Hooked By Hudson (Silver Spoon Cowboys #5)

CHAPTER ONE HUDSON

CHAPTER ONE

HUDSON

When things go to shit, they really go to shit. My morning had it out for me long before I stepped foot outside my door. The technical failures began when my smart home system decided to skip the alarm, leaving me to wake up forty minutes behind schedule.

After rushing through the shower and dressing, I reach the kitchen, looking forward to some strong fucking coffee.

The universe isn’t done dishing out hell though.

The high-end espresso machine my sister gave me for Christmas decides to violently reject its latest pod, spraying dark roast across my chest with the accuracy of a marksman.

“Fucking goddamn hell,” I mutter, grabbing a napkin.

While I’m changing into another shirt, the Silver Spoon Falls skies open up with a vengeance.

That’s when I remember that my garage remote bit the dust yesterday, and I parked my truck in the front circular drive. Fucking hell.

By the time I settle into the front seat, I’m soaking wet.

The morning from hell just keeps fucking giving.

The drive into town takes me twice as long as it usually does when I get stuck behind a goddamn cattle truck with nowhere to be.

I’m not sure the day could get any worse.

I park in the underground garage at the Montoya Investments building already fifteen minutes late for a meeting with Cash Montoya.

I shoot Cash a quick text, letting him know I’m on my way, and stalk past the reception desk, boots squeaking at every step. Fuck. I should’ve stayed in bed. A headache pounds away behind my eyes, and I’m running dangerously low on patience for any of the universe’s games.

"Stop right there, sir."

The voice isn't loud, but it’s got the structural integrity of a reinforced concrete wall.

I freeze, my hand inches from the glass, and turn to look at the source.

She’s sitting behind the curved marble desk looking at the puddle forming around my feet with an expression of profound, clinical boredom.

She’s a redhead with hair like copper spun into silk with too much heat, the kind that looks like it would almost burn your hand if you reached out to touch it.

Her eyes are striking. They’re sharp and that shade of clear aqua you see in photos of tropical oceans, only so bright and intense up close.

My heart pounds away as my cock turns to steel in my pants. Fuck. She’s curvy with beautiful, lush lines that her crisp, professional outfit is definitely struggling to contain. Her jawline is so firm and decisive, and when her eyes meet mine, it’s with a gaze that could stop a man in his tracks.

"Hudson Carrington. I have an appointment with Cash Montoya," I say, waiting for her to wave me through.

"Hold on, Mr. Carrington," she says, finally meeting my gaze.

She doesn't reach for the phone. She doesn't even move her hands from where they’re resting on the desk, fingers poised over a keyboard like she’s waiting for me to finish being a nuisance so she can get back to something actually important. "And I’ll check you in."

“I usually just go straight up,” I mutter, my brain struggling to fire as I stare at the most perfect woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I catch a whiff of her citrusy perfume and nearly groan out loud.

My eyes trail down her luscious body. The way her silk blouse clings to the swell of her breasts causes her tits to strain against the fabric in a way that makes my mouth go dry.

I want to know if her skin’s as soft as it looks.

What the fuck is happening to me? I notice her name badge.

“Tinsley.” Even her goddamn name is beautiful.

Motherfucker. I’m sounding just like my dumbass, pussy-whipped brother.

“Well, today, you’re going to wait while I check you in.

” She smiles at me as shock flows through me.

I stand there like a fucking bump on a log and watch while she types something on the keyboard.

My entire world is spinning off its axis while she looks completely fucking unfazed by meeting me.

Then she looks up and meets my eyes, and the air between us feels like it’s been charged with high-voltage electricity.

She smiles at me and points toward the elevator. "Mr. Montoya’s office is on the nineteenth floor. They’re ready for you."

“Thank you,” I mutter, standing there for a beat too long, watching her return her attention to her monitor like she’s already forgotten I exist. It’s both goddamn infuriating and the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years.

I turn away, my boots still squeaking, but my mind isn't on the meeting anymore. It’s on the curvy little firecracker who just gave me the shock of my life.

"Hudson? You with us?" Cash asks, tapping a rhythmic beat on the tabletop. He’s looking at me with a mix of amusement and concern, probably because I haven't looked at the projections he’s been discussing for the last ten minutes.

"The numbers are fine, Cash," I say, though I haven't actually processed a single digit. My mind’s a chaotic loop of shock and desire. I’m imagining the way her sweet pussy will feel against my tongue, wondering if she tastes like that citrus perfume she’s wearing.

The thought’s so vivid, so visceral, that I feel a tightening in my trousers that’s got nothing to do with business and everything to do with the woman sitting nineteen floors below behind a marble desk. I’m losing my mind.

"You’re distracted," Cash says, leaning back in his chair. He’s a man who understands power, and he’s clearly seeing the shift in mine. "Have you been drinking the goddamn water?"

Fuck my life. I can’t believe Cash would buy into the bullshit Silver Spoon Falls old wives tail that says drinking the water in town leads to finding your “soulmate.”

"Don’t start that shit," I reply, forcing my voice to remain level.

I lean forward, trying to anchor myself in the reality of the mahogany table and the glowing screen at the end of the room.

"We need to finish up. I have another appointment.

" My next appointment consists of finding out every fucking thing there is to know about Tinsley.

The rest of the meeting’s a blur of logistics and financial projections. I nod at the right times, ask the necessary questions about interest rates and land rights, but my mind is consumed with her.

When the meeting finally ends, I don't linger for the usual post-game banter with Cash. I shake his hand, gather my things, and move toward the door with a sense of urgency that feels like a physical weight.

I step back into the lobby, and the tension’s only thickened. Tinsley’s still there, her red hair a bright beacon against the clinical white of the office. She’s on the phone, her voice a low, melodic hum that I want to record and play on repeat. She doesn't look up when I approach.

I stand at the desk, waiting. She finishes her call, hangs up the receiver with a deliberate click, and finally meets my eyes. Her expression hasn't changed.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Carrington?" she asks, her voice dry. She leans back, her eyes tracing the line of my shoulders before returning to my face.

"I want to take you to dinner, Tinsley," I say, the words coming out before I can filter them. "Tonight. There’s a place in town that does a steak almost as good as the ones on my ranch."

She looks at me for a long beat. She doesn't blush. She doesn't look flattered.

"No, thank you," she says, her voice flat. "I’ve got plans."

"Plans?" Oh, hell no. Jealousy cuts through my soul. There’s no way I’m letting another man take her out.

"I’ve got a date with a bottle of wine and a book." I can’t believe she turned me down.

“Dinner with me would be more fun.” I can’t believe I’m practically begging her.

She actually rolls her eyes at me. “I seriously doubt that.” If I wasn’t so fucking disappointed, I’d probably be impressed with the bored look on her face. I can already see this girl is going to give me a run for my money.

I feel a laugh start in my chest—a genuine, surprised sound that I haven't made in years. She’s incredible.

She’s a nightmare. She’s the first woman I’ve met who doesn't want anything from me, and it makes me want to give her everything. I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that’s meant only for her.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep asking until you say yes.

” I wink at her and head out the door before she’s able to stomp on my heart again.

As I walk out the automatic glass door, I hear Tinsley call behind me, “You must have a thing for rejection.” Not usually, but I’m discovering that nothing is the same after meeting this stunning woman.