Six years working undercover gave him those scars.
“Lord graced you twice, huh?” Hudson says.
I glance over my shoulder just in time to see my dad’s gaze fall to the bigger wound of the two. Hudson’s words just resonated with him; I can tell by the slow breath he draws in through his nose as he lets his mouth relax its smile.
“You like pancakes, Hudson?” My dad’s instant invite sends my best friend’s elbow into my ribs and way too much pancake mix into the bowl. I pour more water in and continue mixing as everyone crowds into the kitchen. My mom is gardening at the side of the house, her Saturday morning ritual, and I kind of hope she somehow misses this entire thing, because at this point one more person in my present situation will send me running. My wish is too late, though, and before anyone can make introductions, my mom slaps her gardening glove at my thigh and manages to find a way to make this stressful moment even more embarrassing.
“Frankie! Put some damn pants on!”
My mouth sours, the insides of my cheeks twitching as my salivary glands work overtime to drown me where I stand. My hands are shaking so much that I have no choice but to put the bowl down. I turn away from Hudson and tug down my sweatshirt on my way around the corner, defending myself a little before I go.
“I have shorts on, you just can’t see them. I wasn’t expecting company!” The silence left in my wake said a lot. I sounded crazy. I am crazy! I did a crazy thing, and now I must face the consequences. Of course, so far the consequence is a rather cute boy with strawberry hair and emerald eyes and a smile that might actually be better than the one I’ve had a crush on my entire life.
I dash up the stairs and grab black leggings from my drawer, slipping my shorts off and the more modest bottoms on as I hop out my door. The sound of Hudson’s laugh—that raspy one that hits me dead center in the chest—echoes around the corner and up the last few steps before I’m in front of my jury again. I pause to let myself breathe in deep, and with a clearer head, I rejoin the others and take the spatula over from my mom, ignoring the suspicious grin and squinted eyes on her face. It’s the same expression I make when I’m sure I’m right. My mom and I are nearly twins, just twenty-five years apart.
“So, if you aren’t an exchange student, where are you living?” I’m proud of myself for getting a reasonable question out of my mouth. I glance up mid pancake flip and catch his crooked smile. His dimples are delicious. I’m starting to think that might be my biggest weakness.
“We’re staying with my aunt and cousin for now. They’re just on the other side of Main, near the elementary. My cousin actually gave me your address. I borrowed his car.” Hudson barely finishes speaking before Shay casually excuses herself to move toward the front room so she can peer out the window. Meanwhile, I try to focus on not burning the hotcakes while my eyes squint and my mouth puckers. It’s a slight variation on the I-know-I’m-right look—the one I wear when I secretly hope like hell I’m wrong.
“It’s a great Mustang, isn’t it?” Shay drops the hint so she doesn’t have to come right out and say it. That’s Caleb’s car. Caleb Walsh—the boy I was supposed to ask to dance last night. I don’t want to lift my chin but I force myself to, sliding two cakes onto a plate and handing it across the island to Hudson.
Hudson Walsh, I presume.
Hudson Walsh, and his freaking magnetic—and apparently genetic—dimples.
THREE
BREAKFAST WAS AWKWARD. Actually, wait—I take that back. It was awkward for me. For everyone else that sat around our kitchen table, it was highly enjoyable. My dad pulled out his favorite stories from his time undercover, and my mom gave Hudson a tour of her vegetable garden while Shay and I rinsed dishes. Mom even sent him home with a bag of her homegrown tomatoes.
My best friend kept telling me this was kismet, which made me regret teaching her the definition last week when she questioned my use of it in Words With Friends.
Kismet. Fate. Fortune cookies.
I was still mulling over her theory when Hudson said his goodbyes. That’s probably why I