“Then you feel sorry for me because I was sick,” she said, hating that idea.
He winced with guilt but not pity, which was good. Pity would have brought out her homicidal tendencies.
“I told you I’m not sick now,” she said.
Hudson looked her right in the eyes. “And I heard you.”
Her heart skipped a little beat. “So if you’re not afraid of me and you don’t feel sorry for me, what’s the problem?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze swept over her, from her eyes to her mouth, and locked in.
Stepping into him, she poked him in the chest. “Well?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t push me on this, Bailey.”
She pushed him.
He gave her a long, hard look that didn’t scare her off. Nor did he budge.
She glanced up at him, hands on hips.
He shook his head and muttered “fuck it” and then hauled her up against him and covered her mouth with his.
The kiss was hot and wet and deep and amazing, and by the time he lifted his head from hers, she could hardly remember her point, much less her name.
Holy.
Cow.
A couple of wolf whistles had her jerking back from him. Some of Hud’s crew had arrived to help with the scaffolding.
Good timing, too, because God knew she wouldn’t have found the strength to stop what had probably been the hottest kiss of her life. “That’s not a problem,” she whispered, deciding to play it light. “That was fun.” She turned away before he could get the truth in her eyes, but he grabbed her. “Careful.”
Right. They were on the second tier of the scaffolding, fourteen feet up from the ground. Given the look in his eyes, she hadn’t been the only one feeling the heat. “I’m okay.”
That got a half smile out of him. “Glad someone is.”
So he was just as affected as she. Something to think about. Later. When her mind cleared of the sensual daze he’d put her in.
The guys went to work building the scaffolding and she went back to standing there as if nothing had happened. As if her world hadn’t just been completely rocked to the very foundation.
The entire structure was in place by eleven.
And then she was alone with her wall. She had the iPad and her rough draft, and with that she went to work dividing the wall into equal sections to begin sketching.
That night Bailey stayed in a one-room efficiency apartment on-site. She stayed up late filling in more details for the mural and got up early to get back to the wall. When she walked up to it and took in the sheer size of it, the doubts crept back in.
Hard.
As she stared at it and the reality of what she planned to do, her heart started pounding, and in spite of the thirty-two degrees and the windchill factor, she began to sweat.
It’s just math, she reminded herself. It was just a management of size, and as a graphic artist, she knew this. She was good at this.
But standing there with an impending anxiety attack barreling down on her, she panicked. What made her think she could pull this off? The mural, the list… hell, everything. What did she know about living life?
“Problem?”
At the sound of Hudson’s voice behind her, she jumped and shoved her iPad back into her cross-body saddlebag at her feet. “No.”
“Then why are you talking to yourself?”
“I always talk to myself,” she said.
“You always tell yourself you’re an idiot?”
She sighed and turned to face him. He was in his gear, and given the tenseness of his shoulders it appeared to have been an extremely long morning already. Or maybe it was her. “Remember how you didn’t want me to do this?”
“Yeah.”
“Well you win.”
“Tell me it’s a six-pack of beer and a pizza.”
Not able to find the funny, she shook her head. “I’m going to get white paint to cover the grid I made and put it back to the way it was and make your day.”
He stared at her for a long beat. “Did I leave and come back to an alternate universe?”
“Yes. And the Bailey in this universe is messed up.” With that, she scooped up her bag, threw the strap over her head, and stalked off. The effect was less dramatic than she’d have liked since she caught the bag on the scaffolding and was jerked around and brought up short. Which meant she had to untangle herself with an audience, and that of course took way too long.
Hud actually had to come help her, his big hands and dexterous fingers pushing hers aside and easily freeing her.
“I was trying to walk off in a snit,” she said.
“I have a sister, so I majored in snit,” he said. “Talk to me.”
She sighed. “I think I just need to go home and clear my head.”
“Understandable,” Hud said. “But tell me you’re coming back next weekend.”
She met his gaze and realized her mistake because his eyes drew her right in. “You didn’t even want this,” she said quietly.
“Things change,” he said back just as quietly. “Go home. Regroup. I’ll see you next weekend.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”