The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

She couldn’t take not knowing.

“Decided I wasn’t a good makeover candidate, huh?” she asked, breaking first.

“No.” He shook his head and went back to watching the news updates on the tiny screen attached to the back of the front passenger seat.

That’s it? No way. He hadn’t stopped running his mouth since they’d met. Now they were stuck in a cab in the middle of a traffic jam, and he decided to turn into Silent Bob? Nope. That wasn’t happening. There was no way he could outlast her in this game. Satisfied she’d be proven right, she focused all her attention on the TV screen and not the almost hypnotizing way the muscles on his forearms moved, or the mysterious flecks of paint on the back of his hand. All she had to do was wait.

One.

Two.

Three.

Nothing. Not even a twitch. He’d gone as still as the cars around them.

The question burst out before she even realized the words had formed. “Are you going to tell me?”

He slowly turned his gaze to hers. “Do you really want me to?”

“That’s why I asked.” She could take it. Small but mighty and all that.

Hudson gave her an appraising look, cool and clinical. It didn’t give even a hint the man she thought she had categorized down to genus and family the other day. “You don’t want it enough.”

She flinched. “What?”

“You’re a smart woman, determined, and you’ve definitely got spark,” he said as he reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “But I don’t think you really want to snag Tyler’s attention.”

What? “But…” Words failed her. She had nothing because that made about as much sense as nest maintenance ants all of a sudden becoming queens.

Hudson took his wallet out of his back pocket and grabbed a wad of cash. “Come on, let’s do this over food. I’m starving.”

She looked around. “But we’re stuck in traffic.”

“Exactly,” he said, handing a few bills to the cab driver. “So, we might as well get out.”

“B-B-But,” she stammered, a little queasy at the idea of changing plans once she’d mentally committed—even if was just dinner plans. “I have leftovers in the fridge.”

“Come on, Matches, my treat.” He got out, holding the door open for her. “I know of a great place right around the corner.”

This wasn’t like her. She didn’t abandon cabs in the middle of rush hour, or go to dinner with men who knew exactly how sexy they were.

“Best shakes you’ve ever had in your life,” Hudson said. “Come on. Live a little.”

Her stomach picked that moment to let loose with a loud growl. Hudson cocked an eyebrow. Done in by the dare-you expression on his face and her own hunger pangs, Felicia scooted across the backseat of the cab and got out on to Hamish. They walked a couple of blocks before coming to stop in front of Vito’s Diner on the corner of Fifth. Out of the corner of her eye, she took in Hudson’s designer clothes and two-hundred-dollar haircut before directing her attention back to the diner with its winking neon sign.

“This isn’t what I was expecting,” she said.

Hudson didn’t say anything; he just gave her a knowing grin and opened the door. It smelled like cheeseburgers and homemade fries—in other words, heaven. They took two seats at the counter, bracketed on either side by the pie display sitting on the counter and the cash register on the other.

He slid the laminated menu over to her. “You have to get a shake or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

She had a minute to glance at the huge list of offerings—everything from all-day breakfast to colossal sandwiches and chicken-fried steak—before the waitress stopped by, pad at the ready.

“How’s your brother and his sweetheart of a wife?” Donna, according to her name tag, asked Hudson.

“They’re good. How’s Vito?”

“Growly as usual and refusing to do his business in the yard in this weather. What can you do? An old dog is gonna do what an old dog’s gonna do—or not doo-doo.” She shrugged. “What’ll it be?”