Felony Ever After

by Helena Hunting

  “Why?”

  Hudson only smiled, but Verity felt her underwear burst into flames. She was so screwed.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  I’m so screwed. #VodkaIsNotMyFriend

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  Why didn’t Angie take my phone away? #DoubleScrewed

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  I wonder how far that tattoo goes… #INeedLaid

  Chapter 5

  Recognition

  Penelope Ward

  After shooting a wink at her, Angie took off with Joseph to the other end of the bar to play darts, leaving Verity alone with Hudson. It was getting really hot all of a sudden.

  Hudson leaned in, his breath warming Verity’s eardrums. “Why do you keep messing with your phone and pretending I’m not here?” He’d donned a gray beanie and looked better than ever with his hair sticking out from under it. The gray brought out the blue of his eyes.

  She put her phone back in her purse. “It’s none of your business what I’m doing.”

  He took his own phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it. Looking up at her, he said, “You were tweeting again.”

  Her stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”

  “By the way, if you want to know how far my tattoo extends, why don’t you just ask? I’ll show you.”

  Fuck.

  Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck.

  A hot flash ran through her body, and it felt like the room was spinning. “You’ve been stalking me online?”

  “You’re the only Verity Michaels in the United States. It wasn’t that hard. And I wasn’t stalking you. I looked your name up once, and bam—your Twitter account popped up, along with the hashtag ‘pound Hudson’.”

  Mortified could not begin to describe Verity in this moment. She immediately got up from the bar. “Oh my God.”

  He gripped her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I… I need a shot of vodka.”

  Hudson wrapped his firm hand around her torso and guided her back to her stool. She felt the muscles between her legs clench at his touch.

  “Relax. I’ll get it,” he said, stepping down the bar.

  Verity slumped on her stool. It was hard to breathe normally as she absorbed the fact that he’d seen what she’d written about him. His back was toward her as he waited for their drinks. She loved the way his jeans hugged his ass. Angie and Joseph returned from the dart boards, proclaiming the place too busy to throw any more sharp objects, and startled her out of her thoughts.

  “What’s hot bike-messenger-cab-thief doing here anyway?” Angie whispered, her eyes wide.

  “He’s stalking me.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  “No, I mean, really stalking me. He looked me up online and read all of my tweets, apparently.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I basically tweeted that I wanted to fuck him. I used his name in a hashtag.”

  Joseph bent his head back in laughter while Angie covered her mouth and spoke through her hand, “Oh, shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  Hudson reappeared at Verity’s side with two shots of vodka, one for each of them. He raised his chin toward Joseph and Angie. “Hey. I’m Hudson.”

  Joseph reached out and glanced down at Hudson’s tattooed fingers. He then took a closer look at him and squinted. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  Shrugging, Hudson replied, “I don’t think so.”

  “Hmm… I’m pretty sure I do,” Joseph said, scratching his chin. “I just can’t figure it out.”

  Angie leaned toward Hudson. “Anyway, nice to see you again.”

  “Have we met?”

  “Yes. You deliver packages to our office. We’ve spoken briefly.”

  “Oh, my bad.”

  It amazed Verity that Hudson had no recollection of Angie. Even she had been impressed by the woman when they’d first met.

  After another moment, Angie nudged Joseph toward a table that had opened up and waved, evidently at someone she knew. “Get it, girl,” she whispered as she and Joseph walked away together.

  Hudson spoke in Verity’s ear. “So, back to our conversation…”

  “What conversation?”

  “The one about your need to get laid and desire to pound me.”

  “Get over yourself,” she huffed. “You’re really not my type.”

  “So, I’m good enough to fuck but not good enough to date?”

  “No… I would not actually have sex with you, either.”

  “There’s a different Hudson out there that you’ve been tweeting about wanting to pound?”

  Verity’s blood boiled. She looked up at the recessed lighting in the ceiling in an attempt to compose her thoughts. “Blurting something out on Twitter and actually following through are two totally different things.”

  “Let me get this straight. You find me physically attractive, you talk about having sex with me to hundreds of people, but you wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole? Why did you text me then?”

  “It was a lapse in judgment.” She lifted her empty shot glass. “You can see I’ve been drinking.”

  “So, you’re saying you do stupid shit when you drink, and texting me is an example?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “Why are you being such a bitch? I don’t believe that’s who you really are—not for one minute, Honeybee.”

  “Honeybee?”

  “Yes, fucking Honeybee. That’s what I call you in my head now. I hate your name, remember?”

  “How can you possibly know that I’m not really a bitch?”

  “Someone who stops to take pictures of bees nestled in flowers can’t be that cold-hearted.”

  “Look, I’m really not trying to come across as mean. You’re just… I don’t think we’re compatible. So you’re wasting your time.”

  “Because I’m a bike messenger? Is that why? You must have some preconceived notion that I lack ambition. Last time I checked, you don’t exactly need a Ph.D. to be a receptionist.”

  “It has nothing to do with your job.”

  “Okay, then. What is it?”

  “It’s not something I can explain. You just seem… dangerous—like someone I should stay away from.”

  “Dangerous,” he repeated. “Okay, so you do like me, but that scares you because I’m different than the straight-laced guys you’re used to.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Would you prefer something else?”

  Verity’s mouth dropped open. “You’re insane.”

  His blue eyes were piercing. “You like it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t.”

  “If you didn’t, you’d be long gone.”

  Verity sighed. She did like it, and this exchange was only making her hotter for him.

  “What do you do, Verity?”

  “What you mean?”

  “Besides your meaningless job—what makes you tick?”

  She let out a deep breath and decided to answer him honestly. “I like to take pictures. I’m a photographer.”

  “So, when I caught you taking the photo of the bee, there’s more where that came from?”

  “Yes. A lot more. I have—well, used to have—a professional camera and a business. I’m working on fixing things so I can dabble in photography on the weekends.”

  “I’d love to see your photos sometime. What do you like to shoot?”

  Just thinking about taking pictures softened her. “There is infinite material to be found in Central Park. I like to take nature shots, especially when the trees are in full bloom. But my absolute favorites are candid shots of unsuspecting people.”

  He wiggled his brows. “You’re a bit of a voyeur.”

  “Not in the way you probably are.” She looked down at her empty glass. Without asking, Hudson took it to get her another drink.

  He signaled the bartender, and a few minutes later, another vodka tonic appeared.

&
nbsp; Verity smiled. “Thanks.”

  “I’m capping you at this one.”

  “Why?”

  “I get the feeling you’re a messy drunk.”

  Touché.

  Verity changed the subject. She didn’t want to discuss her drinking and potential lack of control. “I answered your question, so what is it that makes you tick, Hudson?”

  “Right now?” He licked his lips. “You.”

  She could feel herself blushing. His stare burned into her. She felt it in every nerve ending, and the fact that she couldn’t control her reaction drove her crazy. Worse than being late.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “I meant in general.”

  “I sketch custom tattoo designs for people. I really enjoy that. Ironic, considering your little nickname for me, huh?”

  Verity rolled her eyes and saw Angie waving her over. She and Joseph were sitting with Marco, a wholesaler from work, and a few more seats had opened up.

  Hudson escorted Verity to the table and introduced himself to Marco, saving her the trouble of figuring out how to explain him. She couldn’t even explain him to herself. After a few minutes, Marco suddenly snapped his fingers. “I got it! I know why I recognize you!”

  “Oh, really? You’re ahead of Joseph then.” Hudson said.

  “You’re the dude on the bike who drops off my grandmother’s medicine.”

  “You’re Edna’s grandson?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “That’s cool. Small world. She’s so sweet.”

  Angie smiled at Hudson. “She hires you to pick up her medicine?”

  “Nah. I ran into her one day when I was delivering something in her building. She was struggling to get up the stairs. She said she doesn’t have the energy to go pick up her meds sometimes. I told her to call me when she’s running low. She calls it into the pharmacy, and when I’m in the area, I go get it for her.”

  Marco nodded. “I happened to be visiting one day when he delivered them to her. Thank you, man. I know she really appreciates it.”

  “No problem.” Hudson looked over at Verity’s shocked expression and whispered, “As you can see, my dark and dangerous reputation precedes me.”

  Verity couldn’t help but laugh. She was rather touched by what she’d heard, and felt kind of stupid for judging him so harshly. Noticing Hudson staring at her lips, she asked, “What?”

  “God, you have a pretty smile.”

  Verity couldn’t even begin to describe what Hudson’s smile did to her. She certainly wasn’t going to return the sentiment by admitting it. But she did need to say something… anything…

  “I have to go,” Hudson said abruptly, looking at his watch.

  “What? So soon?” Now Verity’s brain began working again.

  “All of a sudden you want to me to stay?”

  “Well, we were talking. I ju—”

  He cut her off. “I can’t stay. I have another obligation. I’m sorry.”

  Disappointment rushed through her. Did he have a girlfriend? Why else would he suddenly have to leave tonight?

  “Uh… okay,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Hudson placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in. Her heart raced because she was sure he was going to kiss her.

  “Don’t drink anymore. Take care of yourself,” he said, just inches from her lips.

  Too close but not close enough. When he uttered that last word—yourself—she noticed a shimmery piece of metal piercing his tongue.

  He walked away, leaving her more aroused than she could ever remember being in all her life. She now had another fantasy to add to the list: Hudson’s head between her legs as he went down on her with his decorated tongue.

  Later that night, and after switching to water at the bar, she checked her email in bed before turning out the light.

  Hudson Fenn is now following you on Twitter.

  Verity clicked on his profile and noticed that it was only recently created. His profile picture was the photo she’d snapped of the bee on the flower. He had yet to send a tweet.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  I need to change my account so strange men in beanies can’t find me. #Stalker

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  Tell your girlfriend I said hello. #ObligationMyAss

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  What’s in those empty boxes you deliver??? #StillAStalker

  Chapter 6

  William Hudson Fenn

  Liv Morris

  Verity woke with bright morning sun streaming through her window, as her alarm went off. She cursed the intrusion and threw the covers over her head to chase the end of her dream—a dark and delicious one that involved too much vodka and a talented tongue. Her pounding head and queasy stomach reminded her that the too-much-vodka part did happen. She hadn’t switched to water quite soon enough. Her lonely bed spoke to the other.

  She wondered again if another woman had enjoyed Hudson’s company last night. He’d bolted out of the bar as if he’d been caught committing a crime. Someone as hot as he was had to have a girlfriend. Damn Manhattan and its lack of dateable men. Even the taken men flirted like they were on the market. Hudson’s suggestive words last night lost their luster at the thought.

  A couple of Advil and a strong vat of coffee later, Verity left her apartment building to face the day. Thankfully the weekend would begin in just over eight hours—unless Marge created another mess for her to clean up. The image of Larold in his sweats appeared in her head, followed by the look on his face when the last feather-light box had arrived. She shivered. Her office was a strange place.

  She pressed her sunglasses tight against her face to block the blinding sun and headed to the subway with one goal in mind: find out who Hudson Fenn was. Everyone had an electronic paper trail and Vinnie, the company’s IT guy, owed her a favor. It was cashing-in time.

  She called Vinnie and gave him the few details she had about Hudson as soon as she’d settled at her desk, but the afternoon was nearly spent when the phone rang and she recognized Vinnie’s extension. Finally. She crossed her fingers, hoping he could fill in the blanks.

  “Verity?” Vinnie asked.

  “Yes.” She deleted the tab screen that showed her Google stalking, but the Twitter tab remained open. She’d been refreshing it all day to see if Hudson had tweeted. Nothing.

  “Hey, it’s Vinnie.”

  She danced in her seat with anticipation. Other than his Twitter profile, nothing came up under Hudson’s name in the entire New York metro area. “Any luck?” She tapped her fingers against her desk as she whispered into the phone.

  “I was slammed with upgrades to our system, but I was able to do some digging around.” Vinnie was whispering too. “I didn’t find a good match to this guy under the name Hudson Fenn. But there was a William Hudson Fenn that popped up.”

  “William…” It rolled over her lips in a hum. A proper sounding name didn’t fit Hudson. Well, Hudson didn’t fit Hudson either. A tatted-up guy with a tongue piercing should be called Jake or Austin. “Who is he?”

  “It’s strange. I found that William name in an article from MIT’s school newspaper. William Hudson Fenn graduated from the Institute a few years ago.”

  “Could it have been a typo and should’ve read William Hudson Penn? People might name their kid after a founding father, right?”

  “That would make sense. I couldn’t find another hit anywhere on a William Hudson Fenn. If the article was correct, every other record of him online has been swept clean. Sorry, Verity. I tried.” Vinnie’s tone indicated that his help with the search had concluded.

  “I know. Thanks, Vinnie.” She set down the phone and glanced up to see Angie sashaying toward her from the elevator.

  Verity dismissed any possibility that Hudson had attended MIT. He worked a job that required knowing the numbers on street signs to navigate New York City on his bike. MIT grads navigated the number
s that built the streets.

  “Hey.” Angie perched her tiny self on the edge of Verity’s desk. “I tried to get away before now to come talk to you. It’s been one conference call after another. So your bike messengering friend showed up last night. You seemed into that. I wouldn’t have thought you were a tattoo lover.”

  “Me either.” Verity sighed and slumped back in her chair, feeling frustrated. “He’s got this swagger that’s hard to ignore. Believe me, I’ve tried to forget him all day.”

  Angie waggled her brows. “Those kind of men can light up the sheets.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Verity flashed back to her vodka-fueled dream. She crossed her legs and straightened up. She needed to get a grip.

  “I watched the way he looked at you.” Angie nodded and squinted one eye.

  “What?” Verity played dumb because she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

  Even if Hudson didn’t have a girlfriend, the men in New York seemed to have the dating attention span of a toddler at Chuck E. Cheese’s. They were easily distracted in a city overrun with beautiful women—a bachelor’s playground. At times she wanted to move back home and find a respectable man, but then she’d remember it was no simple task there either. Florida guys wore a lot of tank tops, and that much armpit hair made keeping a straight face on a date really hard. In NYC, at least the guys mostly wore sleeves.

  “He didn’t look at anyone else. He came to see you,” Angie confirmed.

  “But he left so suddenly, and I haven’t heard from him since. I’ve been checking every four minutes since the cab dropped me off last night.”

  “So you were expecting him to make contact?” Angie flashed Verity a knowing smile and added a wink. “I have a good feeling about this one. Plus, he delivers packages all the time.”

  “Stop it. You’re getting my hopes up,” Verity countered. “Mr. Lay keeps coming down looking for today’s package. But so far nothing’s arrived.”

  “It’s almost five. Looks like he isn’t getting one today.” Both Verity and Angie turned toward the elevator as it dinged, announcing an arrival.