CHAPTER 16
Hudson noticed that Willa had arrived and disappeared into the kitchen, but he’d given her a bit of space, letting her make friends without him hovering. He knew that once they were next to each other, his own expression would show how obviously attracted he was to her, and he wasn’t quite ready to hear the peanut gallery of Marre Island weighing in on whether or not it was smart, or grilling her about her future plans (or him about his intentions), or giving him advice. This thing between him and Willa felt delicate, almost private. So he was giving her time and space, although he was making sure of where she was and what she was up to.
He’d seen Kimber taking her around, introducing her to some people, and his mother doing the same. Initially, she had that “polite but cool” expression he’d first seen on her—that wall of, well, classiness that wasn’t judgy but wasn’t welcoming either. But she’d started to come around. He’d said hi, and she’d waved back, her cheeks going pink.
He’d been standing by his father at one of the grills, nursing a beer, when he’d greeted her. His father must’ve caught his smile, because when he turned back to him, his father’s eyebrows had jumped up.
“What?” he asked, trying not to sound defensive.
“I haven’t seen you smile like that in years,” his father said. “Maybe ever.”
Which was why he’d given her an hour, while he socialized with islanders and his dad’s friends and even some of Kimber’s crew, before slowly making his way toward the kitchen, where he knew Willa had disappeared to.
He knew that, left to her own devices back at her farmhouse, Willa would still be acting like a mad scientist of cookbookery, muttering to herself, stirring and baking, humming and dancing. Still, if she was going to be on the island, it wouldn’t hurt her for her to get to know the people around her, because they sure as hell would want to get to know her. He hadn’t been exaggerating: they relied on each other on the island, and they didn’t keep score. Sure, there was the usual small-town bullshit—like Mrs. Tennyson still trying to get him together with her daughter—but when you couldn’t just drive to the nearest grocery store at eleven at night, or you couldn’t get a professional to help you out in a storm and your generator ran out of gas, it was good to know you had neighbors and friends who had your back. Even people who annoyed you were part of the island, and they’d learned to have that trust.
Well ... maybe not with annoying fucking Patrick, the new owner of the Victorian across from Willa—the bougie gentrifier who wouldn’t know true architectural style if it fell on him. He could fuck himself, and he hadn’t been invited to the barbecue.
He up-nodded a few hellos, giving a bro hug to one of his dad’s friends, a quick regular hug to his mom’s knitting partner in crime, Libby.
Amanda had hated it, being part of the community, a little part of him remembered. Hated needing to be part of the community. He’d sort of written it off as the usual teenage rebellion when they’d been in high school, but he’d figured out soon enough that it went deeper than that. There was no way they could’ve managed the twins when they were first married without that not-so-invisible network, and while she was grateful, she’d also resented every sympathetic nod, every donated set of clothes, every “don’t worry about it” as they’d dropped the kids off for babysitting so one or both of them could grab a few hours’ sleep.
She’d practically choked on every casserole.
That was ultimately why they had divorced, other than the obvious reason that she was trapped in a life she did not want. Personally, Hudson didn’t have any problem with the island’s support system, since he’d needed the help even more once it was just him and two toddlers. He loved his family and was grateful for this community in his bones, and he wouldn’t forget it.
Even if sometimes he wanted just a little something different.
“Uncle Bruno, really .”
Hudson winced as he opened the back door into the kitchen. It sounded like Kimber and his “uncle”—one of Dad’s oldest biker friends—were getting into it. He prayed it wasn’t politics. While he liked that Kimber stood up for herself and he loved Bruno, he really did not feel up to playing mediator or watching their antics today, especially when he was, deliberately or not, trying to impress Willa.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he interrupted, looking around.
His father and Uncle Bruno were leaning against the center island, one he’d installed a few years ago. Across from them, like an opposing army, were his mother and Kimber, arms crossed, matching frowns, chins tilted up in challenge. More surprisingly, Willa was standing between them, looking a little dazed. Not scared or nervous. Just sort of ...
Out of it? Not the numb, withdrawn Willa he’d first met, though. More like a floaty, untethered Willa.
That made him seriously nervous.
Before he could really process it, Kimber shouted, “Who I fuck isn’t anybody’s business!”
His mouth dropped open. He was used to Kimber’s tirades, but even for her, this was pretty crass. His mother cleared her throat. “Kimber ...”
Kimber quickly pointed at Bruno. “ He said it first!”
Would you believe she’s twenty-three years old? My daughter, folks.
Bruno growled and looked imposing. It didn’t help that the guy was over six feet and built like a Frigidaire. His shaggy hair was grayer at this point than the dark brown Hudson remembered from when he was a kid, and his thick beard didn’t hide his scowl. Not that Kimber seemed to care, and not that Hudson thought he’d hurt her or anything. But it was a party, and for once , just once, Hudson wished they could do it without at least one incident.
He wasn’t going to pretend to be something he wasn’t, and he wanted Willa to accept him for who he was. Furthermore, anybody who had a problem with his family wasn’t someone he was going to have anything to do with. But again, just for once, he really, really wished that they could discuss stuff without turning it into a free-for-all worthy of reality TV.
“He’s judging my dating life,” Kimber accused with a scowl of her own, not backing down.
Bruno scoffed. “Sleeping with a new guy every couple of days isn’t dating ,” he pointed out. Kimber responded by rolling her eyes.
“When did you get so conservative, Bruno?” Hudson’s mother asked pointedly. “Remember the seventies? We were plenty promiscuous back then, right?”
“Yeah, but you settled down with Dan here, and you put that shit aside. You were younger than Kimber.”
“Yeah, and Dad was even younger than that when he and Mom had Jeremy and me,” Kimber shot out. “I want to go for that why?”
“Hey,” Hudson snapped, and at least she winced.
“Sorry, Dad,” she mumbled. “But you see what I mean. Dad does exactly what I do, and I don’t see you getting on him for being a manwhore now.”
“Jesus.” Hudson glanced at Willa, worried about her reaction to that term and the fact that Kimber had directed it at him . They hadn’t really discussed much in that area.
He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and here his daughter was, acting like he was ... How had his mother put it? Nailing and bailing everybody he could get his hands on.
He literally cringed.
Willa didn’t seem to care. She just had a lopsided, amused smile. Then she started giggling.
“It’s different,” Bruno said with a wave of his hand. “Your dad’s a guy .”
He might as well have waved a big red flag in front of a pair of bulls. Hudson sighed as his daughter’s and mother’s feminist lights went from “armed” to “fire.”
Shit. Now it’s on.
His father must’ve had the same thought because he looked up to the ceiling like he was praying for strength. “Bruno, Bruno, Bruno ...”
Kimber’s eyes narrowed. “You are not going to—”
“I’m just saying,” Bruno interrupted, apparently physically incapable of reading the room, “a key that opens up a lot of locks? That’s a master key. But a lock that opens up to any old key? That’s the definition of a shitty lock.”
Kimber’s face turned purple, and Hudson’s mom’s eyes went even wider, her nostrils flaring. His dad groaned.
Hudson knew they were about a second away from an epic shouting match. He was fully ready to defend his daughter ... not, he knew firsthand, that she needed it. She’d been fighting her own battles since she was six, even some of Jeremy’s. And his mom was certainly not somebody to cross, something Bruno knew. Still, Hudson couldn’t just stand there.
But to his shock, he didn’t need to.
Willa, as the kids would say, had entered the chat.
“Not a combination lock.”
He blinked. So did everyone else. Willa had said it with a surprised, just-this-side-of-loud tone of voice.
“What was that?” Bruno said, half challenge, half I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about.
“A combination lock technically opens to anyone who has the knowledge of the numbers,” she explained, slowly, like a professor would. “All you need, then, is knowledge that is included with the lock, which can be given to as many or as few people as desired.”
She looked so earnest . Bruno, on the other hand, just looked confused. She must’ve thought the same thing, because she continued, looking into his eyes like she was giving a TED talk.
“Theoretically, you could just open those locks through trial and error. There’s also the possibility that you’re a locksmith who opens locks for a living, or a thief who opens locks with ill intent. Oh! There are also biometric locks, like they have at, like, the Pentagon or highly classified military bases. Or retina locks, although maybe those are mostly in movies. That kind of thing.”
She snapped her fingers, like she’d just thought of something. It was almost painfully adorable.
“Then there are things like hotel locks. Those keys are disposable . They are recoded constantly, so even the same key can’t necessarily open the same door twice.” She whistled. “Looooootta locks. Lotta keys .”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Bruno finally burst out, disgruntled.
She tilted her head and smiled, so soft and gentle and sweet Hudson felt his stomach jitter and his heart speed up. It was like being at the top of a roller coaster, just before that drop.
That was always his favorite part.
“What I’m saying,” she answered, slowly and gently, “is that the analogy of key and lock only works with the assumption that one, a lock is only supposed to have one key, and two, it is the lock’s fault if it fails in this capacity.”
“I like her,” Kimber murmured, and his mom nodded, a small, satisfied smile on her face.
“Also, it makes the assumption that every key is trying to access and open every lock possible,” Willa continued. Not in a superior way, but almost like someone who really geeked out about something and wanted you to somehow be just as enthusiastic as she was. Hudson felt that way when he talked about clocks. She was looking at Bruno like she was begging him to understand, and he was absolutely flummoxed in light of that attention. “That it’s the purpose of a key. It also implies that a key that only opens one door is somehow inferior ... which, I mean, my car key only turns on my car, and I’m pretty okay with that?”
Bruno still stared at her. Actually, they all still stared at her.
“But ultimately the key-and-lock analogy—presumably indicating penetrative sex—is impossibly reductive and needlessly judgmental, which I don’t think you mean to be. Sex is not Fort Knox. Which I don’t even think uses a key. Anyway, a woman can be whatever kind of lock she wants to be. And some men might think that they’re master keys when really, they’re key cards.”
Bruno stared at her in silence for a long second, suspicious. “Are you fucking with me?” he asked, his expression like a storm cloud. “Trying to make me feel stupid? Huh? You think I’m stupid?”
Now every muscle in Hudson’s body tensed. He’d seen bigger men cower in front of Bruno, and he’d actually seen Bruno kick somebody’s ass at a family cookout once, a long time ago. (Granted, the guy had been drunk and gotten belligerent.) Hudson knew he would never hurt a woman, though, and he certainly wouldn’t lay a finger on Willa. But his every protective instinct was going bananas.
Even if Bruno wouldn’t hurt her, Hudson wasn’t going to let him scare her.
He started to step up to Bruno, ready to go toe to toe, even if, in his sixties, his honorary uncle would still make a fight of it.
But again, Willa surprised him.
She beat him to it and stepped right up to Bruno’s chest, looking up at him, since he had over a foot of height on her, her brown eyes intent and earnest. She still smiled, shrugging slightly.
“I know you’re not stupid. But for the past twenty minutes, I heard you talk about building Kimber’s bike when she was six, and ask about the goats she loves, and even tell her about your kids. I also know that you’re saying this stuff because you’re worried about Kimber and you don’t want her to get hurt, which is awesome .” She patted Bruno on one of his ridiculously muscular arms, one that had questionable tattoos and more than a few scars. It reminded Hudson of when she petted Noodle on the head. “I could be wrong, but I feel that if you realized that you were going to hurt Kimber, you wouldn’t want to. So I just ... thought I’d create a little break. Gave you a second to think about what you were saying, and another way to look at it. Sometimes we just need a little break to process things.”
Her eyes widened, like she’d just realized something.
“Holy shit! That’s what you do with a salad course. I am a salad course. ”
Then she smiled. Broadly. Ridiculously.
In that moment, Hudson watched one of the baddest-ass men he’d ever known fucking melt like a marshmallow.
If possible, Hudson fell a little bit harder for this woman as he felt the roller coaster drop in his stomach, and he smiled so wide he thought his face would crack.
“You are a trip, little girl,” Bruno said with one of his deep, barrel-chested laughs, chucking her chin like she was fifteen and not in her forties.
“In the name of full transparency,” she stage-whispered, leaning a little closer, “I am also apparently baked for the first time in my life, so ... that’s a thing.”
Now Bruno almost doubled over laughing.
Hudson, on the other hand, glared at Kimber and his mom as this sank in. It explained a lot .
“Kimber? What the hell?” He was at Willa’s side before he even realized he was moving. “How much did she have?”
“She asked!” Kimber protested, but she still looked a little guilty. “But ... yeah. She had a full cookie before I realized and could stop her.”
He turned back to Willa, who was staring at Bruno’s tattoos like they were Saturday morning cartoons as he painstakingly (and with obvious amusement) explained what each one was. Her eyes were as big as Bambi’s but a little unfocused. “This is her first time?” Hudson whispered as nervousness twisted his stomach.
“That’s what she said.”
Fuck.
“Willa,” he said softly a couple of times, until she looked away from Bruno. And by that, he meant she moved her entire head to focus on him. “You okay, baby?”
Baby?
What the hell?
He hoped to God his family hadn’t caught that.
She had to think about it, but then she broke out in a smile again. “Oh! Yes. I mean, a little ... dizzy,” she admitted. “Spinny. And hungry. I could absolutely murder a fresh-baked sourdough loaf right now. With some French butter. Nobody does butter like the French, let me tell you ... oh! Or croissants.” She sighed. “They’re a pain in the ass to make, but fresh croissants are incredible . With ... some fresh lemon curd. Or Kimber’s goat cheese! That was so good .”
“There’s some on the cheese board,” Kimber said with a grin.
“ Cheese board ,” Willa crooned, like she’d just discovered the Holy Grail. “I forgot about the cheese board! That fresh honeycomb with the goat cheese—that’s why I used it in the ice cream—oh, and the toasted baguette, and oh my God the cherry tomatoes, those tomatoes ! And the raspberries!”
Swear to God, she sounded like she was going to orgasm.
Was he supposed to feel guilty that he started chubbing up hearing that? He shifted a little, forcing himself to focus.
“I’m keeping an eye on her,” he said pointedly to his family and Bruno. “She can’t just ride this out on her own.”
“Can I have more cheese board?” she asked him, her full lips curving into a smile.
“Yes, I’ll get you a plate,” he said. At her wistful look, he grabbed a cracker and loaded it with some cheese and raspberries. She took it and stuffed it in her mouth like a hungry squirrel, moaning happily.
He shifted again. At this rate, this was gonna be a long night.
“Yup. You take care of her,” his dad said, and the laugh was right there .
“Sorry, Dad,” Kimber said again, genuinely apologetic, although her eyes were bright. She was going to text Jeremy about this, he could just tell .
Only his mom seemed able to keep it together, looking between them with a serious expression. “She did have some good ideas for the cookies, though.”
Willa tried to respond, but cracker crumbs started to fly out of her mouth. She swallowed hard, then started over. “All about browning the butter. And letting the dough cool twenty-four hours. Kenji’s a genius, and you really can’t go wrong.”
Then she shot him another soulful look.
“Gimme a second,” he said, setting her up with another cracker to tide her over while he quickly loaded up a plate. She had all the signs of the munchies settling in. He grabbed her a lemonade, too, and handed her the plate. “C’mon. We’ll go sit outside.”
“Okay!” She’d already snagged a handful of nuts and was chewing before taking another step.
He guided her, a hand on the small of her back, toward the back door, only to hear Bruno say, “You be real careful with that lock, son!”
He blindly flipped him off as they headed out the door, ignoring the laughter that followed them.