Chapter Twenty-Three
Hudson
I don’t know whether to kill my fucking brother or quietly hand him some kind of award for stopping me doing something absolutely insane in my office.
“Don’t let me stop you, kids,” Ryder says cheerfully. “I’m not one to stop fun and games—”
“If you want to keep breathing, shut the fuck up,” I say pleasantly, something which I’m very far from feeling.
Scarlett’s head is buried against my shoulder and she’s gone stiff in my arms. At least my brother’s timing has killed both the mood and my boner, and I resolutely zip her pants up for her and smooth a hand over her hair.
I want to reassure her, which is a little surprising. I don’t tend to need to, and I didn’t think I’d ever want to do something like that, but she brings something out in me I’m not sure I’m a fan of.
And of course she needs a moment or two to get it together. That escalated fast and it hadn’t been on my agenda. On my mind, yes. The sex is that good with her. It’s the kind of sex where I want to spend a week naked with her and do all sorts of depraved things.
She gives me a little push and I release her and turn to face my brother, who’s craning his neck to see her. He’s such an idiot.
“We’re both dressed. I’ll buy you some porn for your birthday if you’re that hard up.”
“Does anyone buy porn these days?” Ryder asks, not upset at all.
I fold my arms. “I don’t know. I don’t have your problem.”
“I don’t have that particular problem, either.” Ryder suddenly grins as Scarlett steps out around me to my side.
I glance at her and she’s flushed red, and her hair is mussed. Lips swollen and— She looks exactly like what we’ve been doing. I probably don’t look any better, either.
Part of me wishes it had been Jenson who’d walked in and not my brother. But part of me, a bigger part, wishes no one had. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m more than interested in seeing which delicious way this would have gone.
“At least it’s Scarlett.”
She frowns. “Of course it’s me.” Then her eyes go big. “I didn’t mean. I mean, I did. I just—”
Scarlett goes quiet and I look at my brother. “Did you find anything more?”
“A lot.” He pulls a newspaper from under his arm. An actual newspaper. “You’re online, too. It’s not much. You’re not me, but because we’re related, here you are, larger than life. When I say larger, I mean in print.”
“I set it up. It’s small and you know it.” I tap my fingers against my desk as I ease back against it. This seems safer, putting a little distance between me and Scarlett, because I really want to touch her, comfort her.
Not that she needs comforting. Maybe the word is soothe. Or maybe I just want to fucking touch her.
I should have gone out and gotten laid before this all started. I should have gone and found a willing woman—and there were a lot—instead of touching Scarlett.
But none of them have hair that color of dark honey. Or that weird and quirky sense of humor. Or her ability to say the most outrageous thing.
And I bet none of them own what looks like a rat-bit old bear with the name of Mr. Figglesmort.
“You?” He shakes his head and glances at Scarlett. “What have you done to my brother?”
“He’s done it all himself. He’s like a martini—”
“You came here to gossip?” I ask, cutting her off.
But Ryder’s interest is piqued. “He’s a martini? What am I? Something outrageously seductive and naughty. I figure—”
“Ryder, I’m busy, and I thought you were, too.”
“I took some time out of my day to give you the heads up.” He wanders over to the window and stares out over Manhattan, then leans his shoulder against the glass and rolls towards me with a sigh. “I’ve seen it. King and Mag have, too. But I’m here because it seems everyone has.”
My mind starts burning new pathways.
This is good. I’m embarrassed, so is Scarlett, and Ryder can’t help himself with gossip. He loves it. I can use this. I can spin this a little tighter. Tell him this started one way and ended up something more…
I turn to Scarlett and push away from the table, taking the small step towards her, and that pull starts in earnest all over again. She has power, this woman. I’ve thought it before, and here I am thinking it again: I can use that.
Smoothing her hair, I kiss her softly and for a brief moment she stiffens and then her lips cling to mine.
Christ they’re soft and so unbelievably morish. I pull back. “I need to talk to Ryder about this. Seeing as it’s now out there. Take the afternoon off.”
She’s about to argue, but she suddenly closes her mouth. “Okay. We’ll continue this soon,” she says, and then Scarlett turns, gives my brother a small wave and rushes out.
Ryder studies me. “Well, that was interesting.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say, moving back around my desk as I start to tidy up, getting things ready for the afternoon.
I’m ready, but this gives me something to do.
“Things look like they’ve taken a…turn.”
“Yes.”
It’s not lying. Exactly. I’m leading him in the direction he’s thinking. He’s putting things together all on his own. And this is going to help. Ryder will sell it because he believes it.
Not that he wouldn’t before, but an added layer of authenticity helps.
“That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.” I flick through open tabs on my computer and suddenly I stop and look up.
Good?
“What do you mean?”
Ryder shrugs and comes over to me and leans on the desk. “I’m not here to gossip about your newly found love, Hud.”
I almost correct him but stop myself. “Explain this to me, please.”
He grins, and it’s his shit-eating grin that got him beaten up a lot by us as a kid.
“Well,” he says, expansively, “I told you already. People have seen it.”
“Yeah, not just our brothers. Everyone.”
Something drips down my spine, like a cold excitement, spreading out in waves as it pools at the base of my spine. “Like who?”
“Jenson.” He pauses. “Mother.”
“That’s…good. That’s really good. I mean I was trying to think of a way to up the ante here. Help prove the authenticity.”
He raises a brow and laughs. “Do what I walked in on you doing and I think you’ve got yourself some down-home authenticity, Hudson.”
“I’m not fucking someone in public.”
“Pity.” He sighs. “It’s a thrill ride.”
“I’m…” I run a hand over my hair. “I just need for all this to work. And the more proof I have, the better.”
“Yeah, well, I spoke to Mother, and she’s loving this.”
“Of course she is. That woman can’t wait for one of us to fall.” I can’t help the bitterness in my tone.
I don’t know why she’s wanting that. Her love life has been a disaster.
“And you’re the first. Take notes.”
“I’m not—” I stop, glare at him. “What do you mean ‘take notes’?”
“As I said. I spoke to her. She’s excited by all this. She’s probably already planning a white wedding the likes of which Manhattan hasn’t seen in decades.”
“For fuck’s sake. She can go and unplan that.”
“Yeah?” Ryder straightens up and stretches, cricking his neck. “Well, you can tell her yourself. Or, rather, get your bride to be to do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yes,” says a voice from the doorway, and I turn. Scarlett’s standing there, her gaze worried. “What do you mean?”
Ryder turns to her, then looks from me to her and back again. “Mother wants to meet you.”
“She has.” Both Scarlett and I say it at the same time, which makes Ryder’s smile grow bigger.
“Not,” he says, “formally.”
“Oh, God.”
Scarlett comes over. “What do you mean, formally, and why oh God?”
“Because…” I take her shoulders and I’m not sure whether it’s to steady her or myself, “she wants an official one on one with you.”
“Wh-when?”
And Ryder clicks his fingers and points at her. “I knew I didn’t want you to leave, pretty Scarlett. Mother’s planning a meeting in…” He checks his phone. “Twenty minutes.”