Hudson's Luck (Forever Wilde 4)

When Charlie returned to bed, I did something I’d never done before. I faked sleep.

Because if I didn’t, I would say a whole bunch of stuff to him that would mortify both of us. I would tell him I didn’t want him to leave. I would ask him to give me a real chance. I would confess how amazing I thought he was and how alive he made me feel.

So I closed my eyes and forced myself into the rhythmic breathing of postsex sleep. Only I didn’t sleep. I stayed awake for hours drinking in the feel of Charlie’s smaller body pressed up against mine. Of his slender hand resting over my heart and his bony knee sandwiched between my thighs. I listened to the slowing of his own breaths and concentrated on the little places our bodies touched.

I felt the tickle of his pubic hair against my ass, the warm, humid puffs of breath between my shoulder blades, the soft brush of his long hair against one of my shoulders.

How could I not fall for him? He was both soft and hard, funny and serious, loyal and defiant. He was fun and irreverent, brave and insecure. The man was a study in contradictions, but it worked to create the most interesting person I’d ever met.

When he left for home, how was I ever going to survive letting go of him? How was anyone I might find after Charlie going to compare?

It was simply impossible, and it scared me to death.

The next day at work was a comedy show. For some reason, half the town turned up to see the pub since it was almost finished. Opening night was scheduled for Valentine’s Day, which was only a week away, and I could have used a productive day without everyone and his uncle showing up to get in our business.

“Well, if it isn’t the man I’ve been looking for,” Rhonda Dolas called out as she sashayed her way into the pub. Charlie and I were standing behind the bar double-checking our final drink order against our existing inventory. I looked up and bit back a sigh at the interruption.

“Hi, Rhonda,” Charlie replied, happy as could be. I glanced at him. Something was going on. “I’m over here.”

Rhonda’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “I was looking for Hudson, silly.”

It was a good thing she was still too far away to hear Charlie’s soft snort and no shit. I elbowed him.

“What can I do for you today? The booths look great by the way,” I said.

She flapped her manicured hand. “Oh, you. Such a sweet-talker, aren’t you? You haven’t changed a bit since high school.”

Charlie opened his mouth to contradict her, but I shot him a look. He bit his lip to hold back a snicker, and I quickly looked away from the spot where his teeth pressed into that tender flesh.

I cleared my throat. “Charlie said you had something else to drop off today?”

There was a rustling sound behind her. “Helloooo,” Stevie sang. “Special order for Charlie Murray. Is there a Charlie Murray in the house? Darling, where you at?”

Charlie snorted again. “Don’t growl,” he said under his breath. “It does things to me.”

“Why is he here?” I hissed.

“Over here,” Charlie said, waving his arm.

Stevie ducked around Rhonda and shimmied up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. “One half-caff, no whip, caramel macchiato for the pretty boy, and one Maxwell House for the vanilla bean,” he said, handing Charlie a giant paper cup and handing me a smaller one.

“Vanilla bean?” I asked.

Stevie rolled his eyes. “What else do you call a guy who only ever wants the plain house roast? There’s cream and sugar in the bag if you want to go crazy.”

He was right. I was a straight-up black coffee kind of guy. Did that make me boring?

“Simmer down, white bread,” Stevie teased. “I also brought you a bear claw. Nico told me they’re your favorite, but don’t eat the other pastry in there. I wanted Charlie to try my cream horn.”

Seriously?

“I’ll bet you did,” I mumbled, reaching for the bag.

As I reached in for my bear claw, I felt the edge of Charlie’s shoe drag lightly up the back of my calf. I smiled without glancing over at him, remembering I was exactly where I wanted to be.

“So,” Rhonda said, leaning over the counter to best display her assets to me. “Charlie said I might be able to sneak you out of here for a private lunch date.”

I glanced at the Irishman next to me and shot him big eyes.

“I did not say that. Had she asked, I would have told her you had that conference call with Devlin during lunch. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded and looked back at Rhonda. “Oh man, I forgot. But he’s right. Can’t put off a call to Ireland. If we push it any later, I’ll be smack-dab in the middle of their dinner rush with the time difference.”