Home > Honoring Hudson(2)

Honoring Hudson(2)
Author: Becca Jameson

I scan the crowded room until I spot Hudson rising from a small table and waving at me. I have to weave through several people, bags, and kids to get to him. “Looks like we’re lucky you got a table.” I glance at my phone. “Plus, you’re early.”

He smiles. “Yep on both counts. I was worried it might be crowded. I probably should have picked a different location. I wasn’t thinking about how busy it would be here on a Saturday when I suggested it.” He pulls out the second chair for me.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I let him push me in. He’s so…kind. I want to kick a hole in the wall over the fact that the simple gesture of pulling out a chair is something that makes me wish I’d lived a different life up until now.

“You stay here and hold the table. I’ll order for us,” he tells me. “What do you like?”

“Oh. Whatever you’re having is fine.” I reach for my bag, thinking to give him some cash.

“If you’re about to fish out money, stop it. The coffee’s on me. And woman, you’re going to have to tell me what you like or you’ll be drinking black coffee with no cream or sugar.” He sets one hand on the table and the other on the back of my chair, leaning closer.

I tip my head back, licking my lips. “Sorry. Habit. A vanilla latte would be great. Thank you.” I fold my hands in my lap.

He holds my gaze for a moment and then nods, muttering under his breath. “Habit?”

I watch him as he heads to the counter. His ass is fine. Everything about him is fine. In fact, as I glance around, I notice women all over the room are watching him. Of course, they are. The man exudes power. He’s six-two and built. I’m five-six. Not short for a woman but short compared to Hudson.

He’s also younger than me, I remind myself. He’s thirty. I know this because I looked at his birthdate when he filled out a release form on the first night he visited Surrender. I’m five years older than him.

Somehow he does not seem younger though. He’s so damn confident. Hell, he’s a Dominant. Of course, he’s confident.

I like that I have this opportunity to stare at him from behind. I usually only get to catch glimpses as he walks into the club. I enjoy every second as he orders and then waits for our drinks. When he finally turns around to make his way back toward me, he has two drinks in his hands and two mysterious bags under his arm.

When he reaches our table, he sets the drinks down and then hands me both bags. “I got a blueberry muffin and a chocolate scone. I figured one of the two would appeal to you.” He sits as he informs me of this.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I did it anyway.” His smile melts me more every time he flashes his teeth at me.

I don’t want to appear as fragile as I feel, so I sit up straighter and make a decision. “I like both. Half of each?”

“Perfect.” He tears open the bags and pulls both pastries into two parts.

“Thank you.” I take a sip of the coffee and moan around the flavor. It’s delicious. I don’t usually allow myself such extravagances. Not because I don’t have the money but because I don’t want to spend it. I’ve always been frugal, but for the last seven years, I’ve been extremely careful with my finances.

“So, this is your last semester of school, right?”

“Yes.”

“Business degree?”

“If I pass calculus,” I inform him.

“And that’s your only class?” He sips his coffee.

I cringe. “Yeah. My last class. I would have graduated last semester if I hadn’t dropped it. Again.”

“Ah. That bad. Well then, we have work to do, don’t we?”

A lock of hair has escaped my ponytail and I tuck it behind my ear. “I feel bad asking you to do this,” I inform him. “You barely know me.”

He sets his elbows on the table and leans closer. “Okay, that’s the last time I want to hear you worrying about my offer to help. You didn’t ask. It was my idea. If I hadn’t wanted to help you, I could have said nothing and walked away.”

I nod. He’s right. I chew on my bottom lip though, wondering if this offer has an attachment. It’s not that I wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy being fucked clear into tomorrow by the man. I would. But I won’t do it because I’m not interested in that level of intimacy with anyone.

I shudder involuntarily.

“Cindy…” He draws my name out. “Look at me.” His firm command sends tingles down my spine.

I lift my gaze.

“Let me be blunt and clear the air here.”

I swallow. Shit. Fuck. Damn.

“You have to know I like you. I go out of my way to talk to you every chance I get. I’m attracted to you. However, I’m astute. I realize you hold people at arm’s length. I bet it’s hard for anyone to penetrate your armor. I also bet you have a pile of secrets that has caused you to be the way you are.”

I suck in a breath. My cheeks heat.

He holds up a hand. “Don’t panic. I’m just telling you how I feel because it would be a lie to continue tiptoeing around you. So now you know. I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while now, but I was afraid you would turn me down. When you said you needed help with calculus, I jumped at the opportunity.”

“So wait…” I narrow my gaze. “Do you even know calc?”

He chuckles. “Yes, Cindy. I do. I have a master’s in business myself.”

I force my shoulders to relax and take another fortifying sip of my coffee. It really does taste good. I should splurge for the drink more often. “I’m not…” I clear my throat. “Is this a date? I’m not going to date you. If that’s a requirement…” I glance away. I want to kick myself. I sound ridiculous, and besides, I’ve thought about nothing except what it might be like to be with this man for months. It’s distracting.

He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing it. “Cindy, relax. It’s okay. You don’t have to go out with me for me to help you. Of course, it’s not a requirement. This is coffee, not a date. I would like it if we could be friends though. Can we do that?”

“We are friends,” I point out. The truth is, he’s the best friend I have. I see him two or three nights a week, and he always stops and talks to me for a while. I’m not being fair, so now I backtrack. “And it’s not like I don’t like you. I mean, I’m sure every woman likes you. If I were interested in dating, you would be on the shortlist.”

He chuckles. “How many people are on the shortlist?”

“Well, one,” I admit. Why on earth have I told him this?

He laughs harder and releases my hand.

I miss his touch already. His hands are strong and warm. Every time he’s brushed against me in the last few months, I’ve enjoyed it. And I’m completely pitiful that something as small as a brush of fingers is the extent of my excitement.

“Okay, so, here’s where we stand. I’d like to take you out on a date. You would go out with me if you were dating. But you’re not. So we’re friends who like each other that way but not acting on it. Do I have that right?”

He’s teasing me, and I roll my eyes.

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