Captain Heartbreaker (Havenbrook Book 4)

by Brighton Walsh

  And she took a step back.

  Dammit, why had she done that? She had no freaking idea, but she couldn’t rewind time and change it now.

  Hudson cocked his head to the side, studying her with his eyes in that way that felt familiar and foreign all at once. Asking her if she was all right without saying a word. They’d always been able to do that…been able to read the other person’s nonverbal cues. She just hadn’t been sure it’d still work after this long.

  She lifted her chin, speaking back to him the only way she could right now. Lord knew her throat was drier than a desert, and she probably couldn’t get words out if she tried.

  He pursed his lips, completely ignoring the ever-growing crowd of onlookers who had gathered around them, all of Havenbrook appearing for the show. “What do you say to a bet?”

  A…what?

  Of all the things she’d expected Hudson to say, that was at the bottom of the list. Actually, it was so low, it wasn’t even on the list. It probably shouldn’t have surprised her, though. They’d spent their lives betting on everything, from sports games to races to who could eat the most marshmallows in five minutes. If they could make something a competition, they did.

  And although it was unexpected, this familiarity was exactly what she needed.

  She cleared her throat. “Depends on what it is.”

  His mouth tipped up at the corners, and Mac felt an answering tug in her nipples. Oh, super. Great to know the girls were finally working again after being completely unaffected by every other single man within a sixty-mile radius.

  “Used to be, you’d say yes without another thought.”

  She offered a one-shouldered shrug. “Things change.”

  His eyes said more than she was ready to hear—that he wanted desperately to know what things had changed, what new parts of her he could discover. But all he said was, “Bet I can beat you to the top of the bleachers on the football field.”

  “On foot?”

  “Yep.”

  Her eyebrows flew to her hairline. “That’s all the way across town.”

  A slow, cocky grin swept across his lips. “Yeah…I didn’t figure y’all moved an entire high school while I was gone. You worried all my training will have you choking on my dust? I never counted you for a quitter before the game’s even started.”

  “Been a while since you’ve been here. Like I said, things change. Maybe I have too.”

  “Not from what I hear.”

  She cocked her head to the side, eyes studying him, the flutter in her stomach picking up speed. “You been checkin’ up on me, Hud?”

  “Always,” he said, without embarrassment or hesitation. “You in or out?”

  She wasn’t going to focus on the fact that he’d been checking up on her or what that meant. Right now, she was only going to focus on the competition, so she could escape this impromptu meeting with her sanity intact. She’d tuck those pieces of information away, shove them into the huge padlocked box inside her heart labeled Hudson and dissect them later, when she was alone.

  “Name your terms,” she said.

  The grin on his face grew, and sweet sparkling Moses riding a unicorn… Where only the slight upturn of his lips sent a jolt of awareness to her breasts, his smile set her entire body ablaze. Oh, this was bad. So very, very bad.

  “If I win, you have supper with me.”

  Mac swallowed down her apprehension. “And if I win?”

  “Name it, Kenna.”

  “Kenna?” Avery whispered. “Who the hell is Kenna?”

  “That’s what he’s called her since they were kids,” Will whispered back. “Now, shut up.”

  Mac had been so lost in Hudson, she’d completely forgotten it wasn’t just the two of them out there. She glanced around, noticing the eyes of at least three dozen people volleying back and forth between her and Hudson. At least she knew what was going to be on the gossip circuit for the foreseeable future.

  “You stock my freezer with homemade pies,” Mac called to him.

  “Done.”

  “Not homemade by Marianne or Lilah. Homemade by you.”

  “Fuck me running, he bakes, too?” Avery whisper-yelled.

  He dipped his head in a nod. “Homemade by me. When’s the clock start?”

  “You want to greet your adoring fans first?” She gestured to the crowd around them, and he did exactly what she’d hoped. He dropped his eyes from hers for a second and glanced around. And she took her chance.

  She sprinted east in the direction of Havenbrook High, not looking back when the whoops and cheers went up behind her. Didn’t turn around even when Rory said, “For heaven’s sake, you’d think they were ten years old again.”

  Mac wasn’t an idiot—there was no way she could beat Hudson in a physical race. Not when he had at least half a foot on her. Not when it was his job to be a finely honed machine. So she used his long absence to her advantage.

  She didn’t take the obvious route the two of them had taken hundreds of times before, instead cutting through lawns and side streets. Her feet pounded over the grass of the park that had taken the place of the set of crumbling buildings from their teens, and she ran toward the back of the stands rather than the front. She didn’t want to dodge any students outside for gym class, not to mention she’d probably collapse if she tried to run up the length of the bleachers after flat out sprinting this whole way.

  Instead, she’d climb.

  Her blood was thrumming too loudly in her ears to hear anything as she bounded toward the field and the looming silver bleachers. She used her speed to propel her up a ways, leaping onto the first horizontal bar she could get good purchase on. She didn’t focus on how close Hud was, if he was already up there, or what it’d mean if he were. All she thought about was getting to the top of these bleachers as fast as humanly possible.

  And if she lost and had to have supper with Hudson…well, there were worse things in the world.

  She wrapped her hands around the railing at the top, heaving herself up. She kicked first one leg over and then the other, her feet thumping on the top stair, Hudson a single step below her.

  “Beat ya,” she said through panting breaths.

  He pointed an accusatory finger at her and narrowed his eyes. “Cheater.”

  She shrugged, still attempting to catch her breath but trying not to show it. The dude didn’t even have the decency to be winded. “You never specified a route. Besides, I’m not stupid. You’re a soldier in peak physical condition. And while I’m no slouch, you’d have squashed me.” She sucked in a huge lungful of air and blew it out slowly. “Sometimes the challenges are as much up here—” she tapped her temple “—as anything.”

  He cracked a grin. “You think I’m in peak physical condition, huh?”

  She blinked at him. “That’s really all you got from that?”

  “It’s been a while, forgive me.” And then he reached out, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and tugged her straight to him.

  She didn’t even try to put up a fight because…well, because she was tired. Tired of waiting and wanting and dreaming about him. Tired of aching to hold him and not even being able to remember what it’d felt like the last time she had. Without conscious thought, she wrapped her arms around him while he squeezed her, his nose in the crook of her neck.

  “Missed you,” he murmured, his breath ghosting across her skin and making her knees weak.

  Her throat went tight, and her eyes stung as she clung to him. Overcome by a bone-deep gratitude he’d come back to her in one piece. He wasn’t there to stay, but right then, that didn’t matter. He was there now, and she thanked every deity he’d made it back unscathed.

  She pressed her nose to his skin and inhaled deeply. He smelled the same…but not. There was no longer the underlying hint of sunscreen she’d always associated with him from their childhood spent running around outside, but he still had the same freshness to him—summer rain and dryer sheets now layered with man. She wanted
to do nothing but breathe him in for the next several hours. Just take him and keep him inside her the safest way she knew how.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, clinging to each other. Long enough that damn near the entire town had ventured to the football field, the chatter from the townsfolk reaching her ears all the way at the top of the bleachers.

  Reluctantly, she pulled back, but not before Hudson gave her one more squeeze. Then he took the final step up to stand next to her, and she had to tip her head back—way back—to maintain eye contact. Okay, so the half a foot she thought he had on her? It was actually more like an entire foot. And he’d sprouted a crapload of muscles too. Shiiiiit.

  She allowed her eyes to roam over him, his shoulders nearly as wide as the goalposts at the ends of the football field, biceps the size of tree trunks straining against his shirt sleeves. A tattoo of three soaring pine trees drew her eyes to the corded muscles of his right forearm. And his legs, all thick and solid beneath his dark jeans… Sweet merciful fuck. Hudson Miller had certainly grown up during his time in the army.

  “Who won?” someone called from below, snapping Mac out of her trance. Dozens called out their predictions, a fairly even split of both their names.

  Hudson stepped to the side and gestured to Mac with both hands like he was presenting her as the prize on a game show. Mac pinched the ends of an imaginary skirt and curtsied for the crowd who hooted and laughed, applause and cheers erupting around them.

  As she stood to her full height, Hudson leaned close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “I would’ve baked you a pie without the bet, you know. As many as you wanted. You only had to ask.”

  His minty breath wafted over her lips, and she was momentarily dumb struck. It’d be so easy to lean forward and press their lips together. To just…fall into him, allow him to wrap her up in his arms. To hold her like she meant the world to him and fall right back where they’d left off—namely, in bed.

  Dammit, she couldn’t let that happen with him. Not again. They’d had a brief lapse of judgment all those years ago the weekend before he’d left, when they’d given in to temptation and slept together. Multiple times.

  But things were good between them again. They hadn’t been at first, and okay, so they weren’t good necessarily, but they were passable. She’d lost her best friend somewhere along the way, which hurt like hell. But she hadn’t lost him, and that was all that mattered to her. They were able to talk once in a while through text, and Mac had finally gotten to a point where she could ask Marianne about Hudson without feeling like her insides were going to cave in on her at the mere mention of his name.

  This quasi-peace between them had taken a long time to reach. Even longer considering she’d been pretending for a great deal of it. But they were there, and she wasn’t going to allow anything to mess that up. Not again.

  She smiled, pressing her hand to his chest and not-so-gently pushing him back a step or two. She had no illusions that the only reason she was able to shove him was because he let her. “And I would’ve gone to supper with you, if you’d just asked.”

  “That so?” He raised his brows. “All right, then, I’m askin’ now. Will you have supper with me tonight?”

  Tonight? No. Absolutely not. She needed to get her head on straight before she saw him again or she’d be in his bed before she could blink. And then when he left in a day or a week or whenever, she’d be right back where she’d been all those years ago, and she and Hudson… Well, she wasn’t so sure they’d survive the fallout this time.

  With a smile that felt wobbly, she turned and jogged down the steps toward where her sisters and Avery stood waiting. “Sorry, I have plans tonight,” she called to him over her shoulder. “What, since I didn’t know you were making your grand entrance back into Havenbrook after ten years and all.”

  When she got to the bottom, she turned back to find him staring at her, his eyes never straying from hers. Then he inclined his head slightly. “Fair enough. I’ll get started on your pies tonight, but I expect you there tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see.” She pressed her lips together and turned to walk away, ignoring the calls from several townspeople.

  “Mac, hey!” Will yelled from behind her. “Wait up.”

  “Seriously, slow down, girl,” Avery said, her heels clicking against the sidewalk. “If I’d known I’d be walking all over hell and back today, I’d have worn something besides these cute as fuck but completely impractical boots.”

  “Keep up or shut up, ladies,” Rory said, her gait even with Mac’s. “After waving a red flag at that bull, she needs to get the hell outta here.”

  Avery snorted at the same time Will said, “About that… Are you sure you wanna go down the route of playin’ hard to get with him? For one thing, you only have so much time. How long’s he here for, anyway?”

  “Marianne told me a few weeks when we spoke earlier,” Rory said.

  A few weeks. It wasn’t enough time. Though, to be fair, a thousand weeks wouldn’t have been enough time.

  “And second,” Will continued, “you wanna give Hudson more of a challenge?” She snorted and Rory joined in. “Let me know how that works out for you.”

  Giving Hudson a challenge probably wasn’t Mac’s brightest idea. He thrived on them, just like she did. It was their greatest source of commonality as well as dispute. So, yeah, she hadn’t really been thinking when she’d walked away earlier today. And she hadn’t intended to play hard to get. Not really. It just…sort of happened.

  She’d been at work now for hours, and every time the door swung open, her eyes snapped there like a magnet. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by her pain-in-the-ass sister.

  “I don’t know why you don’t just call him up and invite him over here,” Will said from her perch at the bar. She’d come in to meet Finn after he got off, but a call from a supplier was holding him up.

  “Like I’ve said to you no less than forty-seven times, I’m not gonna do that because—” Mac broke off with an irritated groan. She didn’t want to say it again. She’d already said it enough. Had told Will how she’d felt completely and utterly inadequate compared to Hudson. He saved lives for a living. Fought for the safety and freedom of an entire fucking country. She got the local townsfolk their favorite alcoholic beverages and wiped down tables. Not exactly a level playing field.

  “And like I’ve said to you an equal number of times, you’re the bravest, most compassionate, caring, and determined woman I know.”

  “Honestly, would you—”

  “I’m not done,” Will snapped, slamming her hand on the bar top. Then she cleared her throat and continued on as if nothing had happened. “As I was sayin’, you run this bar when any of the three buffoons who own this place have prior commitments.”

  “One of those buffoons is your fiancé,” Mac said dryly. “Another is his twin and your future brother-in-law.”

  “And the other can spit in your food,” Nola, the third owner in the bar’s trio, said casually as she strolled by on her way to the kitchen, her silver lavender hair piled high on her head.

  Will waved her off, unconcerned. “What I’m sayin’ is you know the ins and outs of this place as well as the owners do. You could run it with your eyes closed.”

  “But I don’t because it’s not mine to run.” Not to mention running—or even managing—a bar just…didn’t interest her. It was simply a way for her to pay her bills. The same as every other job she’d ever had.

  “You de-escalate disagreements from the patrons and townsfolk on a daily basis.”

  “Pretty sure that’s the booze,” Mac said dryly.

  Will groaned and threw up her hands. “You always do this! You always dismiss your accomplishments.”

  Mac blew out a frustrated breath. “Those aren’t accomplishments, Will. I’m not in the second-grade spelling bee, getting an honorable mention, for fuck’s sake. Life doesn’t work like that. I’m a bartender. T
hat’s it. You don’t have to make it into something it’s not.”

  “Okay, you want some concrete accomplishments? Fine. How about the kids you help turn around when you leave for weeks of the year and participate in Wilderness Bound? How many kids’ futures have you realigned doin’ that? How many people’s lives have you saved by teachin’ ’em wilderness skills? Hell, you saved our niece’s life—doesn’t that count for anything?”

  Mac’s cheeks bloomed with heat despite trying desperately to tamp it down. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed, exactly. It was just that she really, truly hated being the center of attention, and Will had just placed a big ole spotlight on her and turned the thing on to full blast. Not to mention, she was loud as hell and starting to draw the interest of the others gathered around.

  “That’s not—”

  “Don’t you dare say it’s not a big deal,” Will said, her voice steely as she pointed an angry finger in Mac’s direction.

  Mac started to do exactly that when the door swung open again, her breath catching at who stood on the threshold. Lilah, Hudson’s younger sister, walked through the door, a guy Mac had never seen before strolling in behind her. He was tall and broad, thick muscles bunching under rich umber skin, his black hair and beard neatly trimmed close. He stood with the same kind of quiet authority Hudson did. Military, no doubt. She’d heard whispers throughout the afternoon of the man Hudson had brought home—his copilot in the army. Too much of a coincidence for it not to be the same guy.

  Her stomach flip-flopped as she searched beyond the pair, both dreading and hoping Hudson would walk in behind them. But the door swung shut and stayed that way.

  “Lookin’ for something?” Will asked, a know-it-all lilt to her voice.

  “No.”

  “Mhmm…you don’t want to see him, my ass,” she muttered into her wineglass.

  “Shut up, or I’ll cut you off.” Mac delivered the words without heat, her focus on Lilah and the new guy as they strode up to the bar.

  “Hey, Mac,” Lilah said, slipping onto a barstool one down from Willow, a broad smile on her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the ends curled and bouncing. “Will. How’re y’all doin’?”