polite interest to cold recognition. “Landry? The one from that dreadful expo incident?”
My smile froze. Of course she’d seen the viral video of Hudson and me wrestling amid fire extinguisher foam, glitter, and ash. Just my luck.
“That was an unfortunate misunderstanding,” I began, but Mrs. Voto was already turning to her daughter.
“Camille, perhaps we should reconsider our options. If Mr. Gable associates with... unprofessional elements...” Her tone was a waffle cone dripping with melting disdain-flavored ice cream.
Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic. But clearly she didn’t like me, judging by the way she wrinkled her nose at me. And I’d even showered that morning.
I braced myself for Hudson to throw me under the bus. It would be the smart move business-wise. Instead, he straightened.
“Mrs. Voto, I understand your concern, but I should clarify something. The incident you’re referring to was equally my fault, despite what my mother may have told people in her social circle.
In fact, Ms. Landry and I are now partners on the Kussikov-Martin wedding.
Our complementary skills have made us quite an effective team. ”
I stared at him, stunned. He was defending me?
“The Kussikov-Martin wedding? As in Lia Martin, the director?” Camille perked up, her interest clearly piqued.
“The very same,” Hudson confirmed. “Now, shall we look at these concepts? Ms. Landry actually had some brilliant input.”
Just like that, the moment passed, though Mrs. Voto’s icy demeanor didn’t thaw in the slightest. Hudson stood, pulling out a chair for me to join them.
He pulled me into a discussion about starlight effects and constellation projections.
Thirty minutes later, Camille Voto enthusiastically signed a contract with Hudson, while her mother glared at me across the table.
I had half a mind to stick my tongue out at her, but I refrained for Hudson’s sake.
Outside, I waited until the Votos’ car door closed before turning to Hudson.
“You didn’t have to do that. Defend me, I mean. You could have just agreed with her.”
He looked genuinely confused. “Why would I do that? She was wrong.”
“It would have been the easy way out. Secured the client without complications.”
“It would have been dishonest,” he said simply. “And you’re my partner. On the Kussikov-Martin wedding, I mean,” he added quickly.
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I gave him a small smile. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re the one who saved the appointment. The least I could do was give you the credit you deserved.” A frown darkened his face, but only for a moment.
We stood there in awkward silence for a few seconds. The smart move would be to say goodbye, get in my car, and go. That’s what rational Mari would do.
Instead, my mouth decided to go rogue.
“I actually have something I want to show you. Back at the office. If you have time.” The words tumbled out before my brain could catch up and shove them back in.
Hudson looked surprised. “Now?”
“I mean, if you have other plans, that’s fine. It can wait. It’s not urgent. Just something I’ve been working on that I thought you might...” I was rambling. Why was I rambling?
Get it together, Landry.
“I don’t have other plans,” he said. “I can follow you there.”
“Great. Cool. Awesome.” Three synonyms? Really? I turned and practically fled to my car before I could embarrass myself further.
During the drive back to the office, my brain had a full-on civil war with itself.
What are you doing? demanded the rational part. You’re about to show him your app concept? The thing you’ve been working on in secret for years? The thing you haven’t even shown Anica?
He’ll understand it, argued the part of me that was apparently determined to make terrible decisions. We’ve been working well together, and he just defended you to that bitch mother.
So, one decent act earns him access to your secret passion project?
It’s not like that. I just... trust him.
Since when?
I don’t know! Recently! Shut up!
Great. Now I was telling myself to shut up. It was going really well.
By the time I pulled into the office parking lot, I’d nearly talked myself out of the whole thing three times. But when Hudson parked beside me and got out of his car with that questioning half-smile, I knew I was going through with it.
“Everything okay?” he asked as we walked to the building.
“Yep. Fine. Great.”
He blinked at me, and I waved a hand dismissively. “Ignore me. I’m just being weird.”
“I’m used to it,” he said, and I could have sworn there was fondness in his voice.
The office was quiet and dark when we entered. I flipped on just enough lights to navigate to my desk, not wanting the harsh fluorescents to ruin the strange, liminal feeling of being here after hours.
Oh my god, stop it, I scolded myself. It’s an office, not a romance novel setting.
“So,” Hudson said, leaning against the edge of my desk. “What did you want to show me?”
This was my last chance to bail. I could make up something about a new vendor or a design concept for the Kussikov-Martin wedding. Something safe. Professional.
Instead, I unlocked my bottom drawer and pulled out my tablet and notebook.
“I’ve been working on something,” I said, my heart racing stupidly fast. “A side project, kind of a passion project really, for about a year now. I haven’t shown the full concept to anyone.”
Hudson straightened, his expression shifting to something more focused. “What kind of project?”
I took a deep breath and powered on the tablet, pulling up the wireframes and prototype screens I’d been developing. “It’s a comprehensive wedding planning app, but with an emotional core that most planning tools miss. It’s also targeted at people like us. Professionals.”
As I scrolled through the designs, I explained my vision: a platform that tracked not just vendors and budgets, but the emotional journey of wedding planning.
It incorporated storytelling elements, allowing couples to fill out an emailed form about their relationship milestones alongside practical planning tools.
It had features for managing family dynamics, preserving cultural traditions, and creating personalized timelines based on a couple’s unique priorities.
“The key innovation is this algorithm,” I explained, pulling up a flowchart.
“It learns from the couple’s decisions on their end of the app if they choose to download it, or they can just fill out this survey and it turns their responses into a personalized planning experience for us to use.
It’s not just about logistics—it’s about what matters most to them. ”
Throughout my explanation, Hudson was unnervingly quiet, his eyes fixed on the screen with an intensity that made me nervous. Was it that bad? Had I just humiliated myself by sharing my half-baked idea with the industry’s biggest perfectionist?
When I finally ran out of words, he still didn’t speak. He just stared at the screen, his expression unreadable.
“So... yeah,” I said awkwardly into the silence. “That’s my thing. My app thing. It’s still rough, obviously, and—”
“It’s brilliant.”
I blinked. “What?”
“It’s brilliant, Mari. You’ve created something that bridges the technical and emotional aspects of wedding planning in a way I’ve never seen before.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the surprised hope out of my voice. “You think it could work?”
“I think it could revolutionize the industry.” He gestured to the screen. “Have you considered adding a vendor compatibility feature here? Something that matches vendors not just by availability and price, but by how well they align with the couple’s vision?”
“That’s...” I stared at him, shocked at how quickly he’d not only grasped but expanded on my concept. “That’s actually a great idea.”
I grabbed my notebook and jotted down his suggestion. “I was also thinking about incorporating a stress management component, maybe tracking pressure points in the timeline and suggesting interventions.”
“Perfect.” He nodded enthusiastically. “And what about integration with virtual reality for venue tours? That’s becoming more common for destination weddings.”
For the next hour, we bounced ideas back and forth. It was exhilarating to have someone who not only understood my vision but could enhance it.
I noticed something odd, though. Now and then, Hudson would get a strange look on his face, like he was about to say something but then thought better of it.
And sometimes he seemed to know what I was going to say before I said it, nodding along almost preemptively.
But maybe I was imagining things. I was, after all, running on approximately four hours of sleep and enough caffeine to power a small city.
He glanced at my app designs again. “What you’ve created here… this is special, Mari. You should be proud.”
A warm flush spread through me at his praise. I’d spent so long seeing Hudson as my nemesis that I’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone genuinely appreciate my work.
“You’re the only person who’s seen the full concept,” I admitted, suddenly feeling exposed.
“No one else? Not even Anica?”
I shook my head. “She probably knows I’m working on something, but not the details. I wanted to get it right before I showed it to anyone.”
“Thank you for trusting me with it.”
And there it was. The reason I’d shown him. Trust. Somewhere between fighting over cake flavors and making s’mores by the fire, I really had begun to trust Hudson Gable. Not just with wedding details or client meetings, but with something that mattered to me. Something personal.
I hadn’t trusted anyone like this in years. Not since Anica.
Hudson and I huddled close over the tablet, shoulders touching as we scrolled through the designs.
“What about this section?” he asked, leaning in even closer to tap a part of the wireframe. “The timeline could be enhanced with—”
I turned my head to see what he was pointing at. His face was inches from mine. We both froze, our eyes locking. The flecks of amber in his green irises sparkled.
Oh no, thought the rational part of my brain. Don’t you dare.
Shut up, replied the rest of me. Just shut all the way up.
I wasn’t sure who had moved first. Maybe we both did. But suddenly his lips were on mine. Hudson and I kissed in our shared office at 10 PM on a Saturday, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He tasted of the mint he’d had after dinner, his lips warm and soft against mine. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I opened without hesitation, a small sound escaping my throat as the kiss deepened.
Hudson responded to that sound by gripping my waist and lifting me onto my desk, stepping between my legs as papers scattered to the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the mess. Not when his hands slid up my thighs, bunching my skirt, not when his mouth trailed fire down my neck.
“Mari,” he murmured against my skin, and my name had never sounded so good.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, my hands fumbling with his tie. Why did the man always wear such complicated knots? It was like trying to solve a puzzle while my brain was short-circuiting from the way his teeth grazed my collarbone.
His phone rang, buzzing from his pocket. We both ignored it.
It stopped, then started again immediately.
“Ignore it,” I whispered against his mouth, finally loosening his tie.
“I am,” he assured me, his hands sliding under my blouse, warm against my bare skin.
The annoying phone rang a third time.
Hudson groaned, resting his forehead against mine. “It might be important.”
“More important than this?” I gestured between us, our bodies still pressed together.
He laughed softly. “Nothing is more important than this. But if it’s the Votos calling back with an issue...”
“Fine,” I sighed dramatically. “Answer it. But make it quick.”
He pulled out his phone, still standing between my legs, his free arm wrapped around my waist. We were nose to nose as he answered without looking at the screen.
“Hudson Gable,” he said, his voice impressively professional considering the circumstances.
I could hear a tinny voice on the other end but couldn’t make out the words. Whatever they said, though, made Hudson’s entire demeanor change in an instant. His body went rigid, his expression shifting from desire to shock to something like dread.
Well shit. I definitely shouldn’t have let him answer that phone.