“The little one?” Nick eyed it skeptically.
“Fine, if you would rather have the box with the cashmere sweater in it. Your choice.”
Allie looked on, unable to contain her smile as Nick’s eyes volleyed between the big box in his hands and the little one Hudson held in his palm. “You know what they say about big things coming in small packages,” she prompted.
Nick laughed. “That’s what she said.” He tossed the larger box aside and snatched the smaller one out of Hudson’s hand. After ripping off the ribbon, he lifted the lid to find a silver key nestled inside with a chain that read HARLEY DAVIDSON. Nick was speechless for about a nanosecond, then his head shot up. “No fuckin’ way.”
“There’s still a few minutes before dinner’s ready,” Allie said. “Why don’t you take him down to the garage and show him.”
“It’s here?”
“You want to go see it?”
“Uh, hell yeah.” Nick dropped the box and was on his feet, bouncing on the balls like he did when he was a kid.
Hudson crooked an elbow around his little brother’s neck and dragged him toward the foyer with a knuckle to the head. “Get the lead out, little man.” It was possible he was as excited as his brother was. They were hanging out again and Nick was flashing a smile that reminded him of when he was a kid opening up some POS present Hudson had managed to scrape enough money together to buy. But this time he was giving his brother something that made up for a childhood of crap cars with wheels that fell off after a week. This time his brother was getting the real-fucking-deal Hot Wheels.
Nick broke free and ran ahead. He punched the button for the elevator. “C’mon, old man. Ditch the walker and hurry up.”
Hudson had barely stepped onto the elevator when Nick thumb-punched the Door Close button. He thought his brother was going to bounce off the walls during what must’ve been the longest elevator ride of his life.
In three . . . two . . . one . . . the doors opened.
Parked next to Hudson’s gun-metal gray DB9 was Nick’s unicorn, a Harley Davidson Fat Boy, laid back and luxurious with the unmistakable nostalgic profile.
Hudson Chase didn’t fuck around when it came to motorcycles.
Nick moved toward the shiny black classic as if he got too close, the mirage would disappear. “Is this mine?”
Hudson chuckled. “Yeah, merry Christmas.”
His brother let his hand drift over the chrome badge emblazoned on the side of the leather strap tank, then threw his leg over the bike.
“It’s a Twin Cam 103 with six-speed cruise drive transmission. It’s got a chrome speedometer and ignition switch console.” Hudson pointed. “All the info you need at a quick glance.”
Nick’s hands darted to the handlebars that were set wide and made of stainless steel with bare-knuckle chrome risers. “This is one sick-ass bike.”
“If you don’t like the color or the make, we can trade it in.”
“No way. This is the best present in the world, bro. I love it.” Nick kicked back on the throne of metal, surveying the concrete wall in front of him like it was the open road. “When are we going riding?”
“Bike, snow, not a good combo.”
“Ah, come on, buzzkill.”
“No bike in this weather. Not to mention you’ll freeze your balls off.”
“Like I said. Buzz. Kill.” Nick cocked a grin.
“Common sense.” Hudson took two quick strides forward. “It has mirror chrome wheels and a NextGen security system that automatically arms and disarms the ride,” he said, pointing out the bells and whistles. “The thing is better than what’s on my bike.”
Nick was touching everything, skimming his hands over every inch. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Try thank you.”
He looked up. “Thank you, Hudson.”
“You’re welcome. Glad you like it.” Hudson felt his phone vibrate in the ass pocket of his pants. He dug the thing out and with his thumbs working, punched a message before slipping the phone back in his pocket. “Dinner’s ready.” As soon as he finished his sentence, his phone vibrated again.
“We better get our asses upstairs,” Nick said, swinging his leg over the bike in a dismount.
“Yeah.” Hudson typed a reply and put the phone away again, then shot his brother a stern glare. “No drinking and riding, feel me?”
“Dude, when are you going to let up? Sober, remember?” Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a thirty-day chip. He flicked it at Hudson.
Hudson caught the chip, studying one side, then the other. There were numerous things to say, yet he stood there with not a damn thing coming to mind except, “This is my Christmas present, Nicky.” He cleared his throat. “We better hit it before Allie starts texting my ass again.”
Nick laughed. “So whipped.”
“No denying.” He grinned. “And one day, it will happen to you.” Hudson clapped his brother on the shoulder as they headed toward the elevator. On the ride up, he launched into more details about Nick’s new piece of horsepower. While he pontificated, sound effects rumbled out of Nick’s piehole and echoed off the wood paneling.
When they stepped off, Allie looked up from setting a platter of food on the table.”Perfect timing. Grab a seat, you two.”
“Can I help you with something?” Hudson brushed his lips against her cheek.
“No. Oh wait, yes! The wine.” She jockeyed between the table and the kitchen, trying to work out which way to go.
“I got it.”
Allie stopped him with a touch to his forearm. “Unless you’d rather not.” She glanced at Nick, who was sticking his finger in the sweet potatoes.
The affection this woman had not only for him, but for his brother as well, was an arrow to the heart. “We’re good, baby.” Nick had made it clear he didn’t want everyone walking on eggshells around him. He wanted things as normal as possible, and since Hudson would normally serve wine with a dinner, he would tonight as well.
He’d just returned from grabbing a bottle of Chardonnay out of the wine fridge when Allie came out of the kitchen. Her arms were loaded with yet another dish, but damn it was his favorite: green bean casserole with extra crispy onions. The dish might have been low-rent to some, but hell if it wasn’t a classic.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” he said. As out of her element as Allie had seemed, everything was pulled together perfectly.
Hudson released the cork with a soft rush of air and started to fill their glasses. Allie brought out the last dish, and fuck him, he was going to drop down on bended knee.
“Oh shit, are those scalloped potatoes?” Nick blurted before he could even get a word out.
“You got it.”
“Dude, Hudson, she’s a keeper. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Sit, please. Eat while it’s hot.” Allie sat down, and just as she did her phone let out a muted shrill of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”
Hudson raised a brow at the 1980s tune that was a pop-culture anthem to do just that.
“Harper.” She smiled sheepishly. “She programmed it, not me.”
Hudson and Nick both laughed at her quickly offered defense.
“Hey there,” she said into the phone. “How’s St. Louis? Uncle Eddie still have his pants on?” A frown marred her perfect brow. “You’ve been at O’Hare this whole time?” She stood and moved toward the panoramic windows overlooking Lake Shore Drive. Snow shifted one way, then sharply to the other with each gust of wind. “It’s coming down pretty hard, but traffic is moving.” There was a beat of silence. “Well obviously you’re not getting a flight tonight . . . No, we haven’t eaten yet.”