“Can I talk to you in the hall for a second?”
“Of course,” he says, following me as we cross the large room.
As soon as we round the corner, I whisper, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. They’re crazy people.”
“They seem fine.”
Shaking my head, I say, “They’re insane. And they’re going to ask you all sorts of embarrassing questions and my dad’s going to assume you’re trying to sleep with me so he’s going to be just awful to you and they’re going to make you eat so much, you’ll feel sick. You should just go, while you still can.”
Placing both hands on my shoulders, he says, “Allie, I’m fine. In fact, I’m going to have a great time. Now, you go get to work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. This whole thing was my idea,” he says. “Now go.”
I stare at him for a second, feeling all kinds of warm, gooey feelings. He’s here to help me. He just showed up exactly when I needed him. “Okay, but only if you’re sure you’re sure.”
“I’m totally sure I’m sure.”
I start toward the stairs, but he stops me. “Wait. I should probably borrow that apron. My stylist will kill me if I get this shirt dirty.”
I tuck my lips between my teeth to stop myself from laughing, and he says, “Yeah, I just heard it myself. Let’s pretend I didn’t say that.”
I reach behind my back and try to untie the strings, only to discover they’ve knotted up somehow. “Just a sec,” I tell him, leaning to my left as if that’ll work.
“You need some help?”
“No, I’m good. I’ve got it,” I say through gritted teeth while I attempt to twist the apron. It is not going to budge. Dammit.
“Allie, let me help,” Hudson tells me, his voice a little more forceful this time.
I grunt a little, then let my shoulders drop. “Fine.”
I spin on my heel and stand with my back to him, my temperature rising three degrees centigrade as I feel his fingers brushing against my lower back.
“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”
“I prefer the word independent.”
“I’ve met independent. You’ve crossed the line to full-on stubborn.”
“Hey,” I answer, attempting to turn around so I can argue with him, but he stops me with his hands on my waist.
“Stay still.”
God, that felt good. It’s been way, way too long.
Holding my breath, I take in every second while he fiddles with the knot, his big, strong hands only inches from the top of my bottom. My mind wanders right back to him carrying me out of my office, and it occurs to me that here he is, saving me again, when he is under no obligation to do so.
“There, got it,” he says, and far before I’m ready, his hands are gone.
I turn back to him and lift the apron off my neck and place it around his, and there’s that cologne again. Wow. I watch as he wraps the strings around his narrow waist and ties it in front. Grinning at the sight of him in my mom’s flowery old apron, I say, “Do you want me to take some pics for your Insta account?”
He grins. “Is this a good look for me?”
“Totally.” And the crazy part is, it actually is.
“Now, go get to work,” he says, pointing up the stairs with his thumb.
“It’s not too late. You can still sneak out.”
“Never.” He gives me a wink and walks back into the kitchen.
As I’m heading up the stairs, I hear my dad’s voice. “So, Hudson. That blonde with the huge knockers. What’s she like in real life?”
Oh, sweet Jesus. This is going to be a total disaster.
A totally wonderful, incredible, heart-fluttering disaster…
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