my face. Off his body pressing into mine. Off the tiniest humming sound he made when I’d first kissed him back. Off the fact of how unfair it was that it had—easily—been one of the best kisses of my life. First kisses were supposed to be timid and awkward. How was it even fair that he got to be that incredible right off the bat?
Damn Hudson Bradley.
I needed a task that would give me some control. Some authority. Something monotonous with immediate results. Power washing.
Yes, I had my own, and it was a beast too. It had been a housewarming gift from—shit.
Anyway, a friend had given it to me when I’d moved in, knowing how much I loved the chore. When I was growing up, it was the one outdoor job I always volunteered for at home. My parents had a massive wooden deck in Atlanta, and the beach house usually needed a good washing about once a year too.
I was odd, but that wasn’t new.
After I gassed and fired up the machine, I pulled the bill of my cap down to shield the spray back from my eyes and got to it. My old iPod shuffle was in a plastic bag in my pocket and my heavy-duty headphones were on, playing fourteen-year-old Lex’s favorite hits.
For a few hours, I got lost in the sweet instant gratification of blowing grime off my siding to the still-iconic sounds of Nick, Joe, and Kevin Jonas. No phone calls. No real-world issues. Just me and forty-four hundred PSI of take-no-shit water pressure.
Then, as I was tugging the power washer through the grass to my backyard, I saw his black truck coming down my street.
Panic set in. Not that he hadn’t seen me look way, way worse before, but things were different now whether I was comfortable admitting it or not. Combine that with the fact that I didn’t know what to say, how to feel, or what to think about him just showing up.
And I didn’t know what he’d say. Or how he’d felt. Or really anything other than he’d bolted less than a minute after I’d broken the kiss.
Normally, I wouldn’t care if a guy had ditched me with little to no goodbye. Their loss as far as I was concerned.
That morning, I probably cared too much, and that was what had me hiding in a bush, armed with a spray nozzle. In my defense, it had been half a decade since I’d felt so vulnerable. All these emotions and sensations were brand new to me again.
I didn’t know how to handle it, and I needed time to organize my head. However, I should have expected Hudson to come at this whole situation guns a-blazin’. That was who he was.
“Alexis, open up.” He knocked on my front door. When there was no answer, his second knock was louder and more obnoxious.
Not using the keypad today, eh, Buster?
“I’m not home. Go. Away,” I mumbled to myself from the refuge of my massive gardenia bush on the other side of the house. When I heard him march back across my porch, I silently thanked the Lord Almighty for having my back, because we both knew I didn’t exactly deserve that kind of karma.
I relaxed a little when he got into his truck and drove away, and then I counted to fifty before emerging from the sanctuary of my bush.
I should have been smarter than that.
The second I stepped foot out from my hiding spot, his voice rang through the quiet afternoon air.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I jumped at least six feet in the air—give or take six feet—and spun around, armed and ready.
“Don’t shoot!” I shouted, lifting my hands in the air.
She kept the barrel of her pressure washer aimed at my chest as she leaned to the side to peer around me. “Where’s your truck?”
“I moved it to the street so you’d come out from wherever the hell you were hiding.” A slow grin pulled at my lips, and fuck me, her gaze dropped to my mouth.
Memories from the night before assaulted me from all angles. Her lips on mine. Her hands in my hair. The sweet flavor of her moans still lingered on my taste buds.
I hadn’t slept a wink since I’d left her house. When I’d first gotten home after our kiss, I’d spent a full hour sitting in my truck, the engine running, my cock hard as a fucking rock, begging and pleading with my brain to go back.
My