Chapter Four
Hud pulled into the narrow driveway, killed the engine and sat motionless behind the wheel, heart hammering against his ribs.
He wiped his palm on his jeans, took a slow breath and reached for the yellow rose on the passenger seat, its petals soft against his fingertips.
The truck door creaked as he stepped out into the cool evening air.
Each step up the concrete walk felt heavier than the last. He crossed the porch and raised his knuckles to the door. When it swung open, his breath caught.
“Damn,” he whispered.
Her dark hair was piled up in a way that looked both elegant and effortless, soft tendrils framing her face.
The purple dress hugged every curve before stopping at her knees, the fabric catching the porch light and shimmering.
His gaze traveled down to the purple stilettos that made her calves flex in a way that dried his mouth right out.
When he finally dragged his eyes back to her face, he found his voice.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You look very handsome.” She pulled the door open wider and waved him inside.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hud removed his hat, wiped his feet on the mat and stepped in. He’d made an effort. Dark jeans, a pressed shirt, his best boots. Not a suit, but The Hartland didn’t require one and he cleaned up well enough when it mattered. He handed her the rose. “For you.”
“Thank you. Let me put this in water, grab my purse and we can go.”
“Take your time.” He looked around the living room. Cream and burgundy, warm and put together. A staircase led up to the second floor. To his left a fireplace anchored the far wall with a flat screen mounted above it. And plants. Everywhere. Shelves, corners, windowsills, hanging from above.
“Looks like a small jungle in here.” He shook his head.
“I’m a plantaholic. I can never have enough.
” She laughed from the kitchen. “This place actually belonged to Abbie McBride. When she moved in with Creed she rented it to Celine, who eventually bought it. Then Celine met Killian and didn’t stay long.
I’m renting it from her for now. Still deciding if I want to buy. ”
“Big step.”
“I think so too.” She walked toward him and he did his best to keep his composure. She stopped in front of him. “I’m ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He offered his hand and she placed hers in it. They stepped onto the porch together and she pulled the door shut behind her. He took her keys, locked up and handed them back, then kept her hand as he led her to the passenger side of the truck and pulled the door open.
Blair smiled and stepped onto the running board, sliding onto the seat. He pushed the door closed, walked around and climbed behind the wheel. He looked at her once before starting the engine and pulling out.
At the restaurant he came around, opened her door and offered his hand.
She turned on the seat, took it and stepped down carefully onto the pavement in those stilettos.
He kept hold of her hand as they crossed the lot to The Hartland’s glass doors.
The place was packed, as usual. He was glad he’d thought ahead about the reservation.
Inside, a young woman at the podium confirmed their booking with a smile, gathered two menus and led them to a booth.
“Thank you,” Hud said, settling onto the bench.
“Your server will be right with you. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
He looked at Blair.
“White wine. Chardonnay if you have it.”
“Callahan Whiskey on the rocks for me.”
“I’ll be right back.” She headed toward the polished mahogany bar, heels clicking against the hardwood.
“I love this place,” Blair said, glancing around. “The food is wonderful.”
“Grant makes sure of that. He buys his beef from local ranchers.”
“Good for him. Helps the whole community.”
“Yes, ma’am. So, what did you do today?”
“As little as possible.” She grinned. “Curled up with a book on the sofa and didn’t feel guilty about it once.”
Hud chuckled. “That sounds like a perfect Saturday. I rode out through the east pasture this morning, worked around the barn a little, then spent the afternoon with a cold beer and the TV.”
“Do you ride every day?”
“Unless the weather turns bad. Lightning or ice will keep me in.” He leaned forward. “Do you ride?”
“I love it. There’s nothing like that feeling of freedom.”
“Then you’ll have to come out. I’ve got plenty of trails on the property.”
“I’d love that.” Her fingers played with the edge of her napkin.
“Anytime.”
Hud was having trouble keeping his eyes off the curve of her neck when he heard his name from across the room. He got to his feet.
“Hello, Gina.”
“It’s so good to see you.” She hugged him, her perfume reaching him before she did.
“You too. Blair Nelson, this is Gina Langley.”
Gina turned a practiced crimson smile toward Blair that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then looked back at Hud.
“I’ll let you two enjoy your evening. I need to get back to my date.
” She hugged him again, pressing close. “Call me,” she murmured against his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark, then walked back across the restaurant with a model’s practiced sway to a table where a silver haired man in an expensive suit sat waiting.
Hud slid back onto the bench and caught Blair staring at him, eyebrows arched in silent question.
“What?”
“Old flame?” Her lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Not really a flame. We’d go out once in a while.”
“For sex, you mean.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her interlaced fingers.
“Blair, I’m not having that conversation.”
“Fair enough. She’s very pretty.”
“So are you.” The words were out before he could stop them.
Blair laughed, turning heads at nearby tables, and shook her head. “Men.”
“What’s wrong with men?” He spread his hands.
“Oh, dear God. I don’t have that much time.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest in mock pain.
“Ask any woman. They’ll tell you.”
“Hard pass.” He grinned when she laughed again.
The hostess set their drinks down with a curt nod and returned to the podium. Their server appeared moments later, notepad ready, took their orders with a practiced smile and wove his way back through the crowded dining room.
They talked easily after that, voices blending into the surrounding murmur of conversation and clinking silverware.
“Celine says Killian is always working.” Blair swirled her wine slowly before taking a sip.
“We are.” Hud sighed.
“How is the agent who was shot?” Her expression softened.
“Rawley. Still healing, still on part time. He hates every minute of it.” Hud’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. “I’m working his case now.”
“It wasn’t solved?”
He shook his head and lifted his whiskey, the amber catching the dim light. “More people involved than they caught. I’m going to find them.”
“I believe you will.” She leaned forward slightly, her perfume drifting across the table. “You sound certain.”
“I have to be.” His grip tightened around the glass. “They could have killed him. I was there when it happened. Three shots to the chest, each one knocking him back a step, dust puffing from his vest like small explosions. I’ll never forget it.”
“You were there?” Her eyes widened.
“A few of us were.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“It can get dangerous,” he said, turning the glass slowly in his hand. “But I love the work.”
Their dinners arrived, and they kept talking through the meal, easy and unhurried. Hud cut into his ribeye and thought, not for the first time, that Grant Hunter knew exactly what he was doing. Blair had ordered the seafood platter and from the look on her face it hadn’t disappointed either.
When they finished the server came back, offered dessert, cleared the plates when they declined and wished them a good evening.
Hud helped her from the booth, took her hand and led her out to the truck. It was still early but he had no interest in going anywhere else. He just wanted more time with her.
He helped her into the truck, climbed behind the wheel and drove to her townhouse. In the driveway he came around, pulled the door open and offered his hand. She hesitated a heartbeat before taking it and stepping down onto the asphalt.
He guided her to the front steps, where the porch light spilled a warm glow across the concrete.
She reached into her purse for her keys.
He lifted them gently from her fingers and fit the one into the lock.
The door clicked open and he nudged it inward, then handed the keys back and lingered in the threshold.
“I had a great time,” she said softly.
“Me too.” His eyes dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Blair tilted her head. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”
He grinned. “We could call it that.”
Her sharp intake of breath carried a flash of indignation. “You are one cocky bastard, Hud Anderson. Do all men think that taking a woman to a nice restaurant entitles them to sex?”
“Was that a rhetorical question?”
“Was it?”
“Was that?” he shot back, eyebrow lifting.
“Stop being difficult.”
He tipped his head to hide a smile, but she caught the curve of his mouth anyway.
“Nothing here is amusing,” she said, arms braced at her sides.
He straightened. “You’re right. I don’t know how this started—”
“You know exactly how it started.”
He looked away, jaw working. “I’m going to go.”
“Fine.”
He shook his head, voice quieter. “That word never means what it’s supposed to mean.” They stood in tense silence, then he turned and walked off the porch, boots clicking against the concrete.
He climbed into the truck, shifted into reverse and her front door slammed just as he cleared the driveway. He winced.
“You dumbass.” He punched the roof of the cab, knuckles stinging on impact.
He rolled to the street and stopped under the glow of a streetlamp. Killed the engine. Sat there while regret twisted in his chest. Then he restarted the truck, turned around and drove back.