Page 71 of Must Have Been Love

“Imma take a quick bathroom break,” Autumn says, since the line at the bar has dwindled down to pretty much nothing. Everybody’s too busy getting excited about the live music to order drinks right now.

“Of course.” I hug her. “Thank you. You can go enjoy the rest of the party with Parker. You’re the one who did all the hard work to make this happen.”

I gesture around us. The walls are painted a soft, ocean blue, the oak stained floor gleaming in contrast. And the tables with their cream leather upholstered chairs add a luxurious touch. But she’s still kept the heart of the place. The jukebox – in full working order – is in the corner, and when there’s no band playing, it will be echoing the music my dad loved.

I wish he’d seen it. I wish he knew what this place was like now. But I push that thought away because today is for happy things.

“I loved every minute of working on this place.” She winks at me. “You’re so much nicer than my last boss.”

I laugh because we both know her last boss – and her next one – is her brother. After the bar she’s scheduled to start designing the interior of the retreat center he has planned on the north of the island. In the little fishermen's cottages he showed me before we made love on the beach.

And now I’m blushing. I lean on the bar as Jesse introduces himself to the crowd – who he pretty much grew up with and know exactly who he is. They give him a loud cheer anyway and I can’t help but grin.

“This one is for our new resident and the owner of the bar.” He winks at me and leans in, his fingers softly strumming before his low, graveled voice starts to echo through the microphone. I swear my whole body turns to goosebumps as he starts to sing the first line of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac.

Jesse loves seventies rock as much as I do – another fact we’ve discovered since we’ve been sitting around, listening to music whenever he visits. And he knows I love this song most of all. About a woman who’s taken over by a free spirit. Nobody can pin her down. Nobody can really have her.

I love the way Stevie Nicks sings this song, especially live. The way she twists and turns on the stage. The way she’s so beautiful and untouchable and is like a goddess.

When Jesse reaches the part where he sings that she’s been taken by the sky, he looks over at me, and for some reason my throat feels tight. I love that he’s sung this for me. I love that we have this friendship.

This place is starting to feel like home. Something I never knew I needed.

I take a deep breath and turn to see Hudson staring at me too. Then he looks at the door marked ‘private’, the one that leads to the apartment I’ve been living in but have never let him in.

Then he inclines his head at it, and my heart starts to slam against my chest.

I still can’t quite work out this hold he has over me. Maybe I don’t want to work it out. All the best magic is spoiled by peeking behind the magician’s curtain.

Sometimes people come into your lives for a reason. I wonder if I needed this, the ache, the desire. If it’s what keeps me anchored here long enough for me to grow roots.

That thought would usually make me panic. If I’m being honest, it still does a bit. I know I’ve effectively put down roots by keeping this bar and starting to run it, but I also know that Hudson would buy it off me in a second if I wanted to leave. At a profit, too, thanks to the investment he’s put in.

“I’m going to grab something I forgot,” I whisper in Maud’s ear. She’s one of the two seasoned bar staff who’ve come back to work here. She doesn’t blink an eyelid at the fact that for a little while there’ll only be two of them behind the bar.

There’s a security monitor in the apartment living room, so I’ll be able to see if an unexpected crowd forms. But right now everybody’s dancing between the tables as Jesse segues into a faster song – “Jesse’s Girl” – which really makes me grin.

As soon as I hit the code on the door to my apartment and walk inside, I canfeelhim right behind me. He’s not even touching me, yet I’m shivering.

The door clicks closed behind him, and without saying a word he’s cupping my face and kissing me hard, pushing me against the wall until his body is pressed hard against mine.

His tongue slides against mine, his palm digging deep into my hip as he hitches up my skirt with his other hand, his fingers tracing a line of fire on my thighs.

“Hudson,” I breathe, when he reaches my panties. His thumb brushes me there, through the cotton and my eyes roll into the back of my head.

“I just need you,” he says, his voice thick. And for some reason that hits me right in the heart. It’s like an arrow, piercing me deep.

He needs me.

When has anybody ever needed me? When have I ever wanted anybody to? I’ve spent most of my life actively avoiding that kind of attachment. And the few times I’ve let it happen I’ve gotten hurt.

I love my sister and my mom, even if I don’t understand them. But they don’t need me. They never have.

But this man does. He dips his head to my neck, kissing it until I feel like I’m on fire. My nipples harden against the cream paisley cotton dress I’m wearing, making me feel needy.

Through the wall he’s currently got me pinned against, I can hear the vague beat of the song. It’s almost as fast as my heart. Hudson drops to his knees, pushing my skirt up around my waist, burying his head between my thighs.

And he inhales, long and slow.

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