I step away from him and open the door.
Hudson doesn’t waste a second, all but running inside, which makes me smile, too.
He takes off like he knows exactly where he’s going, and I don’t bother following him. I amble through the aisles, the scent of coffee and sugar filling my lungs.
I can’t remember the last time I visited a real bookstore, let alone a cozy little one like this. The shelves are stacked with new and used books, and there are even piles on the floorin frontof the shelves. I find my way to the self-help section, taking my time as I pull books out. A good bit of them I’ve read. Not much to do when you’re sitting around in airports twenty-four-seven except work or read.
I flip through a copy ofThe Mountain Is You,peeking at some of the pages. I haven’t read this one, but I’ve heard it’s a good one.
“Take up mountain climbing in the last eight years?” Hudson’s voice pulls me from my moment of distraction.
“Huh?”
He leans against the bookshelf and I see the stack of books in his arms. Some statistical things, history of football, and—is that a romance book?
“The Mountain Is You,” he deadpans, pulling my attention from his very interesting pile of books. The way he’s looking at me—studyingme—is slightly unnerving, but also makes my stomach flip.
Actually, that might be the mix of alcohol and questionable hors d’oeuvres I had at the opening.
I think.
It certainly hasnothingto do with the way Hudson’s staring at me.
“Oh, uh… no. This is…” I swallow harshly, feeling strangely vulnerable about divulging my obsession with self-help books—despite the fact that I don’t think any of them have actually helped me.
Hudson keeps his gaze on me, clearly waiting for my response.
I close the book and hand it to him. He looks at it as if it is a snake.
“It’s about overcoming self sabotage. About… getting over your own shit.”
Hudson glances at the book, then at me, and I don’t think he’s going to take it, but… then he does; his fingers brushing mine.
My stomach does that weird flip again, my heartbeat fluttering momentarily, and I am seriously regretting my snacking choices this evening. I make a mental note to take an antacid later for this fluttery heartburn thing.
“I have a hard time believing you need help with that sort of thing,” he says carefully.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I pull out a copy ofAttached: The New Science of Adult Attachment And How It Can Help You Find—And Keep—Love.
I let out a chuckle, my lips pulling into a smirk.
“Found one for you,” I say as I hold it up.
Hudson shakes his head, but I don’t miss his smile.
“Mr. Love Doesn’t Exist,” I tease him.
He pushes the book toward me with one hand. “Maybe you should read that one.”
I flip to the back cover and scan the blurb. It actually sounds kind of interesting, though I’m not sure I believe in only three types of attachment.
“Maybe,” I say as I tuck it back on the shelf. “If there’s an audiobook, I’ll get it.”
I nod to his pile of books, noting he’s tuckedThe Mountain Is Youon top of his stack. I smile, just as the stack teeters and he nearly drops the couple on top, including my recommendation.
“Here.” I step forward, and he tenses, but relaxes when I grab his books from his arms, holding them to my chest. I’m surprised at how heavy the stack is, but I don’t complain. I can’t because I’m too distracted by… him, I guess.
Up close like this, I can see just how much he’s changed.
