9. Ember

9

EMBER

S ince I didn’t have anything to wear, and a strapless pantsuit isn’t ideal for breakfast, I walked out to the dining area of Hudson’s hotel wearing an oversized T-shirt from one of his drawers. I only recognize the large “UH” symbol as the University of Houston, because my alma mater played this university many times during both football and baseball season.

When you are an only sister to three brothers, with a sports fanatic father and a mother that lets him incorporate every game of every sport into his daily life, you get familiar with the teams.

I glance around the grand hotel room. This has to be one of the hotel’s larger suites; it’s absolutely gorgeous. It’s modern and everything is neutral, with strategic splashes of color. The floor to ceiling windows have a perfect view of the strip, and we’re on what appears to be the top floor. The expansive living room leads into a dining area, with a kitchen island adorned with six barstools evenly placed in front. Although there is only a small kitchenette area, it is next to a full bar, so this beautiful, thick marbled island is probably better suited for drinking games than for breakfast.

I round the island and open the refrigerator, grabbing a small bottle of orange juice off the middle shelf.

This will definitely make me feel better.

I screw the top off and press the opening to my lips just as Hudson walks out from his bedroom door into the living area. Shirtless. Barefoot, wearing tan joggers that hang just below the V line of hips. His hair is identical to when he rolled out of bed, wild and unkempt, with stubble that makes ovaries go feral.

The orange juice picks a fantastic time to go down the wrong pipe as juice comes flying out of my mouth, the orange liquid splashing against the white and gray speckled countertop.

I snatch a towel from the opposite countertop and cover my mouth as I catch a glimpse of Hudson silently chuckling.

“Went down the wrong tube,” I say, as I begin to pat down the mess. “You know, topless men are illegal in some countries,” I point and swirl in his direction.

“I would have worn a shirt if someone hadn’t stolen mine.” He shrugs, sauntering toward me in all his nakedness before grabbing the handle of the refrigerator and reaching for his own juice. “Looks better on you, though.” He winks, taking a sip of juice, not choking on it.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and I don’t know if he’s trying to seduce me or just figure me out. A long silence passes us as he rounds the island and pulls out a stool to sit down across from me.

As I appraise him and glance around the room, a feeling of absolute dread weighs on me. I married a total stranger. I have never done anything so careless in my life. Where the hell were my friends last night, and how did all of this even come to happen ?

I was a straight-A student all through high school and college. I never snuck out of my parents’ house when I was a kid. I’ve never broken a law, or even gotten a parking ticket. Yet, my first trip to Vegas and I get blasted drunk and end up married.

My parents should be so proud. Sadly, they would probably be more supportive of this rash decision than my choice to get my degree. If they would have known about the wedding, they both would have shown up in support, unlike my college graduation. My parents would be happy that I’m married and my sole purpose in life, as a housewife and mother, could be fulfilled.

“You really like Elvis.” Hudson’s comment strips me from my thoughts.

I do. I have been obsessed with Elvis since I was six years old.

I open my mouth to protest when the memory of Elvis hits me. We saw Elvis while we were leaving the club. He was heading into the first floor entrance as we were exiting the side entrance from the floors above. I insisted to Hudson that we go say hi, and I think I genuinely thought that was the real Elvis.

“I really thought that he was the real Elvis, didn’t I?” I ask Hudson.

“Yup.” His brows are hitched as he gives me a lengthy nod while pressing his lips together.

“I asked him to marry me, didn’t I?” I lean my elbows onto the island and press my face into my hands for support.

“It was the most adorable proposal I’ve ever seen,” he says, trying to comfort me.

I remember now that the first floor had a chapel and Elvis must have been there to officiate. I asked him to marry me, and when he turned me down, I... Oh, God. I gasp. I lift my head to look at him. “I actually asked you!”

“It was more like begging. Something about how epic it would be to get married in front of Elvis, so yeah, something like that.” He can’t hide his smirk as he takes another sip of his orange juice. “I couldn’t say no, and I realized last night that you are definitely a woman who always gets what she wants.”

That included multiple orgasms that I recall begging him for, too.

Ugh, really Ember? I silently scold myself.

“Elvis married us,” I whine, coming out as both a fact and a question.

“You got married?” Two men halt their steps as they appear in the living room. A third man, who I had no idea was in the living room, peeks out from over the top of the couch.

My spine snaps upright, and I stand to my full height. Hudson uses the corner of the island to push himself around on the barstool and turn toward the guys. He’s calm as a clam as he looks at his friends, who are frozen in horror, then circles back around, still sitting on the barstool.

“Ember, these are the guys. Seamus and Kobi,” he points to the guys still frozen in step, “and Dane.” He points over his other shoulder to Couch Guy.

“Guys, this is Ember. My wife .” Unable to hide his smug as shit smile that only I can see.

Their jaws are slacked as they share looks between each other, the back of Hudson’s head, and me.

“Temporary. It’s temporary,” I spit out. “I gotta run. I’m just going to… get dressed.” I hike my thumb over to Hudson’s room before side stepping a few, then shuffling my feet faster toward the room.

I quietly shut the door and tiptoe, like an idiot trying to hide, even though they clearly know that I’m in here. I strip off the shirt and throw it onto the bed, step into my pantsuit, and slip on my shoes. Grabbing my phone to get an Uber, I see that I’ve missed a load of text messages from my friends, as well as a missed call and voicemail from an unknown number .

I click on the Uber app and pin my location before confirming the car, and it gives me an ETA of eight minutes.

That’s so fast.

In Weston, you have to schedule your Uber a day in advance.

Pulling the hair tie from my messy bun, I shake my hair out and click on the voicemail button, placing the phone between my ear and shoulder.

Good morning, Ms. Riley. This is Rowena Sutter from Ford Enterprises. My apologies for calling you on Sunday, however I wanted to share some great news. Please give me a call back at your convenience.

Oh my god.

Dropping the phone back into my hand, I hit the green phone symbol and dial the number back immediately.

“This is Rowena.”

“Hi, Rowena, this is Ember Riley. I’m returning your call.”

“Yes, thank you for calling me back. I do apologize for calling you on a Sunday, however the executive team has made their decision to bring you on as the new Technology and Marketing Manager and wanted to share with you immediately due to the timeline of the upcoming project.”

I bite into my fist to prevent myself from squealing. How I manage to stay quiet and maintain my excitement is beyond me.

“That is great news, Rowena. Thank you for letting me know.” My excitement is evident, but I maintain my poise. A complete miracle.

“You mentioned in your interview you were in the process of a move, and I wanted to confirm there wouldn’t be any challenges with starting on Wednesday. That was a concern during the decision-making process.”

“This Wednesday?” I swallow hard. Christ, wow. That is fast. I have two days to get home, pack, then drive to Seattle. I’ll never make it. Maybe I’ll fly then go back to pick up my car on the next long weekend. But, I would need longer than a weekend. Okay, I’ll just need to fly and be without a car until I figure things out. I’ll stay in a hotel for the first few days until I find an apartment. I have a small, really small , savings account I can tap into.

As I continue my overthinking, Hudson walks into his room that I’ve been pacing for the last few minutes. He is still shirtless. Damn his pecs, still on full display. And frankly, there were way too many pectorals out there. All the guys were shirtless, like this is some Vegas male topless bar. What is that nonsense?

Rowena asks me if I’m still here, reminding me she is still on the phone and I never replied with my no-brainer answer.

“That’s not a problem at all. See you on Wednesday. And thank you!” Pressing the end button, I glance at Hudson, my newlywed husband, and begin to panic. I can’t afford the mistake I made last night. Not only can I not afford to pay for it, but I have been working far too hard to get an opportunity like the one Rowena just offered.

How could I be so stupid?

I grab my clutch and open the pocket to slip my phone inside. The Big Red gum pack sits tucked inside and I pull it out, tossing it onto the bed. It lands upright with the flap open. Our Tic Tac Toe games reveal themselves, reminding me of how much fun we had in those two incredibly short hours and just how easy everything was with him.

Hudson looks down at the pack of gum, then returns his gaze to me. He senses more urgency in me. The same flight or fight response I had on the plane, and he’s not moving from the doorway. Which he happens to take a majority of the space in.

“Stay. At least for breakfast,” he offers subtly.

Staying means giving up the promise I made to myself. I was with Elliot for so long during high school and college, I felt like I lost a piece of myself. It took me long enough to get out from under the prison of that relationship that was so heavily guarded by my parents. It was like breaking up with them when I broke up with him.

“I can’t,” I reply. His eyes slowly close, and he throws his head back, placing his hands on his hips.

“Are you going to run on me?” he asks, and I bite my lip and shake my head in response.

“No, I just have to go.” My phone beeps inside my clutch, and we both look down at it, like it’s a ticking time bomb.

“My Uber is here.” Closing the clutch, I step toward the door.

“How do I get in touch with you?” he says urgently, as he shifts so his body is now fully blocking the doorway. “The paperwork for...” He waves his left hand in the air, the aluminum foil still wrapped around the base of his ring finger.

“Right…” I can’t avoid this. “... give me your phone.” I hold my hand out. He places it in my palm, and I plug my first name and phone number in as a contact.

Handing the phone back to him, my lips thin as I press them together, showing more nerves than I’d like. He looks down at the entry and frowns.

“What’s your last name?”

“Riley. Ember Riley,” I reply, knowing he’ll probably try to find me if I ignore him.

He types in my full name, then presses the message icon and sends me a message that beeps from my clutch.

He smiles, satisfied that I didn’t give him the Pop-Corn phone number, then steps aside to let me through, but my feet are planted. Damn my feet to hell. I need to leave, but leaving him feels so much harder this time.

A flashback from last night flips through my mind. The kissing and laughing. The feeling of his tongue on my skin and his breath on my body. The way he touched me and held me like he never wanted to let me go. My heart hiccups in my chest .

I need to get out of here.

I look down at my shoes, the ones rooted into the ground, urging them to move. They shift up onto their toes, giving me enough height to plant a kiss on his cheek. He inhales deeply and his eyes close. When he reopens them, he palms my cheek, then swivels my face so my lips meet his.

His kiss is soft yet demanding, and it swallows me whole. It’s consuming in ways I never knew a kiss could be.

The taste of his cinnamon spice and citrus linger on my tongue as I pull away. He presses his forehead to mine, and I avoid his gaze as it attempts to find mine. That will be my downfall and crush my resolve. Urgently, I turn away and step through the door, rushing to the front of the hotel room.

Dane is now sitting upright on the couch with an ice pack on his forehead as I pass through. A third guy I was never introduced to is now in the kitchen drinking coffee with Seamus and Kobi.

“Does he know you’re leaving?” Seamus asks, as he jumps off the barstool and begins to follow me like it’s his sole purpose in life. I remember him from last night. He’s the scary one with all dark everything. As I glance back at his domineering form trailing behind me, my eyes are drawn to a large but faded scar that crosses over his chest, and a smaller scar in his lower abdomen, which just adds to his broody and frightening demeanor.

“He does. We’re good. Great to meet you guys.” Seamus stops, thankfully, and I wave with a half smile back at them as I grab the door handle and exit, heading straight for the elevator.

The doors are barely open enough for me to shimmy through before I’m punching the lobby button, and when the doors finally close, I blow out a hefty breath. Pulling out my phone to check my Uber, it’s only a minute away, which provides another sigh of relief, knowing my getaway car is nearby .

I click out of the app and into my text messages. A single text message from an unknown number pulls through. I know it’s Hudson, and when I open the message to see two simple words, they weigh down on my already heavy heart.

Unknown Number: Don’t go