Page 53 of Engaging with Her Enemy

Hudson shook Grayson’s hand again. “Thanks again. I appreciate it, and I know they do too.”

He said goodbye and waited until it was appropriate for him to leave the diner from the celebration. He wanted Becky. He'd see all those guys again soon enough in Savannah.

The drive to Becky’s house gave him a little time to contemplate how to get her to commit to their relationship. They were good together. Balanced each other out. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her.

He opened her screen door, still annoyed she left her door unlocked. “Hello?” He waited by the front door. She came into view from the living room. “Hi.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Hi.”

Crap. He shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up on the hook by the door she'd cleared for him. “Baby, what's wrong?”

She motioned to the coffee table he couldn't see. She disappeared again, and he heard the sofa cushion squeak as she sat down.

He took the bottle of wine out of the fridge she'd opened with Juliana that afternoon and poured her a glass. A moment later, he spotted her, face down on the sofa, her feet dangling over the armrest.

He smiled. Couldn't help it. Her accounting notebook sat open, papers scattered everywhere.

“Becky?”

Grunt.

“Did your notebook explode?”

“My head exploded,” she mumbled into the cushion.

He sat down, stifling his laugh and moving her feet into his lap. He patted her butt. “I brought wine.”

Her head popped up. “Thank you!” She scrambled around, snatching the glass from his hand. “Maybe I'll remember this information if I'm drunk.”

She knew it. Now, he had to convince her she did.

“C'mon.” He reached for the glass, but she turned away, taking another big gulp. A second later, he managed to get a hold of it. “Now, with that out of the way, tell me where you're stuck.”

She sank back and swept her arm out. “Pick a topic. Any topic. It's all turned into gibberish in my stupid brain.”

“You're so dramatic.” He grabbed her waist, tugging her into his lap. His lips found hers before her next complaint. He could do this every night. His job prevented that from being a reality, even if he lived there, but he'd appreciate it while he had it.

She shifted, straddling him and pulling his mind away from the future. They lived in the now. The sweet white wine on her tongue tempted him further. It was the only alcohol that did. She leaned back, her shirt disappearing in one swift move.

“Becky—”

Her mouth covered his next statement. He wanted this. Her. But she needed to study.

Squeezing his eyes tight, he gripped her shoulders and set her away gently. “How about we do this after you study.”

Her lip poked out. “But I don't want to study. I want to play.”

The whine in her voice made him grin. “Let's get it over with so we can play later. Now, we'll go over some of the topics that you passed on all the tests. Then we can dig into what you missed.”

She held up the study guide, partway filled out. “I tried, but I suck again.”

He gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “Stop it. You're an amazing woman. Stop beating yourself up so much. Focus on the future. This will be done, and you'll run the diner. This is your last class. Your last test. Your last study session. Ever.”

Her body relaxed. “Fine.” She rolled off his lap, reached for her glass of wine, and then pointed to the worksheet on top. “This was where I got stuck. Damn depreciation again.”

“Damn depreciation. I agree. Let's start there.” He sighed after one last glimpse of her in her bright pink bra. “But you might need to put your shirt on. I only have so much willpower.”

With a cute smile, she slipped her shirt back over her head. “I'll have to remember that. If I ever need to distract you, I'll simply take my shirt off.”

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