by M. A. Innes
“Well, I’m on my way over to my parents’ house. I missed dinner last week, and if I miss it again, they’re going to chase me down and see what the problem is.” He laughed, but I could hear the concern in his voice.
“You should just talk to them. Your dad might have a good idea about hiring someone.” Hudson’s parents seemed functional. Real people, who didn’t care who their son slept with and were proud of him.
Hudson sighed, and I had to bite back a giggle. “You can’t be logical too.”
“I’m assuming Wes gave you that speech as well?” There was no hiding the laughter in my voice that time.
“Yes, several times this week.” Hudson was quiet for a moment, and I could picture him, fingers tapping on the wheel while he thought. He was a fidgeter when he drove, and it was cute. “I’ll think about it. But only if we haven’t found any good candidates to interview by the end of the week. I’m not just being stubborn.”
He was reading my mind again.
“If it was something important, then I would call him. This is just extra hours and some inconvenience. It’s not a make-or-break problem for the company. It’s one position. It shouldn’t be this hard to fill.” He was starting to get frustrated, and I didn’t want him to be upset. I liked that he could talk to me about it.
“Did I tell you about the other applicants we initially had for the job? One ended up in jail. He was stealing from his old company, and he’s accused of a physical assault on another employee as well. I know there are better people in the neighborhood, but I’m just not finding them.” His frustration was mounting, and I just wanted to find something that would help.
“Maybe they just don’t think they’re qualified or good enough. People won’t try for something that looks too good to be true.” It was too hard when they were repeatedly shot down and felt stupid.
Hudson’s voice was soft, and there was something in it I couldn’t describe. “Not unless they are very brave. But you’re right; maybe it looks harder than it really is. I’ll talk to Wes about the job description.”
“I knew a finance major last year who was looking around at jobs and found one that seemed perfect, but the qualifications were weird and the description was confusing. It talked about geometry and all kinds of math no one had used since high school, nothing that seemed to have anything to do with the job. She took a chance and applied. It turned out, the HR department had just copied and pasted the description from something they’d found online. They didn’t even realize the math stuff was listed. It scared off so many people that there were only a handful of applicants.”
“Did she get the job?” I could hear the smile in Hudson’s voice. The story wasn’t that funny, but none of us had been able to figure out why the job needed to know the area of a circle.
“Yup. She’s living in Texas or someplace down there.”
Hudson laughed. “I’ll make sure there isn’t any weird math listed.”
“You never know. Maybe you have some kind of typo that says they have to be able to stand on their head and say the alphabet backward.” It was the hardest thing that came to mind right away.
His chuckle sent shivers down my spine. “I’m not sure anyone can do that.”
“I knew a guy my freshman year who could do that. But only when he was drunk. Not sober.” I’d met interesting people at school. Far more interesting than I’d led my parents to believe. It was too bad they couldn’t relate to me. Different only seemed good when it involved drinking or weird skills like being able to wiggle their nose like that old TV witch.
“I’ll take your word on that.” The stress was gone from his voice, and he seemed lighter than when he’d first called. “I’m almost at the house, but I just wanted to know if you wanted to come by my house later. Dessert and a movie?”
“What kind of dessert?” Real dessert or the naughty kind?
“That’s a surprise. But I’ll let you pick out the movie.”
“Deal.” I was up for whatever he was planning. He might constantly surprise me, but I had a feeling that nothing I did would surprise him.
Chapter 9
Hudson
“You’ve been working too hard. You’re tired.” My mother’s hovering was at Olympic level before I’d even walked in the door. I knew I looked rough, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she was making it out to be.
It was not dreams of work that kept me up last night.
“I’m fine. You just worry.” Giving her a kiss, I looked toward the door. “Do I get to come in and eat?”
She gave a sniff and frowned at me. “I don’t see you for two weeks, and now all you want is food.” Leaning close, she looked suspicious. “Who is he? Not enough sleep...not enough food...you’ve met someone.”
Crazy woman with ESP.
Lying was bad. She’d spot it a mile away. “You’d prefer to interrogate your only son instead of feeding him? Where’s Dad? He wouldn’t grill me. Where’s Mama Sylvia? She loves me.”
That distracted her, but not in the way I’d hoped; one eyebrow went up and her lips pinched together. “Sylvia has the week off. If you’d been here last time when you were supposed to be, you would know that. Her sister fell, and she went home to see how she’s doing.”
And I was going to get a guilt trip for months over this.
Oh well, that was better than being quizzed about my sex life. I wasn’t hiding Randall. I just wasn’t ready to share him yet, and I wasn’t sure where he thought we were going. It constantly seemed to surprise him that I wasn’t trying to shove him in a closet like my dirty secret. Until I really got through to him and made sure we were both on the same page, I couldn’t bring him home.
And telling my mother vague details about a guy I might be serious about was dangerous. She was part bloodhound. “Is Aunt Trina okay?”
Sylvia had been working for our family since I was born. I didn’t remember a time when she wasn’t around. My mother liked to tease that Sylvia was my first word. She was more family than anything else and had been Mama Sylvia forever.
“She’ll be fine. Just overdoing it for a woman her age.” Mama started heading into the house, shaking her head like she just couldn’t believe the outrageous behavior Aunt Trina had been up to. “And it’s giving Sylvia a vacation. She thinks with your father here all the time, we need more supervision.”
I completely agreed with Sylvia, but I was smart enough not to say it.
“We’re staying busy.” As I shut the front door, Mama led me in through the house toward the kitchen. “Your father is finishing up something on TV. A golf match, I think. I’m not sure.”
She glanced back toward his study. “If I go in and actually see what he’s doing, he’ll make me stay and watch. I had to sit through an entire game...match...whatever it’s called last week. You can go see what he’s up to, if you’re interested.”
Um, no thanks. “I’ll see what you’ve got going in the kitchen.”
She laughed and gave me a knowing look. Neither of us got Dad’s infatuation with golf or really sports in general. I had fun playing sports in high school and college, but sitting on the couch for a couple of hours watching other people play wasn’t my thing. Much to Dad’s utter disappointment.
“Good idea.” She continued on through the living room and into the kitchen. The place was too big for just them, but it had been their home for most of their marriage, so I knew they’d never move out. With their suite of rooms at one end of the massive structure, and Sylvia’s at the other, the house could have boarded a small army. It was home, though.
I’d grown up sliding down the massive wood staircase on couch cushions and playing the best games of hide-and-seek with my friends. It could have felt cold and sterile, but it was filled with memories and love.
“You finish the salad for me. I’m going to check on dinner.” She pointed to the half-finished salad on the table and went over to the stove. Watching her stirring things and moving pots around, I wasn’t sure what she�
�d made, but it smelled like curry.
When Sylvia was home, the kitchen was her domain, but when she was out of town, Mom loved to try out new recipes. When Sylvia had gone on a cruise with her family when I was in high school, we’d had a different soup every night for the two weeks she had been gone. Dad and I had been desperate for Sylvia to come back.
“The kitchen looks good.” As I started cutting up vegetables, I looked around the room. They’d recently had it renovated. It’d turned out great, a more updated version of the room I’d grown up with. They’d kept the same layout, so there was still room for the large island as well as the long table, but the new cabinets and tilework brought it all together.
“I think so too.” She smiled, satisfied and pleased. “When he said he was ready to tackle the renovation, I thought he was crazy, and I’d end up with a partially done mess, but it turned out wonderfully.”
“What’s he thinking of doing next?” I thought the house looked fine, but Dad thought that it was showing its age and had a list of things that had to be done. He kept talking about leaving a legacy for my future children and giving me pointed looks. He was as bad as she was.
“The downstairs bathrooms.” She started shaking her head. “I told him it was going to have to wait until after the party. I’m not living in a mess and trying to finalize all those details too.”
“So what’s he going to do instead?” I knew them both well enough to be able to read between the lines.
“Our bathroom.” She sighed and kept tinkering with the pots on the stove. “I got what I wanted, but I think I lost that battle.”
“Oh, yeah.” Yup, I’d have let him mess with the guest bathrooms. But she was right; he wouldn’t be able to get everything done before the party. No matter how good the contractors were. “I thought you guys were going to head down to the beach early this year? With all these projects, are you still planning on it?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Worry passed over her face. “I think it’s going to be a while before he’s ready.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. He’s just restless, I think.” She put down the spoon she’d been using and went over to the cabinets. Getting out plates and cups, she started setting the table. “I knew it was going to be a bit of a transition for him. He’s worked full-time since he was a young man.”
“You guys talked about traveling.” They’d had a list of things that they’d wanted to do, but so far, they hadn’t done much. Just golf and renovations.
“That’s partly my fault. I thought I’d be ready to step down from my committees, but there are a few big projects that I’m working on, and I’m not willing to turn them over to someone else yet. Maybe once we have everything finalized for the new children’s wing at the hospital, and the new library built.” People might scoff at the image of the rich wife who played with charities, but my mother put the work in charity work. She might never have taken a salary for what she’d done, but there was plenty of time growing up where she’d been just as busy as my father. She took her positions very seriously.
“I can understand that.” Dad had wanted to pull back on the number of hours he’d been working, and giving me the space to take over was at the forefront of his mind. But he was too active to sit around doing nothing. “Has he thought about volunteering or joining you with some of your charities?”
She looked over at the door to the kitchen and frowned. “Bite your tongue. I love your father dearly, but being retired does not mean he has to live in my back pocket. It’s like having a teenager home for the summer already. I’m not taking him to work.”
Laughing probably wasn’t the right response, but it was too perfect. “I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
She waved a finger at me, still keeping one eye on the door. “If you do, I’m telling him you’re overstressed and need his help at work. I’m not above fighting dirty.”
I knew she was teasing, but she hit a little too close to home. I tried to play it off. “That’s just mean.”
I got a sassy grin from her. “Where do you think you learned it from?”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’re guilty, my dear.” I was saved as Dad came in the room, his deep voice booming. “You are a bad influence.”
She gave him an innocent smile and shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t.” He gave her an indulgent smile.
They’d been married for more than forty years, but he still looked at her like they were newlyweds. She was tall for a woman, but as he came up and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her against the counter, he towered over her.
She always said his good looks gave him a leg up in the boardroom. He just brushed it off and said it was merely his charm and good luck that had the business going so well. Since I looked like a younger version of him, I was hoping they were both right. Looks, charm, and good luck would be a wonderful combination to keep the company going in the right direction.
****
“Angel, you’re finally here.” Throwing the door open, I reached out and pulled Randall into my arms. I wasn’t going for subtle or playing it cool. I needed to show him he was wanted.
He grinned and looked slightly bashful, like he wasn’t sure what to do with my enthusiasm. “You saw me last night.”
“And it was a very long night without you.” Tugging him close, I didn’t hide my excitement. I wasn’t going to make him guess how he affected me. He wasn’t some overconfident twink who wanted to play games. He needed more than that. “You kept me up all night.”
He blinked up at me, shy and a little confused. “I did?”
“I had wicked dreams about my dirty angel.” I whispered the words and watched as he blushed, and a shiver ran through him. “Very wicked dreams.”
“Oh.” The word was soft and filled with desire.
“I’m going to have to punish you for keeping me up like that.” His eyes got wide, and he rocked his body against mine. The hard cock that pressed against my body let me know the direction his thoughts were going. “But not tonight.”
“Oh?” Now he sounded distinctly disappointed, a little frown starting to form.
Unable to resist, I leaned down and gave him a quick, tender kiss. “I promised you dessert and a movie tonight.”
His tongue came out to lick his lips, and he looked up at me hungrily. “Yes, dessert.”
Keeping my hands to myself was going to be impossible. He was too tempting and too needy. As much as I’d tormented both of us last night, he hadn’t asked to come. And as honest as his submission was, I knew he would do his best to follow my instructions. Knowing how hard he was, and how long it had been since he’d come, pushed my arousal even higher.
Giving him one last chaste kiss, I stepped back and took one of his hands. “Treat. Then we’ll pick out the movie.”
Randall looked like his brain was having a hard time keeping up. “Um, what kind?”
Thinking that he was referring to the food, because that was where my mind was going, I answered him. “I picked up a couple of kinds of ice cream.”
It was simple, as far as desserts went. However, it was my favorite.
“More than one?” That seemed to shock him just as much as my going after him in the bar the first night. He stopped in his tracks before we made it through the living room and just looked at me.
“Of course.” Stopping at one seemed incredibly wrong. How were you supposed to narrow down how you’d feel two or three nights later when you were standing in the frozen food section?
“Sometimes it’s a rocky road kind of night, and sometimes you just want plain chocolate. And every once in a while vanilla calls, so you have to have that too.” I was being fairly serious, but he looked at me like I was insane.
Had I picked the wrong dessert?
“Are you allergic? I have some brownie mix in the cabinet. We can make that instead.” Those were good too, and as long as he di
dn’t mind, I could have that with ice cream. Hmm, not a bad idea.
“Allergic? No.” Still the same cute, confused expression.
“Do you like ice cream? You won’t hurt my feelings. I might question your sanity, but I can learn to live with it. Even my angel can’t be completely perfect.” He finally cracked a smile, but he still seemed shocked.
“I like ice cream.” Well, we were finally getting somewhere.
“See, you are perfect.” Figuring I’d eventually understand what was going on with the dessert crisis in his head, I gave him another peck on the lips and started pulling him toward the kitchen.
He was like a car that needed a push to get going. Once I had him moving, his brain started kicking in. “I like your house.”
“Thank you.” I’d found the small one-bedroom condo in a great part of town a few years ago and had snatched it up right away. It didn’t have a lot of extra space, and sometimes the layout was funny, but it was beautiful.
The area was mostly filled with brownstone-style buildings like you would see up north, but a handful of them had been converted into condos and apartments. The prices were still crazy when you compared it to apartments in other parts of the city, but I loved it.
“It’s a little small, but it works for me.” I smiled as I dragged him into the kitchen. “My mother thinks I live in a closet. It makes her crazy.”
“For some reason, I think that’s part of the appeal for you.” He grinned and started looking around the room.
“You’re right. That’s what sons are for.”
His smile dimmed. “Not in my family.”
“That’s not as much fun, then.” Looking around, I wasn’t sure where he should stand. It was a tiny kitchen. The area had originally been a large closet or part of a hallway, it was hard to tell. The previous owners had renovated it with nice cabinets and granite countertops, but there wasn’t much they could do about the layout or the space.
On two walls, there was an L-shaped area with the stove on one end and the fridge on the other. It wasn’t bad, and I actually had a window that looked out over the shared back garden. I would have probably put a table on the other wall, but the previous owners thought storage was more important than an eat-in kitchen, so they’d put another wall of lower cabinets with shelves going up the wall.
