Page 50 of Bridesmaid By Chance
I press my lips together, because yes, that is far too correct. Hudson will be hung by his balls. “Very true, which is why he’s not going to find out. We won’t be married for very long, and we won’t even be here, in San Francisco, for very long either. Aren’t we going to London soon? Do you want me to book those tickets? Because I can.”
“In a week,” he answers. “Until then, we need to lie low.”
“Right, so going out to dinner at an intimate restaurant is a total no-go,” I say, glancing around the quiet restaurant, where tables are lit up by a single lamp.
“You realize you don’t always have to lean on sarcasm to have a conversation.”
“I do realize that, but unfortunately for the both of us, that’s not how my brain works, especially when I’m nervous. I would just accept that 80 percent of what comes out of my mouth is going to be pure shit.”
“Great,” he says on a sigh.
“Hey, consider yourself lucky.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because I’ll keep you on your toes, so you might never know what’s going to come out of my mouth.”
“That’s not something to feel lucky about,” he says. “That’s the exact opposite.”
“Ehh, agree to disagree.”
“Okay, what’s in this sauce? Because if we were not in public, I would be licking this dinner off my plate like a freaking rabid dog.” I lick my fork and glance over at Hudson, who has a not-so-pleased expression tugging on those thick, scary eyebrows of his. “What?” I ask.
“Can you act more civil?”
“Civil?” I ask, sitting up straight. “Shit, am I supposed to be sipping my wine with my pinky out?”
“Sloane,” he chastises.
“Yes?”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I. The pinky question is a solid one.”
“I’m talking about you licking your fork.”
“Oh,” I say, staring down at my fork. “I was just cleaning it off. Am I not supposed to be licking it? Because… Oh…hold on.” A smile crosses over my lips. “Is it turning you on?”
He dabs his mouth with his napkin and shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
I nudge his leg with my foot under the table. “Liar,” I say. “It was. It was turning you on.”
“It was not. It’s just…inappropriate behavior.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to turn on the people around us?” I look around the dining area. “Oh, I just caught a gentleman looking at me.”
“Who?” Hudson says with such possessiveness that it makes me chuckle.
“I’m just kidding. Settle down, jealousy.”
“That’s not funny,” he says, positioning his silverware in that fancy way that tells the server that he’s done with his meal. Probably somethinghe learned in finishing school. Not sure he ever went, but I would be surprised if he didn’t, or if he at least didn’t have a tutor that taught him all the proper ways to poise yourself in public when you have the last name Hopper.
“Do you ever think anything is funny?”
“I do.”
“Uh-huh, do you ever think I’m funny?”
