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Molly

I stir my coffee, my gaze trained on the swirling cream as if it holds the answers to the question, but really, I can’t stop thinking about the kiss from two nights ago.

Even now, as Hudson sits diagonally across the table from me, I feel my cheeks warm. His presence is larger than life and impossible to ignore.

The air between us feels like it’s charged with electricity, but ironically, neither of us has said anything to each other.

Well, he made a “Hudson” joke when I walked in, and I grunted in response. And earlier, when he managed to pull me aside, he tried to convince me to change his name on my phone from “Who is this?”

Our friends are eating the tension up. Especially with how awkward we are.

That is annoying because there’s currently a huge elephant in the room with us, which is the memory of a crazy-ass, impulsive kiss that defied all logic. One I can’t forget.

Cassidy taps her fingers on the diner’s sticky table. “What’s up with you this morning, Molly?”

I tilt my head in her direction and find that she’s staring intently at me, nose scrunched. “Just tired.”

I force myself to smile, lifting my coffee to take a sip. The moment I do, I want to curse my stupidity, because, lord, it’s hot.

“Tired of losing the bet?” Mason quips, smirking over his Bloody Mary.

My stomach drops.

What does he mean by that?

Does he know about Hudson and me?

Maybe he did see us together after the game.

No.

That doesn’t make any sense. Losing the bet means I’ve been mean to Hudson, so kissing him is the opposite, right?

I dart my gaze to Hudson, who doesn’t seem bothered by what’s transpiring. He just sits there, without a care in the world, casually flipping through the menu.

Must be nice.

Me, on the other hand?

It feels like I’ve stepped out onto a stage naked.

“You know what you want?” Dane asks me.

For a second, I don’t understand what he’s asking, but then I remember the menu in my hand.

Duh, Molly.

I glance down at it and immediately regret it.

As if the tension in the room isn’t already enough.

I could cut it with a knife. But the world is out to get me because this damn menu—I blush at the options.

I want to crawl back into my bed and ask for a do-over.

Whoever named the dishes at this restaurant was clearly in a mood.

And that mood?

Horny.

Very horny.

The options are absurd.

The Morning Wood—a loaded breakfast sandwich.

The Thirst Trap—a mimosa flight.

Buns and Sausage—self-explanatory and mortifying.

Please, universe, let the ground open up and swallow me because I can’t possibly order one of these right now.

I clear my throat, scanning the menu for something—anything—that doesn’t sound like a dirty joke. “Uh, I’ll just have the . . . Sunrise Bowl.”

“God, you’re boring,” Mason mutters, earning a glare from Dane. Gotta love my protective brother. Mason smirks. “I’ll have some Morning Wood.”

Idiot.

“What about you, Hudson?” Cassidy asks, grinning. “Let me guess. Buns and Sausage?”

I nearly choke on my coffee, and of course, Hudson doesn’t miss a beat, setting down his menu with a smirk that is way too condescending for this ungodly hour of the morning.

“Tempting,” he says, his eyes flicking toward me. “But I think I’ll go with Mason. The Morning Wood. Sounds . . . filling.”

Mason snorts.

Dane groans.

And me?

I set my cup down way too hard, causing the coffee to spill. “You’re all children.”

Cool it, Molly.

It’s so obvious how little chill I have right now.

Hudson shrugs. “I didn’t name the menu.”

But the damn smile on his face tells me he’s loving every cursed minute of this breakfast, which leads me to my question.

I pop a brow up. “Who picked this restaurant?”

“Why, that would be me,” Hudson responds.

Bastard.

He totally did this on purpose. That’s it. I’m leaving him as Who is this? for all of eternity.

Pulling my gaze from him, I focus back on my coffee. I’m sure I’m blushing. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

Hopefully, no one notices.

But this man does something to me.

I can’t explain it, but I feel like a live wire when he’s around.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Dane asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter.

I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

Dane gestures back and forth between Hudson and me. “You’re both acting weird.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hudson answers, but his tone doesn’t match his words.

Smug bastard.

Great. Just great.

The man practically just confirmed something is up with us.

He might as well just hold up a sign that says we kissed again. Again.

Man, if my brother finds out . . .

I don’t even want to think about that. Dane thinks Hudson is the biggest player in the world. He will not be okay with something happening between us.

“Nothing is up,” I snap.

“Did Hudson do something, Moll?” Dane turns to Hudson, his entire face darkening the way it does when he’s about to make an opposing player regret they’ve ever been born. “What the fuck did you do, dick?”

Hudson opens his mouth to speak, but Dane cuts him off.

“Obviously, you lost the bet.” He jabs a finger in Hudson’s direction. “Did you upset my sister?”

All eyes on the table focus on me.

I try not to shrink in my chair.

“He didn’t do anything,” I say way too quickly. With a pitch way too high.

Way to be obvious.

Hudson leans back in his chair, looking annoyingly calm. “Yeah, we’re good. No bets broken.”

And that’s that.

The server comes over, saving me. I make a mental note to give her the biggest tip I can afford later.

We all place our orders with varying degrees of mortification and amusement. I’m hopeful Dane has dropped the subject. That this is the distraction I need to be able to change the conversation.

No such luck.

As soon as the server leaves, Mason points a finger at me and then quickly at Hudson.

“You’re both lying.” Mason slams his palms onto the table. “Spill. Who lost?”

“Neither of us,” I insist, knuckles turning white on my mug.

“Whatever you say . . . but you’re both being weird.” Cassidy narrows her eyes and looks at Hudson. “Although that’s not saying much for you, since you’re normally weird.”

“Maybe you’ve all forgotten what normal looks like,” Hudson counters smoothly, his smirk still firmly in place.

Mason grins, leaning forward. “Okay, but we doubled down on bets, so I need to know who’s winning. I have twenty bucks and a potholder collection riding on Molly.”

Josie bursts out laughing. “A potholder collection? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Mason replies, unfazed by how ridiculous this all sounds.

“Dane said he’d wash my car if Hudson loses,” Cassidy adds, grinning. “So I’m kind of rooting for him to crack first.”

I glare at my brother. “Neither of us cracked.”

Dane crosses his arms, eyeing us suspiciously. “You’re sure? Because you’re acting like you did after that time Hudson got a ride from you to the game. Like you can’t even look at each other. Like you hate each other.”

Well, we did hate each other.

But that was different.

I avoided him back then because I hated him.

I’m avoiding him now because I don’t trust myself not to climb him like a flagpole.

Josie grins, her eyes darting between us. “I think they’re acting like the opposite of hate.”

I scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Josie shrugs innocently. “Just saying. The tension is palpable.”

Hudson chuckles, the sound grating on my last nerve.

Then why do you feel tingly down there?

Fine. His laugh is hot.

He’s still annoying.

“Palpable, huh?” Hudson is like the cat who ate the canary. “Interesting choice of words.”

Does this man ever shut up?

He’s just making it worse.

I shoot him a warning glare, all while trying to remain calm despite my heart pounding in my chest.

“Well”—Cassidy leans back with a smirk—“I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on you two.”

Great.

Just great.