Page 57 of Beautiful Collide

“What?” I nearly choke on my own breath. “Hudson? Hudson Wilde? That’s a no. You will not be giving me to anyone. Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because he’s got an endorsement interview today, and if there’s one thing Hudson’s terrible at—besides being on time—it’s interviews.” Dane leans forward. “Plus his agent can’t be there and he needs someone to keep him on track. Which is where you come in.”

“Me?” I ask, incredulous.

“Yes.” Dane shrugs again. “You’re the best at what you do.”

I stare at him, waiting for the punchline because this can’t actually be real. No way would my brother do this to me, but when none comes, I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Unbelievable. You’re loaning me out like some used bowling shoe.”

“Bowling shoes don’t have your charm,” Dane says, smirking again.

I slump back in my chair before letting out an exasperated groan. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” Dane says, standing and grabbing his keys. “Hudson will pick you up at noon. Be nice.”

“Nice?” I scoff. “To Hudson? Have you met me?”

“Just try.” Dane gives me a pointed look. “And don’t kill each other. Please.”

By the time Hudson pulls up outside my apartment in his Mustang, I’m still pissed about Dane’s ridiculous plan.

Can I disown him?

No.

He’s all you have.

As I climb into the passenger seat, Hudson gives me one of his signature smirks.

Damn him.

Why does he have to be so good-looking? “Well, well, look who’s slumming it with the likes of me today.”

“Shut up and drive,” I mutter, slamming the door.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” He grins wide as he shifts the car into gear.

“If by fun, you mean one torture session shy of the last circle of hell, then yeah.”

He slams on the brakes. “What is your fucking problem?”

“Myfucking problemis that I hate cheaters.”

He arches a brow. “Okay?”

“Okay?” I repeat. “Okay!”

“Yeah. Okay.” He shrugs. “What does that have to do with me?”

I toss my hands up. “You’re exhibit fucking A, Hudson.”

“Excuse me?”

“That night. Of the tornado. We had sex, and the following morning, I heard you whisper to some chick that you love her.” I pivot in the cold leather seat. “You’re such an asshole.”

“What in the world are you talking abo—Oh.” He snorts. The snort turns into a laugh, which turns into a full-blown boisterous attack.

“It’s not funny.”

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