Roughing It

5. Hudson

CHAPTER FIVE

hudson

I watch as the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen tries and fails to load her suitcases into my Jeep.

Once my hands brushed Blakely Bradshaw’s smooth skin, I knew I was in trouble. Does it justify my being an asshole and hiding in my car? Probably not, but I need space before I do something stupid like ask her if she’ll wrap her thighs around my head and let me wear her like a pair of earmuffs.

What the hell am I doing? Besides holing up in my Jeep, hoping she didn’t spot the outline of my cock against my zipper.

I haven’t reacted to a woman like this ever. Not even with Paige, and I thought she was the one. I snort. The one. More like the gone.

There’s a loud thump behind me, and I twist in my seat so I can enjoy the show. Blakely stands with her fists on her hips, glowering at one of her rose-gold suitcases, which now lies in the dirt.

This has disaster written all over it. What’s this city siren doing out here? Does she think she can hang with me, learn from me, for thirty days? She can’t even lift her goddamn suitcase. When she stamps her tiny foot before kicking the immobile luggage, I let out a bark of laughter.

That gets her attention.

Blue-green eyes, ocean eyes—and not the murky shores off Galveston, I’m talking somewhere exotic—stare at me wide and glistening with unshed tears. Her cute button nose scrunches, and she’s honest to god pouting, her puffy, biteable as fuck lip pooched out. What I wouldn’t give to run my teeth over it.

“I need help. Can you please put my bags in the car?”

Every word ends in uh and is sweet enough to give you a mouth full of fucking cavities. It’s also fake as hell.

“Sorry. No can do. I told you, Princess, if you can’t carry it, you can’t bring it.”

The pout and big doe-eyes disappear, leaving a spitfire in their place. “Don’t call me Princess. My name’s Blakely, which you’d know if you’d bothered to introduce yourself after plowing me over outside.”

Yep. Knew it. Her natural voice is much more mellow, the vowels a little longer, and no more of that annoying vocal fry bullshit. She almost sounds like she grew up in the Panhandle or West Texas. Interesting.

I rest one arm on the steering wheel and raise an eyebrow. “I plowed into you? If memory serves, you slammed that pretty face into me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jerk who didn’t introduce himself or shake my hand. And who won’t help me load my bags!”

“Good counterpoint,” I say, my voice dry as a bone.

“Ugh, you’re the worst!”

“No, you’re just a spoiled city girl used to getting her way.”

Blakely’s mouth opens, but she snaps it shut and makes another feeble attempt to lift her suitcase into the back. She gets it halfway in before losing her grip.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Figure it out, or leave it behind. Either way, do something quick. I’m hitting the road in five minutes, whether you’re loaded or not.”

“You won’t leave me here. I’m the customer!”

“I absolutely will leave you here. When I agreed to this shitshow of a circus you’ve brought to my door, it was with the understanding you’d follow my rules. Or didn’t your boss tell you?”

A little hmph sound pierces the air. “Kirk is not my boss. If anything, he works for me.” Her arms cross, pushing her more-than-a-handful tits together. My cock would look fantastic sliding between those while bumping into her pouty pink mouth.

Fuck. I’ve got to get a grip on my hormones. I’m thirty-five, not fucking fifteen.

“Tomato, tamato, Princess. Still doesn’t get your bags in the car.”

If looks could kill, the daggers Blakely shoots my way would be my demise. The next thing I know, the driver’s side half-door swings open, and a small finger pokes me.

“Listen here. You and I will spend the next thirty days together and have a grand old time doing it. I’ve got goals. Plans. Things I want to learn about myself. Things I want you to teach me while I’m out here. So put those muscles to good use, you bear of a man, and help me load my bags so we can get to the great motherfucking outdoors.”

The boner from earlier roars back to life at her fiery outburst, and my chest tingles where she poked me. A steady stream of thoughts runs through my head, none of them related to being outdoors—apart from a single highly detailed one where I chase this gorgeous creature through the pines until I catch her and fuck the sass out of her. The image of the supple skin of her back, red and raw from being pressed into the bark of a tree, my lips soothing the sting away while she slumps in my arms a pliant, sweaty mess, has me adjusting myself once again. If I don’t stop this train, I’m gonna come in my pants.

Shaking my head and forcing that last image out of my mind, I crane my head. “Did you call me a bear of a man?”

“Yes! I mean, look at you all massive, with that sexy dark beard.” She gestures at me before her mouth drops open. “I didn’t mean sexy. I mean scruffy. Your scruffy beard. Like a shaggy bear.”

“Scruffy. Whatever you say, Princess.”

“Do. Not. Call. Me. Princess.”

“Spoiled? Diva? City Mouse? Pick your poison.”

Another flash of anger has her tight little body tensing. “You can call me Blakely. Ms. Bradshaw, if you’re lucky.”

My lip tugs up in one corner. Fuck if that isn’t sexy.

She smiles at her own joke before it falls. “My friends call me BB. But most, with the exception of Kirk, don’t like me, so I guess BB would fit for you, too.”

I frown at her, pondering her words. “I don’t dislike you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” Her muttered words are barely audible.

Dammit. Rubbing my hand down my face, I swing my legs out of the Jeep and jerk one of her bags off the ground. “Come on. I’ll load this one, then help you with the other.”

She blinks once. Twice. “You’re breaking your rule?”

“Guess I’m in a giving mood.”

Blakely squeals and jumps to hug me, knocking the suitcase from my grasp when her arms wrap around me, and her legs come off the ground, trusting I’ll catch her.

“Thank you! I swear, I only brought the essentials. If you follow me, you’d know I started with four bags this size before we left Austin. I pared it down to these two.”

She says it with so much pride, like she deserves a goddamn gold star for bringing fifty pounds of crap instead of a hundred.

And damn if I don’t want to give her one.

Her chest presses against mine, and the sweet scent of her hair tickles my nose. She smells like summer. As if realizing where she is, she stiffens and wriggles out of my grasp.

Clearing her throat, she says, “Now that we’ve settled bag-gate, care to do a quick live with me?” She snags her phone and waves it at me.

“Hard pass, Princess.”

“I told you not to call me that. It’s a super short check-in. It doesn’t have to be live; we can do a recording, and I’ll upload it while you drive.”

Before I can turn her down again, the camera is on, and her entire disposition changes. She’s back to using that fake affectation when she speaks, her smile tugging at her lips but failing to meet her eyes.

“Hey, BBs! I finally made it to Trail Creek, New Mexico. You won’t believe how quaint and quiet it is. When you book your trip here, whether for winter snow fun or summer swimming, make sure you check out The Bee and The Bean; the coffee and bakery items are amazing.”

I watch in disbelief as she stretches the word amazing into an orgasmic sound.

“Um, also, I met my guide, the capable and climbable Hudson Brooks of Peak Adventures.” She gives the camera a conspiratorial wink and playfully tugs at my arm. When I scowl, a quick flash of annoyance flickers across her face.

Pouting into the lens with a dramatic whisper, she says, “ He’s a little camera shy, BBs, but I promise you, he’s a snack! Scratch that; he’s the whole meal.”

The overwhelming urge to grab her and shake her until the camera falls to the ground is a powerful temptation I’m hard-pressed to resist. I can picture it. Her pink lips parting to tell me off before my tongue slips between them and explores her mouth. The sweet taste of her filling my senses. Her lush body pressed against mine, my hands gliding up her legs, cupping her rounded ass…

I shake my head, clearing out the vivid images. Focus on the annoyance, not the breathtaking beauty.

She gives one more giggle and signs off. Once the camera is out of sight, Blakely rotates her shoulders and cracks her neck, then spins toward me. The twin pink spots high on her cheeks hint at her anger. The words out of her mouth confirm it.

“You couldn’t even wave? What is wrong with you, Hudson? Kirk explained how this works. Part of the arrangement is you being on camera!”

“I will be, but only when I want. I’m not your puppet.”

I leave her standing there, mouth open, eyes blazing. I grab both bags, toss them into the back of the Jeep, and climb in. Sixty seconds pass, and she still isn’t in the goddamn passenger seat. After another thirty, my patience cracks, and I lay on the horn.

“Get in now, Spitfire, or I’m leaving you here.”

“Jeez, you’re a jerk!”

She purposefully takes small, slow steps, dragging her feet before finally getting in. As if she can’t help herself, she stands, popping her head out of the uncovered roof, fucking phone in her hand.

I shouldn’t do it, but the draw to mess with her is too strong to ignore. Without saying a word, I slam on the gas, tires screeching as we peel out of the parking lot.

Blakely jerks forward from the momentum, then scrambles to sit. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Nope, getting us on the road. We’ve got a way to go, and it’s hard enough in daylight.”

“You could have asked me to sit.”

“I asked. You must not’ve heard.”

“You did not, you liar. You’re pissy because I didn’t jump when you said get in the car. In case you can’t tell, you’re not the only one with a strong will.”

I’m certain of that. This woman is made of will and fire and spunk and sass. I clench the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.

Blakely leans in and brushes her lips against the shell of my ear. “That’s a tight grip you have there, Bear. Do you have lots of practice?” She flutters those long lashes. “Gripping things, I mean.”

A growl slips out of my throat, and I look at her, our faces dangerously close. One inch and I can have the kiss I imagined. Her ocean eyes run over me like a physical caress. She moves a millimeter closer, the scent of cherries on her lips.

“Eyes on the road, Hudson,” she whispers as she sinks back into her seat.

The way I want to thread my fingers in her hair and pull her back, kiss that sassy mouth until I know it better than my own. Drawing a steadying breath, I remind myself she’s a client—an annoying client who’s already driving me up the wall.

We don’t make it five miles before the questions begin. For the eighty-sixth time since waking this morning, I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing.

“So what’s the cabin like?”

“You’ll see when we get there. ”

She rubs her temples as if I’m the exhausting one. “Do you live out here full time?”

“No.”

“Does anyone live out here?”

“No.”

“What do you normally use the cabin for, then?”

“What is this? Twenty damn questions? How about you enjoy the scenery, the fresh air, and the goddamn peace and quiet. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Her glare bores into the side of my head. Am I too harsh? Fuck, yes. But what’s with the interrogation?

“Why did you agree to this? You seem absolutely miserable.” The hurt in her voice makes me angrier at myself for snapping.

The steering wheel creaks beneath my clenched fists. “My brothers and your boss—” at her raised eyebrow, I amend my word choice, “your manager—were very convincing. Apparently, you’re a big fucking deal. Once word you were coming got out, people in town kept dropping by to tell me how amazing you are.”

“Good to know some of the people in Trail Creek have taste.”

I smirk. “Now that I’ve met you, though, I think less of them.” I hope she can tell I’m joking. Mostly.

Her tiny fist bumps against my bicep. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

Thirty seconds of glorious silence pass. Hopefully we’re done with the Q&A portion of the night.

“What about you?”

Nope. More questions. Sighing, I ask, “What about me?”

“Does your wife or girlfriend follow me?”

My laugh is harsh. “I’m single. Have been for a long ass time. ”

“I’d love to say that’s surprising, but having met you…” Her laughter takes the sting out of her words.

The bright light of her screen pierces the growing dark around us. “I’m starting to think Kirk didn’t vet you at all. Have you read your reviews?”

“What reviews?”

“On your socials and the regular places like Yelp . Here’s one. ‘Peak Adventures is amazing! Will book with them for summers to come!’”

“That’s a great review.”

“Yeah, but that’s only part of it. Here’s the rest. ‘Everything except Hudson Brooks was top tier. While the man clearly knows his stuff, he’s abrasive.’”

“Who said that?”

A little wrinkle forms between Blakely’s eyebrows. “What? I don’t know. It’s an anonymous review.”

“Then it’s irrelevant.”

“No, it’s not! These reviews impact people’s perceptions of you. Don’t you care?”

I consider her words. Do I care what people, strangers on the internet, think of me? “Nope. Not one bit.”

Her incredulous expression tells me she can’t relate. She goes back to reading reviews, laughing now and then at the ones calling me rude or harsh.

“Enjoying telling me how much people hate me?”

The giggles vanish. “No. Shit, Hudson, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m out of line.”

The serious tone of her voice has me reaching over the console to squeeze her thigh. “Hey, I’m teasing. Seriously, that shit doesn’t bother me. I ignore it. Some fuckhead on the internet who has enough time to write about me being a hardass is no one who matters.”

Blakely tilts her head. “That’s a healthy outlook on it. My therapist would approve.” Her shoulders droop. “I struggle with not reading what’s written about me. Not buying into the hate.”

“Who could hate you? You’re so charming.” I lay on the sarcasm but shoot her a wink.

When she doesn’t answer, I let out a sigh and try to get her to talk the only way I know how. “Any of those reviews say I’m not good at what I do?”

“Not a single one. In fact, for every person who mentions you being… difficult, there are two more shouting your praises. And even the ones who seem annoyed by you have to admit you’re excellent at what you do.”

“See. Even if they don’t like me, they can’t deny my expertise. Their shitty opinion doesn’t matter. All I’m taking from these reviews is that I’m the best.”

“That’s what you got from them?”

“Hell yeah, and don’t you feel safe knowing you’re in such experienced hands?”

Blakely’s brilliant smile shows her straight white teeth. “Experienced hands, huh? I teased you about that earlier. That firm grip of yours.”

I groan but play along. “I spend a fair amount of time alone. It’s important to have a strong grip.”

She snorts. “I bet it is.”

We settle into a comfortable silence, and I use the opportunity to study her. I’m transfixed by her beguiling features, scarcely visible but for the dying rays of the sun and the beginning twinkle of the moon filtering through the heavy treeline.

“It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah. Beautiful.” She catches me staring before I jerk my attention to the road.

If Blakely’s uncomfortable, she doesn’t show it, and the tension in my back lessens with each mile closer we get to the cabin. The cool air whips her long ponytail, her summer scent mixing with the pine.

Shit. Where did this gorgeous woman come from? And what the hell is she doing in Trail Creek with me?

I’m about to ask her when she gasps.

“I saw a deer!” Her excitement is palatable.

“There were five back there.”

She stares at me, mouth open in disbelief. “Five? No way. I was looking and saw one. You’re teasing me.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Nope. There’s no way you saw five.”

“Fine. Look to your right… now.”

Blakely does as I ask and squeals as two mule deer dart into the dark.

“And over my shoulder now.”

Again, she follows my directions in time to catch sight of a young buck staring at the car. She spins in her seat, propping herself up on her knees to watch until we travel too far away for her to see.

“How did you do that? Are these like tame animals you feed? You know where to expect them?”

“Are they tame? That might be the most…” I stare at her for a beat, trying to wrap my head around her thinking. “No, they aren’t pets. I’ve spent fifteen years in the forests near Trail Creek and the years before that outdoors in other places. It’s my job to see them.”

“Color me impressed. I mean, you’re a total jackass, but at least you’re a competent jackass.”

That pulls an unexpected laugh from me. “I should put that on my business cards.”

Her responding laugh, a real one, not a simpering giggle or curated chuckle, makes my chest ache.

I am so fucked.