Karly didn’t speak when Hudson got into the car. One look at the desolation in his eyes had her opening her arms to him. She held him tight as he shook with subdued sobs, smoothing his back, his hair, trying to infuse him with strength.
When he eased away, his expression bereft, she said, ‘I can leave my car at the agency if you want to go home?’
He nodded and proceeded to drive the fifty minutes to his house in Wheelers Hill in silence, but his hands clenching the steering wheel eased as the suburbs passed, and by the time they pulled into a driveway and he used a remote to open the electronic gate, he seemed calmer.
‘This place is amazing,’ she said, equal parts envious and awestruck as he drove up a circular drive and parked under a portico out the front of a modern mansion.
‘It’s home.’ He shrugged and switched off the engine, turning to face her. ‘Thanks for being so understanding back there.’
‘Not a problem. How did it go?’
‘For a first meeting in over twenty years, as expected.’ He grimaced and kneaded the back of his neck. ‘I thought I’d be immune to him, to anything he had to say. But he got to me …’
He sounded so forlorn as he trailed off, she wanted to hug him again. But as she unbuckled her seatbelt, he said, ‘You need food and I’ve got leftover Singaporean noodles in the fridge.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
As they entered his house and he disarmed the alarm, she struggled not to gape. Real estate in Melbourne must be a hell of a lot more lucrative than Acacia Haven, because she’d never been inside such an opulent mansion. Parquet floors glittered beneath a mini chandelier hanging from towering ceilings, with a sweeping double staircase leading to the second floor. But rather than being ostentatious, the place had a homely feel that surprised her, with its warm woods and subtle colour scheme.
‘This place is something else,’ she said, hoping she wasn’t gawping when he shot her a surprised look. ‘Is it okay if I move in?’
For the first time since he’d met his dad, he smiled. ‘Be my guest. There are six bedrooms.’
‘Disappointing. I was hoping to share yours.’
‘Now that’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time.’
Offer… his offhand remark reminded her of why she’d come to Melbourne, to tell him in person why Pop wouldn’t be accepting his proposal. But now she’d seen why he was so hellbent on acquiring her agency, how could she do it?
He’d find other investors; successful guys like him always did. Though the thought of ruining his day further after what she’d witnessed at that youth centre … however she couched it, her disclosure would suck.
‘Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour then we can eat.’
She fell in love as he showed her around. Not with him—though that could be on the cards if he kept reeling her in with his allround gorgeousness—but with his home. She’d always been a fan of houses and hotels and buildings growing up. She’d loved sitting next to Pop in his office when he listed new places, asking questions, poring over the pictures. Pop hadn’t pushed her into following in his footsteps but it had been inevitable from the time she attended her first auction, age five. The buzz in the crowd, Pop’s booming voice calling out bids, people trying to be subtle before yelling a price at the last minute: she’d loved every minute of it.
Housing had become her passion and that’s why Pop selling the agency to her had become imperative. But being welcomed into Hudson’s life like this, seeing him at his most vulnerable earlier and now in his home, made her doubt herself.
Was she doing the right thing?
Besting him had been her goal when they first met. Would she be this gung-ho and determined to own the agency if he didn’t want it so badly? A small part of her couldn’t help but think she might’ve considered other options, like moving away, if she hadn’t become so caught up in trying to prove she could do this on her own.
She’d always been doggedly determined—or stubborn, as Pop would say. In primary school, when Dean McRae had said she’d never beat him in cross country, she’d trained every day for two months just so she could prove him wrong. Dean didn’t learn his lesson; in high school he bet twenty bucks she couldn’t win the two-hundred-metre freestyle, the premier event at the interschool swimming carnival. For that, she’d been up at six every morning doing laps in the pool and added ocean swims after school. She’d pipped him by a second.
At some point, her motivation for wanting the agency had become confused. Initially, it had been about preserving Pop’s legacy, a way of giving back to him for all he’d sacrificed for her. But somewhere along the way, around the time Hudson had barged into their lives and focussed on acquiring the agency, her stubbornness had kicked in and lines had blurred.
So where did that leave her now?
Hudson had opened up to her in unexpected ways and she hated having to ruin his trust in her.
As they entered the kitchen, she was in serious danger of swooning. Shiny flecked black marble benchtops gleamed in the reflection from the funky chrome lights, and pristine white cupboards, a crimson splashback behind an eight-burner induction stove and a monstrous charcoal fridge complete with ice maker and clear glass to see inside made her stop dead in her tracks and clutch her heart. ‘This is gorgeous.’
‘I agree.’ But he was looking at her, not the kitchen, and the tenderness in his eyes almost undid her all over again.
‘Tell me you cook and don’t have this masterpiece for show.’
‘I cook.’ He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘If you play your cards right maybe you’ll get to find out that the culinary arts are another of my many talents.’
She liked this playful side of him. It brought them back onto stable footing and went some way to soothing her disquieted soul. Because the moment he’d let her see the real him, she knew they’d moved past a short-term casual fling and she wanted more. More of this: him being vulnerable with her, spending time at his home, time together in Acacia Haven.