Page 23 of Hudson
“I love this place,” Blair said, glancing around. “The food is wonderful.”
“Grant makes sure of that. He buys his beef from local ranchers.”
“Good for him. Helps the whole community.”
“Yes, ma’am. So, what did you do today?”
“As little as possible.” She grinned. “Curled up with a book on the sofa and didn’t feel guilty about it once.”
Hud chuckled. “That sounds like a perfect Saturday. I rode out through the east pasture this morning, worked around the barn a little, then spent the afternoon with a cold beer and the TV.”
“Do you ride every day?”
“Unless the weather turns bad. Lightning or ice will keep me in.” He leaned forward. “Do you ride?”
“I love it. There’s nothing like that feeling of freedom.”
“Then you’ll have to come out. I’ve got plenty of trails on the property.”
“I’d love that.” Her fingers played with the edge of her napkin.
“Anytime.”
Hud was having trouble keeping his eyes off the curve of her neck when he heard his name from across the room. He got to his feet.
“Hello, Gina.”
“It’s so good to see you.” She hugged him, her perfume reaching him before she did.
“You too. Blair Nelson, this is Gina Langley.”
Gina turned a practiced crimson smile toward Blair that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then looked back at Hud. “I’ll let you two enjoy your evening. I need to get back to my date.” She hugged him again, pressing close. “Call me,” she murmured against his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark, then walked back across the restaurant with a model’s practiced sway to a table where a silver haired man in an expensive suit sat waiting.
Hud slid back onto the bench and caught Blair staring at him, eyebrows arched in silent question.
“What?”
“Old flame?” Her lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Not really a flame. We’d go out once in a while.”
“For sex, you mean.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her interlaced fingers.
“Blair, I’m not having that conversation.”
“Fair enough. She’s very pretty.”
“So are you.” The words were out before he could stop them.
Blair laughed, turning heads at nearby tables, and shook her head. “Men.”
“What’s wrong with men?” He spread his hands.
“Oh, dear God. I don’t have that much time.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest in mock pain.
“Ask any woman. They’ll tell you.”
