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An amused smile curls on my lips. “You’re reading a Hannah Harting book?”
A light crimson hue crawls up his neck and settles on his cheeks. It’s the most unexpected sight I think I’ve ever seen, Hudson embarrassed. It’s also hot as anything.
A little voice in the back of mind wonders what else would make Hudson’s face flush like that, but I beat those thoughts away. Luckily, it’s easy to ignore anything except the fact that the gruff, grumpy goalie was just reading a sweet, spicy romance novel on his phone.
By an author I talked to him about last week.
Now it’s my turn for my cheeks to blush as I put two and two together.
He’s reading a book just because I talked about the author? Not only is he reading it, but remembering the sentence I read over his shoulder, he’s almost done the whole book!
“Well, you said the other day that I should try to read some fiction,” Hudson begins, uncharacteristic embarrassment in his voice. “And I don’t know a lot of authors, so I figured I’d try the one you were talking about.”
He slants his long legs so I can get passed him and sit down in my seat. “Do you like it?” I ask excitedly.
Hudson shrugs and tilts his head nonchalantly; but I can tell it’s a feigned nonchalance. “It’s alright. You know, for a book.”
My smile lifts higher. “You like it,” I say, a teasing lilt in my voice.
“Well. I haven’t read a lot of fiction to compare it to. I guess it’s?—”
I cut him off. “You like it.”
I can tell. The big, macho grump likes a fluffy, comfy romance book. Maybe he likes it because I recommended it?
A warm feeling sparks in my chest. But it’s silly. He likes it because Hannah Harting is a great writer, obviously. Anyone would like her, even macho jocks, if they gave her a shot.
I wonder how Hudson liked some of the spicier scenes in the book. An ache throbs at the peak of my thighs imagining him lying on his bed, his Adam’s apple bobbing on a thick swallow when the two main characters undressed each other for the first time, him wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that slowly start to tent …
“Any other recommendations?” he asks.
“Huh?” I startle, pulled out of that highly inappropriate fantasy.
“Books. Any other book recommendations? Maybe other than romance this time. You know, to expand my horizons.”
My face lights up. I can give book recommendations all day long. Hudson being the last person I’d ever expect to ask me for them makes it even more exciting.
“Try this book called Pachinko. It’s so sad, but so, so good.”
He nods. “I will.”
My stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies flapping their wings. “I’ll make a reader out of you yet,” I say, slyly.
“Maybe.”
My lips curve higher. Just moments ago, I felt terrible, but talking about books with Hudson is enough to lift my mood and make my spirits feel light. As if I didn’t even have an obnoxious, entitled ex hounding me and driving me to lie.
The professor arrives, and I spend the class session focusing on the lecture. When Ferrara dismissed class, Hudson turns to me.
“Pachinko, right?”
“Right,” I reply. “By Min Jin Lee.”
He nods, interested. “I’ll check it out.”
He slides out of his seat, slings his backpack over his big, round shoulder, and strolls up the aisle out of the lecture hall. My chest feels happy and my footsteps feel light as I walk out after him. I wonder if he’s actually going to read the book?
When I step outside the Liberal Arts building, I see Sean. He’s sitting with some friends of his across the stone walkway, in an area with a bunch of gorgeous wrought-iron tables and chairs set aside for students to chill out or have lunch in.
