“He’s rich and works in technology.”
“That doesn’t make him smart with security,” Hudson says, his annoyance factor definitely a mile high.
And he makes a point.
“Are you always so… truthful?” It’s a trait I’ve learned to like about him over the last few weeks but now he’s turned his attention to my friends I’m not sure how they’ll respond.
He shrugs. “I try. Lies and sugarcoating shit only gets people killed. Even a horrible truth is better than ignoring problems altogether.”
I work over his statement for a moment. It’s true, but once again Hudson isn’t only lacking sprinkles, he forgot the frosting too. The whole damn cupcake is missing. There’s nothing but the bitter tasting paper wrapper.
“What are your plans for tonight?” Hudson asks in a horrible attempt to change the subject.
I’ve never been big on going out. I’d much prefer to stay home and read a good book or even watch a TV show, but being basically forced to stay my home has made me itchy. I need to get out and do something. I’m about to suggest a movie when I catch sight of Hudson’s face. The skin around his eyes is crinkled and if possible, I notice the stress running through his veins, his neck tight in anticipation of my answer. I bet he’s imaging the worst idea ever. Like a baseball game or whatever sport people play in January.
The man just yelled at the richest person I’ve ever met and he might be forcing me to stay in my home, but he’s also keeping me safe from a potentially hazardous situation, and he’s a nice guy.
I grab my burrito from the small bag and sit down on the couch. “Sit around the apartment and read.”
For a moment his face softens but then tightens right back up. “Are you sure?”
“Yup.”
“What if Aspen calls and wants to go shopping?” He carefully grabs his burrito wrapped in aluminum foil and makes his way closer to the overstuffed fluffy chair that takes up a big spot in the living room.
“After this morning they’ll realize I’m out of commission for a few days.” If Finn even lets me hang out with Aspen again after Hudson’s display. Maybe he’ll decide I’m too dangerous.
He sighs and sinks into the chair. “I’m sorry. I’ve seen shit in my experience and it’s never safe to take threats lightly.”
His words are soft, but they have a dark side to them. There’s truth in every one he speaks. It makes me yearn to hear more of his past even the dark memories he obviously tries to keep hidden. I take the first few bites of my burrito and sit quietly not having a response to his comment. In any other situation I’m sure I’d be freaking out right now.
I mean, let’s not forget I witnessed an attempted murder. But something with Hudson makes me feel safe. And the fact there’s somebody else looking out for me. At least I hope he is.
When I finish the burrito, I lean back on the couch and grab my e-reader from the coffee table. A new book in my favorite Boy Band series released a few days ago, and I’ve waited to start. Every woman who reads romance has her favorite genre. Billionaires, vampires, sports stars, the list goes on and on, but for me it’s musicians. Moody rockers to be precise.
I’d never date one in real life… well except the DJ incident a few months ago. In reality, musicians are way too moody. But in books I get the best parts of them without having to live with drug overdoses and the cheating.
I pop open my e-reader and lean back, adjusting my shoulders against the pillow. There’s nothing like getting to spend a Sunday on the couch reading.
Hudson crinkles the wrapper of his burrito and tosses it in the bag next to mine. The noise causes my eyes to peek up and inspect him. I had a hunch this was too good to be true.
“What?” he asks.
My eyes narrow judging his response to my coming question. “Are you going to be quiet and let me read?”
“Amanda,” his eyes widen. “All I did was throw my trash away.”
“I know, but a lot of people say they will sit quietly and read, but most people don’t.” I speak from experience. This is a skill Simone does not possess. Oh, she’ll tell you she’s going to be as silent as a mouse, but she isn’t. I don’t think she knows how.
“Yes, I can sit quietly,” he says without any humor. “In fact, I brought a book.”
“You brought a book? From Maine?”
“Yes. Don’t be so judgmental. Just because I have wonderful muscles on display and enough background knowledge to kill a man at least five different ways before they even notice doesn’t mean I don’t like to read.”
Hudson stands, walking to where his bag of clothes sits in my closet. I’m pretty sure he’s underestimating the ways to kill a man number.
“It’s more than wanting to read it. You have to be able to sit quietly and do it when someone else is in the room,” I yell after him. It’s a process. One I couldn’t do if my brother Alex were still here, but thankfully he headed on his way south again the next morning. Hudson, however, hasn’t made it back to sleeping on the couch. I don’t plan to complain.
