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Hudson steers me toward a booth in the back. He slides into the seat across and stretches his legs under the table. The table’s got a mini jukebox on it, glittering in the neon light, and a laminated menu covered in pictures of giant cheeseburgers. There’s a glass pie case on the counter filled with mile-high cakes and slices of peanut butter pie.

“So, this is your scene,” I say, studying the menu. “I figured you’d go for something a little more… white tablecloth.”

Hudson glances over at me and winks. “This place has the best burgers in town. No contest.”

The waitress comes by, pen poised, and we order the same thing, two 5th Avenue burgers, two orders of fries, and two strawberry shakes.

I can’t help myself; I watch him as he stretches an arm over the top of the booth, the line of his shoulders filling the whole frame. He looks relaxed, but there’s a kind of charge under the surface. Like a coil waiting for the right moment to spring.

“So,” he says after a minute, “what’s your story, Tinsley Essen?”

I laugh, because it’s so obvious he’s been dying to ask that since the moment we met. “What, you didn’t have your private investigator dig up my entire life history already?”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “I did, actually. But I want to know the real you.”

I trace the rim of my water glass with one thumbnail, feeling the smooth resistance. “It’s not that interesting.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just watches me, all quiet patience.

“My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a toddler, and I ended up in foster care.” It really isn’t a pretty story, and I really hate talking about it.

Hudson cocks his head, watching me like I’m a tricky horse he’s trying to break. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him as the waitress brings our shakes to the table. I take a sip, and it’s the best thing I’ve tasted in years. The cold sugar hits my nerves and takes the edge off the stressful day.

“Why did you choose Silver Spoon Falls?” Hudson asks.

“Entry level jobs in finance are hard to find, and the job at Montoya Investments was too good to pass up.” I stare out the window, watching headlights streak past on Main.

“I’m glad you ended up here.” Hudson rests his forearms on the table, folding his hands together. His voice is softer, but no less certain. “I’m falling for you, Tinsley.”

My mind zeroes out. For maybe the first time in years, I’m not prepared with a cutting comeback. Hudson’s just staring at me. No smirk, no swagger. Honest-to-God vulnerability shining from his stunning eyes.

My heart pounds away in my chest as I sit there, frozen, while my mind attempts to reboot. All my warning systems are flashing, my internal shields scrambling to re-arm. But it’s too late. He’s already inside whatever fortress I built. The walls are gone. I’m exposed, raw, and somehow more alive than I’ve ever been.

I could tell him to slow down. That we don’t know each other. That it’s just physical, or some dumb effect of the water in this crazy town. But I don’t want to.

Hudson watches me like the world depends on what I’ll say next.

“I’m falling for you, too, Hudson.”

The burgers arrive, massive and stacked with lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese melting over the sides. The fries are crisp and golden, a little uneven, the way homemade ones are supposed to be. For a while, we don’t talk; we just eat. I realize, halfway through, that I was starving.

Hudson polishes off his burger in three bites, then leans back, arms crossed. “Told you they’re the best.”

I nod my head, mouth full. “I’ll give you this one.”

He smiles, broader this time, and I feel the effect in my own face. The waitress checks on us, drops the check, and Hudson looks at it then looks back at me.

“Is it alright with you if I pay for our dinner?” he says.

Darn. He really is learning. “Fine. But I’m leaving the tip.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

We sit a few minutes longer. The booth is small enough that our knees keep knocking, and I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose or if he just takes up too much space for it to be avoided. Either way, it makes my pulse jump every time.

We leave the diner, the bell on the door jangling as we step out into the thick Texas night. Hudson puts his hand at the small of my back, just for a second, guiding me to the truck. The heat of his palm lingers there, even after he opens my door and I climb up.