Chapter Eighteen
In the end, Helene’s hair stylist had taken four inches off her hair so that it fell in that strange spot halfway between her chin and her shoulders, but Felicia couldn’t deny that it looked good. She’d been wearing her hair the same way for most of her life, so the cut was a huge shock every time she walked by a mirror. Even now, after staring at it for way too long as she put on mascara—whoever invented that should be beaten with a brush covered in gobs of clumpy goo—it was like seeing a new person. The kind who wasn’t going to think of Hudson every third minute. Or wonder if he’d even noticed she’d charged both dresses to his account at Dylan’s in a moment of pique. Or try, and fail, to muster up any kind of excitement for finally scratching off the last item on her to-do-before-thirty list a solid week and a half before her birthday.
If nothing else, that part of this whole disaster should have delighted her list-loving, spreadsheet-making, nerdy self.
“I’m totally thrilled,” she said to Honeypot, who just sat on the windowsill glaring at her while its tail swished angrily.
The cat was so annoyed it didn’t even bother to caterwaul a warning before the doorbell rang. Yeah. She knew the feeling. She grabbed the purse that matched the blue sequined dress on her way to the door. When she opened it, Tyler stood on the other side in a tuxedo that made him look like a shoe-in to be the next James Bond. It was a look that did damage to women’s panties across the world—just not hers, not anymore. She scooted outside and closed the door behind her before Honeypot got any ideas.
“Wow,” he said, giving her a slow up and down. “You look great.”
“Thank you. You, too.” And he did. He looked exactly as handsome as he always did, and it did absolutely nothing for her girly bits. It was as if they’d gone on strike.
It didn’t make any sense, but there it was. Logic had nothing on lust. She wouldn’t use the other L-word. That was just pouring sulfuric acid into an open wound.
She followed Tyler up the steps and into the town car waiting at the curb. Then, she spent most of the ride thinking about how pissed her fifteen-year-old self would be to know that actually going out on a date with Tyler wasn’t nearly as fun as spending years thinking about what it would be like to go out on a date with Tyler. Wasn’t that just a real slap across the mouth? She must have uh-huhed out loud at all the right spots while totally not obsessing over Hudson during the drive, because the next thing she knew, the chauffeur was opening the passenger door, and then they were walking up stone steps leading to the Dixon Library and its massive first floor lobby, transformed every year into a ballroom for the fundraiser.
Tyler rested his hand on the small of her back. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“This isn’t my usual crowd.” Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
“You’ll be amazing,” he said, holding open the door. “You always are.”
The newspapers and blogs always carried pictures of the library lobby when it was decorated for the fundraiser, but seeing it in person was something else. Soft lighting bounced off the limestone walls that were lined with the library’s collection of Impressionist art. A quartet played classical music for those on the dance floor that was lined with Harbor City’s richest and most powerful—only a third of whom wore a mask like the one Felicia held in her hand.
“I thought it was a masked ball?” she said.
Tyler shrugged. “It is, but these aren’t exactly costume people.”
The woman in front of them in the initial crush just inside the doorway stiffened and turned around. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Tyler let out a string of curses under his breath. Then, the man who was with the glamazon in head-to-toe black who looked like she could kill a person with a well-placed insult turned around. Hudson. Of course. Felicia let out a mumbled curse of her own.
“Felicia. Tyler,” Hudson said, his jaw tight. “This is…”
Tyler cut in. “We know each other.”
“We’re neighbors,” the woman said with less than a zero point zero ounce of warmth. “He’s beneath me.”
The pieces clicked into place. Felicia glanced down. Yep. The woman was wearing perfect apartment-above-you-stomping heels so high that mere mortals got dizzy just looking at them. Plus, they probably doubled as weapons if she needed one on the quick. That was the kind of woman who was Hudson’s type. Not short ant researchers with small boobs and one-eyed cats. Her mutinous attention slid over from the woman in stilettos to the man she was with. Hudson should at least have the human decency to look like he’d been hit by a crosstown bus. Instead, he looked like he belonged on the cover of Harbor City’s Hottest Bachelors. What had she been thinking when she’d thought she could seduce him in a dressing room at Dylan’s? Her stomach bottomed out, and she wished she were anywhere in the world but here.
Hudson relaxed the tension in his jaw and offered up a blandly charming smile. “Everly Ribinski, this is Felicia Hartigan. Felicia is an entomologist specializing in the honeypot ant, and she has a one-eyed cat with the lungs of an elephant. Everly owns The Black Heart Gallery and one of the most insane shoe closets I’ve ever seen.”
This was Everly the gallery owner? Oh yeah. She could totally see that. “How lovely to meet you,” she managed to get out before turning to Tyler. “But we better keep moving. I know Tyler had someone he needed to meet.”
“Probably Satan,” Everly said with an icy smile.
Tyler just glared at the woman as Felicia steered them away from the other couple. This was a major Harbor City event. She knew she’d see him here. She’d been planning on it. Of course, that didn’t make actually seeing him after he’d turned her down flat any easier.
“Okay, something’s up,” Tyler said after swiping two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “You might as well tell me because I’ll find out one way or another.”
What was it the nuns said in school? Confession is good for the soul? It was doubtful Sister Mary Thomas meant anything like Felicia’s love life—or lack of one—but here it went anyway. “I’ve been an idiot.”
Tyler laughed and punched her in the shoulder like a brother, which is pretty much exactly like he’d always treated her. “Now that I find hard to believe.”
“Really?” And because the fates were cruel and her Hudson radar finely tuned, she asked the question as she tracked his path across the room.
Next to her, Tyler groaned, “Not him.”
Her head said the same thing. Her body and heart? Well, they had differing opinions. “Him.”
“And here I thought you were holding out for me.”
She gulped. Okay, this was officially awkward, and she was a horrible human being. “Tyler…” The rest of whatever brilliant apology she was going to make for being a bitch died on her lips when she saw his face.
There was nothing but orneriness in his blue eyes. “Relax.” He chuckled. “I’m just giving you shit. You’re the little sister I’ve never had, and I never thought of you any other way. I just figured that Carlyle moron would have made a move by now. You’re pretty fucking fabulous.” He clinked his glass to hers.
It was nice of him to say, but she sure didn’t feel it at the moment. They stood and sipped their champagne in silence, Felicia avoiding glancing in Hudson’s direction, even though she could have pinpointed him in the room without looking his way like she was a bat or a missile guidance system or a totally miserable heartbroken moron. The crush of people in the room, the low-volume chatter that nearly drowned out the band, the constant stream of masked waiters bearing appetizers and champagne—none of it made a difference. She always knew where he was. Of course, Tyler, being Tyler, never looked away from the other man.
“Actually, it makes sense that you’d fall for him,” Tyler said. “It seemed like you two have been spending a lot of time together.”
“Only in an effort to get you and Sawyer to put an end to whatever bullshit was between you.” Shit! She smacked her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. “Forget you heard that.”
“What? Your mission of mercy?” He grinned at her and shook his head.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I rarely am.” He tapped a fingertip to his temple. “You forget, my business is to always know what everyone else in the room is thinking.”
Of all the— “You knew the whole time? The tickets? The dinners? And you never said anything? You are such a jackass.”
“Without a doubt.” And he seemed totally okay with that. He probably was. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen Tyler happier than when he was busting someone’s chops.
“So, what are you going to do about Hudson?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She’d already wasted years of her life pining after a man. She wasn’t about to repeat that mistake again. “I’m not his type.”
Tyler snorted. “If you say so.”
Thankfully, he let the topic drop after that, and they wandered over the to the silent auction table where people could bid on items patrons had donated. Tyler got drawn into a phone call, so she kept looking at all the items up for bid. It only took one look at the dollar amounts of the written bids, though, for her to know that she needed to keep moving. She loved her job at the museum, but there was a reason why she lived in a tiny one room.
The hint of something dangerous in the air hit her a half second before Hudson stepped up next to her. “How’s the date going?”
Like she was going to tell him. She inhaled a strengthening breath and kept her attention focused on the bid sheet for a six-night stay in a Bali resort. “Fabulous.”
“Then why is Tyler laughing with Sawyer instead of dancing with you?” he asked, taking her by the shoulders and turning her so she could see the other men standing behind her.
Ignoring—okay, pretending to ignore—the sparks of attraction raining down on her from his fingertips on her bare skin, she looked at Sawyer and Tyler. They were laughing. Both looked younger, happier, more at ease. She could totally picture them in prep school and college stirring up all sorts of trouble. She couldn’t help but smile, despite the giant jerkwad beside her turning her panties to ash with the barest brush of his fingertips on her shoulders. Fuck. She was pathetic.
Using her annoyance with herself for something productive, she aimed her ire at Hudson. “I thought that was the entire reason for your little project with me—so those two would reforge their friendship.” She added a few pounds of snottiness to her tone. “It’s not like we’re each other’s type, right?”
One eyebrow went up, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower before making it back up to her face. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Really?” She would have laughed out loud at his bald-faced lie, but her chest hurt too much to make that loud a sound. Across the room, Tyler smiled and started over toward her. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. We both got what we wanted.”
“Yes,” Hudson said, his hand slipping away from her. “We did. Exactly.”
Helene’s appearance a moment later saved Felicia from having to respond. Almost regal in her formal dress, the glittering half mask on a stick she held up to her face did nothing to change that impression. Together, the three of them made small talk about the items up for bid as the dancers swirled around in tuxedos and colorful dresses behind them.
When the song ended and another began, Helene gave a little gasp of delight. “Oh, I love this song. Your father and I used to dance to it all the time.”
Hudson held out his arm. “Shall we?”
“Oh no, I’m not in the mood tonight,” Helene said and turned her attention to Felicia. “You two go out there for me.”
Team Oh Yeah and Team Fuck No revved their engines in her stomach. Dance? With Hudson? That way lay madness and ruin.
“I couldn’t,” she said, opting for chickening out like the smart person she was.
“I insist,” Helene said, all but shoving Felicia and Hudson toward the dance floor. “Go on.”
There was no graceful way of getting out of this. She looked over at Hudson. The grim line of his mouth and pinched look around his eyes said he felt exactly the same way she did, just probably not for the same reasons. He sure wasn’t worried about melting into a puddle of want on the dance floor. Without a word, they walked out onto the dance floor.
…
Welcome to hell, Carlyle.
No talking.
No laughing.
No eye contact.
No teasing.
No flirting.
No gross ant facts.
Just two silent people moving to the music like they were dancing in fast-drying cement. It fucking sucked.
Hudson made sure to keep the socially acceptable distance between him and Felicia as they danced, but it wasn’t enough. He needed at least a football field between them not to want her. Who was he kidding? He’d need to be in another solar system. Especially with her in that blue dress that managed to highlight her every curve while making him desperate to peel the material away from her soft skin so he could see everything hiding beneath. Not that it mattered. She could be in that horrible sack of a black dress that he’d first spotted her in and he’d want her. That she wasn’t in that dress and that this one was bought specifically for Tyler served as the perfect reminder that this was it—their last dance. She had what she wanted. He’d done his Henry Higgins. Now it was time for them to go their separate ways.
He wanted to say something, but for once the words didn’t come—and it didn’t seem like she was interested in hearing him anyway. Felicia maintained her stiff body language and pointedly kept her sweet mouth shut. It gutted him.
“Matches.”
Finally, she looked up at him, something a lot like hurt shining behind her glasses. Fuck. He’d screwed this all up. Right on cue, he felt the tap on his shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?” Tyler asked.
Mind if I punch you in the face? “Of course.”
Like the asshole he was, Hudson let go of the one woman he couldn’t stop wanting, made way for the man she actually wanted to dance off with, and walked off to the bar for a stiff drink he could drown in. His luck was obviously holding, though, because by the time he got two fingers of scotch, his mom, Everly, Sawyer, and Clover had joined him.
“They make a lovely couple. Don’t you think?” Helene asked. “Whoever fixed them up should be commended—and if he or she is single, they should definitely find the perfect match for themselves.”
“They really do look good together,” Everly agreed, staring at Hudson as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
The shittiest part of it was that they did. They were a dark haired, blue-eyed couple moving with ease across the dance floor as if they’d always been destined to do it. It made him want to fucking puke. Instead of revisiting dinner, he downed what was left in his glass and signaled to the bartender for another. By the time they started announcing the winners of the silent auction, the alcohol had softened the edges of his reality. Then, the master of ceremonies called Felicia’s name. She’d had the winning bid for an original Hughston, her choice, from his show opening next week. He knew damn well she couldn’t have afforded the winning bid in the hundreds of thousands. But Tyler? That asshole had money in the bank. She must have made the same connection because she was arguing with the other man, who just shrugged. Finally, she gave him a soft smile, and unless the alcohol was making Hudson see things, Felicia leaned up and gave Tyler a kiss on the cheek.
Someone growled in disapproval. It took Hudson a second to realize he’d made the sound.
Everly wrapped her fingers around his forearm, halting his progress toward Felicia and Tyler. “You aren’t going to do anything dumb, are you?”
Too late for that. He’d already done it. Like a total chump, he’d fallen in love with someone he could never have. “Like what?”
“You tell me,” Everly said, taking away his mostly empty third glass of scotch and setting it down on the bar. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you right now, and I’ve known you since we had Art Appreciation 101.”
“I’m not going to do anything dumb.” He picked his glass up off the bar and held it up so the bartender would see he needed another.
Everly shook her head, concern forming a V between her dark eyes. “I hope you’re sure about that.”
“I am.” He was going to get comfortably numb while watching Felicia finally get what she’d always wanted. It’s what he did. He made sure everyone around him was happy. He was a fixer. He just couldn’t fix himself.
The bartender came over and poured Hudson a finger of scotch. All it took was an uncharacteristic glare from him, though, and the bartender poured another. That was more like it.
“They’re leaving,” Everly said.
He turned before he could stop himself and caught the sight of Felicia walking away and out of his life.
“To another successful fix-up,” he said, holding his glass aloft in a toast.
Everly rolled her eyes at him but kept her comments—for once—to herself. Thank God. The voice in his head cursing him out for letting Felicia go was loud enough as it was.