Page 8 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

He shrugged, his lips quirking into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just waiting for a friend.”

“Don’t think so,” I said, my voice low. “You’ve been tailing someone who isn’t interested in being followed.”

His smirk faltered, and for a moment, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe even fear. But he covered it quickly, straightening to his full height. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t need to,” I said, stepping closer. “But you’re going to listen. Whatever you’re doing, whoever sent you—it stops now. You don’t come near her again. Got it?”

The man’s expression hardened, and he squared his shoulders like he was about to argue. But the look in my eyes must have given him pause, because he hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the parking lot exit.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said finally.

“Good,” I said, my tone steady but sharp. “Because if you show up again, trouble’s exactly what you’ll get.”

I wasn’t about to let whoever this was get any closer. If they wanted a fight, they just found one.

Chapter Seven

Naomi

The shadows outside my apartment stretched long and lean as the sun dipped below the horizon. I stared at the mess of papers on my coffee table, trying to focus on the task at hand, but my mind refused to cooperate. Instead, it kept circling back to Hudson—the way he’d looked at me, touched me, kissed me.

And now, the way he was pulling back.

It wasn’t subtle. Hudson had this way of retreating without actually disappearing, keeping himself close enough to protect but far enough to feel unreachable. It was maddening. After what had happened between us, I thought things would change. I thought they already had.

But the kiss we’d shared—the one that had left me breathless, my heart racing—felt like a turning point. For me, at least. For him? I wasn’t so sure.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I tried to push the thought aside. Work. Focus on work. But even that was proving difficult.I glanced at my desk and frowned. The notepad I’d left there earlier was gone. Again.

This wasn’t the first time something had gone missing. A stapler, a mug, even my favorite pen. Small things, easily misplaced, but it was happening too often to be coincidence. And then there was last night—a fleeting shadow moving outside my window just before bed. I’d told myself it was the wind or a trick of the light, but now I wasn’t so sure.

A soft knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. My heart jumped, and I froze for a moment before shaking off the nerves. Hudson had texted earlier saying he’d check in. It was probably him.

When I opened the door, he was there, as solid and steady as ever. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes scanning me like he was trying to gauge my mood.

“Hey,” I said, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice low. He stepped into the apartment, his presence filling the small space instantly.

“You didn’t have to come,” I said, closing the door behind him.

He turned to look at me, one brow arching. “I wasn’t going to sit at home wondering if you were okay.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the door. “And you think standing guard here will make a difference?”

“It already has,” he said simply, his gaze steady.

There it was again—that wall between us. Hudson was always careful with his words, but now it felt like he was choosing them too carefully, like he was trying to keep me at arm’s length.

“Can I get you something?” I asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m fine,” he said, moving to the window and pulling the curtain aside just enough to glance outside. “How’s your day been?”

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. “Fine, I guess. Quiet.”

“Anything unusual?” he asked, his tone sharp.

I bit my lip, debating whether to mention the missing notepad. It felt silly, like I was making a big deal out of nothing. But the look on his face told me he wouldn’t dismiss it.

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