7. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Finnley
It’s just after six when I pull into the driveway at home. A monster of a silver chevy truck is parked on the right side of the two-car garage. I’m lucky my Volvo is mid-sized, because it’s like an actual dinosaur has taken up residence in my garage.
The truck is jacked up a couple of inches, with gleaming, chrome wheels and not a scratch on it. It’s not brand-new, but damn, if it’s not the sexiest truck I’ve ever seen. I am definitely driving that thing sometime soon. I’d be indestructible in it. I could take out curbs and not even feel it.
I’m not surprised in the least that Hudson has been here a mere seventy-two hours and has already nailed down transportation. I’d offered him my car, but that would mean he’d have to get up and run me to the B&B every morning, and getting Paige up before five every morning through the summer just seemed cruel. I’m glad he and Hutch were able to find something so quickly. One less thing for Hudson to stress about.
After drooling over the truck a bit more, I grab my bag from where I dropped it on the hood of the Volvo and head inside through the garage .
The second I step inside, I’m hit with the smell of food and the sight of Hudson at the stove stirring something in a pot. From here, I can see smoke coming from the small grill on the patio outside.
“You’re cooking?” I ask incredulously.
Hudson glances over his shoulder when I come through the door and chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just mac and cheese and hot dogs.” He tips his head to the sliding glass door. “Shit, can you check on those?” he asks with a grimace.
He’s dressed in the least sexy clothes possible—a gray T-shirt and basketball shorts—but my stupid brain immediately notices the way his bicep flexes as he stirs the cheese into the pasta. And then, the way his muscles move under the thin fabric covering his back when he reaches for the milk. Who needs porn when I can just watch my best friend cook?
“You keep this up, and I’m never letting you guys leave,” I manage to say around my tongue that feels two inches thick. “A girl could get used to coming home to a literal thirst trap making dinner every night.” Dropping my bag on the counter and kicking off my shoes, I tease, “You sure you don’t want another wife?”
In the middle of gulping his beer, he chokes a little, and some dribbles down his chin.
“You should have seen your face.” I laugh before leaning in to give him a little side squeeze. Has he always smelled this good? God, I’m losing it.
“You’d have to put out,” he shoots back.
I’m halfway out the sliding glass door, when I almost trip over my feet and my cheeks heat. Somehow, I manage to act unaffected. “Deal.”
When I step outside, there’s an empty bottle of beer on the wicker table and Hudson’s laptop is open next to it. Three coloring books and a jumbo tub of crayons sit abandoned on the concrete next to the table, and I presume Paige must have left them in exchange for playing upstairs in her room. Besides coloring, spending time pretending her bed is a castle for her dolls is one of her favorite things. Hudson’s shoes have been discarded next to the loveseat and his cell phone is on the cushion next to where he must have been sitting.
It makes me smile. I love my life in Timber Forge and my independence, but seeing all their stuff strewn out, I realize I’ve been lonelier than I thought. I love that he and Paige are comfortable enough being here to make themselves at home. It feels strangely domestic and…kind of perfect.
Hudson steps out onto the patio behind me and peeks over my shoulder. “Are they charcoal?”
“Nope. They are done, though.” I turn off the burners, and then bend over to shut off the propane tank.
When I move to stand back up, a wave of dizziness hits me, and I stumble back into him. His strong arms come around me, steadying me.
“Shit, you all right?”
“Yeah. Lost my balance.” I haven’t eaten much all day, and I know he’ll ask. So, I turn and pat his chest. “Thanks for cooking, Huddy. I’m starved.”
He stiffens a little, but then relaxes just as quickly. Still, it makes me look up at him, questioningly.
“Are you ok?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m good,” he says.
I nod and squeeze his arm, before taking the plate he holds out to me. “Good. I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t realize how much it sucks coming home to an empty house, until I came in and saw you standing there.”
He looks down at me, his eyes softening a bit. “Yeah?”
Something in his expression seems almost sad, but it’s gone before I can read into it further. “Yep.”
He huffs out a breath through his nose. “Well, good, because I’ve been looking for a place for Paige and me all afternoon, and there isn’t shit available. We’ll probably be living with you until she goes off to fucking college. ”
There’s the reason for the look, then.
He tugs on the back of his neck, and I nudge him. “I told you that you guys can stay as long as you need to. So, stop worrying.” I turn back to the grill and begin filling the plate with the hot dogs.
“Thanks, Jameson.” He sighs and turns to go inside.
“Nice truck, by the way,” I say, following behind him. “That thing’s a beast. You compensating for something, Huddy?”
A crooked smile tips up his lips and his eyes crinkle at the corners when he chuckles. “Funny, smartass. It was probably overkill, but for the price, I couldn’t pass it up. I got the guy to knock off six grand.” He grabs a package of buns and condiments from the fridge, while I grab plates.
I lean forward, propping my forearms on the countertop with a snicker. “Who’d you have to blow for that?”
He opens the baby dill pickles, then fishes one out with his fingers. “Finance guy. But he blew me.” He pops the inch-long pickle into his mouth, and works it with his tongue, poking it into his cheek, then chews around a grin.
My cheeks heat a little, but I cover it with a joke. “Only you could ask for a discount and end up with a blow job to boot.”
He laughs and runs a hand down the front of his shirt, flashing a cocky grin. “It’s a gift.”
I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness, but it’s more to distract my eyes from tracking the movement of his hand down his body. “Well, that thing makes my car look like a Hot Wheels.”
“My dick?” he waggles his eyebrows and grins at me again.
I shoot him a look, and heat floods through me at his words. Seriously, what is with me lately? “The truck, you imbecile.”
His shoulders shake with laughter, and he turns to grab a plate, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. “Little woman, little car. ”
“Bite me,” I say through a laugh, because he’s told me on more than one occasion that my trusty Volvo is probably sturdier that a Sherman tank.
I missed this. Our bullshit banter and teasing each other. Sure, we still did it with two-thousand miles separating us but having him back home is something I never thought would happen. It just makes me so damn happy.
“Discount blow jobs aside, I wanna go for a run after dinner. Can you keep Paige occupied for an hour or so? It’s cool if not,” he asks before crossing the living room to the stairs to call Paige down for dinner.
I give him a nod. “Sure.”
I know Hudson, and asking for help has never been something he’s comfortable with. We’re a lot alike in that way. Things haven’t been easy since Tristen left, but he always finds a way to make it work. He’s resilient in a way I really admire.
He turns to the sink and hoists Paige up by the underarms, settling her in his bent knee to help her wash her hands. She giggles as he flicks a bit of water on her face, and then kisses her temple before sitting her down and handing her a dish towel to dry her hands.
I dish up the macaroni and cheese, while Hudson helps Paige with her hot dog. She squeezes out more ketchup than should be legal. “Hey, Paige?”
She giggles as her dad makes the ketchup bottle fart. “Yeah?”
Hudson squeezes the bottle over and over, purposely making her laugh some more. He’s so good with her.
Making my way to the four-seater square table with plate in hand, I ask, “You wanna redo your nails tonight, while your dad goes for a run?”
“Yes!” she exclaims, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her head nearly takes out Hudson’s chin as he’s leaned over, grabbing a napkin. “Do you have sparkly purple?” She scoops up her plate and rounds the island, her mac and cheese sliding precariously close to the edge before she sits across from me. “I think mine is all still packed up. Right, daddy?”
Hudson nods from the other side of the island, his mouth already full of food. He picks up his plate with one hand and his beer in the other.
“Absolutely, I do. It’s the best color,” I say around a bite of my hot dog.
Paige glances at my short nails, covered in black gel polish. If it’s the best color, how come you never wear it?” she asks, her brows pulled down like this is the most important question ever asked. “Yours are always black.”
Hudson huffs out a laugh through his nose. There’s a giant bite of hot dog stuck in his cheek when he plops down next to me. He shoots me a sly half grin. “Yeah, Jameson, why is that?”
I swallow the food that feels like a rock in my throat and flick my glance at him in a panic. Paige’s gaze stays trained on mine, searing into my soul because clearly, I have inadvertently lied to the world’s most perceptive six-year-old, and Hudson knows I just screwed myself.
“Well…purple is the best color for six-year-olds, and…” I grab my water and take a big sip.
Paige scrunches up her face.
“Well, it’s—” I stammer.
“Finnley likes her polish black, Pipsqueak. Like her soul,” Hudson says with a laugh and takes another bite of his food.
I gasp in mock indignation, and Paige looks back and forth between the two of us, a confused crease to her brow before she giggles. Breaking off a small chunk of my hot dog bun, I chuck it at him. It hits him in the side of the head.
Paige’s mouth pops open, and her eyes go wide on her dad. He lifts his head in dramatic slow motion to look at Paige, and without even looking my way, picks up a noodle off his plate and launches it at me .
I gasp when it hits my chest and drops into my lap. A giggle escapes Paige, and she tries to stifle it with a hand. Pinching a little pickle between my finger and thumb, I move to chuck it in Hudson’s direction.
In one quick motion, his arm is around the back of my chair, and I shriek with laughter as he pins my head between his chest and bicep, until he’s got my head tipped back and he’s trying to force the pickle in my hand between my lips. Paige’s howls of laughter mix with Hudson’s maniacal cackle as I squirm and try to duck my head. But he’s aways been a scrappy asshole, and my own unhinged laughter forces my lips apart.
The pickle hits my teeth before I burst out laughing, and I quickly wrap my lips around it, so I don’t inhale the damn thing. His eyes snag on the movement. His smile fades and his grip on me tightens slightly.
His eyes linger on my mouth a little too long, my heart taking flight in my chest. My laughter dies off and silence fills the kitchen. His eyes dart to mine, and then back to the pickle sticking out of my mouth. He blinks with an almost imperceptible shake of his head and releases me before he straightens. Then, he clears his throat and raises his hands in victory, while Paige commences with whoops and cackles from her place at the table.
I spit the pickle out into my hand and swallow hard.
What the hell was that?
I flick my glance at Hudson, who clears his throat and ducks his head. He picks up his fork, only to fumble it, before picking it back up and sliding a glance my way.
“God, I think you chipped my tooth.” I swipe my tongue along my teeth, and his eyes track the movement. There’s an almost hungry glint in them.
Hudson chuckles, but it sounds forced.
“Daddy, you’re so silly!” Paige giggles.
He glances over at Paige and winks. “Ok, you animals. Let’s finish our dinner.”