Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance (53 page)

“Soooo…
not
necessarily a casual thing.”

I dump my head in my hands; “I don’t know! No? Maybe?”
Ugh
; I fucking
hate
crying like this over some
guy
like some sort of movie cliche. But
damnit
if Hudson hasn’t wormed right under my skin.

“It’s complicated, I guess.”

Chelsea smirks at me; “Ray, your whole
life
is complicated; maybe you need a little simplicity.”

I exhale loudly; “I should let the whole thing go, shouldn’t I?”

My younger, somehow far wiser sister grins at me as she squeezes my hand; “No, I’m saying you
clearly
have a lot more feelings about Hudson than I think you’re even admitting to yourself, and like always, you’re overthinking it.”

“So-”

“So you like him, and I’m betting he likes you. So just
tell
him, Reagan.” Quinn says.

Across the table, Chelsea nods and shrugs; “Try simple for change, Ray.”

P R E S E N T

I end up getting a grand total of two jabs into my warm-up before I throw off my gloves with a snarl and head for the shower. There’s a brief hesitation right before I step under the spray; as if a tiny part of me is reluctant to wash the smell and the feel and the memory of her off of my skin.

‘A big mistake…kind of like last night.’

I step under the water and slam the shower-door shut.

*****

I don’t know why or even how I find myself at the cable network building where her second interview of the day is being filmed, but fuck it, I’m there. That’s what’s so twisted about this whole Reagan situation; I don’t
want
to be around her, but apparently I can’t seem to stay
away
either. The interview has already started as I stand just outside the light behind the cameras off-stage, watching her and trying not to let the fact that she’s laughing and smiling and just plain gorgeous get under my skin so much. 

“Hey
babe
.” Samantha’s voice slithers into my ear as she comes up behind me and wraps her arms around me, as if we’ve even
met
more than three times.

“What are you
doing
here, Sam?” I hiss at her quietly, though not quietly enough to avoid getting an evil look from one of the stage managers. Is this girl
following
me or something?

She slaps my chest playfully and rolls her eyes, as if I’ve just said a joke of some kind; “Uh, because I
intern
for the Archer campaign?
Duh
?”

Oh
fuck
. Reagan’s immediately furious reaction to my having Samantha on my arm before suddenly makes
way more
sense; because she’s a campaign intern, kind of like the type of campaign intern that she broke up with that idiot Chet for fucking. The pieces slide a bit more together and I cringe as I think about it.

She answers a question with a line I don’t hear but that makes the older news anchor chuckle. But then as she looks up with a smile on her face, she suddenly sees me standing there behind the cameras with Samantha hanging off my arm, and her smile fades instantly. She’s glaring at me, so much so that I even see the stage manager signal for another camera angle. There’s a bit of smug satisfaction with seeing her jealous like that, but it’s an empty victory considering the way shit went down this morning and the two pieces I’ve just put together, and I can’t even find a crumb of victory in it.

The interview ends, and I finally get Samantha to get off my arm by promising to call her later even though I’ve certainly never saved her number anywhere. I almost want to smile at the predictability of Reagan marching right up to me after she yanks off her microphone, but I keep it under wraps at the look in her face.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Her eyes flash past me at Sam walking away behind me and her eyes narrow a little’ “So
how’s
Sam?”

I reach out and put my hand on her arm; “Calm down, it’s not what it looks-”

“
Don’t
tell me to-”She stops and takes a deep breath; “Hudson I don’t
care
,” She shrugs my hand off and takes one small and yet infinitely giant step back; “We’re both adults here, you can do whatever you want.”

I take a step towards her, my voice low and growling; “You
know
what I want.”

She opens her mouth but then shuts it abruptly as she nods towards the sound of Samantha giggling obnoxiously at something across the room; “Yeah, I guess I do. Have fun, Hudson.”

*****

I feel like a fucking idiot when I knock on her door, about to escort her to fucking
Chet Kennedy’s
“gala” event; whatever the fuck that is. I’m literally driving the girl I can’t get out of my fucking head into the arms of her shitty ex-boyfriend. The old Hudson would have punched this Hudson in the nuts and told him to sack up.

She opens the door though, and any and all rational thought just
flushes
right out of my mind as I stare at her. She looks stunning. I mean, she always looks amazing, but the short, slinky, form-fitting little black dress she’s wearing is like a punch right to my gut, and I find myself just opening and closing my mouth as I let my eyes roam over her. And then of course the thought hits me that she isn’t wearing this for
me
, and I frown.

“Well?” 

Her voice startles me out of my freeze and I jerk my head up; “Jesus, why are you wearing
that
?” I immediately cringe;
Nice man, nice.

Her lip curls into a snarl; “Well fuck you too, Hudson.”

“No, I mean -  isn’t this a formal-”

“It’s black tie, black cocktail dress; isn’t that your circle of things?”

Yeah, hardly.

“I’m just saying you look nice.”

“Gee, thanks. Funny way of showing it.”

I roll my eyes; “Listen, Ray-”

“Can we go please?” She looks at me sharply; “I’ve got a date waiting for me.”

I freeze; “Excuse me?”

She taps her heeled foot on the ground; “I said can we go.”

“You know what I mean, that second fucking part.” I growl.

She smiles at me, as if she know’s she’s just scored a hit on me; “My
date
, Hudson. Chet’s waiting for me.”

I can feel my blood pressure jump through my skull as I grind my teeth and clench my fists. I know exactly what she’s doing, but the shittiest part is, it’s
working
.

“You’re dating
Chet
again?”

She shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world; like last night never happened. I can still imagine the way her lips felt wrapping around my cock, or the way her hair smelled and the way her skin felt so warm and alive when she slid down onto me. I’m instantly thinking how it incredible she felt rocking up and down on top of me, and the sounds of her cries as she came. And suddenly, I’m rock-hard inside my pants, which is
thoroughly
confusing with the angry scowl she’s giving me in our current situation. All I want to do is kiss her hard right here in the doorway. I want to shove her up against the door, lift up that teeny little black dress she’s wearing and remind her
exactly
how good last night felt since she’s clearly pretending to have forgotten. 

“Reagan can we just fucking talk about this like adults instead of acting like children?”

She stares daggers into my eyes; “I
am
acting like an adult, Hudson. Now can we please go so I can get on
with
being
an adult with my date?”

Chet,
who I get to fucking drive her to. Who I get to watch her moon over all night at this stupid fucking ‘gala’ while everyone fawns over the two of them and takes their pictures and tells them what an incredible ‘power-couple’ they are. In recovery and in the program, they talk about “relapse triggers” like  “feelings of frustration,” or “expecting too much of other people.” If you can ball every single one of those triggers into one damn thing, it’s called “Chet Kennedy’s stupid fucking gala event that I have to take Reagan to.”

I’m furious; raging inside like a bomb about to explode. But I swallow it, all of it, as I look at her sharply; “
Fine
. Let’s go.”

This is fucking ridiculous.

P A S T

“Hang on, are you serious?” Quinn glances at Chelsea, and they both turn to look at me skeptically.

“Yeah, I’m serious.” I roll my eyes at them, “What, you don’t think I can do it?”

“Oh,
no
, it’s not that Ray!” Chelsea says quickly, shaking her head; “It’s just, uh, I mean it’s just that you’re-”

“You’re
twenty-two
, Reagan.” Quinn says evenly, frowning slightly.

“So?”

She rolls her eyes; “Ok, you’re twenty-two, and you have
zero
political experience. That
might
be a problem here.”

“Quinn, I do have a
degree
in political science, and I’ve spent the last two years working with Chet on his campaign stuff.”

Quinn snorts and Chelsea opens and closes her mouth quickly as if she’s trying to figure out what to say to that.

“
OK, OK
, laugh it up, I know. Chet’s…
Chet
, but the experience with the campaign is real, guys. It - I don’t know - it got me moving and got me thinking about stuff like I never have.”