Page 10 of Promise Me

Fighting with him is exhausting, but Brooke wasn’t kidding yesterday. Hudson Asher is not sore on the eyes. That might be what I hate the most about him. That soft, thick brown hair on his head. The way his bright blue eyes shine like diamonds. The thick dark lashes I would kill for. The dimples that hit his cheeks when you catch a rare smile. The way his body towers over mine when he talks to me. I’ve seen him running through town; everything under his jeans and T-shirt is sculpted to perfection. I used to think he was conceited that way, always working out and worrying about his appearance. But the more I think about it, I know hockey played a role. Those men must stay in shape for their careers. Maybe keeping the routine keeps him connected to a dream job that was cut short.

A small part of me feels bad for what he lost.

I’m still human, after all.

“How long are you going to stand there and admire me?”

And then it speaks.

I step outside, letting the sunshine warm my skin and praying it lifts my mood and gives me the serenity I need to have a calm conversation with Satan.

“No comment, huh? That’s unusual.”

The sun has failed me.

“What are you doing out here? Are you giving your staff a break and letting the migraines they get from being around you fade?” I ask.

He pushes off the wall as I move toward him—well, toward the space for sale.

He pulls his sunglasses from where they are hanging on the front of his shirt and slips them on. He stuffs his phone into his front jeans pocket and then crosses his arms.

I ignore him, obviously.

Once I’m close enough, I lean toward the window to get a look inside.

She’s not there. I didn’t really expect her to be, but a girl can hope. I stop in front of the sign and type her phone number into my phone.

“Still think you stand a chance, huh?”

I ignore him.

I press the green button, hold the phone to my ear, and walk back to the bakery.

Her car pulls up just before I reach the door.

Even better.

Mrs. Whittaker parks and gets out. She slams the door, her hands on her hips as she rounds the hood.

“I will not do this with you two. Not today.”

“Do what?” I ask innocently.

“Listen to you fight over my store.” She shakes her finger atme. “Your brother warned me that the two of you both want this pace.”

That traitor.

Her hands fly up. “Let’s get this over with.”

She unlocks the door and then waves for us to follow.

Hudson leans in close.

“She’s here because I called her a half hour ago.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you need a prize?”

“Maybe a thank-you since I’m letting you join us right now.”

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