Page 167 of Slap Shot
“It looks like there’s space behind that shelf over there.” I point to a small metal rack housing cardboard boxes. “We would be hidden from view.”
“Nice eyes, Mads.”
Hudson helps me maneuver around a pile of old skates and a box labeled JERSEYS. When we make it to the other side of the space, I glance around.
“It’s small over here,” I say. “Pretty sure I’m going to have to sit on top of you.”
“Ah. What a plight for me,” he says, and I can hear the grin behind his words. “Let me get situated, then you can sit on top of me all you want, Maddie.”
I laugh, holding the light up so I can watch him take a seat on the ground.
“You’re such a gentleman.”
He opens his knees so there’s space between his legs, and he pats his thighs. “Come here.”
I spin so my back is to him, but before I can sit down, Hudson puts a hand on the back of my thigh.
“What is it?” I run my hand over the pleated material. “Please don’t tell me there’s an army of cockroaches down there.”
“No.” He flashes me another grin I can barely make out in the dark space. “I can see up your skirt, so I’m admiring your underwear.”
“Oh my god.” A laugh sneaks out of me. I shake my head and lower myself to the floor. “You get to see my underwear all the time.”
“Not when I’m out of town I don’t,” he counters. “For what it’s worth, it’s cute underwear.”
I blush.
I’ve never cared about what I wear under my clothes or chef’s whites. Sometimes it was thongs, other times bikini-style underwear. On my period, a ripped pair that sits low on my hips and don’t put any pressure on my bloated stomach are my saving grace.
Regularly sleeping with an NHL player has made me want to add a few new pieces to my rotation like lacier pairs. Ones that show off my backside and come in a matching set.
I know Hudson doesn’t care what I wear. He’s called me beautiful in a hundred different ways, and most of them were when I’ve been exhausted and worn out, feeling the furthest from attractive.
It’s fun to put on something sexy under my clothes. It makesmefeel sexy, even as the sweater-and-leggings mom.
“Thanks,” I say, and I hear noises on the other side of the door. It sounds like more people are trying to hide, and I hope no one else comes in here and joins us. “I got them for three dollars.”
“Three dollars? Do I need to up your salary?”
“No. I just love a sale.” I pause, biting my lower lip. “But speaking about my salary, I think we should talk about that.”
“I love deep conversations when I’m hiding in a closet. What’s on your mind, knife girl?” Hudson wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest. “Tell me anything.”
“I feel like things between us are getting serious,” I admit softly, relaxing when his hold on me tightens like he wants meto stay here forever. “And maybe I’m reading the time we’re spending together wrong, but?—”
“You’re not,” he hurries to say, voice hushed. “At all. I’m serious about you and Lucy. Y’all are the best part of my days, and I hope we get to keep going down this path.”
“That’s why I feel weird taking money from you. I know I’m still cooking your meals,” I say before he can interrupt, because I can tell he’s ready to protest. “But I have feelings for you, Hudson. It makes me uncomfortable to take money from you when what we’re doing exists outside the kitchen.”
“It exists in the kitchen a little bit. I did get you off on the counter.” He buries his face in my neck and kisses below my ear. I giggle, squirming in his hold. “But I understand where you’re coming from. Money blurs lines.”
“It does. I’m so thankful for your generosity, but maybe we can think about moving away from a paycheck and instead becoming two people who care about each other, who are living together, and I cook for you because Iwantto. Not because I’m obligated to.”
“Okay.” He nods, his mouth moving to my throat. “I accept the changes, but only if you accept I’m going to take care of you and Lucy financially. That includes buying you whatever you need, whatever you want, whenever you need it.”
“Okay,” I echo, knowing an argument is pointless. Hudson means business, and for as long as I’ve survived as a single parent doing everything myself, it’sniceto have someone waiting on the sidelines and willing to help. “I accept that.”
“Thank you. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mads.”
