My Kind of Wonderful Read online

  But it was more too. She’d seen the way he was with his mom. Genuine. Loyal. Fiercely protective.

  Not muted.

  She could tell he was the same way with his siblings—all half siblings, as she now knew—and his siblings’ significant others as well. It appeared that when Hudson cared, he cared with his entire being, and damn that was attractive. In fact, several times he’d reacted instinctively to try to help her, a perfect stranger. First on the mountain and then at the table. And at first she’d assumed it was pity, exacerbated when she’d accidentally removed her cap and he’d seen her head. Knowledge had come into his gaze then.

  And sympathy.

  Which had made her grind her back teeth. Because it had only been after that when he’d accepted the idea of the mural really happening. And actually, not accepted so much as resigned himself to it.

  And that made her mad. Furious, truthfully, because she didn’t want him to feel bad for her.

  But you do want his wall…

  And the truth was that she didn’t feel pitied by him. She felt like maybe that was just who Hudson was to the very core—a guy who genuinely cared.

  And as much as she didn’t need him to, as much as she wanted to be independent and do things for herself, she couldn’t help admitting that soaking up some more of his warmth and strength wouldn’t be a hardship.

  She sighed. She was sitting outside on a bench on the covered patio facing the wall. She’d just finished talking with Kenna when she caught sight of Gray and Penny in the throng of people moving about. They stood on the steps outside the lodge. Penny wore black leggings and fabulous high-heeled boots and a snug silver jacket that showed off an enviably curvy figure. Her long brown hair fell free to the middle of her back. She looked like a snow princess.

  Bailey wasn’t vain but she really did miss her hair. Three months since her last chemo treatment and she was lucky to have a few inches of new growth, but it wasn’t thick or luscious. Nope, not even close. Instead it seemed like ostrich fuzz. Bedraggled baby-ostrich fuzz.

  Gray grinned at Penny, a confident sexy grin, and for a beat he looked a lot like Hud as he leaned in close to his wife, putting his mouth to her ear. Penny laughed at whatever he whispered, probably a naughty little nothing, and wrapped her arms around him tight.

  Gray lifted her up, one hand around her back and the other palming her butt, and kissed her. It looked like a really great kiss, and Bailey’s heart gave an envious pitter-patter.

  She wouldn’t mind having a man look at her like that, like she was his entire world, and she really wouldn’t mind being kissed like that either. Busy with that thought, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Hud slouched onto the bench next to her. He leaned back, stretched out his long legs, and tilted his face up to the low midmorning sun now slanting in beneath the patio roof.

  He wore dark sunglasses and his ski patrol gear. Black cargo ski pants. Long-sleeved outdoor wear that fit him like a glove. At least a day of scruff on a square jaw. Dark short hair, wind tousled and standing up in a way that only made him seem sexier. Damn him.

  So he was a brooding, silent type, so what? She had little to no experience with that because for far too long things like hot guys with ’tudes had been luxury items that she’d never had time for. She’d never had time for anything except survival.

  But she’d done that, she reminded herself. She was alive and now planning on staying that way. So it was definitely time to treat herself to the things she’d missed out on.

  Like painting a mural. Skiing in the Rockies. Learning to ballroom dance. Explore some castles in Europe. See the Greek Islands. Skydive. Her list, basically. Which meant that the prickly Hudson Kincaid could bite her, sexiness and all. She took a quick glance and found him watching her, a look in his eyes that made her the prickly one. “We’re not going to talk about it,” she said. “Ever.”

  “Which?” he asked. “The fact that you can’t read a map but you expect me to believe you can create a sixty-foot-long, thirty-foot-high mural? Or that you manipulated me into doing it anyway?”

  She blew out a sigh. And then let out a low laugh. Dammit. He wasn’t going to ask her to talk about it at all. She’d vastly underestimated him.

  “Just tell me you know how to paint a mural,” he said.

  “Scared?” she asked.

  “Terrified.”

  “Uh-huh.” She arched a brow. “You don’t seem the type to be afraid of much.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Maybe. She was certainly surprised at her unexpected attraction to him. She was also surprised at his phone and radio, both which were going off constantly. She could tell he was multitasking, monitoring the radio with one ear and concentrating on her with the other. His phone he simply pulled out, glanced at, and then ignored. She was fascinated by this, by him. He definitely hadn’t shaved that morning. Probably not yesterday morning either. His hands were big and sexy, even with the ragged scars across his palms, and she wondered how he’d gotten them. “I can paint,” she said. “I promise.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled with what she hoped looked like confidence and determination. “Trust me, Hudson, I can do this and it’s going to be good.”

  His eyes darkened a little, whether at the use of his given name or the way she’d said it, which had been admittedly a little low and husky. Entirely unintentionally, of course, but the man made her feel things.

  Such things…

  He didn’t say anything for a few moments, which should’ve been uncomfortable but in reality was the opposite. “Heard you interviewed everyone,” he finally murmured.

  “Except you,” she agreed. And it’d been fun and fascinating. She’d learned a lot about the Kincaids from what they’d told her.

  And even more from what they hadn’t. “Are you ready to be interviewed?” she asked.

  “Tell me what you think you already know.”

  She smiled. He didn’t want to talk about himself. She got that loud and clear. Gray had been the first one up to speak with her and he’d told her there were five Kincaid siblings. They all had the same father, though no one had anything good to say about the man. The only other Kincaid missing from the mountain was Jacob, Hudson’s twin. She’d heard that little bit from Carrie, although Bailey still wasn’t clear whether Jacob was alive or dead.

  Gray had been pretty close-mouthed about the subject, letting her know that it was Hudson’s story to tell. Or not tell. Aidan had been even less forthcoming, saying only that Jacob had gone into the military at age eighteen and hadn’t come back.

  Kenna had been more frank. “Jacob’s gone and Hud’s fucked up because of it,” she’d said. “He misses his other half.”

  Bailey would eventually need the story if she wanted to represent the entire Kincaid clan, but she knew now it’d have to come from Hudson himself.

  “What I know,” she said carefully, “is that I love to draw caricatures of people, often times people I don’t even know. I do it by observing and then assigning one word to them.”

  “And the words you assigned to us Kincaids?”

  He was quick, she’d give him that. “Bossy, funny, adventurous, brave, original,” she said.

  He remained still, only the slightest of smiles curving his lips. “Gray, Penny, Aidan, Lily, and Kenna, in that order.”

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “You know your family.”

  “Impressed and something else.” He met her gaze, his shuttered from her by those glasses.

  The way he read her with such ease was startling. “Nope,” she denied. “That’s it. Just impressed.”

  He cocked his head and studied her. “Liar,” he chided. “And we both know you don’t have to interview me for your one word. You already have it. What is it?”

  She let out a low laugh. “I don’t think—”

  “Tell me.”

  “Know-it-all.”

  “That’s three words,” he said.

&n
bsp; “I hyphenated.”

  His mouth twitched. “So you’ve got me all figured out. What else could you possibly need to know?”

  “Lots, actually,” she said.

  He arched a brow, silently saying, Such as?

  In for a penny, in for a pound… “Jacob,” she said softly.

  His expression shifted from mildly amused to absolutely stone blank. It was both fascinating and heartbreaking. “There are five of you Kincaid siblings,” she said. “And going off what I’ve heard so far, everyone wants the mural to be a true reflection of the group. As a whole and individually.”

  No response from Hudson. Hell, she wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

  She let out a breath. “Maybe you could just give me enough to get started.”

  More nothing.

  “I understand it’s difficult to talk about,” she said, and paused.

  Nothing but crickets.

  She remembered the time she’d designed a new logo for a local Denver clothing designer, family run. The patriarch had recently had a stroke, leaving his wife and children to run his two exclusive boutiques. They were in charge of everything top to bottom, including speaking for him. But the family was terrified of doing the wrong thing, such as taking the business in the wrong direction. So Bailey had gently steered them into discussing the man lying in a rehabilitation center, and in doing so, they’d been able to come up with exactly what he would have wanted. “Your siblings mentioned him,” she said. “All fondly. They have good memories of him.”

  Hud continued to impersonate a statue, remaining quiet, so much so that she figured he had no intention of saying another word to her. Ever. She turned her head and looked at him.

  His expression was still carefully blank, but she thought maybe she could see something in there, a flash of something deep. Pain? Regret? She paused again. “Have you ever thought that talking about him might help?”

  He turned his head toward the mountain run that led straight to the lodge, watching the skiers and boarders make their various ways down. Some were smooth and extremely talented. Some were clearly just doing their best to stay upright. And some were flat on their asses after a fall. Bailey had a feeling that Hudson was seeing none of that but something from his past.

  “What do you think?” she asked quietly. “Talking about it, or… no?”

  He snorted.

  Okay so that was not only a no, it was also a big, fat no.

  “Jacob’s story isn’t relevant here,” he said. “Not for a mural.”

  “You’ve seen the draft,” she said. “You know that—”

  “Make something up. Hell, make the whole thing up. No one needs to know that much about us.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and then had to ask. “So is it just me? Or are you always a little bit grumpy?”

  He turned his head toward her but didn’t speak.

  She arched a brow in a question, wondering if he’d answer. He did, with a slow smile that actually stopped her heart for a second, and her ability to breathe. The smile was followed by a laugh, a full-bodied one that had his head tipping back. When he’d finished, he spread his arms out on the bench and grinned at her.

  Nope. Still not able to breathe, she thought, a little dazed by him. Or a lot dazed. How long had it been since her lady bits had quivered?

  Way too long.

  But they were quivering now, coming to life with a tingle that she thought absolutely shouldn’t be happening in broad daylight.

  Or maybe it should.

  It’s okay to live, she reminded herself. Okay to be happy and excited.

  And there was no doubt she was both, she thought, still staring at him.

  When his smile slowly faded, she braced herself.

  “Look,” he said. “I don’t mean to be an asshole. But the timing for this mural is bad, for reasons you don’t understand.”

  “Because your mom mixes up the present and the past?” she asked. “Because the resort is in financial trouble?”

  He gave her a long once-over, and when he spoke he sounded less than thrilled with her knowledge. “You’ve done your homework.”

  “I’m good at research,” she allowed.

  “So am I,” he said, and lifted his phone, where he’d just plugged her into his browser. “You’re a graphic artist and you work for yourself. You’ve created logos and brandings for a brewery, a local chain of two grocery stores, and for a few small towns. But you’ve never done an outdoor mural. You’ve never done any sort of public painting—period.”

  She held her breath, waiting for the rest, but apparently even Hudson Kincaid couldn’t read at the speed of light.

  “Tell me why you want this mural so bad,” he said.

  “Hey, you’re the one being interviewed,” she said playfully. “Hudson Edward Kincaid, also known as Hud, also known as head of ski patrol and a Cedar Ridge cop.”

  He smiled. “See, you have plenty of words for me. Looks like we’re done here after all.”

  Smug bastard. But she returned his smile. “It’s possible that if you gave me a few honest minutes, I’d come up with better words.”

  “I’m not really interested in how people see me.”

  Nope, he wouldn’t be. She knew that much already. Maybe her word for him should’ve been stalwart. Or unfaltering.

  Not to mention stubborn.

  But one thing was certain, he wasn’t going to open up and be honest about himself unless she made the first move to do so. “You have a great family,” she said. “You’re all…”

  “Insane?”

  She smiled. “Tight-knit.”

  He nodded. “Like a pack of feral wolf cubs. Which explains why we always want to beat the shit out of each other.”

  “You do not,” she said on a shocked laugh.

  He looked at her. “You have family, Bailey?”

  Goodness, she liked the way he said her name. Slowly. In that voice as smooth as aged whiskey. “Just my mom,” she said.

  “Well, unless you’ve got a big family with too many siblings, you couldn’t possibly understand the constant urge to beat the shit out of each other.”

  “That may be true,” she admitted. “Although now that I’ve seen the Kincaids at the breakfast table and how you all interact, maybe I understand more than you think.”

  “We’re usually worse. We were on our best behavior.”

  She laughed. Yes, they’d bickered, stolen food off one another’s plates, snarled, and insulted, but they’d had each other’s backs. “Actually, I thought it was amazing,” she said. “I was envious as hell.”

  He looked surprised. “Has it always been just you and your mom?”

  She nodded.

  “What happened to your dad?” he asked.

  She shrugged. Her dad was around. He worked in steel and he actually didn’t live too far from her. But they didn’t see much of him, never had. She always hated to talk about this because it left her feeling like she was… pathetic. And she didn’t feel pathetic. Mostly. “He’s around. But not around, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” he said with surprising understanding.

  “He’s not really a family guy,” she said, “but I see him every once in a while.”

  He studied her for a long moment as the sun kept them warm. “Okay, so what do you need?”

  The question astounded her. What did she need? Where did she start with that? She wished she could win the lotto to pay off some serious medical debts. She wished for her mother to understand that Bailey was really okay and didn’t need to be babied through life anymore. She wished Aaron would give up on her without her having to further hurt him.

  And after today, she realized she wished to get laid at some point in this decade before she jumped Hud’s very sexy bones.

  Options…

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I’d be happy with the rest of the day going as well as the morning has.”