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Hudson (Thoroughly Educated Book 1) by Lara Norman (9)

Chapter Nine

By the second week of October, Hudson was feeling pretty damn good about himself. He’d decided that on the weekends he was too idle, so he’d gone to the library on campus to work harder on his lesson plans. Finding that too banal for his taste, the following weekend he’d gone to a movie alone. That wasn’t exactly fun either, and he called José for drinks instead.

José picked a bar he liked to frequent. It was low-key and mostly filled with people their own age. Though José was older than Hudson, it wasn’t by a wide margin, and it was definitely not a college bar. As they took seats at the tall stools at the bar, women immediately flocked to their sides and began flirting. Hudson barely had one drink in him before a perfectly lovely brunette was handing him her phone number. He thanked her politely but she moved on, sensing from his lack of enthusiasm that he wasn’t what she was looking for. The next woman to give him a try had blonde hair, which unbeknownst to her, wasn't going to work in her favor. As much as he tried, Hudson couldn't seem to find any real interest in her. He declined the particularly exuberant young woman's offer to go back to her apartment, which was not like him at all. Despite his own reluctance to pick up a woman, he’d managed to score his friend a girl for the night. Hudson was trying to keep his head in the game; at least that’s what he kept telling himself. Unfortunately, his head had other plans. He couldn't picture so much as kissing that woman because she simply didn't appeal to him. But, he was feeling like he was okay, that he could handle the position he was in, that he could cope and move on with his life in the manner in which he’d intended.

The weekend after that, José had introduced him to Steve; they’d gone to a sports bar in the area and hit it off. That time, Hudson had enjoyed himself immensely. Clearly, he needed to spend more time with other men without worrying about women. Steve was a high school football coach who held season tickets to the Redskins, and by the end of the day, he’d invited both men to a game in early November. On Sunday, Hudson had found a gym he liked and paid for a membership, something he’d put off until then but was happy to have marked off his list. He felt much more in tune with himself after a good workout and promised himself he’d go at least twice a week. He packed a gym bag and brought it with him to work to leave in his office as a reminder. By Sunday night he was relaxed and content, pouring himself a glass of wine and making dinner instead of calling in for delivery. He’d almost made it the whole weekend without thinking about Reagan, if he didn't count his nightly dreams and how her face would sneak into his subconscious without warning. Waking with a hard-on he had to take care of before work every day was starting to grate on his nerves. He needed a release and wondered once more why he hadn’t taken up the offer of the beautiful blonde woman the week before. He didn't dwell on it, though, because he already knew the answer and he didn't like it.

On Monday he met with the Language Arts Department head, Mark, and they’d discussed Hudson filling in for another professor in the next term. It was an advanced senior class, harder material than he was currently teaching, and a challenge he gladly accepted. He was becoming known as someone that could be counted on, and that was one more rung up the ladder of his career path. It seemed that things were going to fall into place for him after all.

Near the end of that week, his mother called and made sure he was coming for Thanksgiving dinner. She planned rather large holiday get-togethers and already needed a headcount for the caterers. It wasn’t Hudson’s favorite way to spend the holidays; to be in a house full of the social elite, shaking hands and fake smiling and posing for pictures as the senator’s son. It bothered him to take on that persona, as someone that hated anything that was tedious or dull. To him, there was nothing more boring than a crowd of men and women that faked their way through their lives. However, it was far enough away that he put it out of his mind and focused on the conversation he’d had with his mom, instead. She’d actually asked him how his job was going, which was a rare thing for her.

“How is your job progressing, Hudson?”

“It’s progressing quite well, Mother. My students seem to like me, and I’ve been offered a position filling in for another professor next semester.” He took a seat on the couch and stared unseeing out the back window.

“That’s nice.” She sounded like she was busy doing other things, but her tone of voice was sincere. “Are you dating anyone?”

“No, Mother. I’m focusing on my career. Though, I have made a few male friends.”

“Well, you always were as much a social butterfly as your father.” He heard a clunk and pictured her in the vast foyer of the family home arranging flowers in the large silver vases.

“And how is the senator?” Even after nearly thirty years, he had a hard time referring to him as Dad. It was Oliver or the senator, and if he was angry it was Senator Clark.

Camilla made a noise. “Oh, you know. Busy.”

Hudson often wondered if his mother stayed because it was better for his father—and by extension, her—or if she truly was happy in her marriage. “And yourself?”

She launched into a long discussion of her latest charity, and Hudson tuned her out. It was too much information for him to care to digest. He hummed occasionally and hoped that it passed as listening.

The topic moved back to his career path and his goals for the remainder of the year, as well as his ten-year plan. That was the sort of thing he expected from Camilla Clark; not how are you feeling and are you happy, but are you successful. Still, though she fell short of praising him for his choices, she didn’t berate him for being a mere teacher as she had in the past, and that was enough to continue his good mood.

When they got off the phone, he briefly pondered fishing out the phone number of the second woman from the bar. She was blonde, but other than that, there was no resemblance to Reagan. That alone should have been cause for him to call her and invite her over or see if she was still interested in showing him her place. His thoughts circled back to the last time he’d had sex with a woman before that fateful night when he broke down on the interstate. He couldn't quite recall the woman’s features anymore, or her name. He knew they’d had fun, but not so much fun that he intended to call her again. He’d made sure she understood he was moving and that there was only a slim likelihood of running into each other when he visited his parents. He recalled that he’d shown her his collection of toys—something he had left in storage in South Carolina. His intent had always been to focus on his job and not to bother engaging with any women he might meet. He had no reason to need any of these things, and he hadn't even thought about them since moving, not really.

Of course, if he was being honest with himself, he had thought of them. He’d thought of them every single time he’d been with Reagan. He’d thought that she would enjoy a few of his favorite things, but that he would have to introduce her slowly. He wasn't into anything extreme, but she struck him as someone very inexperienced and unlikely to jump at the chance to be thrust into his darker fantasies.

So it was a massive surprise to walk into his office one morning and find Reagan in there. After stopping dead in his tracks, he looked behind him into the hallway to make sure it was empty before closing the door and leaning hard against it. He stared at her as he turned the lock and dropped his briefcase. He swallowed, all the saliva in his mouth having dried up.

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