She sighs. “I know, it’s just a lot for me to take in, you know? I have a flight booked to come home in a few days.”
“Take your time and do whatever you need to do. Your job will be waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks. You seriously don’t know how much I appreciate your friendship. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”
I wait to answer while she lets out a long yawn. “I love you too. Get some sleep and call me in the morning, okay?”
“I will, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I end the call and set my phone down before looking over at Hudson, who has his eyes glued to me. “Brett is still awake and seems to have regained most of his memory.”
He whistles. “Shit. You had me scared for a sec.”
I cock my head to the side. “What? Why?”
“I thought the dude died and you were comforting her by saying she can do better and his dick game was weak.”
I laugh. “No, so not the case.”
He smiles. “Then help me with my confusion, will ya?”
I don’t want to repeat what Brett did because I’m so irate about it. My anger might force me to fly there and knock him upside the head with a frying pan. Maybe he needs to suffer another concussion so he can wake up from the next one with more sense.
“He woke up and decided to dump her ass,” I tell him, snarling my lip.
He scowls. “You’re shitting me?”
I shake my head. “I wish I was. Douchebag wants to spread his wings like a pigeon and spread his bullshit to more of the female population.”
Hudson sips on his tea. “Sounds like a good man.”
“Yep, even better news is that the chick he’s been cheating on her with showed up at the hospital devastated.” I throw my hands up. “Hooray!”
He winces, his expression switching from resentment to pure hatred. He looks like he wants to be the next one in line to elbow-drop Brett. “I despise cheaters,” he hisses. “They disgust me. Willow deserves better.”
I nod in agreement. “It’s not the first time he’s done it, either. He’d get caught and then beg her to stay with him while giving the same speech that he’d change, and for some reason, she always fell for it.”
His jaw muscles ticks. “They never change. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Period.”
“I … I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” I stutter out. “People make mistakes and learn from them all the time.”
This is about his ex. I know it. I hate the fact that he’s so angry about it. I stare down at my hands. He’s still in love with her. That’s the only reason he’d react this way.
“Cheating isn’t a mistake,” he spats. “It’s unforgivable in my book. It breaks the bond of trust, and if I can’t trust you, I can’t be with you. It’s not that difficult for someone to take a step back and realize that cheating on someone will tear them apart in every way possible. Make them feel like they’re not good enough.”
I gulp. This night had been going so well. He catches onto my uneasiness and snaps out his frustration, his face apologetic. “Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear me whine about this shit. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” He finishes off his tea. “It’s probably time we get to bed.” He seems to be constantly telling me that. We get somewhere and then he tells me to go to sleep so we don’t move forward. “Goodnight, Stella. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight,” I whisper while watching him rinse out his cup and then leave the room.
I wait until I hear his bedroom door shut before I grab my phone again. I open up Instagram and type his name in. My search comes up empty. Dallas’ pictures comes up when I put in his name next.
Jackpot.
There’s nothing more satisfying than wanting to stalk someone on Instagram and finding that their account is public. Creeping here I come. I scroll through his photos. Most of them are of him with Maven and Lucy. I spot the most recent one with Hudson. They’re at his welcome home party. Hudson looks happy, a beer in his hand, and his arms around his brother and a short, dark-haired woman. I narrow my eyes at her but relax when I notice she’s tagged in the caption as Lauren Barnes, their sister.
I proceed with my stalking until I’m well into weirdo territory and find one with Dallas, Lucy, Hudson, and a stunning blonde. I click on it and study the picture. Everyone is smiling, and she’s tucked into Hudson’s side with his arm around her.
It’s the ex-girlfriend.
I’m sure of it, and she looks exactly like the woman I’d imagine Hudson with. Her hair is naturally blonde and down in loose, effortless waves, and she’s wearing cut-off shorts and a t-shirt that says she supports The Second Amendment. I can tell by this photo that Hudson loved her. There’s a different kind of light in his eyes than he has now.
I click on her tagged username to see more pictures of her and maybe the ex-best friend. It’d be hard to find someone better looking than Hudson – someone who could compete with him. Did she keep pictures of her and Hudson up or delete them?
Unfortunately, her account is private. Loser.
The only way I can advance further into my operation stalk Hudson mission is if I request to follow her, which will make me look like an insane person.
Game over for me.
I frown, pissed off at my defeat, and finally decide to go to bed with Hudson on my mind.
Chapter Sixteen
Hudson
I acted like a douchelord in the kitchen.
I never meant to expose myself like that to her – to unmask the wounds vesting inside of me. I’m not in love with Cameron anymore. I don’t want her back. That’ll never happen. Once a cheater, you’re always a fucking cheater in my playbook. What triggers my anger isn’t losing her – it’s the lies and deception. I would’ve given my life for her – sacrificed everything I had to make sure she was safe and happy, only to find out she’d turned her back on me when the times got just slightly tough. She should’ve come to me, told me she didn’t want that life, and I would’ve gladly let her off the hook.
It only proves that pursuing a relationship with a friend you’ve known your entire life is a bad idea, which is why I’m taking a hiatus from dating. Whether I’m taking a break from fucking is still yet to be determined because my mind … my dick … can’t stop thinking about dipping into some sweet pussy.
It’s been too long since I’ve been intimate with a woman, and there’s nothing more on your mind than getting laid when you come home from a long deployment. My problem is that my pussy-deprived mind is wrapped around tasting my new employer.
I snatch my laptop from the desk and power it up to start the second season of Stella’s show. I shake my head at my stupidity of letting it slip that I’ve been watching, but the excitement in her eyes told me she liked it. She’s made it clear she’s all in. She’s mine temporarily if I make the move, and each passing minute with her is pushing me closer in that direction.
I blow out a breath.
I can’t believe I’m about to say this.
“I’m bound to screw Stella Mendes,” I whisper into the emptiness of my room. “And god help me, I think I’m falling for her.”
“Morning,” the voice says, the last half of her word wrapped around a yawn.
Stella’s ebony hair is down and wild with tangles – my favorite look on her. I love seeing her unpolished – raw and untamed. She’s wearing different pajamas than the ones from last night, although they’re similar with the exception of color. The dark silk nearly blends in with her skin tone, and the tank is cut so low I’m sure I’ll get a view of her nipples if she leans down far enough. That’ll be a good way to start my morning. I run my tongue over my lips, thinking about how exciting it would be to wake up and feast on Stella first thing – before I do anything else. The perfect breakfast. Most important meal of the day.
Fuck. I need to smack some sense into myself with this whisk in my hand, but instead I settle it on the side of the bowl and rub my hands ov
er my sweats.
“Adulting fuel?” I ask, turning around to make her a cup without even waiting for her response.
She yawns again. “Is that even a question?”
I pour her a cup – adding two teaspoons of sugar and a splash of coconut milk. I somehow have her coffee preference down, which further proves that I’m being an idiot and getting too close. I’ve even started doing it myself. I’d never had coconut milk before, but the shit isn’t too bad.
“Thanks,” she says when I hand her the mug. She rises up on her tiptoes to see what I’m doing. “You’re making breakfast?”
I shrug. “I figured why not? You said your chef is on vacation, and I’m starving. It would’ve been rude for me to only make enough for one.” I grew up with a mother that always cooked enough to feed a football team. We seemed to constantly have a houseful of people – cousins, girlfriends, neighbors. People showed up, and we fed them.
“Always the gentleman,” she says with a light laugh. “You need any help?”
I shake my head before tipping it towards the island. “Sit down and enjoy your coffee. You might be the master tea-maker, but I’m the breakfast expert.”
She gives me a skeptic look. “Do you actually know how to cook? Or do I need to collect my valuables before you burn my house down?” She drags out a chair from underneath the island and sits down.
“Sure do. When I was younger, my parents made us do the outside and inside chores so we’d be a Jack of All Trades. I can change your tire and then come home and bake you a kickass pecan pie.”
She leans forward to settle an elbow on the counter, her chin resting in her cupped palm. “A Jack of All Trades, huh? I like it. You fix shit, shoot shit, and cook shit.”
I snap my fingers. “I think I’ll make that my next pick-up line.”
“I expect royalties when it’s successful and you get laid.” She pauses, a smile growing. “Unless it’s with me. I’ll let you have a free pass then.” She winks.
I laugh. “You better quit trying to fuck me before I burn your breakfast.”
“Eh, I wouldn’t mind. To be honest, I’ve hard my fair share of burnt food. Cooking is not one of my strong suits.” My shoulders relax now that she’s changed the subject and isn’t going to keep exciting my dick. “Even when I try, I always seem to mess something up.” She leans back, her manicured fingers wrapping around the handle of the mug, and keeps her eyes glued to me while I move around and do my thing. “But I have to say, I’m enjoying watching you in my kitchen. There’s something sexy about a man putting in the effort to do something like this instead of calling room service or texting his chef what my favorite meal is.”
“That’s good to know.” I can’t believe she’s never had a dude cook for her.
“Although, if you take your shirt off, it’ll be even sexier.” She grins, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
I hold the whisk up, batter dripping from it while trying to keep a straight face. “You keep trying to get me naked and I may have to file a sexual harassment against you.”
She blows out a dramatic breath. “Why are you making it such a challenge? I thought all men liked to get laid, especially when a woman is putting a no-strings-attached clause on the table. I feel like this should be the other way around.”
“You might want to change your taste in men, Princess. Not all of us only care about getting our dicks wet. I think it would freak the hell out of you if I kept begging you to jump on my dick. I’d be like Eli’s creepy bodyguard.”
She shudders at the mention of Josh. “True story, but trust me, I wouldn’t mind it from you.” She licks her lips. “I’d encourage it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“That’s what you keep saying,” she mutters. “Cock block.” I shake my head, laughing, and start to dip the bread into the batter. “So what’s on the menu?”
“French toast and scrambled eggs.”
“Sounds good.”
She starts telling me stories of her cooking fails while I finish up our food, hand her a plate, grab all of the necessary essentials for the meal, and then plop down in the chair next to her with mine. She looks from my plate to my stomach and then to my plate again.
“Question, how do you eat like this and look like that?” she asks.
“I work out,” I answer, grabbing the sugar-free syrup, which is all she had, and pouring it over my plate. I do it to hers next. “Although, I’ve been slacking on it since I’ve been here. Your gym consists of mostly cardio machines.”
I wait for her to take the first bite so I can witness her reaction. I grin when she does.
She chews, swallows it down, and then stabs at her next one with a fork. “This is incredible. I wasn’t expecting it to be this good.”
We dig in, our conversation limited as we stuff our faces, and she helps me clean up when we’re finished. She’s wiping her hands on a dishtowel when she looks over at me with a grin. I know I’m in trouble.
“Back to the working out conversation,” she says. “I have news that’ll brighten your day.”
I arch a brow. “Oh really?”
“My yoga instructor is coming over for a morning session. Do it with me. We can burn off all those delicious carbs we just devoured.”
Yoga? I snort. “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass on that.”
She doesn’t look phased at my dismissal. “Have you ever even tried it before?”
“Nope, and never plan to. Twisting myself into pretzel positions doesn’t seem like a good time to me.”
“It’s not only twisting yourself into pretzel positions. Don’t knock something until you try it. Plus, you said you’ve been slacking on your work outs.”
I shake my head. “Still not happening.”
She pouts her lips. “Please for me.” I shake my head again. “You’re doing it, so get dressed, soldier. You’re about to have your first yoga lesson.”
I throw my head back, knowing damn well that I’m about to cave. “How do I keep letting you talk me into shit I’d never do?”
She laughs and slaps my stomach as she walks by to leave. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
“If not, you better make it up to me,” I yell to her back while getting a good view of her ass.
She whips back around. “I have no problem with that. I’m up for anything.”
“And I’ll keep that in mind.” We’re playing a dangerous game.
She’s laughing as she disappears into the foyer. I go to my room to change and grab my phone.
Me: What the hell does a dude wear to yoga?
Stella: It’s nude yoga, so you don’t have to worry about attire.
Me: You and your instructor are going to piss yourself when I show up in my birthday suit.
Stella: Piss myself or play with myself?
Me: Jesus Christ, woman.
Fucking with me seems to be her new favorite hobby. Stella will be the death of my morals. My momma will have a coronary if she sees me in some tabloid love triangle. People will think I’m the scum of the Earth for messing with another man’s woman, and I’ll never be able to tell my truth because Stella will hate me if I let her secret out.
Operation Keep My Dick In My Pants is now in order.
I have a feeling I might fail.
My phone rings before I start to change my clothes. I snag it from the bed and balance it on my shoulder as I pull my shorts up. “Hello?” I answer.
“How are things going?” Dallas asks on the other line.
“Good.” I pause, debating with myself on whether to tell him this or not. “About to head off to yoga.”
He laughs for a good thirty seconds. “You’re shitting me?” I stay quiet. “You’re doing yoga now?”
“No, asshat. I’m escorting Stella to yoga,” I lie.
“Bullshit. You’re going to climb up on that mat and Namaste the fuck out of your problems. Next time I see you, you’ll be eating seaweed and hugging trees.”
“Fuck off, w
hat can I help you with?”
“Doing my daily check-in to see where your head is at and if you’re done being a grumpy bastard yet.”
“I think you know I’ll always be a grumpy bastard, but it’s getting better.” That’s an understatement. “It does get dull when I’m following her around doing mundane shit. How did you manage to do this for so long?”
“I don’t know. I guess I got used to it. You will too.”
“No, I won’t. I’m only here temporarily, remember?”
“I stand corrected. Get your yoga on and text me later. Maven is insisting I have a tea party with her.”
“You’re giving me shit about yoga when you’re about to have drinks with stuffed animals?”
“The perks of having a kid, man.”
I hang up and open my suitcase for a shirt. I haven’t unpacked because I’m not staying long.
Chapter Seventeen
Stella
Hudson doesn’t show up naked to yoga, much to my dismay.
However, he does show, which gives me some optimism.
Today’s yoga session is going to be interesting, to say the least.
He might be wearing clothes, but there’s not much to them. I slowly lick my lips, taking him in as he comes further into the kitchen wearing athletic shorts that hang low on his hips and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off that gives me the perfect view of his firm forearms and chiseled triceps.
I smile, lamely feeling special that I’ve convinced such a macho man to do this with me. He’s beginning to surprise me more and more with every minute we spend together. I can feel him dragging me into his world, and I have a nervous feeling that if I get swept up, I’ll never want to let go.
It’s the calm before the storm.
It’s going to happen, and I don’t know how bad the devastation will be when it ends.
His mind is like a mystery book that I want to read every page of. Has he changed his opinion about me? Does he think I’m a creep for hitting on him all of the time? Does he consider that sexual harassment? Is he going to sue my ass because I want to get a piece of his?
Make Me Yours Page 9