Roughing It

4. Blakely

CHAPTER FOUR

blakely

Heavy pounding on my front door wakes me from a deep sleep. I bolt upright and shove the sleep mask up my forehead. A second round of knocking has me checking my phone screen for the time. Who on earth is here at seven-thirty?

“BB! Come on!” Kirk’s muffled voice snaps me out of my sleep hangover.

Shit. Today is day one of my Austin exodus. Kirk told me—a few times—he’d be here early. We have a long day ahead of us to wherever he’s taking me.

At another hard knock and Kirk’s mumbled threat to pick the lock, I stumble out of my bed and scramble for the door, my colorful curses melding with the steady knocking.

Wrapping my robe around me, I fling the door open, and Kirk gives me a knowing look. “You overslept.”

“I swear, I set an alarm! Just give me?—”

He kisses my cheek. “I knew you’d be late. The good news is, I’m here thirty minutes early. This isn’t my first Blakely Bradshaw rodeo.”

I bump his shoulder in mock anger and jut my lower lip out in a pout. “Then the least you can do is make coffee while I get ready.”

Like magic, Kirk pulls one arm from behind his back, revealing a travel mug. He waggles the cup out of my reach. I make grabby hands, desperate for the nectar of life the tumbler holds.

The first sip of coffee, rich and creamy with the perfect amount of caramel, helps push the haze of sleep from my mind. I whisper to the lid, “Ah, my beloved. How I’ve missed you.”

Kirk snorts. “I hope for your sake, and his, you have access to a coffee maker.”

I freeze. “Wait. Is there a chance it won’t?”

“You’re going from here,” he gestures around my apartment, “a luxury high-rise with all the amenities you could ever want, to a one-bedroom, one-bathroom cabin in the woods. Yeah, BB, there’s a chance there won’t be a coffee maker.”

“That doesn’t work for me.” I trail off, trying to figure out if I can cram my Nespresso into one of my overstuffed suitcases. “The place surely has a percolator, at least. No one’s that savage.”

Under his breath, he mutters, “Seriously, Mr. Brooks, I wish you the best of luck.”

Thirty minutes later—exactly as Kirk predicted, the clever bastard—I’m ready. As I fasten oversized hoops in my ears, I say, “My bags are in here.”

Kirk stares at me for a beat.

“What? Do I have a stain or something?”

“Remember when I said today would be a long day of travel?”

“Yes.”

“And remember how we talked about leaving the full Blakely Bradshaw look here in Austin? ”

“Yes.” I smooth my palms over my belly-baring top and high-waisted wide-leg jeans.

He gestures to my heeled boots. “You’re a little overdressed. You look fantastic, don’t get me wrong.” He ducks his head at my scowl. “We have a flight to Albuquerque and then a three-hour car ride. Are you sure you don’t want to wear something a little more casual? Maybe tennis shoes? Those boots cannot be comfortable.”

Shit. He’s right. I dressed the way I usually do. This is fine. No biggie. Not a massive setback and a sign I’m destined to fail at this whole back-to-basics experiment. “Give me five.”

He nods, and I scramble to my closet, searching for a cute but comfortable travel outfit. When I rejoin him, I’m confident I’ve nailed it. How can you go wrong with athleisure wear?

“Come on, Kirk. Be a gentleman and help me with these bags. Marcus will kill you if he finds out you didn’t offer to help.” I bite my lip to keep the smile off my face. He loves me.

Kirk grabs the first bag with a huff, almost falling over at its weight. “What did you pack in this thing? Rocks?”

“No! Only the necessities, like you said.”

“Four suitcases are the necessities? Oh, my bad. I meant four suitcases packed to the brim and weighing in at a metric ton each are just the necessities?”

“I may have overdone it a little, but I don’t know what I’m walking into! You haven’t told me where I’m spending the month, so I have warm clothes, cool clothes, a variety of shoes and accessories, my makeup, my skincare routine, my hair straightener and curler.”

Kirk’s raised eyebrows stop me mid-list.

“Okay, I may see your point. You said we are flying into Albuquerque? At least tell me which direction we’re going from there. Fall in New Mexico could be comfortable, like here, or cold if we’re higher in the mountains. ”

“We’re heading Northeast from there. I recommend warmer clothing.” He shoots my thin yoga pants and cropped high-neck tank a critical once over.

“I was planning to wear a cardigan.”

He points to my platform sneakers. “So along with warm, I also suggest some of the more practical items you have.”

“Fine.” My eyes bounce from suitcase to suitcase, something suspiciously similar to failure flitting around my chest. “I need more time.”

“I figured. I was actually an hour early. Let’s see if we can narrow this down.” His calm smile has some of my nasty doubts melting.

He’s such a sneaky little shit. And I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Or him. Even if I do help fund his lifestyle, he’s still the most trustworthy and nicest person in my life.

Jeez, that’s depressing.

“Earth to BB. You there?”

Kirk’s teasing and the waft of coffee beneath my nose pull me back from my mini spiral. “Oh, yeah. I’m ready to make the hard cuts.” Opening the nearest suitcase, I pull out items. “My custom shampoo and conditioner? Necessity. My custom perfume? Not a necessity. See? Easy.”

A blush heats my cheeks when Kirk fixes his gaze on the fluffy blankets and extra pillows. When did I become this person? I survived for much longer with much, much less. Thirty days is a walk in the park. I’ve grown accustomed to things a certain way, but my determination and pride are riding on this, too. I’m not just a spoiled social media star.

With renewed determination, I dump out the entire bag and then do it again three more times.

“Get the ring light, Kirk. If I have to pack all over, we may as well film it.”

Kirk grins. “This is pure gold already.”

The tiny town of Trail Creek is picturesque. Hell, it’s adorable. Its pristine downtown square, four stop lights, and mom-and-pop shops are giving me major flashbacks. I grew up in a place like this—a tiny West Texas town straight off the set of a made-for-TV romcom, at least on the surface—but the shiny, happy facade of my childhood hometown hid a hideous inside. One full of people who love to judge and gossip but never do a damn thing when you actually need them.

Panic claws at my throat. What am I doing? I ran at seventeen and never looked back. Swore I’d never end up in a one-horse town where people think they know everything and look down on you for it again.

People still think they know everything about me and judge me, but at least as Blakely Bradshaw, I control the narrative. Plain ol’ Blake Lee Shaw never had that luxury.

“BB, you okay?”

I force a smile to my lips. My on-air voice slips out. “Of course! I mean, look at this little hamlet. People will eat it up. I can already picture the Stars Hollow comparisons in the comments. Can you grab some rolling shots through town for me?”

“For sure. And you’re right; it’s charming.”

Swallowing back a sour retort, I point out the window. “Is that a bakery? Let’s grab a snack.”

As soon as Kirk and I step inside, the rich aroma of coffee roasting perks up my mood and attention.

“Hi, welcome to The Bee and The Bean.” A young girl in her mid to late teens greets me while the pretty woman beside her goes wide-eyed.

“Blakely Bradshaw? Oh my gosh, I follow you! You’re really here.” The tall woman comes around the counter and extends her hand. “I’m Clairy Davis, welcome to Trail Creek.”

I silently curse myself for suggesting we stop. I don’t look awful, but I do look like I’ve been traveling for six hours. And thanks to the whole only packing necessities thing, I don’t have my travel bag of emergency makeup. I smooth my high ponytail and turn my smile up to eleven.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. What is this magical place?” I’m laying it on a little thick, but being extra nice will offset how I look. Plus, this might be the cutest place I’ve ever been that serves pastries and coffee.

The younger girl answers, “This is my aunt’s place, The Bee and The Bean. Why are you here?”

Clairy scolds, “Waverly, mind your manners, or I’ll call your mom.” To me, she says, “What Wavey means is, how can we help you? Coffee? Baked goodies?”

I fixate on the pastry display, indecision and regret running through my mind. What am I doing? It’s day one, and I already wish I was back in Austin.

In my lonely apartment.

With my lonely life.

No. Nope. I need this. And carbs. One more perk of this adventure? Leaving the packaged meal lifestyle behind.

“If you’re torn, I recommend the sea-salt croissant with a drizzle of honey. It’s one of our most popular items.”

“Sounds fantastic.” I surprise myself by meaning it and answering in my normal voice.

Waverly studies me. “You sound different. Less Alexis Rose-y ; it’s better.”

“Uh, thanks. Do you and your aunt want to grab a selfie?”

The cute gray-eyed teen shrugs.

Clearly, she’s not my target demographic.

Clairy bustles around packing my pastry and a coffee to go before slipping into frame with her niece and me. Once we finish taking pictures, Clairy thrusts a massive bag into my arms.

“What’s this? Not one croissant.” The heft alone tells me there’s way more than a single treat.

“I figure anyone willing to spend a month alone with Hudson Brooks deserves all the carbs she can eat.”

At my bewilderment, Clairy lays a warm hand on my arm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. Hudson is great, really. Everyone in town loves all three Brooks brothers. Bo and Gray, Hudson’s younger brothers, have been talking about you for over a week. They’re excited about what this could mean for their business.”

Bo and Gray are excited, but surviving Hudson requires pastry. Interesting. I flick my eyes to Kirk and find him pink-cheeked and looking anywhere but at me. Yeah, that’s not suspicious. What have I gotten myself into?

Fixing my face, I beam back at her. “Oh, no. It’s fine! I only have the company’s name. Peak Adventures. Kirk here forbade me from doing any Googling. He’s a real taskmaster.”

Kirk’s snort lessens some of the tension in my shoulders. Clairy grins at him. “Yeah, he looks like it.”

I wave at both Clairy and Waverly. “Bye, ladies. It was nice meeting you. Thank you for the bonus pastries! DM me so I can tag you in our picture.”

With that, Kirk and I slip back into the quiet of the rented car.

As we pull away, I glare at him. “What’s wrong with him?”

Hands up, Kirk gives me his best puppy dog eyes.

“Nuh-uh. Spill it.”

“You trust me, right?”

“You know I do. ”

“Then believe me when I say he’s nothing you can’t handle.”

Of course, I can handle the mystery man. I can handle anything life throws at me.

We pull up in front of a cute, westward-facing A-frame office. The Peak Adventures sign displayed front and center is bathed in a mixture of oranges, purples, and reds as the sun sinks behind the not-so-distant mountains. Like everything in this quaint town, it’s picture-perfect, which suits my needs.

As Kirk unloads my bags—two, thank you very much—I position myself in front of the building and take advantage of the lighting. Angling my camera so the Peak Adventures sign is visible, while also granting myself a flattering angle, I snap a variety of shots. I thumb through the pics, deleting the obvious nopes until I narrow it down to the top two. Slap on a filter, add a caption, and voila, post done. The second I post, the number of likes jumps.

Seeing those hearts gives me my fix of serotonin. This is going to work. I’ll spend thirty days away from the drama of fake friends, creepy college boys, and my lonely apartment. When I return to Austin, it will be with scores of new followers and a clear head, ready to tackle what the future holds.

Stretching my neck and back, I ask, “So, where is this guy?”

Kirk gives me a slight frown. “He’s in the office. He texted me saying he’ll be out shortly to greet you, but I have to get back on the road, or I’ll miss my flight.”

My nose wrinkles. I thought he’d be here out front. It’s kind of rude, but oh well. Whatever.

“Yeah, you get going. Don’t leave Marcus waiting too long; you know how anxious he gets when you travel without him.”

A dreamy smile lights up Kirk’s face at the mention of his husband. I’m not jealous at all. Totally happy for them. I don’t wish someone missed me enough to worry when I travel .

Sure, Jan . Keep telling yourself that.

“You’ve got this, BB.” Kirk wraps me in a hug. “It’s going to be life-changing. Beyond ratings or followers, I hope this brings you whatever you’re really searching for.”

His words stay with me long after the car disappears into a speck in the distance. What am I searching for?

When the universe doesn’t answer me—that bitch—I sigh and spin, crashing nose-first into a solid wall of muscle. Two large hands reach out to steady me before dropping away. The warmth of their grip, even for that brief moment, sends tingles down my spine.

Righting myself, I say, “Thanks, sorry about that. I didn’t see you…” My words trail off as I catch sight of who I ran into.

Holy shit. My walking wall is gorgeous.

Drop your jaw, melt your panties, please have my babies gorgeous. His tousled dark brown hair is perfect for tugging. And no man this rugged should have such full, kissable lips. Mix that with his square jaw, almost hidden by his dark, trimmed beard and strong brow, and my ovaries are dancing a conga.

But the real kicker? In a startling beautiful contrast only the human face can hold, this brawny, burly, built by the outdoors man has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his straight nose and cheeks. Cute wouldn’t be the first, second, or tenth thing to spring to mind when describing a man like this, but damn if those freckles don’t scream the word. They give a boyish charm to what would otherwise be a brutally handsome face.

He’s delicious.

The sound of his throat clearing pulls me from my perusal. My cheeks burn as I meet his gaze, and what I see there knocks the air from my lungs. The pine trees surrounding us have nothing on the green of his eyes, but it’s the intelligence, curiosity, and—if I’m not mistaken—annoyance shining out of them that locks me in place.

The next thirty days will either be the best thing I’ve ever done or the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

Extending my hand, I introduce myself. “Blakely Bradshaw, but I’m sure you already know that. You must be Hudson Brooks?”

He doesn’t take my hand. Which… awkward. He studies me, starting at my roots and ending at my toes. I shift from foot to foot, uncharacteristically squirmy just from his presence.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you.”

Ouch . That’ll leave a bruise on the ego.

Already chafing under his stare, I snap, “Do I pass inspection?” If I’m a teensy bit bitchy, I don’t think that can be held against me. He still hasn’t taken my damn hand.

A smirk—as if this sex god incarnate needs anything else to push him into the do me now category—tugs at his lips. “Load your bags. We’ve got an hour on the road and need to get there before full dark.”

“Load my bags? You aren’t going to help?” I glance around, hoping Kirk will miraculously reappear.

“Nope. You’re on my time and turf now, Princess.”

My mouth drops open at the nickname.

I’m set to give him a proper tongue-lashing, but he continues. “And rule one is you schlep your own shit. If you can’t load it, you can’t bring it.” He spins on his heel and climbs into the waiting Jeep.

Well, hell. Mistake takes the lead.