The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You(25)

He sighed when he pushed away from me. “Tomorrow, precious.” He grabbed my hand and held it as long as he could while he walked away. Before he disappeared out of the coatroom he turned back. “Oh, and I assure you, bits is not an appropriate word for my naked parts.”

I assumed that already from the outline in his pants.

Less than an hour after Hudson left, Liesl stopped me as I passed the lower bar. “Laynie,” she said, nodding to a small bag on the counter. “Hot Stuff left that for you while you were pulling the cash drawers from the office.”

I bit my lip. “Hot stuff? You mean Hudson?”

“Yeah.” I had no idea what Hudson could have given me, and though I had been on my way to unlock the front doors and open the joint, I changed my direction and headed to the package.

A folded paper was taped to the outside. In neat block print he had written: I can’t let you go without. I blushed as I peeked inside, suspecting I knew what I’d find. Sure enough, there were my panties—laundered and folded neatly. I didn’t even want to think about what member of his staff got the job of cleaning the under things of Hudson’s f*ck buddies. But the fact he’d made it happen was kind of cute.

“So what the f*ck, Laynie?” Liesl said, and I quickly closed the bag.

“It’s nothing. I left something when I was at his office earlier.” Internally I smacked myself. Next she’d question why I’d been in Hudson’s office.

But that wasn’t what she asked. “You left your panties at Hudson’s office? Yeah, I looked. What did you expect from me?”

I rubbed a hand over my face. Liesl would find out soon enough. She’d find out the fake story, anyway. This was the perfect opportunity to tell her I was dating the man.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to share him yet. I wanted to live with the genuine a little longer before I started playing the pretend. “Liesl, I promise I’ll tell you. Just not tonight.”

She breathed out an exaggerated puff of air. “Fine, whatever. But you better have juicy details when you’re ready to spill.”

“Deal,” I said. I took the bag and its contents to the bathroom to put them on.

After I did, I caught myself smiling in the mirror. Maybe I’d been wrong about Hudson. He obviously wasn’t the pompous * I thought he was. In fact, he was turning out to be a pretty decent guy.

Damn it.





Chapter Eight


I woke up the next day with Hudson on the brain. Again. I’d never scheduled sex and knowing it was on the day’s agenda made my belly tight and my * throb. But with the constant replay in my head of words he’d said, moves he’d made—my panic flag began to rise. I wondered as I had many times in my life if I was doomed to live either obsessing about my relationships or obsessing whether or not I was obsessing over them.

With three hours before I was set to meet Hudson at the loft, I had to address my anxiety. Otherwise I’d be too wound up by the time I saw him and I doubted even his magic charm could unwind me.

I decided to take a jog and quickly regretted it. Midday runs were brutal in the summer, especially when I’d become used to running in the cool of the morning. Halfway through my planned course, I gave up and slowed to a walk. None of it helped ease my mind—the heat, the exercise—I still couldn’t stop wondering about Hudson, what he was doing and what he would do to me when I saw him.

By coincidence or subconscious effort, I found myself wandering over to the Unity Church where my old Addicts Anonymous group met. I’d discovered it at the height of my obsessive disorder—a place where atypical addicts got together to discuss everything from video gaming addictions to obsessive shopping. I’d moved away from attending on a regular basis since I hadn’t had any attacks in several years, but maybe checking in now wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I went inside and down to the basement meeting rooms, finding a session led by my favorite facilitator ending. I hung in the back until they’d finished, then made my way toward Lauren.

“Well, there’s a sight I haven’t seen in a while,” Lauren said, throwing her arms around me in a friendly hug, her hair hitting me in dozens of long braids. “Should I be concerned to see you?”

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any time to talk?”

“A bit. Wanna grab a cup of coffee at the corner café?”

“Yeah.”

As we walked, I caught Lauren up on my graduation and the prospects of promotion at the club, as well as the blow Brian had dealt me with his retraction of financial support. Lauren had counseled me through many of my family issues and knew probably better than anyone about the intricacies of the relationship with my brother.

“Will you be okay without the help from Brian?” Lauren asked when we were seated outside, each with an iced coffee. Her subtext said she was talking about more than the money. Stressful situations led to relapses in mental health disorders, and she wanted to know if I was stable enough to hold up.

“Maybe,” I said with a sigh. “I think so. Brian hasn’t been much help with any of my crap except financially. And I’ve gotten the money worked out.”

“You have? That’s great. I’m sensing a ‘but,’ though.”

“But there’s a guy.”