Page 98 of What About Us
Brad:Perfect. See you then.
An hour later, I’m showered and dressed, and putting the finishing touches on my hair when there’s a knock at my bedroom door.
“Come in!” I call out.
Hudson opens the door and stops, taking in my skinny jeans and black crop top. He glances at the curling wand in my hand, then back at me. “A little overdressed for chess, aren’t you?”
I stop mid-twirl of my hair and momentarily squeeze my eyes shut, grimacing.Shit. I’d completely forgotten that we’d made plans two mornings ago to play chess tonight. “I kind of made plans,” I say, with a frown.
He blinks a couple of times, looking slightly surprised, and then nods. “Oh, ok.” He swallows. “With Wren?”
“No.” I shake my head, biting my lip. His eyes drop to my mouth, so I quickly release it. “With Brad. Do you remember, I told you about him?”
His expression pinches, his voice slightly sharp. “Small Hands Guy?”
I shake my head, giving him a wan smile. “No, that’s Mike.”
He bobs his head, then ducks and scratches the back of his neck with two fingers. His tone has a bit of an edge to it when he says, “Sorry, I can’t keep up.”
A couple of stunned seconds tick by. “That was harsh,” I say. I know I forgot about our plans, but he doesn’t have to be mean. It’s very unlike him.
His expression is unreadable when he looks up at me, and he doesn’t apologize. “I didn’t know you had a date.”
“I didn’t,” I stutter, stumbling over my words. “I don’t. It’s just dinner.” We never called it a ‘date,’ Brad and I, but I guess it’s not,nota date.
I can’t tell if he’s disappointed that I flaked on him, or if he’s upset that I’m going out at all. I could ask like an adult, but I’m not sure I want to know. He seems really pissed, and that has me defensive.
On one hand, if he’s just upset about our plans being ruined, I get it. On the other, if he doesn’t want me going out at all… Well, I can’t think about that. Besides, we said we’d date other people. I push aside the little tantrum I had over him possibly dating Erin because this isn’t the same. He never asked me not to date. Does that make me a hypocrite?
Instead of leaving like I think he will, he pushes the door open more and comes in, leaning against the dresser next to me. I go back to curling my hair as he folds his arms across his chest, watching me with furrowed brows.
“Sorry I forgot our chess game.”
“Where’s he taking you?” he asks conversationally, but his tone is tight.
“I’m not sure,” I say, shooting a glance at him.
He nods. “You look really nice.”
I try to not blush and fail.
His eyes skate over my face, before he pushes away from the dresser and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “What shoes are you wearing?”
I meet his gaze in the mirror. Where is he going with this? Is he mad I’m going out, or is he trying to help me pick out an outfit because he’s glad that I am? “Um, I’m not sure yet.”
He crosses to the closet and opens it roughly, reaching up to pull the string hanging from the naked bulb inside the walk-in. He scans the row of shoes before reaching in and grabbing a pair. Crossing back to me, he holds out my favorite patent leather heels. They’re Jimmy Choo—a total splurge purchase from three years ago—bright red, and the most expensive shoes I own.
“The ‘fuck-me’ shoes?” I raise my gaze from the shoes in his hand to his eyes.
He nods, a muscle in his jaw ticking. His shoulders are tense, and his voice is clipped when he speaks again. “They’re your favorite, and they’re sexy as fuck. I’m sure Brad will like them.”
The change in tone from sentence to sentence is like whiplash, but I nod and take the shoes from him. “Thanks.”
He nods again and turns to leave. Right before he shuts the door behind him, he meets my gaze. “Text me if you think you’re going to bring him back here. I don’t want…this…around Paige. I can take her to the ranch.”
This?What the fuck does that mean? Does he really think I would bring someone back here and have sex with the both of them right across the hall?
Once he’s gone, I flop down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. If he’s jealous of me going out with Brad, why doesn’t he just say so? I huff out asigh. Suggesting I wear the heels thathedeemed my fuck-me heels the last time he was in town, and telling me to let him know in no uncertain terms if I plan to fuck Brad?
