Page 8 of Paper Horses

He gave me a shrug. “I’ve had worse happen than having a pretty girl run into me.”

“That’s a cheesy pickup line,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

He scratched his head, a move that only made him cuter. “Yeah, it was.” He glanced at the map in my hands. “Let me guess. Freshman?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only from the map and the confusion written all over your face.” He held his hand out toward the map. “May I?”

I handed it to him.

“Impressive,” he said as he studied it.

“My little brother is a nerd and overly detail oriented.”

He peeked up at me, causing heat to spread in my belly. He was gorgeous.

“Your little brother drew this?”

“From one he found online.” I pointed to the highlighted buildings, specifically the large one in the middle.

“This is where I have class.”

“Ah, Green Hall.” He folded the paper and handed it to me. “Tell you what. I’ll show you where it is if you tell me your name and let me walk you there.”

A thick lock of hair shifted onto his forehead as lush brown eyes waited for my response.

“You’re not one of those upperclassmen who prey on freshman girls to put another notch in their belt, are you?”

He chuckled, a sound that left me hoping he wasn’t.

“Never been accused of that one.”

“Well, you can’t be too careful. My father warned me to stay away from guys like that.” About the only decent thing he’d said to me as he’d given me a curt nod goodbye before informing me the car was there to drive me to school.

“Hm, fatherly advice. I like it. And no, I’m not one of those guys.” He put his hand out. “I’m Hudson.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hudson? What kind of name is that?”

“Damn, you don’t have a filter, do you?”

Only when my father was around. “No, I don’t.”

“Family name. Now, do you want me to take you to class?”

I didn’t have a choice, and he was entirely too cute to deny. “Yes, and it’s Olivia.”

“Olivia. I like that.”

“My friends call me Liv.”

“Liv?” He squinted at me. “Nah, I like Olivia.” He gestured for me to follow, and I almost had to run to catch up to his long strides. He was even taller than Gabe.

“What’s your major?” he asked as we walked.

“Business.” Following in my father’s footsteps, whether or not he appreciated it.

“Nice, that’s my major.”