Tequila

by Toppen, Melissa

  “Yeah, you better say that,” he murmurs, running his lips across my jaw.

  “If you had told me when we met that I’d be here with you now, on your tour bus, I never would have believed it.”

  “Funny how life works.” Hudson runs his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling me. “God you smell good.” He groans, thrusting his hips upward slightly so I can feel him hard beneath me.

  “I probably smell like you,” I counter, pushing down to grind myself on him.

  “Why would you smell like me?” He smiles, pulling back to look up at me.

  “Because you haven’t stopped rubbing yourself all over me since last night,” I inform him, scratching my nails along his scruff.

  “Is that a bad thing?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

  “Quite the opposite actually.” I shift my hips, pressing into him again. “I’m thinking I’d like you to be rubbing on me right now,” I purr, sliding my hands into the back of his hair as my mouth settles over his.

  “You want to christen my tour bus, do you?” He groans when I slide my tongue into his mouth.

  “That depends...” I pause, my face hovering so close to his that all I can see are his dark eyes.

  “You would be the first,” he cuts in like he knows exactly where my mind is going. “The first and the only.” He shifts, lifting us both up as he turns and deposits me on the bed beneath him.

  “Well in that case.” I lift my arms so he can peel my shirt off. “Christen away, Mr. Demasi.”

  —-

  “So will you have the same bus the next time you go on tour?” I ask, my body curled into Hudson’s under the blankets.

  “Doubtful. Usually the label leases the buses. I think it depends on what’s available. Obviously their higher end stock is reserved for the bigger artists.”

  “Which you are quickly becoming,” I interject.

  “Maybe.” He shrugs like he’s unsure, which is completely out of character for him. “I don’t know. Some days I think I’m just waiting for the rug to get ripped out from underneath me.”

  I sit up, doing a ninety degree turn so that I’m facing where he’s lying, propped up on pillows with his hands tucked underneath his head. “What do you mean?” I question, criss-crossing my legs in front of myself as I tug the blanket up to my chin.

  “It just seems too good to be true.” He shrugs. “Everything is going too right.”

  “There’s such a thing as too right?” I ask, reaching out to trail my hand along the swirls of the tattoo on his forearm.

  “I think so.” He looks down to where my fingers are drifting gently over his ink.

  “Explain,” I coax.

  “It’s hard to explain.” He lets out a slow sigh, his gaze going to the ceiling. “I just feel like one day everyone is going to wake up and realize I’m not who they think I am. That my music isn’t good enough. That I’m not good enough.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I snip almost angrily. “You have no idea how talented you are, do you? My god, Hudson, you are pure magic on that stage. If you could see what I see when I watch you, I promise you would never, ever wonder if you’re good enough.”

  “I wasn’t just talking about music, Lennon,” he pauses, his gaze drifting back to me.

  “You think you’re not good enough for me?” I ask like the question couldn’t be more absurd.

  “I worry that maybe I’m not. That I’m fooling myself into believing I can be what you need.”

  “You don’t have to fool yourself into anything. You are what I need.”

  “Right now maybe,” he grumbles, sitting up before throwing his legs over the bed. He’s pulling on his jeans before my feet have even hit the floor.

  “Hey.” I pull the blanket off the bed and wrap it around my shoulders before stepping in front of him. “What’s with you?” I ask, having never seen this side of Hudson.

  “You scare the fuck out of me, Lennon Claire.” His gaze softens as his hand slides into my hair.

  “And you think you don’t scare me?” I ask. Leaning into his touch, I close my eyes for a brief moment.

  “I’m in love with you,” he blurts and my entire body freezes.

  I’m not sure how long it takes for my wide gaze to find his, but when it does I feel like my heart is seconds away from crashing out from behind my rib cage.

  “Did you hear me?” he asks when moments pass and I haven’t been able to form one single word.

  “I heard you,” I manage, not able to contain the smile the spreads across my face. “Now say it again.”

  Relief floods his expression as he leans forward, his lips a breath away from mine.

  “I’m. In. Love. With. You.”

  “You have no idea, do you?” I question, shaking my head, my smile still firmly intact.

  “What don’t I have any idea about?” he questions, his eyebrows knitting together.

  “How crazy I am about you,” I say, taking his face in my hands. “Or how incredibly happy you just made me.” Emotion swells in my throat and I choke it back. “I’m in love with you too.”

  I press up on the balls of my feet and kiss him, not even flinching when the blanket slips from my body and Hudson’s warm arms close around my back.

  “I’m in this with you,” I reassure him, wrapping my legs around his waist when he lifts me into his arms. “And I’m not going anywhere. As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

  “I’m never going to stop wanting you,” he murmurs against my neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh just below my ear.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warn as Hudson dips and presses me back onto the mattress.

  “I’m never going to stop wanting you,” he reiterates as he shimmies out of his jeans and settles in between my thighs.

  He pauses at my entrance, looking down at me with so much adoration on his face it nearly steals the air from my lungs.

  “I love you,” he whispers, slowly sliding inside of me.

  “I love you,” I whisper back, wrapping my legs around his back and arching my hips upward as he starts to move, showing me with his body what his words have already expressed.

  I know he meant what he said. I feel it in the way he touches me. See it in the way he looks at me. Hear it in the way that he says my name over and over again as our bodies slide against one another.

  This man loves me.

  I love him.

  I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever felt so happy. So full that I could burst into a million pieces. But with that happiness the fear creeps in.

  The more you love someone the more power they have to hurt you. For my sake I hope it never comes to that. Because losing Hudson wouldn’t just hurt me. It would completely destroy me.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Thought you’d like to know we’re official. That’s the message I read seconds before I click on an image attached to Hudson’s text, my hand coming up to cover my mouth as I take in the picture.

  It’s a side image caught from someone who must have been standing behind me as Hudson ran off stage and lifted me into his arms. I’m looking down at him with a wide smile on my face and he’s looking up at me, beaming. Given the lighting, the image isn’t the clearest, but you can see it’s us.

  I’m getting ready to respond and ask him where he got the picture when another text comes through, linking me to an online news article.

  What’s next for Hudson James? We talk to the rising country star about his debut album, his current tour with country royalty, Travis Travers, and even dive into his love life.

  Following the headline is a couple pictures of Hudson performing on stage and then a question and answers section between the reporter who did the article and Hudson.

  I read through the whole thing, learning I know most of the answers before reading his responses. But I pause when I come across what I’ve been looking for since he sent me the link.

  Q: So your fans are dying to know. Hudson,
is there a special lady in your life? Someone who’s inspired some of your incredible songs?

  A: She’s more than just special.

  My heart hammers in my chest and I can’t read the words fast enough.

  Q: Well don’t keep us in suspense. Do tell. Who is she? How did you two meet? Is it serious?

  A: I’d prefer to keep her to myself for a little while longer. But yes, it’s serious.

  Q: Serious as is in she might be the one?

  A: Serious as in she is the one.

  Everything blurs on the screen and I swear if I wasn’t sitting on my couch I would most definitely be on the floor.

  My hands begin to shake when I spot the picture Hudson sent me right below the last answer.

  Hudson James may not have been ready to share the identity of his mystery woman, but someone backstage sure was. Snapping this very intimate photo of James right after his performance in Houston this past weekend. The woman has since been identified as twenty-seven year old interior designer, Lennon Claire.

  My stomach rolls and I’m not sure if I want to scream in joy because the world knows he belongs to me or if I want to puke because, well, the world now knows he belongs to me.

  My phone beeps in my hand and I look down to see another message from Hudson.

  Hudson: Lennon?

  It takes me a moment to realize that he can see I’ve read his messages and he’s probably worried that I haven’t responded.

  Me: Just read the article.

  Hudson: And?

  Me: You said I was the one.

  Hudson: You are the one.

  Me: I think that might be a little premature.

  I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to accept that he would think that way about me when I thought he was the one five years ago after one night together.

  Hudson: When you know, you know.

  I smile, able to envision the relaxed smile on his face followed by a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  Hudson: I was worried you might be upset that they named you.

  Me: Why would that upset me? I’m more than happy to scream it from the rooftops.

  Hudson: It can get a little tricky in my line of work.

  Me: Meaning what?

  Hudson: Meaning people might come looking for you.

  Me: As in fans?

  Hudson: As in fans, reporters, photographers, or anyone else who might be curious.

  Me: Should I be worried?

  Hudson: No, of course not. But you should be prepared if someone were to approach you. Might be a good idea to have some answers in mind for questions people might throw at you. Or at least that’s what J said. She’s not too happy about the photo being leaked, but like I told her, it’s not like I’m trying to hide you.

  I think back to the one time I met Hudson’s PR manager, Jane. She didn’t seem too thrilled about me then. I can only imagine how she feels about me now.

  Me: What are you doing right now? Can we talk on the phone instead of texting?

  Hudson: I’m at sound check. Promise I’ll call you later. I just wanted you to be aware.

  Me: Okay.

  Hudson: You sure you’re okay with this?

  Me: Not much we can do about it now. But yes, I love you, Hudson. I don’t care if the whole world knows it.

  Hudson: Good. I love you too. Talk soon.

  I sigh, dropping my phone on the couch next to me before letting out what sounds like a laugh and groan all balled into one.

  On one hand, I really don’t care that they named me as the woman in Hudson’s life. Hell, I’m glad they did. On the other, it makes me nervous to think that people might seek me out.

  Shaking it off, I snag my phone from where I dropped it seconds ago and quickly pull up my recent calls, clicking on Emma’s name.

  If there’s anyone that can calm the sudden nervousness inside of me, it’s my best friend. The second I hear her voice on the other end I relax.

  I pace the floor of my living room as I go over everything with Emma. I haven’t spoken to her since I got back from Texas five days ago. She hasn’t been at work because she’s had some stomach bug and I’ve been pretty distracted so I use this opportunity to fill her in on not only the article but also on my weekend with Hudson.

  Nearly an hour later I’m lounging on my balcony, sipping a margarita, feeling a lot more calm about how quickly my life is changing.

  Emma reminded me of what’s really important – which I knew she would – and that’s Hudson and how I feel about him. The rest is just a bunch of noise. I just have to learn how to tune it out and focus on him.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Can you believe it’s done?” Emma steps back and looks over the living room of the beach house.

  We’ve been working on decorating for nearly two full days and now that it’s complete, it looks a million times better than I ever dreamed it could.

  “It turned out so good.” She knocks her shoulder against mine.

  “I can’t believe how well all the décor worked in the space. Usually there are a handful of pieces I can’t place but there wasn’t one thing that didn’t fit perfectly.”

  “Because you’re just that good.” She smiles, her green eyes bright against her light brown skin.

  “I don’t think it had anything to do with me. I think it’s just that amazing of a house.” I look over the light gray furniture with pops of teal and yellow brought out in the pillows and area rugs. It has the perfect beach feel without being too beachy.

  “Daddy is going to make so much money on this house. And you know what that means.” She bounces next to me.

  Our salaries are based on the profit Jeff makes on each house. The higher the profit, the more money Emma and I make. I know with complete certainty that Emma is right. There’s no way this house won’t sell for asking price. If not over. My bet is that it goes well over asking.

  “Now, I think we should celebrate. What do you say? Cosmos on me?”

  “I say I think I like where your head is at.” I smirk, linking my arm through Emma’s.

  —-

  “So when does lover boy finish with his tour?” Emma asks, well into her fourth Cosmo.

  “Their last show was Wednesday. He had some things to take care of in Nashville but he should be here this weekend,” I say, not able to contain the excitement I have knowing in a couple of days he will be here.

  It’s hard to believe that it’s been three weeks since our time together in Texas. We’ve talked nearly every night since, and even though it’s not enough and I want him here with me, I’ve learned to cherish whatever I can get.

  Our relationship has only progressed emotionally with our inability to see each other. When we’re together we can barely keep our hands off each other so it’s nice to have this time to connect with him beyond sex.

  I swear I fall for him a little more every day. The more I learn, the more I want. The more I know, the more I love.

  “Uh oh,” Emma slurs, knocking back the remainder of her drink. “You are in so deep, Lennon Claire. Look at you.” She giggles. “One mention of his name and you’re off in La La Land.” She twirls her finger.

  “What can I say? I’m dating country star, Hudson James,” I say cockily, a wide smile on my face.

  “Such a gloaty bitch.” She sticks her tongue out at me and curls her nose. “Someone needs to cut you off,” she says loudly in the direction of the bartender.

  “Shhh. Keep it up and they’re going to cut you off.” I push playfully at her shoulder.

  “I love you, you know that.” She smiles at me and it’s very clear that she’s crossed the point of no return.

  I’m not sure when Emma became such a light weight, but I’ve noticed more and more recently that it doesn’t take much to get her drunk. Then again it could have to do with the fact that she doesn’t drink every other day like we did in college.

  Regardless, one thing has not changed. When Emma starts saying she loves everyone, you k
now she’s had enough.

  “I love you too,” I humor her, the buzz running through my veins pretty strong as well. Though to be fair I haven’t eaten a lick of food since seven o’clock this morning and decided to drink anyway. Probably not the smartest move in the world.

  “I was pregnant,” Emma blurts out of nowhere, the smile falling from her lips.

  “What?” I shake my head, trying to follow. “What do you mean was?”

  “I found out a week before Starr’s wedding. That’s why we left early. I was having horrible cramps. Robert and I decided not to tell anyone until we were sure everything was okay. They did an ultrasound a few days later and said it appeared as though the fetus wasn’t progressing the way it should be. I had to do a series of blood tests. They confirmed it a couple weeks ago. I was losing the baby.”

  “That’s why you were out sick,” I say, piecing it all together.

  She nods, signaling the bartender for another round before her green eyes are on me again.

  “Emma. Why didn’t you tell me?” I take her hand that’s resting on the bar and give it a gentle squeeze.

  “I wanted to. But I thought it would be easier if I handled it alone. I didn’t want to have to talk about it or answer questions. I just wanted it over with and to move on.”

  “You know me better than that, Emma Barrett Mills,” I say, nodding to the bartender as he slides two more cosmos in front of us.

  “I see now how stupid that was.” She lifts her drink and takes a sip. “I just wasn’t ready for anyone to know.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask the only question I need answered.

  “I’m still a little sad. But yeah, I’m okay. Robert has been amazing and we’ve decided we’re gonna wait a couple months before trying again. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve that man.” She smiles through the tears that have welled behind her eyes.

  “More like what he did to deserve you,” I tell her matter of fact. “You know I’m here, right? Anything you need.”

  “I know.” She leans into me, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. “Have I told you how much I love you?” she asks, looking up at my profile.