Found in You(74)

“Me, three,” Jack said, winking at me.

Maybe it was my imagination, but Hudson seemed to snarl at his father’s statement. His protectiveness of me was silly at times, yet it also warmed me.

Sophia finished off her glass and set it on the table with an attention getting thunk. “Well, we already ordered.”

“That’s fine. We’ll catch up.” Hudson signaled the waiter, who hastened over. He ordered for us both, in beautiful French that made me slick between my thighs. Or, rather, slicker.

“And while you’re here, I’ll have another of these.” Sophia held up her empty glass to the waiter, and I saw Mira and Hudson exchange a glance. I could relate all too well to what they were feeling—the dread of having an alcoholic parent, the questions and worries that occupied every moment. Would she drink too much tonight? Would she make a fool of herself? Of us?

Except in my life the she’s were replaced by he’s. It was my father who had been the alcoholic, the one who had caused me anxiety. Was that where I had first learned to worry? Maybe something I should talk to a therapist about sometime. Or, since I wasn’t seeing a therapist anymore, then maybe my counselor at the group I attended on a somewhat regular basis.

The thought was interrupted by Hudson leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you.” The feel of his breath on my earlobe caused my hair to stand on end.

I didn’t. It saved me the trouble of having to decipher the menu. And listening to him speak in a foreign language….I sighed as the smooth lilt of his words lingered in my memory. “As long as my dish doesn’t have mushrooms, I’m happy.”

“No,” he chuckled, the sound sending an electric spark through my body. “I wouldn’t want you gagging at my mother’s birthday dinner.”

“Quite the opposite.” I leaned toward his ear now, so that only he could hear me. “The way you ordered, I’m salivating. I didn’t know you could speak French.”

“Fluently.”

My eyes widened. “Say something else?” We were flirting, something we didn’t do often in front of others, and it came so naturally that I let myself be carried where it took us.

“Oui. Plus tard, quand tu es enveloppée dans mes bras, je vais en parler jusqu’à ce que tu en frissonnes de plaisir”

His husky tone combined with the return of the accent drove me mad. “What did you say?” I was breathless.

He moved his arm around me, pulling me closer before speaking again. “I said, ‘Yes. Later, when you’re wrapped around me, I’ll speak it until you shudder with delight.’”

My face blazed with heat.

“You know there are other people at this table, Hudson,” Sophia chided.

I hoped those other people didn’t understand French better than I did. And that his translation had truly been quiet enough for only me to hear. But the darting eyes of Madge Werner across the table from me made me think Hudson had been heard.

Oh, well.

Mira rolled her eyes. “Mother, leave them alone.” Usually Mirabelle had endless patience for Sophia. Perhaps she was becoming more short-tempered as her pregnancy proceeded. “Can’t you see they’re in love?”

Hudson turned his head to smile at me. We were still so unused to the word—it felt odd hearing it being said about us. And it also felt apropos. Obvious, even. Like, duh. How could anyone not see it?

Sophia couldn’t. “Or they’re working awfully hard to make me believe that.” She smoothed her hair, which was so stiff that the movement did nothing.