The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

Felicia: Batter up.

Shit. This give-and-take thing was easier with the socialites who were never really listening. He glanced down at his bare feet.

Hudson: My first toe (second toe?) is longer than my big toe.

Felicia: That’s Morton’s Toe! The Greeks were totally hot for it. They used it in sculpture, as did the Romans. The Statue of Liberty has Morton’s Toe, too.

He snorted out a chuckle.

Hudson: And you just made it weird.

Felicia: No. I made it awesome.

To quote one of Sawyer’s favorite movies, that word did not mean what she thought it meant—but she was close.

Hudson: Time for number three.

Felicia: I’m saving up for an original Hughston painting.

Fuck his giant ego because it had him thumb typing before he could stop himself.

Hudson: Which one?

Felicia: Daybreak. It makes me feel the same way I do on Saturday mornings.

“It’s my favorite part of every week.” That’s what she’d said. And his painting made her feel that way. Not that she knew it was him. And that little factoid was enough to pop the bubble on whatever had taken over his body and erased his earlier irritation because suddenly her not knowing his secret made the barbed-wire itchy feeling return. And that didn’t make any fucking sense.

Felicia: You still there?

He stared at the words on the screen, unable to come up with a fittingly reply.

Felicia: It’s your turn, don’t wimp out.

The barbwire started piercing his skin, leaving invisible holes in his flesh.

Felicia: Hudson.

Desperate to end this conversation that he hadn’t been able to wait to begin, he fell back into old habits and changed the conversation.

Hudson: Sorry, Matches. Duty calls.

Felicia: You hardly ever go into the office.

That’s where she was wrong. It’s just his office was a cabin with amazing natural light and an abundance of privacy so he could keep his secret from everyone.

Felicia: Still there?

Yeah, he was. He never seemed to be moving. That wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with himself let alone the hot ant scientist with a lifelong crush on his brother’s best friend. Speaking of which…

Hudson: Pick you up at seven tomorrow night. Wear one of the new dresses. The Carlyle brothers have another business meeting with your future boyfriend. See you then.

Then, he turned his phone off and went back to glaring at the blank canvas in front of him.

…

Felicia smoothed her hands over the red dress dotted with the tiny navy flowers for the eleventy-billionth time and forced herself not to look at the clock.

“Hudson will be here when he gets here and not a moment sooner,” she muttered to herself.