A Very Merry Nanny (Very Merry #2)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

EMMA

I lie back in the tub, allowing the blue bubbles and water to surround me. The warmth of the bath embraces me, and the alcohol still swims through my blood. My mind’s delightfully calm as I sink deeper into its welcoming depths. Steam rises around me, curling and twisting in the air like delicate, ethereal fingers, creating a hazy veil that softens the stark edges of reality.

I close my eyes, letting the world around me fade into nothingness, as I think of the man who's haunted my thoughts since July. An effortless smile creeps across my lips as I imagine him— us .

Every memory of him sends a rush of heat through my veins, igniting a fire deep within. I want him so fucking bad it hurts—a longing that feels raw and insatiable. I can no longer pretend he isn't the man I've been searching for my entire life. Need and want grip my heart with fierce urgency, an unfamiliar sensation that both scares and exhilarates me. No man has ever affected me as profoundly as Hudson does. I crave him mentally, emotionally, and physically, a desperation that leaves me breathless.

Once I’m relaxed, I climb out of the tub, water trickling down my skin in a gentle cascade. I reach for the plush blue towel on the counter, its softness beckoning me. After drying off, I slip into pajama shorts and a tank top. I remove my contacts, blinking hard to regain clarity before sliding on my glasses. The world blurs for a moment, then sharpens into focus, revealing the familiar surroundings of my room.

Over my shoulder, in the mirror's reflection, I catch sight of Hudson standing in the doorway. The light from the hallway frames his silhouette perfectly. A sly smile spreads across his lips, hinting at unspoken thoughts that make my heart race. If only I had the power to read his mind.

“I didn't know you wore glasses,” he says, his voice smooth and casual yet laced with intrigue. In each hand, he holds a glass of eggnog.

“There's a lot you don't know about me.” Our gazes lock in the mirror as I finish towel-drying my hair. Damp strands fall into place around my shoulders, framing my face. His intense gaze makes it hard to concentrate on anything else.

The thrill of his eyes on me nearly pulls me under. He’s a current, drawing me deeper into a sea of unspoken words and shared secrets, an anchor holding me close, yet just beyond reach.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice low and inviting, as if drawing me into a world meant only for us. That tantalizing world can exist, can't it?

I chew on my lip, contemplating his question, my heart racing as I turn to face him. His presence wraps around me like a blanket, and I can almost taste the longing hanging in the air, sweet and intoxicating.

“You. Us. That night and how the stars aligned,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

I step into the dingy bar tucked on the edge of Main Street and Hot Cocoa Lane. The low lights cast a yellow glow, enveloping the room in an inviting hue that beckons weary souls. A faint trace of stale tobacco lingers in the air—a nostalgic remnant from the days when patrons could smoke freely indoors. Nostalgia wafts through the dimly lit space, transporting me to a time when laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, painting memories I can almost touch.

Tonight, I plan to drink until I’m tipsy and then stumble the three short blocks back to Claire's place, where I’m staying while I'm in Texas. Navigating the busy streets of New York after a few too many drinks is a challenge that I’ve mastered over the years. Merryville, with its quaint charm and slower pace, feels like a mere blip on my radar—an easy stroll compared to the chaos I usually navigate.

I've only been in town for two days, and my emotions are still in a whirlwind. Watching Claire get engaged, the golden glow of happiness surrounding her, was overwhelming enough. Meeting her fiancé—seeing the way they looked at each other, eyes bright with love—jolted my cold heart alive. And then, there was Hudson.

He’s the first man in years who’s made me take a second glance, stirring feelings inside me that I thought had died. The attraction was immediate and intense. Everything about him felt illicit, tempting me to consider reckless choices I would likely regret in the light of day. Or would I?

Suddenly, the bell above the door jingles, a cheerful sound that catches my attention. As I turn my head, I see Hudson Jolly—a vision as if he had been conjured from my very thoughts. His presence is magnetic.

“Fuck,” I whisper as the air crackles with electricity.

His eyes lock onto mine, a moment heavy with unspoken words and potential. But just as quickly, he turns away, pretending he didn’t see me. Deep down, I know he definitely did, but I don’t take it personally; it’s probably for the best, a protective wall against whatever this is.

I unlock my phone, the bright screen nearly blinding me in the low-lit bar, and text my best friends in our group chat, my heart racing.

Emma

So, hypothetically speaking...

Billie

Oh God, here we go.

Harper

Let her finish.

Emma

If you met a really hot man who made you want to throw your rules out the window for one night, would you?

Harper

How hot is he?

I pick up my Cosmo, the vibrant pink liquid swirling enticingly in the glass. I take a big gulp, enjoying the sweetness, then reply.

Emma

Scorching.

Harper

And he's single?

Emma

Confirmed.

Billie

Who is he?

Just then, the stool beside me slides out, and Hudson settles into it, a relaxed confidence radiating from him. My nerves flutter like a thousand moths trapped in a jar as I lock my phone. His mere presence is overwhelming. The scent of his cologne grabs me—an intoxicating rich blend of cedar and something sweet, perhaps peppermint?

“You can't sit next to me and not speak,” I say, surprising myself as I find my confidence. His drink is placed in front of him, and I can’t help but think it must be easy to remember what the locals order in a cozy small town like this. “We’ll practically be related soon,” I add, a teasing lilt to my voice.

He lets out a low, playful hum and brings his perfect lips to the rim of his glass. His relaxed demeanor makes my heart race because he’s unaffected by me. I can’t tear my gaze away from him; an invisible thread connects us.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that,” he warns, his gravelly voice sending shivers down my spine and causing my heart to stutter.

“Then what?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. “What will you do?”

He smirks, a playful glint igniting in his eyes, and the sexual tension nearly smothers me.

“Well?” I ask innocently, forcing myself to maintain a brave front.

“Be careful, Emma. You’re gonna fuck around and find out.”

“I want to learn everything about you,” Hudson admits, his sexy voice pulling me back into the moment.

“I have nothing to hide from you,” I reply sincerely, my heartbeat steadying as I lock my gaze on his. “Ask me anything. Anytime. I'll tell you the truth. Always.”

His eyes sparkle with curiosity and charm, making him nearly impossible to resist. “Would you like to watch a movie with me?”

I laugh, not expecting that. “Sure.”

I enjoy seeing him like this—carefree as if all the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. This side of him suits him perfectly.

“Every season, I have a list of Christmas movies I watch. I wanna start at the top tonight.” He pauses as he studies my expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?” A playful grin spreads across his chiseled face.

“You seem...” I shake my head, searching for the right word, “Happy.”

The mood shifts and the air thickens. “Right now, I am.”

I move closer to him, allowing our arms to brush together. I take a sip, savoring the rich flavors swirling in the eggnog. “Mm. I might be addicted...”

“The nog is good,” he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. “Can only get this brand in Texas.”

“To you,” I add.

A cute-as-fuck smirk pulls at his lips, and it’s exhilarating. He gently tucks damp hair behind my ear, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Are you happy?”

“Right now, I am,” I repeat his words back to him, a smile playing on my lips. “What’s your favorite holiday movie?” My curiosity piques, and I’m eager to hear his choice.

“Die Hard,” he declares, taking a gulp of his nog as if it’s the most natural answer in the world.

I scoff, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I shake my head. “That’s not a Christmas movie.”

“You gonna die on that hill?”

“Uh, yes,” I say firmly. “Not a Christmas movie and never will be.”

“Good. Was making sure you’re not one of those weirdos who think it is.” He winks at me, adding a layer of playfulness to the moment. “Tonight we’re watching Home Alone 2 .”

“I love that one. The pigeon lady gets me every time,” I admit.

Hudson grabs my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine in a simple yet electrifying gesture. I don’t know if the eggnog is to blame or Hudson. Maybe both, but mostly him.

No one has ever chosen me like this when we’re alone, and the feeling is both exhilarating and terrifying.

I’m falling in love with this man.

He leads me down the low-lit hallway, and the faint scent of his soap lingers in the air like an invisible trace, making the atmosphere even more intimate. When we reach the door to his room, he pauses.

A mix of excitement and hesitation swirls within me. This is his bedroom, and it’s not lost on me how damn sacred it is. Has he allowed another woman in here with him?

“Wait, you want some popcorn?” he asks, his voice filled with genuine consideration.

“Oh my God, yes,” I reply, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across my face. “With butter?”

“Of fucking course. Is there any other way to eat it?” he asks, opening the door and leading me inside. As I step over the threshold, the scent of cedar and something faintly floral floats through the air as I cross the threshold.

Windows overlook the backyard where the moon’s glow casts long, silvery shadows across the grass. A fireplace anchors the room, its mantle adorned with pictures of happiness—Colby’s smile captured in joyful moments. Above it hangs an oversized TV displaying a fireplace screensaver, the flickering flames adding to the cozy ambiance.

“I’ll be right back. Get comfy,” Hudson says, his voice playful yet soothing.

“Okay,” I reply, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness wash over me. He releases my hand, leaving a lingering sense of loss in its wake. My eyes remain locked on him as he turns away, and before he disappears from view, he glances back, his expression softening. I smile, and it's immediately returned, that shared moment amplifying the unspoken connection between us.

I drink my eggnog, realizing it's already halfway gone. With a swift gulp, I down the rest and place the glass on his nightstand with a gentle clink that reverberates. I fall back onto his big bed, giddy like a teenager with a crush. The blankets are fluffy, inviting, and the pillows—a festive assortment in shades of cream, red, and green—seem to beckon me into their embrace.

The comforter faintly smells like him, a blend of his cologne and the faintest hint of laundry detergent, and it brings an overwhelming sense of comfort. I close my eyes, letting the plushness hug me.

I'm falling for him way too fast, and if I don't take control, I'll spiral out of control. But would that really be so bad?

“Em, are you asleep?” he gently whispers, his strong hand resting reassuringly on my thigh.

My eyes flutter open, slightly disoriented, as I shake off the remnants of sleep.

“Was I snoring?” I ask, half-laughing, the sound almost musical in the quiet space.

His brows raise in mock disbelief, that playful glint in his eyes making my heart skip a beat. “You snore?”

“Only when I'm drunk or exhausted,” I explain, finally sitting upright. My head is woozy, a swirling fog that makes the room tilt slightly. When I stand, I stumble into him, giggles spilling out of me like effervescent bubbles.

“Yep, drunk,” he says, his firm hand steadying me on my waist. Hudson glances at the empty glass on his nightstand, a knowing smile creeping onto his lips. “You're supposed to drink it slowly. Savor it.”

“Not sure if you noticed.” I hiccup, feeling a wave of embarrassment mixed with amusement. “I don't do anything slow. Not my style.”

The delicious aroma of buttery popcorn wafts from a gigantic bowl. The scents are so inviting that I can almost taste the salt and butter on my tongue. Steam rises from the top, curling into the air, reaching forward like it’s beckoning for me to grab a few kernels. So I do.

“Would you prefer to go to sleep?” He studies me, his gaze penetrating yet gentle, searching for an answer in my eyes.

“Hell no. I can hang, promise,” I say with a nod, my confidence unwavering despite the slight wobble in my stance.

“On the bed then.” His Southern drawl is sexy as sin.

“Mm. Kinda like when you say it like that,” I reply playfully, a smile tugging at my lips.

I scoot to the middle of the bed, and Hudson laughs, the sound rich. He hands me the popcorn and adjusts the pillows behind me, creating a cozy nook where we can comfortably sit upright. I'm grateful for the carbs to soak up some of this alcohol because my head is swimming. He effortlessly slides in next to me until our bodies fully touch.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and our arms brush together, sending a flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

“Yes,” I breathlessly reply, the word slipping out like a secret.

With a click of a button, the recessed lights lower, casting an intimate glow around us. He leans closer, his shoulder pressing against mine, making my heart race. The TV illuminates the dark room, its flickering light painting our faces in shadows as he starts the movie.

I hold the popcorn and the large bowl on my lap. Anytime he’s near, his presence draws me in, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“The movie is that way,” he says, pointing forward as he throws popcorn upward. He catches it with his mouth.

His perfect smile captures me, and his green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“You're captivating,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

He studies me, his eyes sliding down to my lips over to my neck. “Shit, those marks are dark,” he comments, a smirk dancing at the corners of his lips.

My hand slams over the hickeys, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I forgot that I'm supposed to kick your ass for that.”

A hearty laugh escapes his throat. “You can owe me one.”

“I owe you two! Look at them!” I insist, pointing exactly where they are, a mixture of indignation and laughter coloring my words.

He leans over and peppers kisses on top of the marks, his lips teasing my skin. “I'd apologize, but you fucking loved it.”

“I did.” I rest my head on his shoulder, welcoming his touch as he wraps his arm around me. We fall into a comfortable silence; the screen illuminates our faces as Kevin McCallister's mother realizes her son is missing. This scene parallels my past, and I can’t help the ache in my chest.

“As a parent, this is my worst fear,” Hudson murmurs, his voice low and rich with empathy.

“It’s because you’re an incredible dad.” My throat tightens slightly. “It happened to me when I was thirteen. Claire had moved out to go to university. It was just me and Dad after Mom passed away. He would book vacations for the holidays, but he was rarely present. I boarded the wrong private jet, full of my father's business executives, and ended up in Tokyo.”

Hudson turns to me, his jaw clenched, and I can see the concern etched on his face. “How did your father not notice?”

“I was forgotten about many times, and I still carry a world of resentment for it. No one has ever made me feel important or prioritized me—not even my dad,” I admit, forcing a smile. The words feel heavy on my tongue, a weight that threatens to spill over. Sometimes the truth is ugly, but I've stopped making excuses for him, allowing myself to face the painful reality.

“That changes now,” he states, matter-of-factly.

“I want to believe you,” I say, holding on to every word he says. I clear my throat, the memories swirl uncomfortably in my mind. “It's why I do things alone now. I can always depend on myself. I won't ever let myself down.”

“I'm sorry you experienced that. You deserved and currently deserve better,” he says, holding me a little tighter. His touch is a soft barrier against the waves of old memories crashing down around us, reminding me of how drastically my life changed after my mother’s death.

“Thank you. I have a confession to make,” I add, wanting to change the subject. “The Lucas thing was a prank.”

“I know,” he says, his fingertips trailing down my arms, sending shivers up my spine. Goosebumps form along my skin, a tangible sign of the emotions stirring within me.

“But you were still jealous?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, because Lucas would be good for you. I know that. And my brother is an incredible person—caring, responsible. No emotional baggage. Or kids. He loves hard. Whoever he ends up with will be very lucky. He'll put her on a pedestal and worship the ground she walks on. Even if it was a joke, I could see him making you really fucking happy. And... I want that for you, Emma. But I want to try to be the one to make you happy. I was jealous that I might not get that opportunity.”

I can’t help but smile, warmth spreading through me like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Hudson,” I mutter. “You might be the only man who can.”

A spark of hope reflects in his eyes and I want to kiss him so damn bad, but I’m trying hard to respect his boundaries. No means no.

“I honestly thought it was obvious that grumpy single dad lumberjack with a chip on his shoulder is my type.”

“Oh really?” This earns me a genuine laugh from him, the sound infectious.

“I'm sorry if I hurt you,” I admit, biting my lip in remorse.

“You didn’t and don’t apologize, please. This is how my brothers and I are with each other. We push hard. And eventually, I'll get him back tenfold. He fucked around and will absolutely find out when he’s interested in someone.”

My mouth falls open in disbelief. “Oh my God. You're evil.”

“No, I'm not. But he started something that I will finish. I have older sibling duties to uphold.”

We continue munching on popcorn, and I can’t help but laugh when Tim Curry makes his grand entrance. “I love him,” I say, my heart lifting with the familiar joy he brings.

“Me too,” Hudson agrees, sharing the moment with me.

I don’t remember the last time I sat down and watched anything. Life has been a whirlwind of travel, social media, and avoiding my emotions—the endless list weighing heavy on my shoulders.

“What?” he asks, glancing at me. “You tensed.”

Of course, he noticed. He always does.

“It was nothing.”

“Lie.”

I exhale slowly, the weight of the moment pressing down on my chest. “This is the first time I've relaxed and laughed in years. When I’m with you, I have no worries.”

Hudson leans over and kisses my forehead, his lips brushing against my skin in a gesture that feels both tender and grounding. “You're already the calm in my storm, Em. Let me be the calm in yours.”