Page 49 of Engaging with Her Enemy

Patrick stopped walking and then took a sip of his coffee. “Mashed potatoes? How would you know that?”

John walked past them. “Because his girlfriend bakes them.”

“Oh, I didn't know you were from here. I always thought you were from Atlanta.” Patrick nodded his head. “I'll have to remember that the next time I'm on duty for breakfast at my house. Mashed potatoes.”

“I grew up here.” He ignored the girlfriend comment. “But, let's get started.” He began to walk along the finished asphalt. “John ran the operation for about a week when I was out. He said they'd had some trouble clearing the land. Found a few large boulders. We've had a few other hiccups.”

Patrick whistled low. “I heard about you getting shot by the ex-employee. News like that spreads around pretty quick. The gossip was that you basically rearranged the guy's face in the process. Broke a few bones.”

“Beat it to a—”

Hudson cut John off with a sharp look. “I tried to get the gun so he wouldn't shoot the cops when they got here. When he shot me, I tried to make sure he was down for good.”

“That's an understatement,” John mumbled. “Not sure he's gotten back up yet.”

“Either way, it was a pretty brave thing you did.” Patrick straightened his shoulders. “You know I'm ex-Marines.” He began to talk about his time in active combat. Hudson nodded, halfway listening and halfway surveying the area. He didn't need to go back in time and share his military experience.

John watched him, waiting to see if he'd reveal his own ordeal when he'd been deployed. Nope. Except for John, the men on-site knew about his leg, obviously, but not the circumstances.

After a morning filled with measurements and observations by Patrick, and more stories of his time during the Gulf War, Hudson was happy to see the man leave.

Hudson slipped into the chair at his desk, wiggling the mouse to make his computer come to life. After a few clicks, he'd checked his email and finalized the schedule for their last week.

His phone chimed. The text message from Becky was a picture with her standing next to her new oven Ms. Iris had purchased for her with a pan of muffins.

The second text was another picture with Cameron taking a big bite of the muffin and giving the camera thumbs up.

How had time frozen since he left? His old friends. His old hometown. Nothing seemed like it'd changed. And now, having Becky in his life, everything had clicked into place.

He wanted to stay. Live. He had a few friends back in Atlanta, but nothing like the way these people had welcomed him back home.

He texted her back to let her know he was going to her house for lunch. He ate out so much on the road, he'd never miss eating leftovers of real, homemade food. Plus, she still had that plate of cookies sitting on the counter.

His work email refreshed, bringing him a new email from his boss. Attached was the project letter for the next job. In Savannah.

In three weeks.

The next three weeks he’d spend in Statem. He’d asked for a small break. Spend time with Becky and figure out his next move. Give her time to figure out what she wanted. Because that's what his future hinged on.

Becky.

17

“Becky?” Juliana's voice called as the front door opened the door.

Becky ran from the back of her house. Finally.

Juliana grinned and dropped her bag on the floor. “Becky!”

Becky threw her arms around her best friend's neck. “I thought you wouldn't be here until tonight?”

Juliana laughed and hugged her hard in return. “Grayson dropped me off. He said he'd take Trevor to Addie’s and then our stuff to the house and come back. He knew I wanted some time with you.” Juliana released her, wiping tears from her eyes.

Becky did the same. “I'm so happy you're here.”

“Me, too.”

“Because I have some news.”

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