My girl rolls her pretty eyes. “What secret?”
“My favorite thing in the entire world, besides baseball, is hanging out at home watching movies and eating junk food.”
She shakes her head and stands. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.” I stand too.
Her eyes follow me up. “When was the last time you did that?” God, it’s been forever. I look up, trying to think.
“See? I did it last night, I’ll do it tomorrow night, and because Monday is the Fourth of July, I won’t do it then because I’m going to a baseball game, but the whole time I’m there, I’m going to wish I was doing it.” She holds up her hand. “I don’t eat pizza each time because I’m on a budget and it’s not very healthy, but you get the idea.”
“I get the idea.” I lean down until I’m an inch or two away. “I want to spend the evening with you. Can we do that? Can we see what happens? We don’t have to figure out everything today.”
“Hudson.” She sighs dramatically.
“Please?”
“Fine.”
I give her a quick kiss on her pretty lips, and I feel a sizzle that runs down into my chest. Now all I can think about is kissing her for real. Longer. Deeper. But that’ll have to wait. “Great. Let’s go.”
She grumbles a little more, and I can’t help thinking out adorable she is. But I’ve got one more question for Willa. “So, you mentioned cuddling with Barney.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you add me to that part of your list?”
Glancing down at her, that beautiful pink appears on her cheeks again. I don’t let her respond. Instead, I nod and affirm, “Good. That’ll be perfect.”
ChapterSeventeen
WILLA
Openingthe door to my apartment, I step inside, holding it for Hudson. As soon as he’s over the threshold, he asks. “When did they fix the lock on the front door?” Why does he look smug?
“Last week.” Then I remember, “They fixed the buzzers too, but I’m not sure I like that. People push mine on accident all the time.”
“We won’t get our pizza without it since the doors now lock.”
“True.
“And the elevator?”
“That’s still broken but I saw someone here yesterday working on it.”
That smirk reappears. “Good.”
Ignoring his weird behavior, I point to the sofa. “Have a seat.” I move to my dresser and pull out some leggings and a much longer T-shirt. I’m not comfortable wearing leggings without a super baggy top. Not in front of Hudson anyway.
Handing him the takeout menu for J.B. Alberto’s pizza, I say, “Look that over to see if you’d rather order something different.” Holding my clothes, I point to the bathroom. “I’m going to go change.” I could add “into something more comfortable” but this isn’t a 1950s Doris Day movie.
Ooh, I love old Doris Day movies.
If my kitchen is a cracker box, my bathroom is a matchbox. I’ve got a shower that I barely fit into, a tiny sink mounted to the wall, a toilet, and a medicine cabinet that is the only storage in the place. As quickly as possible, I take off my accountant tee and slip on the oversized Chicago Bears one my dad used to wear.
No, don’t think about it.
Next, I slip out of my denim capris and replace them with the softest, most comfortable leggings in the world. Soft from wearing them for years but they’re still in decent shape. There are only one or two holes, but they’re small.
