Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)(222)

He stirs in the bed suddenly as he begins to wake up, and for some bizarre reason I’m suddenly keenly aware and awkward about the fact that I’m standing there naked, despite what happened the previous night. I grab the first thing I see - his dress shirt - and throw it on, quickly buttoning it as he opens his eyes and starts to sit up in bed.

“Morning,” he grins at me, blinking sleep from his eyes.

God he looks incredible sitting in my bed like that. So peaceful, so naked, and so - I flush - so hard.

He arches a brow at me and then smirks as he nods to the sizable tent in the sheet in his lap. “You know, as good as you look right now in that shirt, I think you should probably take it off and come back to bed, darlin.” And for a moment, doing just that sounds like the most amazing thing in the world.

…That is, until there’s a startling knock on my door and Erika’s chipper, annoying voice hollering through about the interview I need to to be ready to leave for in thirty minutes.

And just like that, the fantasy of curling up with Hudson and letting the world just float away without us is shattered as the very real reality hits me like a ton of bricks.

“You need to get out of here!” I hiss at him, feeling panicked as I throw his pants at him.

His grin falters as his brow furrows. “Relax, Reag-“

“I can’t relax, Hudson. Don’t fucking tell me to relax!”

“Reagan, it’s just one fucking interview for what, some stupid NYU school paper?” He’s sitting up on the edge of the bed while I run around the room like a crazy person trying to hide the signs of the previous night as I yank on my black dress pants and hunt around for a clean blouse. “Look just skip it.”

I whirl on him, feeling furious that he’s just sitting there while I’m in panic mode. “Because that would be stupid and a big mistake.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, a big mista-”

“Kind of like last night.”

He freezes, his eyes narrowing at me as a shadow passes over his face. I cringe, instantly feeling like a total crazy bitch for letting it slip out like that. “Shit, Hudson, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, forget it, you’re right.” He’s up and yanking his pants on with his back to me, and my heart drops as I realize the fantasy veil of last night has completed dropped and we’re standing in the naked reality of today.

“Mistakes happen, right?” He shrugs and flashes a thin smile at me, and right there I see his armor go right back up.

“You should get to that interview, I’ll- I need to-” He’s at the door, opening it slowly as he peaks out and checks the hallway. “I’ve got some shit to do anyways.” He turns and looks at me cooly. “Don’t worry, we’ll pretend this whole little mistake never happened.”

And just like that, he’s slamming the door behind him and slamming the chapter shut on whatever happened last night.

Fuck.



I subtly peep under the table at the phone I’ve ever-so-secretly slipped out of my purse. There are plenty of messages of course, but I frown when I see that his number isn’t among them. Part of me hoped he’d still just show up at my first interview today, but he never did.

“Oh, stop it, Ray!”

I glance up, trying to look as innocent as possible as Quinn glares at me from across the diner table, even though I know she’s busted me. “What?” Leave it to family to totally burst your bubble on feeling subtle or sneaky.

“We said no phones! That’s what!”

I roll my eyes, “Quinn, you do know I’m running for State Sen-”

“Yeah and when you win, you’ll have even less time for your boring, non-famous sisters.” Chelsea butts in.

Ten minutes. We’ve been sitting at lunch for ten minutes and they’re already ganging up on me. I sigh dramatically as I slip the phone back in my bag and sling it over my chair. “Fiiiine. So what should we talk about?”

“How about the fact that you’re a major political figure and you’re still dragging us to shitty brunch diners like this place.” Quinn says, wrinkling her nose at the plain white cup of coffee in front of her.

“Hey, this place is an institution, you know. Plus it’s freaking delicious. I’d eat here every day if it wouldn’t give Donald and Erika conniptions.”

“And what would Hudson think?”

Chelsea’s snarky grin catches me off-guard, and I stumble. “W-What do you mean?”

“I mean about you eating pancakes and scrambled cheesy eggs every day.”

I shrug as nonchalantly as I can. “I’m sure I’ve got no idea what he thinks about anything.”