Page 13 of Mistletoe and Malice
Riley shrugged, exhaustion pulling hard at her limbs. “Why wait? Something good should come out of this mess.”
Chapter Five
At the light knock on Andrew Hudson’s study door, Colton glanced up from his phone, doing a double-take at the young woman he’d last seen over two years ago. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but not this composed, casually dressed young woman. Not after what she’d experienced today.
Her hair had grown out since he’d seen her last and now hung to the middle of her back. No bangs, her hair instead framing her face like a satin curtain.
“Daddy? You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, honey.” Mr. Hudson walked over to his daughter. “I want you to meet some people.”
Colton had met the uber-wealthy businessman and his wife ten minutes ago, but was already impressed at the humble way they’d welcomed him and his colleagues into what he could only describe as a modern-day, Texas-sized castle. Rambling two-story mansion on several acres of prime Houston real estate, stone wall perimeter and wrought-iron gate with security cameras, and an intercom system manned by round-the-clock security guards stationed inside the house. A ten-foot-tall frontdoor fashioned from heavy oak at the top of half a dozen stone steps boasted yet another security camera. All that was missing was the moat and a turret. Maybe a suit of armor.
Her gaze skimmed the room, her brows drawn together in question as she took in the four of them in their suits and ties. Their usual work attire, even for a late Saturday night meeting. But when her eyes met his, his pulse jumped.
That was new. And not at all welcome. He hadn’t experienced a reaction like that since?—
No. Not a chance. He’d put all that away years ago, and he certainly wasn’t unpacking it now.
She stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. “We’ve met, have we not? I feel like I know the face but can’t get a bead on context.”
“We have. At the Mulaney residence.”
“The Mula—” Her face blanched. “After the funeral. You were there with somebody, right? Said you were on the—wait.”
Her attention went to Trevor standing beside him. “You were there too.”
“I was,” he answered.
She regarded his boss standing on his other side. “You’re Mack Petersen? Petersen Security?”
The older man nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She spun on her father. “Bodyguards? Daddy, you know how I feel about bodyguards. I can’t stand having somebody on me constantly. I know I’m a people person, but bodyguards aren’t people. They’re … they’re … tactical gear. And just as cumbersome.” She glanced over her shoulder. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Mack answered.
“Tactical gear,” Trevor mumbled under his breath. “That was good.”
Colton barely suppressed a chuckle. Daddy’s little princess wasn’t happy. And he’d been called a lot worse thantactical gear.
Drew Hudson’s face held the kind of panicked plea only a terrified parent could express. “Sweetheart, we can’t take lightly what happened to you this morning. I’d prefer a protection detail stay with you until this thing is over.”
“Whatthing?I really think you’re overreacting. As usual. What happened today was random. I was by myself, nobody else around, and he took a chance. I seriously doubt he’ll come hunting me down.”
“I still think we should err on the side of caution.”
“What if I agree to stay here for more than the next few days? A week or so. Until you see nothing else happens. Can we do that? Bodyguards, Daddy? Please.”
Still trying to cover his amusement—he really must be tired—Colton shook his head. He’d seen Riley Hudson in the paper or on the pages of a magazine since their last meeting and had considered her pretty in a high-maintenance kind of way, like he had at the funeral in her designer ensemble.
But tonight, in jeans and a blue sweater she wore with tennis shoes, her dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, and little makeup on her face, she was a knock-out. Even after a trying day which must have put a damper on her usual Saturday night entertainment. She looked young, fresh … and livid.
Recalling their earlier conversation, he leaned over to Mack as the argument between father and daughter continued. “Scared? Bewildered? She needs me?”
The contrition in Mack’s eyes wasn’t at all satisfying before he apparently decided to step in to help out his most important client. “Excuse me, Miss Hudson?”
“What?” She put her hand to her forehead. “Mr. Petersen, please accept my apology. I didn’t mean to snap at you. This isn’t your fault.” She shot her father a sideways glare.
