Hudson’s thumb brushed across my lower lip, and time seemed to stop. The fire crackled in the background. His eyes darkened as they dropped to my mouth, and I leaned toward him as if he were a magnet.
Just a couple more inches...
My phone shattered the moment, blaring “Single Ladies” by Beyoncé. I jerked back, the spell broken.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, scrambling to my feet. “I should get that.”
Hudson ran a hand through his hair, nodding as he leaned back against the couch. “Of course.”
I fumbled for my phone, my heart still racing. Anica’s name showed on the screen, and I took a deep breath before answering.
“Hey Ani, what’s up?”
“Mari! Good news. Devonna and I booked flights to Chicago! We’ll be there in two weeks to check on the expansion.” Anica’s voice was bright. “I can’t wait to see how much progress you’ve made.”
“That’s... great,” I said, glancing back at Hudson, who had started cleaning up our s’mores supplies, his back to me. “When exactly will you be here?”
As Anica rattled off dates and plans, I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting back to what had almost happened. What would have happened if my phone hadn’t rung? Would I have kissed Hudson? Would he have kissed me?
And why the hell did the word professional seem to stop existing as a concept when the two of us were together?
“Mari? Are you listening?” Anica’s voice snapped me back.
“Sorry, yes. Got it.” I scribbled the dates on a nearby notepad. “I’ll book you guys at the Palmer. You’ll love it.”
“Perfect! And we want to see everything—the office, all the work you’ve done for the Kussikov-Martin wedding, your other current projects, all the things!” Her voice softened. “And I want to see you, of course. It’s been too long.”
“I miss you too,” I admitted. “It’ll be good to catch up.”
After promising more details via email, I hung up and turned to find Hudson arranging kindling for tomorrow morning’s fire. Damn, his backside looked good in firelight.
“Anica and Devonna are visiting in two weeks,” I explained, trying to sound casual. “Checking on the Chicago expansion.”
He nodded without looking up. “That’s nice. You must miss them.”
“Yeah.” An awkward silence fell between us. What exactly were we supposed to say after almost kissing? Sorry I almost ruined our professional relationship by putting my lips on your face?
“We should probably get some rest,” Hudson finally said, standing and brushing his hands on his pants. “Early start tomorrow.”
“Right. Absolutely.” I nodded too enthusiastically. “Venues to see. Decisions to make.”
“Night, Landry.”
“Sweet dreams, Gable.”
As I closed my bedroom door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes. What the hell was happening to me? This was Hudson Gable—uptight, controlling, perfectionist Hudson. The man who’d once held me in a headlock after tormenting me all day. The man who had spent many weeks trying to undermine me to get the rights to plan the wedding.
He was also the man who’d carried me to bed when I was drunk and hadn’t taken advantage. The man who’d sung along to my playlists, albeit begrudgingly.
The man was trouble.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of venue tours, discussions that turned into debates, and carefully maintained distance. We both seemed determined to pretend the almost-kiss had never happened, throwing ourselves into work instead of facing the awkward conversations that would inevitably have to come, but would definitely be future Hudson and Mari’s problem. Procrastination at its finest.
We selected Lakeside Manor for the welcome dinner—my first instinct had been right—and spent Sunday morning finalizing details with the manager before driving back to Chicago. We used the car ride to discuss more wedding details, and for the last half we listened to his boring playlist. It actually wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought.
By the time Hudson dropped me at my apartment, the weird tension had mostly dissipated, replaced by our usual working rapport. Which was good. Professional. Appropriate.
And also extremely disappointing.
