Page 130 of What About Us
“Yeah,” she says, scratching her nose with a bubble-covered hand. “She kinda feels like a mommy to me. So, can I?”
Hudson’s eyes dance back over to mine, and then he nods. “I think that’s a great idea, Pipsqueak. As long as Finn’s ok with it.”
Two sets of hazel eyes land on me and mine mist over. I nod. “I’d love that.”
“Yes!” Paige grins from ear to ear, making a laugh bubble up from my chest, my smile watery.
Hudson’s eyes find mine again and he looks a little teary himself. But it’s what he says next that has me stunnedinto silence.
“Since we’re on the subject, Paige, would it be ok with you if I take Finnley out on a date?”
Paige lets out a giggle behind her hand, then rolls her eyes. “Daddyyy,” she says, “aren’t you supposed to go on datesbeforeyou have sleepovers?”
I’m pretty sure both Hudson and I have lost the ability to speak.
It’s Hudson who breaks first. “Sleepovers?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
Paige nods. “Yeah. You and Finnley have sleepovers every night, don’t you?” she asks, swishing her hand through the bubbles on the surface of the water.
Hudson cuts a surprised glance my way. All I can do is shrug imperceptibly.
“Yeah, I guess we do,” he says, head bobbing.
Well, so much for sneaking around. I almost laugh. I search Paige’s face for any discomfort or a sign that she’s uncomfortable with the idea. There isn’t any.
“So, you’re ok with that then? Us…having sleepovers and going on dates?”
Paige shrugs and a sly smile tugs up the corners of her mouth. “I think if it’s ok with Finnley, it’s ok with me.”
Hudson lets out a bark of laughter and he grins over at me. I shake my head at him with a matching one. The little shit. We have obviously vastly underestimated this adorable little girl.
Paige goes back to playing with her dolls. Hudson stands up, and I follow.
He lowers his voice. “Well, that was easy,” he murmurs.
“Sure was,” I say, grinning up at him. We both look back to Paige, who is now singing softly to herself. “Did you get something to eat?”
“No, but I can take over if you want,” he says, rolling his head on his shoulders. He looks so tired, but he never lets it keep him from taking care of Paige. He’s such a good dad. I want to help lighten some of his burden.
“I’m good. I picked up sandwiches from Nat. Yours is in the fridge. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll get Paige ready for bed?”
His relief is immediate the second the words are out of my mouth. “You’re amazing. Thanks, babe,” he says, dropping a kiss to the top of my head. My stomach flutters with pleasure. He smells like sunshine, the light tang of sweat, and everything Hudson. The combination of his proximity and words are a heady combination.
And he sets my pulse racing. God, you’d think I had a praise kink, the way his words light up my body and drop a thudding beat straight to my clit. Especially when he moves to the door and pulls off his shirt, bunching it in his fist.
My eyes roam over all that exposed skin. The roundness of his pecs, dusted lightly with dark hair. The trail of that same hair, thicker as it disappears under the waistband of his dirty pants. The veins in his bicep and forearm as he grips the shirt in his fist. And his toned abs have me licking my suddenly dry lips. I squeeze my thighs together.
His hands are clean, but there are telltale signs of the hard work he did today. A smudge of something that looks like it won’t come off—tree sap, maybe—on the back of his hand. His nails show signs of it, as well; they aren’t neatly trimmed like they usually are, and it gives him a ruggedness not typical of Hudson. Everything about him in this moment is fucking mouthwatering.
I can’t wait to get Paige into bed so I can get my husband naked. Instinctively, I reach up and touch the necklace hanging around my neck. Hudson’s eyes follow the movement, and I instantly know he’s thinking the same thing. He tosses me a wink and leaves the room.
Chapter 48
Finnley
I’m on my kneeswith a scrub brush and a bucket of soapy water, working out a stain from where Paige dropped a popsicle on the rug two days ago, when there’s an insistent knock on the door. Sitting back on my heels, I crane my neck to see out the window. A black sedan I don’t recognize backs down the driveway and pulls away, but from this vantage point, I can’t see much else.
I stand, cross to the door, and pull it open as I brush my hair from my eyes with the back of my wrist, scrub brush still in hand.
