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Because I’m back in another moment.

Hudson’s big, strong body close, almost touching mine, his eyes filling with heat.

I wanted him to bend down, to close the distance between our mouths, to kiss me.

God, I had wanted that so much.

Then the doorbell rang.

Fate intervening, preventing me from doing something stupid.

But even as that thought is crossing my mind, my hand is lifting, pressing lightly to my lips, feeling the tingle there, remembering how much more intense the sensation had been when his mouth was mere inches from mine.

Remembering that the tingle hadn’t just been in my mouth.

It had snaked down through my belly, trailed its fingers between my thighs.

What would I have done to chase that tingle?

Would I have lifted on tiptoe? Pressed my mouth to his?

Even as the questions cross my mind, I know I wouldn’t have been that brave.

And I wouldn’t have had to.

He would have.

And what would I have done with that?

Freaked out, panicking because the last time I kissed a man, it was Dylan and he’s…well, Dylan.

Stilled before defaulting into actor mode—tilting my head for the best angle, unconsciously seeking out the camera, careful to keep my tongue in my mouth and my hands precisely in the places we agreed upon with the intimacy coordinator.

Or…

Would I have just enjoyed it?

Like I had enjoyed the last week, soaking in all that makes Hudson Hudson—his kindness and protective nature, his generosity and the capable way he handles his business, the love in his voice when he speaks of Briar and Frankie and the rest of his family.

I hope it’s the latter.

Even as I know it would have likely been the first one.

“Ugh,” I mutter as I shove the thoughts from my head and finish toweling off then squeeze the excess water from my hair. I pull out a pale blue dress I know I shouldn’t have bought—it’s unnecessary, impractical, and not even seasonally appropriate. But I bought two pairs of jeans, a multipack of sweatpants, a hoodie, socks, underwear, and shoes when Hudson handed me his phone, his Amazon app open on the screen…

And then I saw the dress.

In my favorite color—Cinderella blue.

Simple but with the barest hint of glitter along the hem of the skirt.

Something that Dylan would have never let me purchase, let alone wear.

Fun and young and pretty and innocent and—a version of me I’ve never been.

I couldn’t resist.

I threw it in the cart, hit buy before I could talk myself out of it.