by Olivia Chase
I’m exhausted by it. He’s got me all tangled up. I fall into a restless sleep, trying not to remember what it was like having him here beside me.
Today is the first day I didn’t get a text from Hudson telling me what to wear. Despite me being frustrated with him, I’m also feeling pangs of disappointment. And this is my fault. I let myself get caught up in him, in the dirtiness of our interludes.
So I dress in what I feel like wearing instead. I wear my favorite jeans, a silky top that hugs my curves, and I curl my hair. I’ll be damned if I don’t look my best when I go to work, finish my shift, and then tell him I’m quitting. Because I can’t and won’t keep doing this anymore with him. I’ll either find another bar to work at in Rock Bridge, or I’ll just leave.
My hand shakes a little as I put on my mascara, so I take a moment to relax. I’m not letting him get to me anymore. I’m tired of feeling disposable and unimportant. Like he only wants me around when it’s convenient for him. Like I’m only good for fucking or dirty play…and on his schedule. I want more, a real relationship, and this man won’t give it to me.
I press my lips together to fight back a heavy sigh. I’m not going to be upset by this. Hudson can’t and won’t let himself feel emotions—he holds himself back. But I want his emotions. All of them. I can’t settle for less.
I spend my afternoon going to the store. Paying bills. Checking out social media. Then I drive to work, my stomach a knot so tight that it hurts.
It’s raining out, so I bundle up in my jacket and run from the car to the bar. It’s hard to control my nervousness, the erratic beat of my heart. I struggle to maintain calm and evenness during my shift. Axel and Hale joke around with me, but I don’t say much—it’s hard to be light-hearted when I feel like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid.
Hudson is walking around the floor, talking to customers. I keep my attention on the bar, on mixing drinks, on getting my tasks done. I have no idea if he’s even looking at me as I work, because I refuse to look at him.
The weeks of craziness are going to end tonight. My last night at Fugitives.
Around ten, Axel pops over. “Hey, Hudson needs to see you in his office.”
My stomach lurches. Maybe he’s figured out I’m going to quit. Because I’m sure he’s not bringing me in there to punish me. He wouldn’t send Axel to fetch me if so.
I keep my back straight as I walk into his office. I don’t close the door behind me, hovering in the doorway. “You were looking for me?” I say to him, getting his attention and making his head jerk up. I’m proud of how even and smooth my tone is. Not giving away the anxiety eating at my gut.
His gaze slowly descends the full length of my body, and I feel myself warming. His jaw is scruffy today—he didn’t shave. It just makes him look more rugged, sexier. The bastard. His charisma is effortless, addictive. He reaches up and scratches his jaw. I can’t pick up any emotion in his face, in his words. “We need to talk.”
I almost laugh. That’s such a clichéd line. “It’s not me, it’s you, right?” I say, giving a sarcastic chuckle. “Yeah, you’re right. We need to talk.” I suck in a breath. “I’m quitting.”
Hudson stills. His hands move to rest on top of the desk. “Close the door behind you.”
“No. I’m not following your orders anymore,” I tell him, refusing to move. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“Marissa.” His voice is a warning.
I almost waver, my body trying to instinctively follow his command, but I stay frozen.
Hudson gets up and stalks over to me. Tugs me into the office and closes the door behind me. “Sit down on my chair,” he says.
“Do you ever ask anyone to do anything?” I say in a churlish tone, but I take a seat. Just because I want to, not because he told me to. “Or do you just take and push and demand?” My voice breaks on the last word, and I swallow and blink as hot tears sting my eyes. Shit. I’m not going to cry over this.
“You can’t quit,” he says to me plainly.
My gaze flies to him in shock? “No? I just did. Why do you care? You can find some other girl to—” I shut my mouth. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to bother to explain why I’m quitting. I don’t need to. And he probably doesn’t want to know, anyway. That involves feelings and expressing one’s self, which is something Hudson does not do. Or at least not to me.
I hear him draw in a slow breath, then exhale. “Marissa. What were you going to say?” He takes a step closer to me. “I want to know.”
I stare down at his feet. “I…can’t read you. I have no idea what you want from me. But this—” I wave a hand vaguely in the air, “—this isn’t working for me. Maybe someone else would be okay…” I pause, “with only seeing you this way.” I close my eyes. Shit. I didn’t want to get vulnerable with him. How does he make me do this? Makes me want to spill everything to him? Despite knowing I may get hurt?
Hudson sounds pained suddenly. “I… Fuck.” Frustration bleeds through his voice, and I look up to see him raking a hand through his hair. His gaze is at the ceiling. “Do you even know how difficult this is for me? Seeing you at work every day and having to maintain control, to not give in to you?”
My heart gives a painful thud at his words. “No, I don’t—because you never show any of it.”
He exhales hard and looks at me. That intense stare that sees right into me. “You’ve become my addiction, and I’m trying to stop it so we don’t get hurt. I can’t let myself get entangled. Not right now. My life is too complicated for me to bring a woman into it at this point.”
I’m torn. Partly elated because I can see the longing on his face. But also disappointed, because his self-control, his need to not become “entangled,” means that there’s nowhere for us to go. I swallow and nod. “Okay. I understand. I’m just going to finish my shift—”
“But you can’t fucking leave.” Hudson drops down to his knees so he’s between my legs. His eyes are hypnotic; I can’t look away. Emotions are warring across his face. “I… Fuck. I don’t know what this is, but I want more of it. I need more.”
“I don’t want to be that girl you just fuck or play with in your office, and then forget about,” I say hotly.
His eyes narrow. “You think I forget about you?”
I scoff. “You think I would possibly know anything else? You’re so closed off emotionally that I have no idea what you’re feeling ninety-nine percent of the time. And it seems like you don’t, either.” I back the chair up away from him and stand. “But I can’t keep going like this. I want more from you than these hook-ups. I’m tired of feeling like I only get your attention when it’s convenient.” There. I said it.
Hudson stands also, hovering over me. His jaw is tight and his voice is even when he says, “Well, none of this is actually convenient for me. I wasn’t planning on any of this happening.”
“It isn’t for me, either.” I’m supposed to be here for a month or two only and then move on. But then I meet Hudson, and everything gets confusing.
“Marissa.” His hand hovers halfway between us, and then he drops it, angst tightening his expression.
Anger floods me, hot and furious. “You just won’t let yourself feel anything. I can’t…” Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them away, swiping with my hand. “I just can’t.” I go to leave when he grips my arm.
“I fucking want more from us, too,” he says, then he slams me against his body and devours my mouth, tongue plunging deep in me. His hands grip my hips so hard that I’m certain I’m going to have marks on them later.
But I can’t seem to care, because he’s touching me, tasting me, and he wants more and I’m clawing at him.
He murmurs against my mouth, “Don’t go. Stay with me.” I feel something resonating in him. More than just lust or need. Something emotional is bleeding through the cracks of his wall.
I can’t resist. Can’t deny. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
My words release him. He growls and tilts my head to t
he side, biting his way down my neck and my collarbone. I shiver in excitement, arousal making my pussy throb, my body pound in time with my rapid pulse. I dig my nails into his back, and he slams me onto my back on the desk.
A knock on the door makes us both freeze. “Hudson, heard something drop. You okay, man?” Hale’s voice.
“Shit,” I say, and scramble to right myself, smooth down my hair and clothes.
Hudson stands straight up, blinks and shakes his head, and then he says, “All fine. Brought Marissa in for an evaluation on her work. I’m giving her a raise.” He slides a glance at me and winks. “I think she fainted in surprise.”
“I want a raise too, bastard,” he retorts.
“You’ll get it when you learn how to wash the bar glasses thoroughly,” Hudson says in a smooth tone.
I hear Hale stalking off, and Hudson and I stare at each other. I bite my lower lip. “You sure about this?” I ask.
He reaches out and strokes my throat, the gesture so tender that it surprises me, melts me. “I am. But…we still need to be discreet here.”
I know what he’s saying. He doesn’t want his brothers to know. It might cause issues with them if he’s caught dating his employee. I nod. “Understood.”
“I’m going to take you on a real date on Monday,” Hudson says. He gets close enough to me that I can feel his warm breath puffing on my mouth. My body instinctively tilts closer to him.
I part my lips and nod. “Okay,” I say cautiously. “That would be nice.”
“Don’t give up on me just yet, Marissa,” he repeats. “I’ve…never done this before. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
I reach over and stroke his fingers, taking a risk. “I won’t. I promise.” I smile. “I’d better get out there before Hale starts a riot over wanting a raise.”
As I pass, Hudson swats my ass, and I squeal. “Next Monday night. I’ll text you what I want you to wear.”
I look at him over my shoulder and roll my eyes. I didn’t expect this turn of events, but I’m suddenly feeling light and happy. He wants me. He wants to see me.
I just hope I’m not going to be disappointed yet again.
Hudson
The days tick by. I’m anxious and excited waiting for tomorrow night, Monday, when I take Marissa on a real date. Not just messing around in the bar, or at her place. But wining and dining her. Getting dressed up and doing it right. I already made reservations at a swanky restaurant in the city, and I even bought a fucking suit, for God’s sake.
If my brothers knew, they’d slug me in the face. Not only because I’m teetering dangerously close to the path Jamison and Zack took, but because we’re Becketts. We don’t wear suits. We beat up people in suits.
But Marissa deserves better than me being a meathead. I almost drove her away with my crappy behavior. I don’t want to fuck this up again. And I don’t want to examine why it’s so important to me to keep her here. It just is. I want her around.
The bar is almost closed for the night. Conor and his gang are sitting along one wall, drunk off their asses, buying round after round of shots. He was coming onto Marissa earlier, but I managed to distract him by giving him a few free drinks. I don’t know how much longer this is going to work, though.
Marissa is nervous around him; she clearly senses he’s trouble. I don’t fault her. But it isn’t like I can kick him out. He’s funded the place, for fuck’s sake. If I kick him out, it’ll raise hell that I’m not ready for. I’m making the payments to him, but he might decide to cause issues for me if I don’t ensure he feels welcome. I just need to keep watch so Marissa doesn’t have to deal with it.
He’s taking a liking to her. I remember seeing one of the previous girls he took a liking to. She pissed him off one night, and he beat the shit out of her in a drunken rage. No way in fuck would I let that happen to Marissa. I just have to control the delicate balance. Keep him happy, pay him off, and not let him push too far…because if he tries to touch her, I’m going to fuck him up something awful, and then all hell will break loose.
As it is though, there are times like right now where I have half a mind to just kick the shit out of him without so much as a word of warning.
I shake off the bad vibes and try to clear my head.
I step over to look at the window and peer at Outlaws across the street. I’ve been curious to see how our business is impacting theirs. They’re struggling, just as I expected. Our bar’s become the hot spot—we suck up all the oxygen on the street. Fugitives is what Outlaws used to be, only far better.
Not to mention Marissa has come up with cool promotions to attract even more people. Discount shot night has been a huge success.
For the first time in our lives, my brothers and I are suddenly flush with cash.
All our bills are paid, for the bar and for home. Our fridge is stocked with food, and we have nicer clothes. I’ve been socking away enough to pay Conor off…but we still have so much cash that we don’t know what to do with it all. Our safe is overstuffed.
Hopefully, once Conor is paid off and we finally take over Outlaws, Butch will be proud of us and not raise a stink over me changing his plan.
My phone buzzes. I check the text I’ve been expecting.
Almost there.
I can’t stop the wide grin on my face. Marissa is about to be surprised. Thanks, man, I type back. In ten minutes, the delivery I arranged for arrives. I step outside and talk to the guy, take the keys, then slip them in my pocket and continue with my day.
The work shift goes by quickly. Marissa’s slinging drinks as fast as people can order them. She’s so fucking good at this. I love watching her, the way she lights up the room, how everyone is drawn to her.
I know I’m drawn to her like we’re fucking magnetized. I can’t wait to take her out on a date and see what happens. I’m also nervous as hell. I’ve never been on a date like this before. One where it feels like there’s more at stake than ending the night with getting laid. She’s different. Special. I want to know her better.
I want her to know me. And I’ve never wanted that. It’s so hard for me to open up to people. To trust. To let down my guard. But she makes me want to try.
The bar finally closes. My brothers take off, leaving me and Marissa lingering. Dancing around each other. Since that night in my office where she almost quit, we’ve been unable to stop finding ways to touch each other at every chance. I can’t stop seeking her out in the crowd.
I take her hand. “Hey. I need to show you something.”
She laughs, a sparkling sound that lightens me instantly. “Is it in your office? Or your pants?”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Neither. Come here.” I draw her toward the front window.
Marissa leans forward, her breath fogging the glass, and frowns. “What am I looking at?”
I point to the sleek black auto right in front of us. “Your new car,” I murmur.
She pulls back and stares at me for a long moment. “What?”
“Your car is a piece of shit,” I say bluntly. “I know you’re trying to keep it alive, but it’s basically on life support. You need better transport.”
“You bought me a car.”
“This is much more reliable.”
“You…you bought me a car.”
“Not to mention all the hard work you’ve done since we hired you. Consider it a thank-you bonus.”
Marissa swallows, and I see her eyes glisten. “I…” She clamps a hand over her mouth, and I hear a small sound. She turns around, her back facing me.
“You don’t like the color,” I say, trying to figure out how I fucked up.
She sniffles, her shoulders shaking.
“Fuck. My bad.” It was a dumb impulse to get it for her. I thought she’d be happy. Her car is running on duct tape and gum, it seems.
Then suddenly she’s in my arms, squeezing me so tight that I can barely breathe. “Oh my God,” she says. “Why… You didn’t have to…and no one has ever…
I can’t take this. It’s too much. You can’t.”
I wrap my arms around her and stroke her hair.
And I get it. She’s not upset over the gift. She’s overwhelmed. She’s trembling against me, so small and delicate, and I want to shield her from everything that’s hurt her. Has no one ever valued this woman before?
“You can, and you will. It’s yours,” I tell her as I tilt her chin up to mine, my heart breaking over seeing the tears in her eyes. “We’ll take your car tomorrow on our date, okay? Your old one is a hot mess. You need something that will get you around safely.” Admittedly, I don’t want to think about the future, when she’s going to leave here, driving off in the car I bought her.
But maybe I can convince her to stay. To keep seeing me.
The thought of her leaving makes my chest tighten and my stomach turn to lead.
I reach up and thumb her cheeks. “There’s no crying in baseball.”
That makes her laugh. She gives me a watery smile. “I love that movie.”
“Every girl loves that movie.” I chuckle.
“But…this is really too much. You shouldn’t.”
“I should and I did. You’re taking it.” I dig the keys out and press them in her hand. “Too late.”
She stares at the keys, quiet.
“It’s an 8-cylinder,” I add in a cajoling tone. “Let’s see if you can outrun the police in this ride.”
“You’re bad,” she says with a laugh, looking up at me. The warmth and gratitude I see there almost knock me over. I’ve never felt this…cared for. This wanted. Marissa is unraveling me, bit by bit, making me into someone I never realized I could be.
It’s scary as hell. And I want more.
I pull Marissa’s car up to the valet and stop. “You missed out on a good ride,” I goad her.
“I’ll drive on the way back,” she says, chuckling. “But you seemed so excited that I couldn’t deny you the chance.”