Page 165 of Beautiful Collide

We’ll get an annulment, and no one will ever have to know that Hudson and I managed to go from enemies to not to . . . whatever this is in the span of one drunken, Elvis-fueled night.

“Wilde.” Mason’s voice booms across the cabin, interrupting my mental spiral. I glance up to see his trademark smirk as he gestures toward the seat beside mine. “Don’t look so glum. There’s an empty seat next to Molly. I was going to sit in it . . . You’re welcome.”

Oh, come on, Mason.I’m going to kill that man.He has a way of making everything worse without even realizing he’s doing it.

Making a mess of things might be his sixth sense.

Mason is too much to handle on a good day, but I’m still hungover and cranky from all that transpired in Vegas.

I blink, then glance at Hudson, who’s strolling down the aisle behind Mason, looking about as relaxed as someone who was just told he won the lottery. His lips twitch into a grin when he sees me glaring at Mason.

“Really, Mason?” I ask, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “Can’t you just do everyone a favor and keep some thoughts to yourself?”

Mason shrugs as if he didn’t just say something that annoyed me. “You guys are good now, so why shouldn’t he sit next to you . . . unless.”

“We’re fine,” I grumble back. While I love Mason since he is one of my brother’s best friends, I also loathe him right now.

He claps a hand on Hudson’s shoulder and all but shoves him into the seat next to me. “Have fun, Hudson.” The smug bastard smirks before looking at me. “It’s on the bet contract,” he jokes. “You learn how to read the fine print.”

I’ll show him where he can shove his “bet contract.”

It’s somewhere where the sun won’t shine.

“I didn’t sign anything,” I deadpan, crossing my arms as Hudson drops into the seat.

“You didn’t have to.” Mason drops into the row across from us. “It’s a verbal contract. Binding by law.”

“Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yup,” Mason says, popping thep. “And just for fun, we’ve decided that anyone who loses the bet has to wear a crochet creation to the next charity event.”

“What is this, summer camp? I must have missed the memo that you were a teen girl separated at birth from your sister.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re funny, Moll?”

“Not often, Mason. Now, please tell me you’re making this up. If not, I’m seriously worried about you.”

“What do you think?” He raises an eyebrow.

Hudson leans back in his seat, placing his arm on the armrest beside mine. “I’d look hot in crochet.”

“You would look like an idiot.” I brush his arm off, pretending not to notice how warm it is.

“Careful,” Hudson says in a low voice, just for me. “People might think you actually care about what I do.”

“Meaning?”

“You care about my clothing choices? They might think you care.”

“I do care,” I whisper. The way he looks back at me makes my pulse quicken.

The way he makes me feel is unnerving. The way he makes my pulse race.

The problem isn’t that I don’t like him. It’s how much I like him. And that’s the scariest part. I don’t trust myself with feeling like this. Don’t trust myself not to fall for him.

I can’t be with him. It would never work out. Just the thought of giving myself fully to someone like that has my mind unraveling.

I’d have to tell him everything . . .

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