The next day, she woke up, got dressed, and practically dragged me to the kids camp. After that, I stopped feeling guilty. If she wants to spend the week having a blast with other kids, then more power to her. I’ll happily lie out by the pool and drink overpriced mudslides courtesy of my brother, who sent me way too much spending money for this trip.
After grabbing a coffee and a pastry from the on-site Starbucks, I find a shaded lounge chair and plop down, ready to enjoy my morning. I have my earbuds to listen to music, my e-reader so I can read my latest romance novel, and my laptop, in case I want to work on some lesson plans.
I’m sipping my drink—and pretending not to look for Hudson—when my phone rings. I check to see who it is, and when I see it’s the kids camp—I put their number and info into my phone in case of an emergency since Abby is too young for a cell phone—I quickly answer it.
“Hello.”
“Good morning, Ms. Addison. This is Jody calling from the Kids Exploration Camp.”
“Yes, is everything okay?”
“There’s been a little incident…”
“Is my daughter okay?” I ask, shooting up and grabbing my stuff, already on my way to my little girl.
“Yes, she’s okay, but there’s been a minor altercation, and we’re going to need you to come and get her. We’re at the main room. We’ll explain once you get here.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
I hang up and sprint the entire way there. Once I’m at the door, I scan my phone to let me in. One of the things I love about this place is how secure everything is to ensure the kids are safe and well cared for.
I nod at the woman at the front desk, and she smiles tightly at me, making me nervous. “Abby is right through that door,” she explains, knowing which kid is mine.
I’m barely to the door when I hear a voice I’m fairly certain sounds familiar. “You need to say you’re sorry.” And then another, younger voice. “I’m not saying sorry. He had it coming!”
What the heck is going on?
I barge into the room and freeze when the bright blue eyes, belonging to the voice I knew I recognized from last night, meet mine.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, my gaze darting from him to my daughter, who’s in tears.
“Mommy!” Abby sobs, running over and wrapping her tiny arms around me. I lift her into my arms even though she’s too big to be held, and she latches onto me, nuzzling her face into my neck.
“Someone tell me what’s going on,” I demand. “Why is my daughter crying?” I look at Hudson in confusion. “What are you doing here?” I ask him again.
“That kid pushed Abby,” says the little boy standing next to Hudson, pointing a finger at another little boy, who is on the opposite side of the room.
“She was taking too long!” the little boy sneers.
“Oh well!” says a little girl, who I didn’t notice before. “She can take a hundred hours if she wants to. Right, Lucas?”
“Yeah,” agrees the boy, whose name must be Lucas. “She can take a hundred years.”
“Lucas, Presley,” Hudson growls. “Enough. Lucas, say it…”
“That’s not fair, Dad!” Lucas says, glaring at Hudson. “You told me if anyone ever hurts my sister, I can punch him because it’s not cool to hurt a girl. Abby isn’t my sister, but she’s a girl, and she’s my friend. He pushed her and made her cry, so I punched him, and I’m not sorry.” Lucas crosses his arms over his chest and turns his glare to the boy who apparently pushed my daughter. And then it hits me… He called Hudson “Dad.”
“That’s your son?” I blurt out.
“Yep,” Hudson says. “And his sidekick in crime”—he pulls the little girl closer—“is my daughter, Presley.”
My mouth falls open in shock. Holy shit. The sexy, rich, amazing kisser, famous football player Hudson Matthews is a dad. Well, shit, I didn’t see that one coming.
CHAPTER THREE
HUDSON
She’s a mom. The woman who has been in almost every thought since last night is a mom. When she ran away this morning, I wanted to hunt her down, but I needed to get back to my room so I could take the kids to camp. I had planned to look for her once they were situated, but not even an hour later, I got a call to come down and get my kids because Lucas had punched a kid in the face as my daughter stood by his side, cheering him on. And by the sound of it, he did it to protect Sawyer’s daughter from a bully.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for my son,” says a woman with fake blond hair and a faker tan, her voice coming out nasally. “Oh, Maximillian, there you are.” She runs over to the bully and envelops him in her arms, her strong perfume damn near choking me to death.