Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“No. All right. Move along. Let’s go. Get your props.”
Their song trickled off awkwardly as each one of them stopped singing at different times. Hudson shooed them down the hall toward the elevators with little regard for their theatrical performance and the fact that they didn’t get to finish it.
“It almost went on for fifteen minutes!” Hudson says now in an attempt to defend himself. “What was I supposed to do when the third person went for a solo?”
“It was impeccably done. My only regret is that I didn’t come up with the gift myself.”
“Don’t think I didn’t consider you as the culprit.”
I smile warmly, like he just paid me the highest compliment. “Torturing you is my favorite hobby.”
“I know. It’s why you’re in that dress…”
I turn and shuffle ahead in line, picking over the cheeses while trying to suppress my shit-eating grin. So he’s not immune to me tonight.
Good.
As we continue on, I convince Hudson to try the brie drizzled with honey and he makes me take some of the jalapeño goat cheese I originally passed on. It absolutely melts in my mouth. I want to marry the goat.
“That was phenomenal.” I’m already spinning on my heels. “I have to go back and get more.”
“Relax. Let the other people have their cheese, you greedy thing.”
Only Hudson could make “you greedy thing” sound that sexual.
God. This thing between us has got to just happen.
Yes, I want him to grade me and give me feedback under his strict tutelage, sure, but beyond that, I simply need Hudson in a way that’s completely flipped my world upside down. I’m turned on all the time. Pretty much any time he moves or talks, I find some way to make it seem pervy and hot. I’m sweating here. And what has he done? He’s shown up to this party in his custom black suit with all that lazy good-looking hair that I just want to tug.
“How long do you think we have to stay until we can blow this joint?”
“You’re suggesting we leave?” Hudson says, devouring his brie as his eyes roll back in ecstasy.
“Say I was right about the brie.”
“You were right about the brie.”
I grin. “Yes, I want to leave. To do the grading thing.”
The grading thing. What a hilariously casual way to proposition someone for sex.
Hudson’s face takes on a new determined sharpness.
Oh dear. I made another mistake. I spoke too soon. I should have taken him to the bar, not the buffet. He’s too sober for this conversation.
I hate the way he’s looking at me now, all reproachful and disappointed.
“I won’t change my mind, Scarlett. Your idea is absurd. You’re wrong for me in every way imaginable, what with you being young and naive and my boss’s daughter. You stand directly between me and my future goal.”
“Which is?”
“To become a senior partner.”
“Right. Okay—” I hold up my hand because I know he’s about to cut me off. “I listened to your concerns, so it’s only fair that you let me address them. As far as our age gap, well…you’re exaggerating. You’re not that much older than me. In fact, if I were considering getting a serious boyfriend, I would want him to be about your age, someone slightly older and established. Your age is actually a huge turn-on for me.” I don’t miss the fact that this comment makes him furrow his brows even more. “And about your future goals…I don’t see why us having one night together should change that.”
Hudson doesn’t say another word, and I cave within ten seconds.
“Fine. I hear you. I won’t keep pushing it.”
“Just forget what Jasper told you,” he adds sternly.
I shake out my shoulders. “Yeah, okay. I will. Poof—it’s gone.”
Chapter Nineteen
Hudson
Word to the wise: don’t take time off for the holidays. Use the quiet office to be extra productive and get all your work done then take a few days off in early January. Go to some tropical island all by yourself. Ignore all the calls and text messages from your family, kick those feet up on a poolside hammock, and relax.
I didn’t do this, you see. I went home for Christmas, and it wasn’t relaxing. It was borderline insanity.
My mom started in on me the moment I walked into her house on Christmas Eve.
“No girl?” She leaned over, looking behind me as if expecting me to have a date. “All right. I’ll clear the extra place setting at the table…”
“I never said I was bringing anyone,” I pointed out, to which she responded, “Well…a mother can hope.”
My dating life was the topic of conversation on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. I was surprised to say the least. Since she brought up the subject during Thanksgiving, I assumed it’d be smooth sailing into the new year, but no.
It got worse.
She brought over a girl for me to meet on Christmas Day, the neighbor’s granddaughter. I was minding my own business, scrolling through all the weird holiday programming on TV and eating my way through a cheese ball at an alarming rate when the doorbell rang.