A Very Merry Nanny (Very Merry #2)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

EMMA

I step inside the house, my heart racing. That man is... breathtaking . I can’t remember the last time someone stirred such a physical reaction in me with just one look.

I spot my sister and pull her away from JJ’s side, where he’s playing beer bong with friends.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“You didn’t tell me Hudson has the same costume as Jake,” I whisper-hiss.

“Oh, shit. Whoops.” She giggles, already a bit tipsy. “I honestly forgot. I’ve had several shots since then.”

“I thought he was Jake,” I explain. “I almost embarrassed myself.”

“I did the same thing.” She hiccups. “Did you give him the T-Rex?”

I nod.

“And?”

“He smiled and thanked me.”

“He actually smiled? Not a sarcastic one?”

“It was genuine, Claire.”

In that moment, I saw him—the essence of who he truly is.

My sister studies me as I swallow the lump in my throat.

“You and Hudson,” she muses, considering the idea.

“Don’t start that. No matchmaking. You know I have rules.”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Rule number one: Mutual attraction is required. You find him attractive, don’t you?”

“Claire. Come on .”

“Rule number two: No leading anyone on. If there’s no spark after the first kiss, it’s over.”

“Are we really doing this here?” I whisper, relieved she’s keeping her voice down.

I glance around the room, but no one is paying us any attention.

“Rule number three: No second chances. Rule number four: No sex unless a future is possible. Rule number five: Every interested party must know the rules before the first date.”

“You remember,” I say begrudgingly.

“Great! So when will you share your rules with Hudson?”

The group playing beer pong yells, pulling our attention away. Jake high-fives Lucas, and they banter with their opponents, clearly celebrating a win.

Claire turns her focus back to me. “Have you thought about my offer? You promised you’d tell me tonight. Pretty, pretty, please stay for the holidays.”

Something deep inside me insists that I should stay, and I’ve never ignored my intuition when it’s this strong. Even if I regretted it later, there was always a good reason, even if it involved a hard lesson. But this feels different—like it’s one of the most important decisions of my life. I have to be in Merryville for the holidays.

“There is one tiny thing, though,” Claire says. “I rented my house on Candy Cane Lane. But you can always stay in our spare room. It doubles as my office, but the couch folds into a comfy bed. Jake will be working most of the season, so it’ll mostly be just us. Well, when I’m not at the snow globe shop.”

“I’d stay here with you?”

She nods. “I doubt the inn in town has any availability. Booking a room this late in the season would be a miracle. They're already booking for next year.”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to impose. You recently got engaged and should enjoy time with your soon-to-be husband before the wedding.”

As if summoned by our conversation, Jake walks over and asks, “What are you two chatting about?”

“Emma is staying with us for the holidays and dating your brother,” Claire replies, emptying her cup.

“Which brother?” he inquires.

“Hudson. Obviously,” Claire tells him, prompting a hearty laugh from Jake.

“Why is that funny?” I ask, feeling slightly offended. “I could date your brother if I wanted to.”

“I appreciate your confidence,” he chuckles. “But I'm not so sure about that.”

I scoff. “This sounds like a challenge.”

“Oh, winning him over would be the challenge of a lifetime. I don’t think you understand, Em,” he says, glancing at Claire before looking back at me. “I just don't want you to get hurt. Hudson’s undateable.”

“I don’t want to date him,” I insist.

“Happy to hear that. Now, about you staying until New Year’s.”

“No, I didn't agree to that. I have to be at Billie’s party. However, I’ll be here a few weeks, though,” I clarify, and Claire pouts.

“Well, there's plenty of room here, or you can stay at my parents' or grandma’s house. I promise they’d host you like you were at a bed and breakfast. There's also a small cabin in the backyard with electricity, heat, a tiny fridge, bathroom, and shower. It’s currently filled with Christmas decorations, but we have time to tidy it up. We’d love to host you for the holidays. We’ll figure out all the details,” Jake offers, his kindness shining through.

A wide smile spreads across my face as I think about it. If I were back in New York, I’d be alone. I might even stress bake. “Okay.”

“Does that mean you’re officially staying?” Claire's eyes sparkle with excitement.

“I guess. But only through Thanksgiving.”

She pulls me into a tight hug, and Jake squeezes us both. It feels right. I can't remember the last time I spent the holidays with Claire; she was always too busy. Last year was the first time she took a vacation in a decade, and a month later, she quit her job.

My sister laughs, and I adore the sound. “This wasn't on my BINGO card this season.”

I can see her happiness, which makes me happy, too.

“Just to confirm, you’re both absolutely sure I won’t be a bother?” I glance between them.

Jake removes his helmet, and I meet the same green eyes as Hudson’s. It's a Jolly thing; every one of the Jolly brothers has eyes the color of Christmas trees.

I understand why my sister fell in love with him. He’s kind and caring—just a genuinely nice guy.

“I'll be working from dawn 'till dusk almost every night, rotating weekends off. I'm sure Claire and Tinsel would love your company.”

Tinsel is Jake's thirteen-year-old senior cat who hates everyone. When I asked to see her earlier, Claire told me she was locked in her bedroom. That cat rules the roost—Jake's words, not mine.

My sister grows giddy. “We’re making gingerbread cookies weekly. Jake keeps the dough prepped in the fridge.”

“Ooh! Can I help decorate the cabin, too?” I ask excitedly. That was my favorite holiday tradition as a kid.

“From floor to ceiling. A tree in every room,” Claire confirms.

“It's going to look like Christmas threw up in here, and you’re going to love it, Em,” Jake laughs, his Texas twang becoming thicker the more he drinks.

“I hope I do. I wished for holiday cheer. I could use some magic this season.” The words spill out just as Hudson enters. I lock eyes with him and resolve that every Halloween for the rest of my life will involve wearing a full face mask. Going incognito feels incredible.

Earlier, when he smiled at me, the world around me melted away, and I had to escape. I felt a sizzle beneath the surface. It might have been a flicker in the dark, but the spark was undeniable.

Maybe I'm not dead inside.

Maybe Billie was right, and I need a man who doesn’t want to collect me like a trophy. But I have no idea what he wants. He’s closed off. His defenses seem far too high for me to overcome.

Hudson Jolly is the challenge. For once, it’s not me. As I think about him, my breath hitches, and I place my hand over my heart.

“Are you okay?” Claire asks.

“Yeah, I had a burst of adrenaline.”

Her brows knit together, and she turns her head to look at Hudson.

“Emma,” she whispers, already aware of the cause.

“Don't,” I say, unsure how to process this feeling that I've desperately yearned for. Emotions almost overwhelm me, and I feel foolish. Or maybe I'm just drunk.

Hudson grabs a bottle of tequila and heads back outside. As he leaves, he sucks the air from the room.

Claire and Jake are chatting about s'mores, but I’m too lost in my head, tangled in thoughts of Hudson, still caught in the grip of the Mandalorian costume that has me entangled.

“Right, Emma?” Claire’s voice jerks me back to reality. I wasn’t listening to anything they said, just lost in thoughts of him.

Why him?

“I think I need some fresh air,” I say, approaching the door before she can respond.

I lean against the porch railing, letting the cool air fill my lungs as the sweet scent of roasted marshmallows waft through the night. A couple sways slowly in front of the fire while laughter and chatter drift from those gathered on logs. Everyone looks so content, free from worry. And then there’s me, the girl carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

As I turn my body, I spot Hudson sitting quietly on the porch swing, gazing into the darkness. He glows orange beneath the pumpkin lights sporadically hung overhead. His helmet rests beside him as he takes a swig from the bottle he grabbed earlier.

As a child, I would freeze in uncomfortable situations. My mom would have me count down from five and pretend I was a rocket ship soaring into space. At blast-off, we would take action. To this day, when facing difficult moments, I use that same principle.

After five seconds, I head in his direction, removing my mask. If I can see his face, I want him to see mine.

Music fills the silence, and I can't quite place the song—something about a truck and cheating, perhaps? Shaking my head, I slide onto the swing next to him. His jaw tightens, making me wonder if I have a similar effect on him. Am I just imagining it?

“May I?”

He hands me the bottle, and I take two large gulps. As I swallow, I cough. “Ew.”

My throat burns as the liquid settles in my stomach. I tilt the bottle to read the label.

“Careful,” he warns, but I don't think his concern is for the tequila. The smile he had earlier has vanished.

I take another drink, bracing myself for the burn, and then pass the bottle back.

“I get your costume,” I say, pausing for him to fill the silence. He doesn’t respond. “A bounty hunter who protects the child. You were trying to be clever, but there’s a deeper meaning behind it. Don’t you know a Mando should never remove his helmet? Too dangerous.”

Does he realize I saw the real him earlier? That he let his guard down, if only for a moment?

I catch a smile playing on his lips. Regardless of whether he admits it, I know I’m right.

We pass the bottle back and forth. I want him to speak, to engage in conversation with me.

“Are you shy?” I ask.

“No.” That's all he says for the next ten minutes. I don’t find the silence uncomfortable; it’s intriguing.

“Then why don’t you talk much?”

He turns to face me. “I have nothing to say.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I’ve never had to work so hard to chat with someone.

“Do you want me to go away? Or do you want me to stay?”

He shrugs, not caring about who I am or what I’ve done.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m into the grumpy act.”

He hands me the tequila, and our fingers brush briefly. An electric spark shoots through me; I think he feels it too. Hudson studies my lips as I memorize his. We linger too long, and I glance away.

I lean back on the swing, my vision blurring slightly as I stare up at the stars. One streaks across the sky, leaving a glittery trail behind.

“Make a wish,” I tell him. A smile spreads across my lips as I close my eyes. He doesn’t react.

“What did you wish for?” I ask.

No response.

“You can’t tell me, or it won’t come true. And I want it to,” I say, knowing I wished for a chance to get to know him.

“It's always the quiet ones,” I add, shaking my head and practically talking to myself.

Hudson finally chuckles.

“Ah, so you know how to laugh. Good to know.”

His expression darkens, and I swallow hard. “Would you like to dance with me?” I ask.

“I don’t dance.”

I stand on wobbly feet, and my boot gets caught on a loose board. As I stumble, his strong hands catch me, preventing my fall. His striking green eyes study me as his hands settle at my waist.

“My hero,” I whisper.

His dark hair is a tangled mess. “You're stubborn.”

I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. He's tense. “Relax.”

The slow song continues, and I inhale the woodsy scent of his cologne while we dance under the lights. The beat changes, and he gently spins me around, pulling me closer.

“You lied about dancing.”

“I never said I couldn’t,” he mutters.

“What are you so afraid of?”

He smirks, as if he can read my mind. Can he?

“You should stay away from me,” he warns.

I fixate on his full bottom lip. “That's usually my line.”

“I'm serious,” he insists.

“I don't like it when people tell me what to do,” I reply matter-of-factly as he twists me around.

Rebellion urges me to act. I could easily capture his lips, given how close his heated mouth is to mine. For a brief moment, I imagine the taste of tequila lingering on his tongue.

“Emma.” My name falls from his lips in a low growl. I love the way it sounds. “Don't do this.”

“I'm staying for the holidays,” I confess.

“Of course you are.” He carries an air of cockiness as if he breaks hearts for a living.

Even though Hudson weakens me, I strive to find my confidence. The attraction, mixed with unspoken words and sexual tension, is overwhelming—too intense, too dangerous.

He's right. I should keep my distance. The stronger the desire, the deeper the heartbreak.

“You're doing it again,” I say.

“Doing what?” he asks, raising his brows.

“Sending mixed signals.”

“I'm not,” he replies, looking unimpressed.

“Look, I'm immune to the fuckboy rules. You pretend you’re not interested, throw out a warning that I should stay away, and then move into the ignoring phase, even though it drives you crazy to think I could be with someone else. It's how the chase always begins. We don't have to do this.” I step closer, studying him, my lips hovering just an inch from his.

“We do.” He leans in, and my breathing grows ragged with anticipation.

“I have rules,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing against my cheeks.

“I do too.” I swallow hard as his bottom lip barely grazes mine. When his scruff brushes against my jaw, I'm mushy putty in his hands and he knows it. A buzzing feeling builds deep inside me, awakening the butterflies I thought had gone dormant.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I want to kiss him. I need to know if...

My fingers weave through his hair, and I'm milliseconds away from discovering if he is the man I’ve been searching for.

“I can't do this,” he murmurs, gripping the fabric of my costume tightly. His words contradict his body, which betrays him. It's a battle no one wins.

“Why?” I whisper just as a throat clears behind us.

I glance over my shoulder to find JJ standing with his arms crossed.

“What are you two doing?” he sings, glancing between us. I feel like a teenager again, caught fooling around in the dark.

I place my hands on my hips and stand a little taller. “You didn't warn me that your brother was a player, Jake. A fucking pro at the game.”

“Really?” Jake seems surprised.

“Yes.” I turn back to Hudson. “I can't imagine how many hearts you've broken.”

“You first.” He licks his kissable lips.

JJ tilts his head. “Hudson has a reputation.”

“And?” I ask.

“They used to call him 'Hudson the Heartbreaker,'” he explains.

“Oh, perfect. This will be fun,” I reply.

Hudson scowls.

I rebuttal his expression. “I love a challenge.”

JJ laughs. “This is the best thing I've heard all night. I can't wait for Valentine's Day. I'm going to be rich.”

Hudson shakes his head at his brother.

“You'll be begging for me, just like the rest of them,” I tell him.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart. I beg for no one.” His eyes sweep over my body. “Not even you.”

Hudson walks off the porch, helmet and tequila in hand.

Jake turns to me. “You really think he's a player?”

“Top tier.” I watch Hudson stare at the flames, seemingly unfazed. Maybe he has no fucks to give, but I want to find out.

“He said he doesn't dance,” I mutter.

“He hasn't danced with anyone in over five years.” Jake pauses. “It was a thing he had with his ex.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Him and his ex.”

“Ah,” I say, curious about what happened, but I know that in time, Hudson will reveal all his secrets without me having to ask.

“You should go easy on him,” Jake warns. “Claire told me they call you Maneater Manchester.”

“I don’t go easy on anyone.” I grab my mask and slip it over my head. “The best way out is always through.”

“You can’t fix him, Em,” Jake says.

“I don’t want to,” I say. I want him just how he is.