“I can’t.” She blinked, realizing that croak had been her. She’d truly had no idea what she was going to say to his offer until the words came out of her mouth. But as soon as she said them, she knew it was what she needed to do for her self-preservation. “I, um, have to work. At the bar.”
Hudson cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing on her. “That so?”
“Mhmm,” she said, false chipperness in her voice. “So sorry about that, but I won’t be able to—”
“Cut the shit, Kenna.”
“Excuse me?”
“I already know you’re off this weekend. A little birdie told me.”
A little birdie named Willow Grace Haven, her no-good, rotten sister who was now dead to her.
“Oh, well, I…” She racked her brain, trying to come up with a plausible solution. Something other than telling him,Sorry, but you scare the living daylights out of me, and I’m too much of a chicken to spend uninterrupted time with you.“I have to fill in for someone.”
“No, you don’t.” He stalked to her desk, braced his hands on the top, and leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. “Admit it—you’re scared.”
She gaped at him, her mouth dropping open on an offended huff. “I am not.”
“No? Then come. If you’re not scared and you don’t have to work, why not?”
“Because I…have a lot of things to do around the house.”
He stared at her, his assessing gaze never straying from hers. Then, quietly, he said, “Don’t tell me I have to make a bet with you to get your ass out there.”
She snorted. “Are you new here? Who says you’dwinsaid bet? For all you know, you might be spendin’ your weekend cleanin’ out my gutters.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Can I assume if you’ve already got your terms decided, you’re in?”
Of course, she was in. When was she everout? But instead of telling him that, she said, “Only if I can decide on the challenge.”
“Done,” he said without hesitation.
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, her brain working overtime to come up with something impossible for him to do. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go with him—it was that shedid. And that scared the ever-loving hell out of her. Better to steer clear of him for a while, for her sanity’s sake.
Suddenly, inspiration struck, and she shot him a smug smile. “All right, hotshot, let’s see who can get Grumpy Gleaves to grin first.”
Gleaves Philander was approximately 270 years old and had been the town grump for as long as she could remember. Every day, he sat outside the barbershop, scowl firmly in place, as he scrutinized the passersby and mumbled under his breath about them.
Fortunately for Mac, Gleaves seemed to have a soft spot for her. It’d started when she’d given him an extra muffin she’d gotten from The Sweet Spot one morning during one of her ride alongs with Edna. Baked goods bought friendship with the grump, apparently. And she wasn’t above exploiting that friendship in the name of winning this bet to keep her heart safe.
“Fine,” he said. “But just so we’re clear, when I win, I get you for the weekend up on Havenbrook Ridge.”
“Ifyou win, I think you mean.”
“No, Kenna.” He leaned even closer to her until she felt the warm gust of his breath against her lips. “When.”
Heaven help her, she wanted to lean forward and press her mouth to his. Wanted to slip her tongue inside just to remind herself that, yes, hedidtaste as good as he smelled. Andshit, he smelled good. Fresh and crisp and manly.
Thank God this was going to be an easy win for her, because she had no idea what she’d do if she were forced into close proximity with Hudson for two days with nowhere to go and a single tent to sleep in.
Fifteen minutes later, Mac watched in stunned silence while Hudson and Grumpy Gleaves laughed and joked like they were old chums. In the couple years she’d been slipping him extra muffins, she’d barely caught a twitch of his lips, and now look at him. Who even knew the man had teeth?
If she didn’t know better, she’d think Hudson had played her. Except she’d been the one to suggest this bet, which meant there was no possible way he could’ve orchestrated this to his benefit.
Whether he did or not was irrelevant, because the fact of the matter was she’d lost the bet. And, like it or not, her weekend plans had just been filled. She just had to make sure her heart survived the trip.
Mac sat in one of the rocking chairs on her front porch, her stomach a mixture of knots and butterflies, all thanks to her impromptu overnight trip.
