Roughing It

9. Hudson

CHAPTER NINE

hudson

I watch Blakely eat the dinner I made for us. She keeps stealing glances at me, but since I can’t stop staring at her, I catch her each time.

What the hell was going through my mind when I kissed her like that? And why do I want to throw all the dishes on the ground, lay her out on the table, and do it again?

I hadn’t expected her to follow me when I ran, but I should have. Something I’ve learned about Blakely Bradshaw? She’s not one to back down.

When she called me out, eyes ablaze, cheeks flushed, it was too much to resist. I wasn’t lying when I said it seemed like the best way to get her to shut up, but I would be if I said I wasn’t dying to taste her fire. I have no business getting involved with this pampered, spoiled, superficial, beautiful, fiery, clever, sharp-tongued woman. But for the first time in years, I wish that wasn’t the case.

It’s been six years since Paige left me, and my engagement ring, high and dry for the glitz and glamor of a town with more than two stoplights. Her parting shots—how I’ll never be more than a small-town mountain man—play in my head like a broken record.

But then the song changes, and all memories of Paige drift away like smoke. I’m left with Blakely’s real laugh, her bright, toothy smile, the glossy shine of her hair. The way her eyes trailed over my body when she pulled back the shower curtain. The way she bit her lip, as if she needed a physical barrier to keep from putting her mouth on me. The press of lips to mine, her soft moan in my ear, the crush of her lush body against my firm one.

Fuck.

How the hell am I supposed to stay away from her? She’s everything I shouldn’t want—a city girl more at home in shops and fancy restaurants than in the forest—but I can’t ignore the pull between us.

And she feels it, too. The kiss we shared said more than words ever could.

“Earth to Hudson!” Blakely waves her hand in front of my face.

I grunt and shake my head. “Huh?”

“Eloquent as always. I complimented you on dinner and asked what we have on the docket for tomorrow.”

“Need to make up for today. Get those last baseline assessments done.”

Her snort makes me smile in spite of myself. “Please. I’m the lowest of the low in all the things.”

“You did pretty good with the BB gun.”

“I showed those paper men who’s boss, didn’t I?”

When she flexes her thin arm, I fight a chuckle. “Do you have a lot of practice with guns? I can’t imagine there are many places to shoot a BB gun in the city.”

She frowns. “No, there aren’t.”

I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. Instead, she gets up from the table and dumps her leftover food into the trash and her dish into the sink.

“I’m going to sit on the porch for a bit and reply to comments. Have to keep the BBs happy.” She smiles, but there’s a tightness to it.

Whether it’s because of the turn our conversation took or because she thinks I’ll judge her for the social media shit, I can’t say. I’d ask, but she’s already gone.

I last twenty minutes.

“Want a blanket?”

Blakely looks up from the glow of her phone screen, and this time, the smile she gives me is real. “Thank you. I’m still not used to how cold it gets once the sun sets.” She reaches out a hand, but I plop onto the swing next to her, draping the blanket over her lap and gently tucking it beneath her legs.

Her breath catches when my hand brushes her knee, and despite the layers between our skin, I swear sparks tingle along my palm.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “So, how’s it going? The, uh, commenting stuff?”

She giggles. “The commenting stuff is going fine. Have you looked at Peak Adventures’ account lately? You’ve gained close to a thousand new followers already.”

“No, I don’t mess with that shit.”

Her pointy elbow digs into my side. “Oh right, I forget you’re above all this.” Thankfully, there’s no bite to her words.

“Some of us have to make a living the old-fashioned way.” I give her cute little nose a quick flick.

The porch goes dark when she closes her phone. Twisting so her back rests against the side and drawing her legs up beneath her, she cocks her head and asks, “How did you learn all this?”

“All what? ”

“How to be a, what did you call yourself? An outdoorsman?”

“Oh, uh, my dad’s former military.”

She gestures for me to keep going. I lean back against the swing and enjoy the sway. “He learned wilderness survival during his time in the army. When he was home from deployments, he took me and my two younger brothers camping and trekking.” I glance at her to see if I’m boring her, but I swear, in the dim light, she looks interested. “He’d drop us off and make us navigate to the campsite or make it so we had to earn the tent by catching dinner. When he didn’t re-up, it turned to almost every weekend and any breaks we had from school.”

She pokes my thigh with one of those adorable toes. “I bet it had less to do with training you on the great outdoors and more about giving your poor mom a breather from all the testosterone for a couple of days a week.”

I chuckle. “You’re probably right.”

We sit quietly until Blakely asks, “When he dropped you off, was it you and your brothers or just you?” There’s curiosity in her voice, but also something more. Concern maybe?

“Me and them.” I scratch the back of my neck.

“So you were in charge of two younger boys while learning to navigate?”

I grunt. Where’s she going with this?

Thankfully, she doesn’t make me stew too long. “When did it go from weekends to a job?”

“We’d been to Trail Creek on vacation, and Mom and Dad fell in love with the place. Next thing I knew, they declared they were moving, and I was welcome to stay and finish school where I was, or I could pick up and come with them.”

“School?”

“College. I was twenty. Gray had just graduated, and Bo was starting high school. I transferred and finished my business degree while helping Dad get Peak Adventures going.”

“Business degree?”

The question is clear in her voice, and immediately, I’m on the defense. Paige’s voice echoes in my mind. “ Is this really all you want to be? Some small-town nobody?”

I laugh, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “Yep. Surprised? Have my MBA too. I’m more than a dumb-ass country boy.”

“I didn’t… of course you are. That’s not what?—”

Blakely reaches for me, but I push her hand away. “Don’t worry about it, Princess. I’m sure all us hicks come off the same to you.” Without giving her a chance to say anything else, I jerk from the porch swing and retreat into the cabin and a glass of whiskey.

The first sip is more of a gulp, and I relish the burn in my throat. It helps counter the burn in my heart. This is why I can’t think about kissing her. She’s just like Paige. I’ll never be good enough for a woman like Blakely Bradshaw, and I’d do well to remember it.

DAY FIVE

I wake first, my internal alarm clock going off, and damn if I’m not pressed firmly against Blakely’s back. I’m her big spoon, my face buried in her hair while I hold tight to her slim waist.

As carefully as I can, I unhook my arm and roll to my cold side of the bed. In another world where she isn’t everything I don’t need, a world where she isn’t leaving in less than a month—instead of rolling away, I’d pull her closer.

But then I remember her surprise about my degree. The way she made the same assumption as so many others—that I’m nothing but a dumb mountain man. Happy in the forest, clicking rocks and tracking animals.

And I am. But I’m more than that. I run the business. I keep us in the black. I do the taxes and the finances and the scheduling. I’m the one who suggested adding corporate retreats and girls-only weekends.

When she climbed into bed last night, I expected her to strike up a conversation, but instead, she turned her back and pulled the blanket up to her chin like she had the right to be upset. Typical princess behavior.

When I step out of the bathroom, Blakely is curled up in the recliner, sipping a cup of coffee.

I scoff. “No apology cup this morning?”

“Nope.”

My hackles rise. “You don’t think you owe me one?”

“Nope.”

“Is that all you’re gonna say?”

“Yep.”

“Get ready to go,” I snap, before crossing over to my dresser. She doesn’t answer. What the fuck?

Eight minutes later, Blakely stands at the door, arms crossed, waiting. Without saying anything, I push past her, out into the open air, and stomp over into the clearing on the east side of the cabin. With a grunt, I point to the small ring of rocks. “Sit.” Then I gather up the supplies to get today’s shit done and over.

I’m doing my job and then drinking the afternoon away.

I toss a flint and steel at Blakely’s feet. “Build a fire.” Then I stand and watch. If she thinks she’s getting any other information from me, she’s sorely mistaken.

She holds the pieces like they may bite her before striking them against each other. Her eyes cut to me at the first sparks, but I’m a statue. Blank-faced and stony-eyed. She huffs and tries again. Another shower of sparks, but since she hasn’t set any tinder, nothing’s ever gonna happen .

“Fail. Next.” Before she can argue, I look at the list and say, “Since you can’t start a fire, you can’t boil water, so that’s a fail. You never mastered knots, so building a shelter is a fail. I’m not bothering with foraging. If it doesn’t come with a Michelin star, I’m betting you aren’t interested in eating it. And as far as first aid, given that you needed me to bandage your feet, I’m marking that as a fail, too. Congrats, Princess. You have zero survival skills.”

With every word, Blakely’s face grows redder and redder. I’m being an asshole.

“It’s really shitty that the most words you’ve said to me in five days is the crap you just spewed at me.” She rises to her feet and stands before me, her ocean eyes blazing. “I didn’t ask you to bandage my feet! You did that all on your own. And as far as this bullshit skills assessment, you can kiss my ass.”

“I’m sure you’re used to having people kiss your ass, but that isn’t me, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re just a judgmental jerkwad who uses the guise of teaching to make himself feel better.” Her voice changes into what I assume is a terrible impersonation of me. “Oh, I’m Hudson Brooks, the god of the wilderness, and anyone who can’t live like the Swiss Family Robinson is an idiot.”

My lips twitch. “Swiss Family Robinson?”

“Robinson Crusoe.”

“Are all your examples fictional?”

“Bear Grylls. What the fuck ever. And that’s not the point! The point is, you’re standing here telling me how much I suck, like I don’t already know, rubbing it in. You’re a prick, and I wish I hadn’t come out here.”

A stream of tears starts while she’s yelling, and her voice cracks. My stomach twists. I take one step toward her, but she immediately moves back.

“Don’t you dare touch me. Not after the way you treated me last night and this morning.”

The twist in my gut curls tighter, anger and resentment mixing with regret into a vile mixture. So, of course, bile is what comes out. “Are you shitting me? You’re complaining about how I treated you? You, who thinks I’m too stupid to go to college? You, who has done nothing but turn your nose up and complain since you got here? You wish you weren’t here? Then go the fuck home.”

As soon as I say it, I wish I could take it back. My throat is thick, and no matter how much I swallow, I can’t get rid of the lump there. “Blakely, I didn’t?—”

“No. Shut up,” she snarls, tears still running down her cheeks, eyes snapping with fire. “I am sorry, sorry you didn’t give me the chance to speak last night. Sorry you made a judgment about me. Sorry you’re still pissy and taking it out on me this morning. That’s the only apology you’re getting. If you don’t like it, too bad.”

She’s a hurricane of fury and frustration, and it’s no less than I deserve.

“It’s interesting you have a business degree. Interesting but not surprising. It’s bullshit for anyone to think you aren’t smart. I never once even implied that. You’re clearly brilliant. You know more about survival and the land than I could ever hope to understand. And you obviously have a savvy business mind despite agreeing to this,” she gestures her hand between us, “clusterfuck.”

I want to pull her into my arms and whisper my apologies into her ear. Demand she hear me. But I’m struck silent. Caught in the storm of her wrath.

Blakely plows ahead, chin high, teeth bared. “Incidentally, for all that you claim I’ve judged you, you’ve judged me plenty. And made a shit ton of assumptions. You’re the only one with a college degree, and not because my parents could ‘only afford state school,’ as you so rudely said a few days ago. I mov?—”

She stops, cutting off whatever she plans to say next. I watch her chest rise and fall, fury brilliant on her face.

“You don’t know nearly as much about me as you think you do. You said I was fascinating. And you’d know me so well if I only dropped my shields. How about you take your own advice. Whatever chip’s on your shoulder, I’m not the one who put it there.” She throws the flint and steel at me. “Since you’ve marked me as a complete and total failure, I’m done for the day. If you need me, I’ll be drinking.”

Blakely takes three steps, then turns back. “And don’t call me Princess!”

DAY SEVEN

It’s been two days since our fight in the clearing. To say it’s been awkward as fuck is an understatement. Neither Blakely nor I have spoken more than a couple of words to each other. She still makes a shit ton of noise, talking to Kirk, doing lives, and walking around the cabin singing—terribly—but unless we’re bickering over stupid shit, she doesn’t have anything to say to me. The only smile she’s given me is that fake ass one she uses on her socials. I hate that smile.

On the plus side, we kept our lips to ourselves, so I guess that’s a win.

Yeah, huge fucking win.

Blakely sighs softly in her sleep, her face peaceful and relaxed. I think about her accusations. That I’ve judged her, made assumptions, put words into her mouth. And fuck if she isn’t right. Her admission that she doesn’t have a degree surprised me. I figured a woman like her had some fancy-ass and useless degree that cost more than a starter home. I also think about our conversation when I told her about how Peak Adventures got its start. Up until I blew everything to pieces, she’d been listening eagerly.

Fucking shit hell. I’m an asshole.

I grab my phone and fire off a text to the group chat I have with my brothers.

I fucked up.

Gray

What’d u do

Bo

Not surprised

Made some assumptions and yelled at her

Gray

Ur an idiot

Got that. Thanks.

Bo

You’ve gotta get Paige out of your head man

Who said anything about her?

Bo

Whatever. Advice?

Gray

Unfuck it!

Bo

Why are you worried about it?

Why am I worried about it? She’s just a client, right? No different from anyone else who hires me for guide work.

But that’s not true. From the moment I met her, Blakely Bradshaw wormed her way under my skin—fast and deep.

Wish I knew.

Picturing the hurt on her face leaves an ache in my chest. I hate that I put it there. God, I was a judgmental asshole. I don’t know her as well as I thought, but fuck, I want to. And heaven help me, I miss her endless prattling and teasing.

Bo

Oh shit. You like her!

Gray

Time to eat crow brother

Guess it’s my turn to make apology coffee.

Bo

One word: hotspring

That’s two words, dumbass.

Bo

I close out the chat and stare at Blakely. They’re right. I do like her. But she scares the hell out of me, all while pulling me closer and closer. I’m like a goddamn bug drawn to car headlights on the highway. I’m gonna end up smashed, but I can’t stop myself from flying headlong towards her.

Despite this likely ending in pain, I reach out and give her a gentle shake. “Spitfire, wake up.”

“No.”

I chuckle at her pouty lips and voice. “Come on. I have a surprise for you.”

She opens one eye. “Are you going to give me a test with no instructions and then make fun of me when I fail? Oh, I know, you’re going to accuse me of being judgmental while you make up facts about my life. Or maybe you’re going to take me back to that scenic cliff and shove me off it? Thanks, but no thanks.”

I rub my chest, each word a barb that latches onto my heart. “I deserve that. Did you bring a swimsuit?”

Her eyebrows jump. “What?”

“A swimsuit,” I grunt.

Blakely glares at me. “Yes. Why?”

“Trust me?”

“Trust you? I want to. I really do. But then you almost kissed me, did kiss me, yelled at me, told me to leave…Hudson, what do you want from me?”

“Right now, I want you to put on your swimsuit and trust me.” I hold my breath. “Please.” Give me another chance.

She stares at me and blinks twice before grumbling. “Swimsuit? It’s October. You’re lucky I brought one. Asshole. This better be worth it.”