“Good to hear. So. Coach House?”
“Where else.”
“Shelli?”
Nash smiled. “Who else?”
Hudson shook his head. “Some things never change.”
“True. But I gotta say she was pretty damn entertaining last night.” Nash rolled his shoulders and grinned. “I should get back to it.”
“Thanks for the ladder. I have no idea where ours disappeared to.”
“Just don’t fall off the damn thing.” Nash stepped back toward his house. “Hey. You never answered my question.”
Hudson opened the truck door. “What was that?”
“You and Rebecca. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“We’re doing the friend thing. That’s all. What can go wrong?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure her definition of friend isn’t exactly what you have in mind.”
“Jesus, Nash.” Hudson’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making me sound like a cold bastard with only one thing on his mind.”
“Look. She’s…” Nash went all quiet on him. “Be careful with her, Hudsy.”
Hudson scowled, his good mood all but gone.
“I’m serious. She’s strong like Superman, but you’re her kryptonite. You always were.” There was a warning underlying Nash’s words, a warning Hudson didn’t exactly appreciate. What the hell did Nash think he was going to do? Hudson would never hurt Rebecca.
But he had.
With that sobering thought, he climbed into his rig. By the time he got to town, the sun had nearly climbed to its perch in the sky, and the fall colors were a sight to behold. He pulled into Rebecca’s driveway, cut the engine, and sat there for a good ten minutes, trying to decide if he should get out or head back home. In the end, he thought, screw it, and climbed from his truck, grabbing the ladder and a pair of work gloves before he headed to the back of her house.
It was early, barely seven in the morning, and he knew she was most likely sleeping. So, without bothering to knock on the door and letting her know he was there, Hudson got to work. He’d noticed her eaves needed clearing the week before and set about getting it done.
That was what friends did. They helped each other out.
Hudson started at the back of the house, and by the time he reached the front, he was sweating like a son of a bitch. He yanked off his jacket, tossed his hat, and was just about to climb back up the ladder when a blond head poked out the front door. Liam’s eyes widened as he stepped onto the porch, a glass of milk in one hand, a piece of toast in the other.
“Morning,” Hudson said with a wave.
“Hey.”
“That peanut butter?”
Liam nodded. “Yep. Coach says I need protein before a game.”
“Ah. Smart man.” Hudson stepped up a rung. “Hockey?”
“Uh-huh.” Liam chewed off a corner of his slice of toast. Once he swallowed, he gulped down a swig of milk. “What are you doing up there?”
“I’m cleaning all the dead leaves and gunk that’s collected in your mom’s eaves.”
“Oh.” The boy frowned. “Why?”
“Because if they’re full, they can’t drain properly.”