Personal Shopper (6 page)

“I realize that.” Hudson’s voice was quiet. “Thank you. And I – rarely do this. So smaller pool but quite brilliant.”

When Hudson leaned over to kiss his forehead, Will couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Tremendous.” Will drank his water. “You mind if I crash for awhile? It’s been a long coupla weeks.”

“Of course.”

“Still not a serial killer?”

“No, just a boring workaholic.”

“Fabulous.” Will yawned.

CHAPTER SIX

They slept for an hour, close but not exactly touching, the covers thrown about the foot of the bed. Will opened his eyes feeling well-fucked and toasty, face down in the down beauty of this mattress.

Hudson was already awake, sitting up with his smart phone in hand, scrolling through messages. The frown on his face, evident in the late afternoon light, woke Will up entirely.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly and Hudson jumped a little, clearly engrossed in whatever he was reading.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just work.” His voice wasn’t entirely convincing.

“Look, I know we’ve only known each other for uh,” Will leaned up to look at the clock next to the bed. “Six hours or so, and I’m just a flakey writer but…when you think about work, or you talk about work, your face just goes all…pissed and unhappy. And that sucks. Because your other face is pretty awesome.”

Sex made Will magnanimous.

Hudson closed up his phone and laid it on the nightstand. He took his time sliding back down under the covers.

“You’re right – at least about the pissed and unhappy. I’m not discussing my face.” He sighed. “My job is just…stressful and it overwhelms my life sometimes” he said eventually. “It’s difficult for me to just leave it behind and relax.”

“And I get that. I mean – this bed is fabulous and the sex was amazing but I’m still thinking about how to kill the sheriff.” Will pillowed his head on both arms, pressed up against Hudson’s side.

“Is that American slang for something?” Hudson looked vaguely concerned.

“No, no. Just…an ending I don’t want to write.”

“Then don’t. Isn’t that the joy of being your own boss?”

Will laughed, head butting Hudson’s hip. “I’m my own boss except for input from my agent, my editor, my publisher, my fans. They expect one thing and my brain apparently wants something else.”

“Ahhh.”

“You have a lot of people to answer to right?”

“An endless parade.” Hudson stretched out, brushing his hand over Will’s back.

“Me too. I just have the sudden urge to ignore them completely,” he sighed.

Hudson’s hand lingered under the sheet, flat against Will’s spine. “Me too.”

Will felt a contentment seeping up like a spring had opened up underneath the bed. The bed, the moment. The man. It all seemed to click together.

They lay in silence for a while, savoring the moment. Eventually though, Will could feel Hudson stirring again, the urge to move evident.

“I have to get going, pick up a few more things,” Will said softly, trying to give Hudson an out.

“Hmm? Right, right.” Hudson threw the covers off and hustled out of bed. “Do you want the first pass at the shower? I’m going to make a quick pot of coffee before we head out.”

Will blinked, hauling himself into a seated position.

“You’re still coming with me?”

Hudson stopped in mid-naked walk to the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice neutral. “Stupid assumption.”

“No – no, no. Great assumption. Since we talked about it before.” Will was out of the bed quickly. “I’d love for you to come with me.”

“I don’t mean to invite myself…”

“You’re not. You’re my personal shopper, remember?”

Hudson wavered under Will’s hands, smiled slowly. “Right.”

“You just surprised me okay? I thought you’d want to get rid of me.”

“Why? Because I got what I wanted?” There was a tease in Hudson’s voice that made Will smile. “Not really my style.”

It’s mine, Will thought, but he didn’t mention that, pressed up again Hudson’s side.

~ * ~ * ~

They managed to make it through showers and coffee without any more misunderstandings. Will felt his thoughts ping ponging between his book and his sister and this bizarre impromptu booty call/date that neither of them seemed inclined to end.

Every once in awhile, Hudson would check out, deep into his own head and Will felt like he was on a mission to prod him back into the moment.

They left the hotel at five, plunging into the heart of pre-theatre dinner time in midtown, which currently resembled a flash mob congregating on the street. They almost got separated in the crush of people but Will was inspired to grab Hudson by the hand and pull him into a run to get to the corner.

Breathless and laughing, they stood and waited for the green light – and Will realized he hadn’t let go of Hudson yet.

It was moment of decision – let go or hang on – but Hudson made the decision for both of them. He tightened his grip, twining their fingers together.

So they crossed the street, hand in hand.

They found a cab when they got to Park Avenue; a holiday miracle, clearly. Will had no idea where Hudson was directing the cab but frankly he didn’t care. Tucked into the backseat, Hudson pressed against him still holding his hand. He was starting to think a pod had stolen his brain and replaced him with a character from a rom com.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The saleswoman at “TaBLE” didn’t have glares or bad manners; she swooped in as soon as Will and Hudson entered the store, lit up and chatty as she escorted them in.

“Happy Holidays gentlemen – how can I assist you?”

Will waited for Hudson to speak and then realized it was his list they were dealing with. “Oh right. Service for eight. China, silverware, linens, serving stuff,” he rattled off.

The woman’s eyes produced actual dollar signs.

“Can I see a few patterns?” Hudson interjected. “We’re looking for classic, timeless and simple.”

“Right, what he said.”

They moved to a small wooden table with three chairs, stacked high with sample books. When they stepped apart to take a seat, Will realized how close they were standing to each other; a look at the saleswoman’s face read “nice gay couple who need china” and he didn’t bother to correct her.

Hudson flipped through the books one by one. He asked a few questions of Will ‘Do you like this color? What about these forks?’ and Will did his best to answer like a reasonably intelligent adult.

Every decision Hudson made had the saleswoman cooing with delight over his taste and by the time she dashed off to “make up a sample setting”, Will could barely contain his smile.

“Your gift in this lifetime is making sales people happy,” he said, turning so he could press his knees into Hudson’s thigh.

“It’s my credit card,” he said modestly, draping his hand over Will’s knee.

“It’s your impeccable taste.” Will felt warm down to his bones. “The table is going to look amazing. Now I need to put food on it. You think I should order French food from a restaurant or go with something else?”

“Are your sister’s fiancé’s parents French?” Hudson asked casually.

“Uh yeah.” Will frowned. “I think. They live in Paris so I assumed. Their last name is Meloraie.” He pronounced it terribly; he should probably practice that before they arrived.

Hudson looked straight ahead, watching the saleswoman scurrying about.

The saleswoman returned with two assistants and in a flurry of activity; in a few minutes there were two complete place settings in front of them.

Will had been thinking gold rimmed plate and heavy silver but Hudson had gone earthy and romantic; moss green linens with white china covered with what looked to be pressings of leaves and plants painted on. The silver looked old and delicate, the glassware a mixture of crystal and green glass. It was gorgeous – and Will had never spent a second of his life caring about a table setting before.

“Holy cow,” he murmured. He turned to Hudson with a huge smile. “You’re magic. And entirely wasted on acquisitions and development.”

Another happy salesperson and another gigantic dent on his credit card.

It was almost seven by the time they arranged for the purchases to be sent to Will’s loft the following afternoon. Another thing checked off the list and a tiny part of Will relaxed.

“What’s next?” Hudson asked as they stood in the doorway of the shop. It was full stop dark, the sky full of stars and the streets full of bundled up New Yorkers and tourists, running to and fro to enjoy the city.

“Let’s do something fun,” Will said absently, inhaling the cold air and smelling the potential for snow.

“Fun?”

“You may have heard of it.” Will hip checked him with his bags. “Hot chocolate, watch the skaters at Rockefeller Center, I don’t know. Christmasy stuff.”

“Oh.” Hudson wrapped his scarf a little tighter. “I’ve only actually seen those things in movies,” he admitted.

“Horrendous. Let’s play tourist.” Will grabbed his hand and was off again, pulling him toward the corner to hail a cab.

He just wasn’t ready to say good night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They dicked around midtown until almost eleven, eating dinner and dessert off corner vendors, wandering the streets like tourists. They window shopped – the list never quite off Will’s mind – and found some earrings for Veronica. Will felt ridiculously happy, despite the overdue book and upcoming Christmaspalooza.

“What’s left?” Hudson asked, tucked up against Will’s side as they walked down Fifth Avenue.

“Something for mom, something for the future mother in law, a tree, decorations, chairs and…crap, I need guest towels.”

Hudson stifled a chuckle. “That’s a hell of a list.”

“I wish to God I was just making reservations.” Will snapped his fingers. “Right, ordering food. Oh, and furniture.” He sighed. “Do I have time to replace all my furniture?”

“I cannot imagine you need to go that far.”

“Both my guest chairs are shaped like giant leaves,” Will said dryly.

“That sounds nice!”

Will gave him a sideways glance. “You’re like a pod person.”

“I’m a rich person yes? A European rich person, like the ones you’re trying to impress. I think leaf chairs sound delightful,” Hudson insisted.

“A perfect pod person.” Will pulled them to a stop. The streets were pretty deserted and he felt entirely comfortable with leaning over and kissing Hudson on his damn sexy mouth.

When they pulled apart, Hudson was locked into staring at Will.

“Come back to my apartment with me for the night,” Will said, almost without thinking. “Please.”

Something in Hudson’s breathing changed; like the air had been knocked out of him then returned just as quickly. He nodded, slow and sure.

~ * ~ * ~

An hour later, the clock struck midnight and Will deep inside Hudson’s body, listening to his jagged breathing and stuttered moans and his heart just…clenched.

Will didn’t fall asleep right away; he liked the way Hudson sprawled against him, the freefall of limbs so different than his controlled movements when he was awake. He’d murmured something about it being chilly as he molded himself to Will’s side but Will pretended it was pretense as he stared up at the dark shadows of his ceiling.

Did he even remember the last time someone slept over?

He wanted to think about his book, or the upcoming holiday of potential insanity but the slow steady breathing against his ear threw all that out the window until all he could process as he drifted off was –
this man is a dream I didn’t know I had come true.

“Seriously – you are the gay Martha Stewart,” Will said between bites of oatmeal. There was wheat toast and sliced fruit and enough bacon to feed thirteen. Hudson set a mean table. He’d been up at the crack of dawn and out to shop for food before Will ever opened his eyes.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment so – thank you.” Hudson sipped tea out of a Tardis mug, which was the most British thing Will had in the apartment. Besides Hudson.

“You’re welcome. My God, how do you make toast taste better?”

“Secrets I cannot disclose,” Hudson said dryly.

Will ate another slice of toast and made the appropriate “yum” noises.

“I wish my customers gave me the same pleasant response when I delivered contracts to them,” he mused.

“Clearly you need to serve them breakfast when you do it.”

“Mmm.” Hudson got up and added more hot water to his cup. Will enjoyed the view of his ass in black silk pajama pants. He didn’t realize he even owned those.

“Have you ever thought of doing something else?

“Like?” Hudson bypassed his seat across from Will and came to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder in an intimate proximity that made Will want to babble incoherently.

“Like – something to do with fashion. Or food. Or decorating.” Will’s hand did an expansive gesture. “You’ve got this amazing eye for details. You pull stuff together like…” He snapped. “That’s impressive.”

“You’ve only known me for twenty hours and unless there’s a market for personal shoppers for fake holiday celebrations – I’m thinking I’ll keep my corporate drone career on track.” There was amusement in his voice but there was something else Will thought he heard. Maybe – longing.

“Fine.” Will pressed a smacky kiss on his cheek. “Waste your ability to coordinate pretty.”

“Consider yourself lucky to enjoy this unique experience.”

~ * ~ * ~

Next up on the list – the Christmas Tree.

The guy on the corner sold them a six footer for fifty bucks, which Will found obscene.

“And this is why Tom and Nancy wouldn’t let us have a tree,” he bitched as he maneuvered his end (the top) and walked sideways around the milling traffic on his street.

“Highway robbery?” Hudson asked as he gripped the bottom of the tree.

“That and pine needles all over the shag carpeting.”

It was only a block and a half, then up the stairs and into the lobby, across and into the elevator. By the time Hudson hit the seventh floor button, Will was sweating like a whore in church.

“I miss the days when you could throw an orphan a farthing and he’d do this sort of thing for you,” he muttered.