Page 12 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

He leaned forward, his eyes locking with mine. “I can handle myself, Naomi. What I can’t handle is the thought of someone hurting you.”

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could respond, a noise outside broke the moment. We both froze, our heads snapping toward the window.

Hudson was on his feet in an instant, moving to the curtain and pulling it aside just enough to see. His shoulders tensed, and he turned back to me, his expression grim.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice sharp with authority.

“What? Hudson?—”

“Stay here,” he repeated, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be back.”

I wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped me. He wasn’t just being protective—he was preparing for a fight.

Minutes passed like hours as I waited, my heart pounding in my chest. When the door finally opened and Hudson stepped back inside, his face was flushed, his breathing heavy.

“What happened?” I asked, standing quickly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room in two strides, his hands settling on my shoulders.

“Pack a bag,” he said, his voice firm, his eyes blazing with anger and determination. “You’re not staying here anymore.”

Chapter Ten

Hudson

Naomi’s words kept replaying in my head as I paced the length of my apartment, phone in hand, staring at the dim screen like it could give me answers. She’d been running from her past, and now it was catching up to her. Worse, it felt personal—calculated.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that whoever was behind this wasn’t just trying to scare her. They were sending a message.

The guy I’d chased off near her apartment wasn’t a random thug. He was deliberate, watching her every move. His face was burned into my memory, and I’d already reached out to a few contacts to try and dig up a name. But it wasn’t just about him. Naomi’s story about her ex—the possessive asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer—set off alarm bells I couldn’t ignore.

If he was behind this, I needed to find him. Fast.

I opened my laptop and started pulling up every scrap of information I could find. Naomi had been gone for years, butpeople like her ex didn’t just vanish. If he was determined enough to follow her to Cedar Hill, there’d be a trail, however faint.

The search was slow and frustrating, my leads turning into dead ends as I clicked through page after page of nothing. But just as I was about to give up for the night, something caught my eye—a police report from the city she’d lived in before. A complaint filed under her ex’s name. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to confirm my suspicion: he’d been a problem long before Naomi left town.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. A name wasn’t enough. I needed to know where he was now, and more importantly, if he had ties to anyone who could help him pull this off. This was bigger than a guy who couldn’t take rejection. Someone was helping him, or at least looking the other way.

My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was a message from one of my contacts—a friend who owed me a favor. The text was short but packed a punch.

“Guy you’re looking for has a record. Minor stuff—trespassing, harassment—but he’s been hanging around with some rough types lately. Might be worth digging into.”

Rough types. Great. That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

I typed a quick response, thanking him, and leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring at the screen. If Naomi’s ex was tangled up with the wrong people, it explained a lot. But it also made things more dangerous. He wasn’t acting alone.

I glanced toward the bedroom door, where Naomi was sleeping—or at least trying to. She’d been restless all night, the tension between us hanging heavy in the air. I couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t how either of us had planned to live.

But knowing she was here, safe, gave me some relief. At least I could keep an eye on her. As long as she was withinarm’s reach, I could handle whatever came our way. Or so I told myself.

By morning,the tension in the apartment had reached a boiling point. Naomi wasn’t used to being caged, and it showed. She’d spent most of the day pacing, muttering about needing to get out, to do something. I couldn’t blame her for feeling restless, but her stubbornness was making it harder to protect her.

“I’m not a prisoner, Hudson,” she said for the third time as she folded her arms and glared at me from across the room.

“No one’s saying you are,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “But until I figure out what’s going on, it’s safer for you to stay put.”

She rolled her eyes, turning toward the window. “I can’t just sit around doing nothing.”

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