Page 14

Fourteen

Willow

I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous for anything ever in my life.

Pulling into the driveway of a nice house in an equally nice, but nondescript neighborhood, seeing lights on in the windows, several other cars in the long driveway, parked along the curb in front…and my anxiety is ratcheted so high that my lungs are struggling to work.

Hudson puts the car into park and turns to me, hand slowly moving over the console, drifting toward me, eyes locked onto mine as though gauging my response to him touching me.

But I don’t flinch away from him because he’s safe.

He’s kind.

He’ll protect me.

I know that like I know exactly what Dylan would have done to me if I stayed.

Soft fingers brush over my cheek and my eyes slide closed for a moment.

Then I exhale quietly.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs.

Some part of me knows that too.

Briar and Frankie. Atlas and Royal and Jade.

Aspen and Banks. He’s talked about them enough that I feel like I know them already—and that time we spent together at Hudson’s house a couple of days ago proved that Briar and Frankie are exactly as he painted them.

But this is Sunday Dinner, the time where his family gets together, where they share good times, where they laugh and tease and bond and?—

I’ve never had that.

Dinner parties where I play the perfect fiancée and hostess.

Drug-fueled benders where I drown out every worry about the past, present, and future.

Family dinners?

Absolutely not.

“You’ve won Frankie over,” he says and my lids peel open to see him smiling gently. “You’ll learn that she’s the heart of the family. If she likes and trusts you, you’re in.”

Approval by a four-year-old is all it takes?

I find that highly doubtful.

And yet, I can’t deny that Hudson’s words loosen the knot in my belly.

“Good?” he asks, running his knuckles along my jaw.

“I’m good,” I murmur.

“Good,” he says, mouth tipping up.

Then he leans back, reaches for the handle, opens his door.

That unsticks me and I do the same, joining him at the front of his car and walking beside him up to the front door. His gait is so much better than even a couple of days ago, as though he never even had surgery in the first place.

Which is a good thing because we’ve barely cleared the top step before the door whips open and Frankie runs out, launching herself into Hudson’s arms.

He chuckles as he sweeps her up, settling her on his shoulders, and I can’t help but smiling.

Especially, when I spy she’s wearing a blue princess dress.

“Obsessed,” I hear and turn to see Briar leaning against the door frame, her mouth tipped up.

“With her uncle?” I ask, and I can see why.

All that strong male energy going soft for a little girl in a princess dress?

Totally swoonworthy.

And it’s not the first time I’ve thought of that when it comes to Hudson.

Something that…scares me.

But also…settles me.

“She loves her uncle, yes,” Briar says, sweeping an arm to indicate I precede her inside. “But”—her voice drops—“she’s truly obsessed with the princess in Dash’s guest room.”

I choke on a laugh.

“I swear I didn’t mean to start that,” I say.

“Four-year-olds gonna four-year-old.” She tilts her head toward the kitchen.

“Oh,” I say, remembering myself. I reach into my bag, pull out the bottle of wine. “I know it’s not much,” I whisper. “And it’s not really mine. I insisted that Hudson bring it.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Domesticating my brother. I like it.”

“Who’s talking about domesticating Dash?” I hear a male voice say.

I jump, heart twisting as nerves twine through my insides.

Briar’s fingers brush over mine. “The broody man in a suit is Atlas.” She lowers her voice. “The secret, though, is he’s really a softie on the inside.”

He scowls and shakes his head. “He’s also your boss, Briar.”

“Still not scary,” she mock-whispers. “Mostly because he knows that if he makes me unhappy, Banks, Royal, and Dash will kick his butt.”

Atlas scowls, but the beleaguered sigh he gives tells me that’s true.

“Come on,” Briar murmurs. “Let’s open up this wine and relax while dinner is cooking.”

“Is there anything I can do to help with that?”

Her mouth curves. “No, thanks though. Everything’s just finishing up in the oven now.”

“Plus,” Hudson says, moving to my side and lightly touching my back. “Briar’s a control freak in the kitchen. Better to just sit back and enjoy the wine you nagged me to bring.” Light words and I look up, don’t miss that he’s assessing my face.

Whatever he sees there must be acceptable because he glances over at his family. “So, you’ve met Atlas. That grump”—a nod—“is Royal and the woman who somehow makes him smile is Jade?—”

“Hey!” Royal snaps. “I’m not?—”

Jade just pats him on the chest. “For what it’s worth. I like you grumpy, honey.”

God, his face—the way it goes soft and gentle for her—fills my soul. Albeit, that soft and sweet only lasts for a second because Hudson moves over to him and gives him a wet willy.

“Christ, Dash!” Royal growls, swatting him away.

Jade and Briar cackle.

Hudson dances away, grinning…

And ends up cornered by Atlas—and another man who I recognize as Banks.

Mostly because I’ve seen him on TV.

“You’re Banks Christianson,” I whisper, the awe evident in my voice.

He loops an arm around Hudson’s throat, yanks him back against his chest.

My eyes go wide.

But only for a second because then I’m relaxing, my mouth turning up.

“Ew!” Hudson cries as Royal gives him a wet willy…in both ears.

“You know that payback is twofold, Dash,” Banks says, releasing him and coming over to me. “I’m Banks and this is my fiancée, Aspen.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I whisper, feeling completely starstruck. “I watched your game the other night. Your goal was incredible.”

He grins.

Probably because Hudson has looped an arm around my waist and drawn me against his side.

It’s a lot of touching, and I’m unsure about the possessive nature of it, but I push that aside for now.

Because…it feels good.

“Thanks,” he says as Aspen shakes my hand. “But it was a team effort.”

A hand that’s then filled with a wine glass.

Aspen grins, smoothing her palm over her pregnant belly. “Don’t let him fool you,” she teases. “He’s on his best behavior the first time he meets you?—”

Banks snorts.

“And by the time his ego slips out, you’re in too deep.”

“Rude,” Banks mock grumbles.

“Deserved,” Hudson mutters.

“Stop being grumpy, Dash,” Briar orders, “and come over here and pull out this roast.”

“Why do you guys call Hudson, Dash?”

Banks claps a hand on his shoulder as Dash releases me. “Because the man is as fast as lightning—or was .”

I see a ripple of emotion slide across his—worry, frustration, fear, some combination of those three—but he turns away before I get more than a glimpse of it, going over to the oven and pulling out the pan.

I start to ask Banks more about the Vipers, but my question is interrupted by a tug on my hand.

“Princess Cinderella?” Frankie asks.

“Here it comes,” Banks murmurs.

My brows drag together, wondering what those questions mean. I turn to face her, crouching down so we’re at eye level. “Yeah, Frankie?”

“Wanna play Connect Four?”