Page 3 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

Not even my sisters.

“Changed my mind.” I hop off the stool. “I’ll go kiss Hudson.”

“Seriously?” Tess puffs out a small chuckle. “We were letting you off easy with a softball question.”

“I don’t need to be let off easy. Kissing Hudson is no big deal.” I straighten the spaghetti straps of my dress, then unhook my bag from under the table. “I just have to make a quick pitstop in the bathroom first.”

“Ha!” Darby scoffs. “You’re a big stall-er.”

“Am not,” I argue. “I’ve had to pee for almost an hour.”

But also, I’m totally stalling.

Crossing the crowded bar, I duck into the ladies’ room where three of my cousins are crowded at the sink, reapplying lipstick. Lettie, Nella, and Kasey all grew up in this town, unlike my sisters and me. Our parents left Abieville and raised us in Apple Valley, Oregon, on the opposite side of the country.

My cousins and I crack a few inside jokes about the wedding, and I almost forget about the dare. But when the three of them head back out to the bar, I feel the pang of separation.

This town is their home, not mine. My future is in Aspen, Colorado, between the two wings of my family. And all I want is to make my mark. Like Mac is, running McCoy Construction. Like Tess is, sitting on Apple Valley’s town council. Like Darby is, finishing at the top of her class in med school.

My turn to shine is coming, too. It’s just taking a little longer to reach me. Meanwhile, my short-term goal is to get this stupid dare over with.

Let’s do this, Liv.

Striding out of the bathroom, I make a beeline for the cluster of men by the bar. As I approach, I tip my chin up, feigning confidence, but my heart’s pounding, and my face is on fire. The truth is, Hudson Blaine is too perfect for his own good. Too perfect for my own good. If he were a cocky jerk who kept staring at my boobs, not liking him would be a whole lot easier. So I’ll just have to make this quick. One dumb kiss, proving to myself and to my sisters I’m totally unaffected by him.

Moving past my cousins and the other groomsmen, I walk directly up to Hudson.

“Hey, Olivia.” He meets my gaze, his mouth bent up at one corner. “You look like a woman on a mission.”

“I am.” I square my shoulders. “So just go along with this, okay?”

His dreamy, wife-me-up eyes light with amusement. “Go along with what?” I peek over my shoulder and catch Tess and Darby at our table—eyes wide, waving me back. Wow. They really don’t think I can do this.

Well. I’ll show them.

Popping up on my toes, I move in close to whisper in Hudson’s ear. “My sisters dared me to kiss you,” I say. Then I slide over to gently press my lips to his.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Warmth. Maybe a little softness. But Hudson’s mouth is hot and electric. Fizzy, like he just chugged a glassful of champagne. Or maybe that’s the buzzing in my brain. Either way, I wish I’d asked how long this kiss had to be, because it’s been two seconds, but I already feel like I could live here forever.

My knees go weak, and I let myself sink into the spark of connection between us. Forget my stubborn insistence on never getting serious with anyone.

This is a man I could get lost in.

As the group around us breaks into hoots and hollers, I crack an eyelid to peer at Hudson. His eyes are large and wide—like solar-system sized. He must be as shocked as I am by our undeniable chemistry. At least this is what I’m telling myself when he unlocks his lips and pulls away.

He blinks. His jaw shifts. Then he mumbles, “No, thank you, Olivia.”

No, thank you, Olivia?!

A strangled gurgle bubbles up in the back of my throat, and I lurch backward, dropping off my toes. I can’t believe I just did that. I’m no better than every guy who’s ever tried to make a move on me. Worse than that, I didn’t just try to make a move. I actually made one.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “Dares are stupid. Please don’t hate me.”

Hudson drops his brow. “I don’t hate you,” he says, while I try not to burst into flames of embarrassment. “It’s just …” He dips his head so no one else can hear. “I’m not interested in you.”

Gah!

I take another step back, adjusting the thin strap of my dress, feeling more exposed than I ever have in my life. The people standing around—still whistling and clapping for us—have no idea they just witnessed an absolute car crash of a rejection.

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