Eloise
I’d talked myself out of going to Hudson’s about twenty times before I finally closed the inn’s front door and bounded down the steps to my rental car. I still fought with myself on whether or not I was going to obey Hudson and meet him at the bakery at nine like he’d instructed me to yesterday.
I didn’t take too kindly to people telling me what to do, and that was with people I liked.
Even though Hudson had correctly diagnosed me yesterday—my hunger had made me crabby—and he did make the most delicious baked goods I’d ever tasted, that didn’t mean I suddenly liked him.
Or that I wanted to spend time with him.
Or that I was going to start taking orders from him because he seemed to think that he knew me better than I knew myself.
I was determined to hate him until the end of time. And I was a woman of my word.
So I decided that I was driving through downtown Harmony on my way to the bakery because I wanted to go there this morning. I was curious what he had in mind for today, plus I needed to start working on Gaines’s and Josalyn’s centerpieces if I had a prayer of finishing them before Saturday.
I wasn’t being obedient to Hudson; I was making a choice for myself.
I pulled into the back of the bakery and parked right next to Hudson’s truck.
I gathered my purse as I stepped out. I slid my purse strap up onto my shoulder as I bumped the car door shut with my hip.
As I walked next to the bed of Hudson’s truck, my gaze drifted to the dent above the taillight, and I rolled my eyes as I shook my head.
It was ridiculous that he hadn’t gotten that fixed.
It made his truck look rundown, and from what I knew of Hudson, he was bougie.
He liked his clothes to be name brand and neat.
A banged-up vehicle went against everything the kid I’d grown up with valued.
I made a mental note to point out that inconsistency should he insist on making small talk today.
I knocked when I got to the back door. I still wasn’t sure what the etiquette was at a place of business.
I was a guest here—a stranger even. It felt weird to just turn the door handle and barrel inside.
I would have done that years ago, but our relationship was different now.
Just letting myself in felt like a level of intimacy that I wasn’t interested in having with Hudson.
For my mental health, it was best to remain acquaintances with a history than try to be something more.
I was about to knock again when the door swung open and Hudson stood there, towering over me. He raised his eyebrows before a smile spread across his lips as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“You came,” he said. And I had to bite my tongue to not reply with a snappy retort.
“You told me I had to,” I said with a matter-of-fact tone and then tacked on, “this is also where the wedding stuff got delivered.”
Hudson nodded, his smile refusing to falter. It wasn’t until silence fell between us, that I finally took in his appearance.
It was strange to see the resident bad boy and captain of the college lacrosse team wearing a black apron with flour dusted all over it. Upon further inspection, he also had flour smudged across his cheek.
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I went with instinct. “Did you get any flour in the bowl?”
He narrowed his eyes as he straightened and dropped his arms. “Huh?”
I waved toward his face and his apron. “You got quite the dusting.”
He glanced down before he wiped at his face with his hand. When he was finished, he looked at me. “Is it gone?”
He’d managed to get most of it, so I shrugged. “Good enough.” I glanced around, realizing that he had yet to invite me in. “So, was this the plan for today? You wanted me to come stand outside while you stare at me?”
He frowned before his expression turned sheepish, and he moved away from the doorway. “Sorry,” he said. “Please, come in.”
I bit back my retort. I straightened and crossed the threshold and headed into the kitchen. Yesterday, the place had been spotless. Today, it looked lived in. Hudson was definitely in the middle of baking something.
“Hard at work?” I asked as I scanned the room before returning my gaze to Hudson.
He shrugged as he held out his hand. “It’s my life,” he said as he wiggled his fingers like he wanted to take something from me.
I glanced down at his hand and then back up to him. He must have seen my confusion, because he hurriedly said, “Purse.”
My hand went to my purse, and I held onto it. “What? Why?”
He deadpanned. “I’m not going to steal it if that’s what you think.”
I glared at him. “How do I know that?”
He shifted his weight and sighed. “You’re not a very trusting person, you know that?”
My eyebrows flew up as I scoffed. Was he serious? “I’m a trusting person, I just don’t trust you.” The words were out before I knew what I was saying.
He paused. A flash of hurt raced through his gaze that made me feel bad for blurting that out. A mixture of emotions raced through me at his reaction, and suddenly, I felt guilty for being mean. I didn’t want to hurt Hudson, but I was so angry at him that it just flew out of me.
I was angry that he wasn’t stepping up to take care of his son and Hannah. I was angry that he’d kissed me and then acted like it never happened. And I was angry that he wasn’t the guy I’d spent my whole life thinking he was.
Growing up, Hudson was my first childhood crush and my hero. Every summer when we came to Harmony, I idolized him. He was always nice to me. When Gaines wanted to exclude me, Hudson was the one who’d invited me along—even if I rejected those invitations on a regular basis.
I thought I knew who Hudson was. I’d thought wrong.
I pushed the feelings of guilt out of my chest as I held my ground.
I was angry and disappointed in Hudson. And he needed to know that, even though everyone else may have, I wouldn’t let him off the hook.
I was going to hold his feet to fire. I was going to let him know just what I thought about his behavior.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Well, I’m not going to steal your purse, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He spoke that sentence like it was the craziest thing he’d ever said. “I just don’t want you to get flour on it.”
I frowned. “Flour?”
His smile was back as he folded his arms across his chest. “Flour,” he repeated. “You’re going to help me bake.”
I scoffed. Was he serious? “Don’t you have employees to help you?”
“Yes.”
I raised my eyebrows. If that was true, why was I here? “Exactly,” I replied.
He shifted his weight so he was standing firmly on both feet. He looked like a bouncer with his arms crossed as he straightened his full six-foot-four frame. I felt tiny next to him. Thank goodness I had my sharp tongue. Put me up against him in a physical fight, and I would lose instantly.
“You’re too stressed.”
I blinked. “What?”
He must have picked up on my confusion because he relaxed his posture and unfolded his arms so he could wave them in my direction. “You have city stress written all over you.”
“City stress?”
He nodded. “We see it all the time. People who are overworked and overtired come to Harmony to decouple.” He pointed his finger in my direction. “You need to decouple.”
I scoffed and shook my head. Even though he was right. I was overworked and overstressed, but there was no way I was going to let him think that he knew me. He was completely misreading the source of my stress.
“This isn’t a Hallmark movie, and you aren’t the hero,” I said as I moved over to lean against the island, folding my arms across my chest.
He looked amused as he studied me. “Hallmark movie?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “The classic city girl returns home to her small town where the handsome baker teaches her the true meaning of life.” I snorted, enjoying my analogy.
When Hudson didn’t reply, I glanced over to see his wide smile. I frowned. Why did he look so happy? I’d just insulted him.
“The handsome baker?”
Heat pricked my skin as I played back my comment. Had I said that? Embarrassment coursed through me when I realized that, yes, I had indeed said, “handsome baker.”
“I…um…” I wanted to redeem myself, but no words came. It was like my brain had short-circuited.
“Listen, Lou—Eloise. I don’t want to fight with you. I just…want to help. You seemed stressed, and baking relaxes me. I thought you could give it a shot. If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to bake again.” He extended his hand like we were making a gentleman’s agreement. “That’s a promise.”
I stared at his hand. Part of me wanted to snort and say something quippy about the value of a Hudson Maxwell promise, but I decided against it.
Hudson was right. I did need a break. That’s why I took the week off to help with the wedding.
If I wasn’t actively trying to relax, what was the point of being here?
I took in a deep breath and steeled my nerves before I slowly released the air.
I didn’t want to be here with Hudson, but it was a necessary evil if I wanted to get justice for Hannah and make sure my brother’s wedding went off without a hitch.
If I found peace for myself in the process? That was an added bonus.
“Fine,” I said as I reached out and took his hand. The feeling of warmth that exploded up my arm from his touch startled me, and I almost yanked my hand away. But I fought through it and finished the handshake.
Once my hand was back down by my side, I took in a deep breath and glanced around. “So what are we making?”
I could feel Hudson’s gaze on me. It was intense, like he was surprised I’d even shook his hand. I kept my focus on the countertop in front of me.
“I’m making a birthday cake,” he said, his voice growing closer as he stepped up next to me.
His elbow brushed my arm, sending shivers across my skin. I silently cursed my reaction. This was Hudson I was standing next to.