Hudson’s fingers twist in my hair, and I think sleep is too hard to fight.
So I don’t fight it.
When I wake, the sun is going down, and Rocket is no longer in my lap, but is sprinting about the yard. When I look up, I see Hudson is still next to me, his gaze on Rocket.
“Shit, how long was I out?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.
“‘Bout an hour,” Hudson says, his voice smooth, warm.
“Didn’t mean to pass out on you,” I say, sitting up. Hudson lets me go.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he says, rocking the swing back and forth as he pushes off the deck.
“Yeah, but I was supposed to make dinner…” I groan.
Hudson laughs. “Good thing I ordered takeout then.”
“Takeout?” My eyes widen.
Hudson gets up from the swing and offers me a hand to help me up.
“Yup. Should be here in ten minutes, just before the game starts.”
I stumble forward as he pulls me, and I fall into his arms. One arm slides around my waist as the other steadies me by my arm. I wrap mine around his neck, finding his gaze with mine.
“You know me so well,” I say with a grin.
Hudson’s gaze flits from my eyes to my mouth as he smiles.
“I know.” He leans in and kisses me, slowly. Deeply.
My hands slide up his neck, my fingers twisting into his hair as I savor his kiss.
As I savor this moment.
Rocket bounds up the steps and paws at our legs, barking at us with excitement.
Hudson groans against my lips, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Alright, alright,” I say, breaking away as I lean down to pet our boy and give him a kiss, too, as Hudson gets the door. He holds it open for us. Rocket runs in, skidding across the kitchen floor as Hudson sighs. I stop at the door, my heart swelling with pride and awe.
“What?” he asks as I hear Rocket’s nails against the tile.
“I love you,” I say, leaning in to kiss him swiftly. “I lovethis.”
Hudson gives me a warm grin.
“Yeah, I guess it’s not so bad,” he says as a crash pulls both our attention and the doorbell rings.
“Shit…” I tense.
“You get the dog; I’ll get the food,” he says, as we both head into the house.
“You got it, baby.” I sprint toward the sound of the crash, finding Rocket wearing his water bowl on his head, drenched. Hudson comes into the kitchen just as I’m setting the bowl on the ground, and Rocket shakes the water off of him, getting it on both of us. Hudson laughs.
“This was your idea, remember that,” he says, pulling the food out of the boxes and setting it on the counter.
“I know…” I say as I head for the bathroom to get a towel to dry us off.
