The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

Sulking? Anger stoked the flames of self-resentment and disappointment. He wasn’t fucking sulking. She didn’t want him for anything more than a hard fuck. Plain and simple. He was doing the right thing by leaving her alone. “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

Of course, Helene and Clover picked that moment to come back downstairs. His mom just looked from one son to the other and shook her head.

“Everything okay?” Clover asked.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, giving Hudson one last dirty look. “Someone just needs some alone time to pull his head out of his ass.”

He walked them out and back to the car where Linus was reading a spy thriller. Hudson stayed out on the porch until the town car was only a speck at the end of the driveway. Fight for her. She hated him—he’d made sure of it because he knew what she wanted, what she needed. He was doing the right thing.

Two days later and he wasn’t so sure doing the right thing meant shit anymore. He was a fucking mess. And he wanted Felicia more than his next breath. Worse, it took him two days to realize his brother was right. He was going to have to learn how to fight for what he wanted if he had any hope of winning her back. So what if she wanted Tyler right now? He’d made her want him, and he could do it again. Tyler would never make her happy, and her happiness was all that mattered to him.

But fuck him if he could figure out how to win her back. He’d intentionally burned a bridge with his angry words, and she’d been right all along. He was a coward. A chickenshit. Hiding out in his cabin, keeping a part of himself hidden from everyone. His heart skipped a beat thinking of his dad never knowing the man Hudson had become, never shared their love of art. All that wasted time. But he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

He was going to win Felicia back. Just as soon

as he figured out how.

His mother’s words came back to him and everything crystalized in his head. Sometimes the right thing to do was the very worst move. He hurried back to the half-finished canvas, not stopping until he had a paintbrush in his hand. It was a bold move, but maybe—just maybe—it would work. Rushing around the open space, he ripped the sheets off the other paintings of Felicia. There were enough. The only question was would it be enough to make it up to her?

He grabbed his phone and hit Everly’s number. She picked up right away.

“I’m trashing the show,” he said, more sure about the plan with every heartbeat.

“What?” Everly squawked, losing her nothing-shocks-me Harbor City attitude for the first time in all the years he’d known her. “You can’t back out. It’s in three days.”

“I’m not backing out,” he said. “I’m giving you a whole new show. It’ll be my best one yet.”

It had to be. Words wouldn’t be enough to make it up to Felicia. He had to show her.

…

Whoever Felicia thought might be on the other side of her front door, Helene Carlyle was definitely not it. She froze in surprise, and even Honeypot stopped trying to claw her way through Felicia’s arms to freedom. What in the world was Hudson’s mom doing in her thousand-dollar Michael Kors at her basement apartment?

“Hi,” she cracked out.

“Hello.” Helene smiled, her nose twitched, and then she sneezed.

“Bless you.” On automatic pilot as she tried to figure out what had happened, Felicia stepped aside. “Please come in.”

Helene took one step inside, and Honeypot, obviously understanding a bigger, badder predator was in the room, squirmed out of Felicia’s grip and sprinted into her bedroom where it was—no doubt—hiding under the bed.

From her spot just inside the closed door, Helene looked around the apartment, her gaze stopping on the Hughston print hanging on the wall. “I just had the most interesting conversation with my son, Hudson.”

“Oh really? I’m not sure that’s any of my business.” And even if it was, she couldn’t hear it. Today was the first day she’d managed to only think about him every other minute instead of every second.

One of Helene’s eyebrows went up. “It is if you love him.”

Okay. Mom wasn’t pulling any punches. Too bad Felicia wasn’t even stepping into the ring. “I don’t.”

“That’s too bad because he’s head over heels for you.” Her nose twitched again and she sneezed into a delicate, pale handkerchief that she’d pulled from her pocket. “Sorry. I’m terribly allergic to cats. What’s your cat’s name?”

Felicia barely caught up with the quick turn of the conversation. “Honeypot.”

There went that eyebrow of Helene’s again. “An interesting name.”

Felicia was too tired and too heartbroken to explain the origin of Honeypot’s name. “She’s an interesting cat.”

“I just bet,” Helene said. “You know, pets often take on the personality of their owner. I think that’s what first caught Hudson’s eye when it came to you and why he fell for you. Of course, I could be wrong. It has happened a time or two. But I’m sure I’m right. He’s never been as happy as he has been since you two met at the museum fundraiser. I noticed that night when he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”