Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
The person who haunts my waking thoughts and my dreams. In equal measure.
My opposing feelings for him give me whiplash.
Sometimes, I want to thank him.
Other times, I wish he never existed.
Dramatic, sure. But Hudson Wilde elicits strong feelings from me. Most often, bad ones.
Sometimes, apparently, homicidal ones.
Why does he have to be so damn handsome?
With that rugged look and a dusting of hair on his face, he looks like he would fit in better out on the land riding a horse than on the ice, but lord, is he good on skates.
With tousled, dirty-blond hair and a sharp jawline, he should come with a warning label.
I’d rather deal with a dozen over-caffeinated idiots than one cocky and annoying hockey player who’s great in bed.
And the worst part . . . he’s the only man who’s made me come.
So, yeah, I hate him.
And it’s just my luck to bump into him. Maybe he’s right. Perhaps I am the hex. As I try to escape, he notices me and crosses the space to intercept me.
Of course, I want no part in that, so I move faster, but when I do, my foot snags on the carpet runner, and like in slow motion, my cup slips from my grasp.
And, of course, Hudson, being Hudson, is already beside me, trying to once again be the hero.
Joke’s on him because it’s already falling.
Time slows to a turtle’s pace as I watch it tumble, coffee splattering all over Hudson’s white Henley.
He jumps back, his hands flying to pull his shirt away from his body.
“Fuck, that hurts.” He continues to fumble with his shirt until he eventually goes to lift it. He apparently remembers that he has nothing underneath because the moment his perfect washboard abs are in plain view, he drops the soaked material back down.
“Great, just great,” I mutter, eyes wide.
I’ll never hear the end of this. I’m sure he’ll figure out a way to attach this moment to my nickname.
Clumsy Hex or something stupid.
Hudson looks me up and down, his mouth twitching into a smirk as the hot liquid drips down his once white shirt. “Nice aim.”
“I’ve been practicing for years.”
“I bet you have.”
I take a step to the right.
“What? Abandoning me so soon?”
“I’m getting you napkins, dick.” I reach out and fumble for napkins from the nearby stand.
“Wow, dick? Aren’t I the victim?”
“Victim of what? An accident.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. I didn’t mean to. You’re just so . . . distracting.”
He raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Distracting? Interesting choice of words.”
“I have a few choice words I would say.” I reach forward and start to blot the fabric.
“I should charge you for the dry cleaning.” He leans in closer as I continue to wipe.
“Good luck with that. Dane doesn’t pay me enough.” My heart races. I shouldn’t be touching him. Being this close to him is dangerous too. Even though he’s not my favorite person, I can admit that he smells like heaven this close-up. Like pine on a warm summer day. It’s intoxicating.
Needing to escape, I take the soaked napkin and toss it in the trash.
“Well, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to spill on you, no matter what you believe.”
“Oh, I believe you.” A playful grin breaks through the sarcasm.
I dry my hands on my jeans, feeling the familiar heat rise in my cheeks.
We stand there, the air lighter than usual. It feels like something has shifted.
Just then, my brother appears with a look of confusion as he takes in the scene in front of him. He’s most likely curious about why Hudson and I are talking.
“What’s going on?” he asks, eyeing Hudson’s coffee-stained shirt.
“Nothing,” I say too fast.
Dane looks from me to Hudson, his gaze drifting down to Hudson’s saturated shirt.
“A cup of coffee attacked me,” Hudson explains.
“Is that so?”
“Yep, you know me; I’m always dropping stuff.” He covers for me, which is downright shocking. If he spilled a cup of coffee on me, I’m not sure I’d pretend otherwise. Not true. You would.
“Funny, I thought you were known for the opposite.”
“Well, only on the ice.”
“Right,” my brother replies. “Let’s hope that’s it. And you aren’t bothering my sister about something.” He lifts a brow.
“Nope. All good here.”
“If you say so.”
“Well, on that note, I have to be going.”
25
Hudson
“You don’t have to go,” Dane says, stepping closer. His words might tell me not to leave, but his face begs me to behave.
I take a step back. “Something tells me my presence isn’t wanted.”
I glance over at Molly, who has suddenly become very interested in her shoes. No one can call her subtle.
Dane’s gaze bounces between us. “You know it wouldn’t be unheard of for you to . . . I don’t know, get along.”
Molly snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Wanting to kill each other is apparently more our speed,” I respond.