Roughing It

10. Blakely

CHAPTER TEN

blakely

Hudson Brooks is going to be the death of me. Cause of death? Emotional whiplash. I seriously can’t keep up with him.

The past few days have been awful. I’ve put on a happy face for the camera, but as soon as I finish recording, silence falls over the cabin, and I hate it. But Hudson pissed me off and hurt me. So I keep all my witty thoughts to myself, even if I have to grit my teeth to do it. I’m a little stubborn. It’s the Taurus in me.

The divide between us hasn’t kept me from drifting to Hudson while asleep, and honestly, wrapped in that grumpy bear’s arms, I’ve never slept better. But then the sun rises, and so does my frustration—along with the desire to punch him in his adorably freckled face. Or kiss it.

The presumptive bastard said I was judging him. Ha! If he knew how I grew up… I shake my head, shutting down that line of thinking as I adjust my bikini top. Kirk thought I was silly for packing a swimsuit, so I snap a quick selfie with a single-finger salute to show him how wrong he was.

I have no idea why I need my swimsuit, just that Hudson asked me to trust him. Idiot, party of one. Didn’t I tell myself I wouldn’t let him fool me again?

But for some stupid reason—one that is more sexually motivated than I should admit—I do trust him, at least with pieces of myself. I’m safe with him. He won’t physically hurt me.

Emotionally, though? Jury’s out.

I twist my hair to get it off my neck, then give myself a once over in the mirror. I’m makeup-free, and I don’t hate it. Things like his insistence that I don’t need to contour and shade my face into someone else’s lure me back in. Every time Hudson shows me who he could be—a hair-tucking, foot-rubbing, dream-kissing wonder of a man—I want more. Who is he beyond the gruff nature-expert persona? What material built the walls around his heart? Because judging by our fight, that shit is durable.

Like I have any room to talk. I didn’t just build walls; I built a whole new me to get away from my past.

Hudson knocks on the bathroom door. “You ready?”

I’m vain enough to admit I love how his mouth falls open and his eyes heat when he sees me. With his hand still in the air, he stutters over his words. “You, uh, that color, looks… wow.”

Gesturing to my turquoise swimsuit, I say, “This color looks wow?” When his ears turn pink, I nudge him in the ribs. “Thank you, I think. Your color also looks wow.”

And it does. Muscular arms peek out from the fitted white t-shirt, and gray sweatpants hug his thighs—and other parts. I’ve always loved a thicker man, and Hudson Brooks is thick .

“But,” I wrinkle my brow, “where is your swimsuit?”

“Under.” As he answers, he tosses a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt at me. I stand there, holding both items, until he huffs. “Didn’t figure you had any ratty clothes.”

The memory of opening a drawer and finding a family of mice living in my favorite Barbie pajama dress makes my stomach knot. Fighting a shudder, I push the image and the word ratty from my mind and slip the clothes—his clothes—over my swimsuit.

They drown my smaller frame and engulf me in his scent. If he wasn’t watching me, I’d pull the collar to my nose and use it like a scuba mask.

“Here.” He thrusts coffee into my hands. “Owed you one.”

I stand there with my eyebrows quirked, a question on my face despite knowing what he means. Am I a little evil? Maybe. But I’m okay with it.

Another huff. “Apology coffee. It was, uh, my turn.” He rubs the back of his head.

Hiding my grin behind the warm tumbler of go-go juice, I extend my hand in an after you motion. But rather than leaving, Hudson goes to the kitchen and throws fruit, cheese, bread, and other snacks into a pack.

“Are you taking me on a romantic picnic?” I ask, hiking the too-long sweats up, Urkle style, in a futile attempt to get them off the ground.

He freezes and gives me a look of complete and utter bewilderment. “A picnic?”

“A romantic picnic,” I correct, not bothering to hide my smile now. Having Hudson Brooks on the ropes may be a better high than social media.

“No. It makes sense to bring food.”

“Should I bring a blanket for our picnic date?”

“It isn’t a picnic. Or a date.”

“Hmmm, a handsome man, a beautiful woman, a mystery destination, tasty food… put all that together, and it can only mean one thing—picnic date.”

“It’s not a picnic.” Hudson slings the bag over his shoulder and then, like it’s habit, places his hand on my lower back. The shivers are instantaneous. This is what his touch does to me.

In the spirit of impish mischief and a smidge in the spirit of wanting to keep the upper hand, I say, “Ah, but you didn’t deny it’s a date.” When he stops walking, I crack up. God, I love teasing him.

Shaking his head, he catches up to me, his wide, warm hand guiding me to his Jeep. Now, I really am curious.

“Where are you taking me in your sweats, with a pic—” At his frown, I laugh and amend my words. “With snacks that we need the Jeep?”

He opens the door and stands, arms crossed and foot tapping, until I roll my eyes and climb in. It isn’t until we’re both buckled and the Jeep is creeping down something that in no way resembles a road does Hudson answer me.

“Hot spring.”

I squeal. Full on piglet style. “There are hot springs out here? Why am I just now learning this?”

“It isn’t something on the regular itinerary. But I thought…” It takes him a beat to find his words. “I thought it would be a relaxing place to talk.”

“You, Hudson Bear Brooks—the man who spent the last eight days speaking in monosyllabic grunts and, I’m pretty sure, a few growls—want to talk?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re off to a fantastic start.”

The steering wheel creaks beneath his grip. “Can we wait?”

“Till we get to the springs?”

A nod is my only answer.

“Are these healing waters going to grant you the ability to speak for more than thirty seconds?”

This earns me a sigh. “No. I’d rather wait till I can give you my full attention. ”

Oh. Well. I don’t have an answer to that.

He glances at me. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s twenty more minutes of driving down the mountain, filled with my singing and Hudson’s occasional muttering, before the Jeep stops in a small clearing.

He clicks the locks on the door, so I can’t get out.

“If you brought me all this way to kill me, jokes on you. You could have done it at the cabin and saved on gas.”

Judging by the thin line of his lips, my joke doesn’t land. “Which direction did we travel?”

“What?”

“If something happened to me, and you had to walk to the cabin right now, which direction would you go?”

“Um, up?”

“Up?”

I point back the way we came.

He sighs like I’ve greatly insulted him, then unlocks the Jeep. “We’ll work on it later. Let’s go.”

Making a very mature face at his back, I climb out. And once again, I’m blown away by the beauty surrounding me. To our right lies the first of a series of small pools rimmed in natural stone. The framing backdrop—dipping valleys thick with pines and aspens and rising cliffs carved in oranges, reds, and browns—is beyond amazing.

I scramble for my phone because as much as I want to hoard this moment, I know clickbait when I see it. Hudson only huffs twice while I take stills for a post. The hot springs are already working their magic. Wonder if I can convince him to let me get a shot of him shirtless. Hmm, better not press it.

His patience wanes, and he jerks his head toward the water. I go to argue, but the little wrinkle between his eyes has me closing my mouth. Instead, I hold my hand out and follow the path he picks down the rocky trail. I’m thankful for his strong grip when I hit more than one slippery spot the closer we get.

While Hudson stands to the side, I quickly strip off my borrowed sweats and sink into the balmy water. Every bone in my body, every muscle, every nerve melts into malleable goo. The only thing holding me together is my skin.

I’m almost too relaxed to drink in the glory of Hudson’s shirtless chest when he grips the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

Almost.

This is my third chance viewing Hudson sans shirt, and it’s no less divine this time. He doesn’t have a six-pack, but he’s solid—the kind of fit that comes from hard work, not a gym. I sink a little lower and stare at all the golden skin on display.

Yep. Stare.

The gray sweats drop to the forest floor, and those thighs are what I’ll dream about tonight. Please crush me like a watermelon, sir.

He slides into the warm water, my floating toes brushing his legs as he settles across from me. The spring is smaller than the bath back at the cabin and more round, sort of like a two-person hot tub, with natural seats formed in the stone over eons. It’s highly intimate, and my body, heart, and brain are all hyper-aware of it.

I cut my eyes to Hudson’s face, and he’s watching me. Then, one of those long fingers reaches out and strokes the arch of my foot. “I was trying to say earlier… you look nice today.”

“Thanks, I’m not even wearing any makeup. Someone keeps saying I don’t need it.”

“Sounds like a smart person. ”

“He has his moments. But so far, they’ve proven to be few and far between.”

Silence falls back over us, and I let Hudson’s lack of complete sentences go for now. It’s not like he can get away from me. The rustle of the trees, the chirping of birds, and the bubbling of the warm water soothe me into a moment of Zen. This is actually really nice. Maybe I could get used to small-town life again if it includes hot springs.

If I had a nice fruity pink drink and more direct sunlight, this would be a pretty perfect moment.

Out of nowhere, Hudson blurts, “Alexander.”

“Huh?” I say, both because I’m lost in the casual way he pulls my feet into his lap and caresses my ankles, and by the random word.

“My middle name. It’s not Bear. It’s Alexander.”

“Hudson Alexander Brooks. What a distinguished name. I like it; it suits you. But you’re still Bear as far as I’m concerned.” I lean forward and tickle his jaw, forcing my hand steady despite the current tingling through the places we are skin to skin. “My grumpy, grouchy, grizzly Bear.”

Crap. Not my Bear. Not my anything. I drop my hand and slump back against the rock ledge. “So, Bear,” he squeezes my feet at the nickname, “you brought me out here to talk. Yes?”

“Yes.”

This man. It’s like pulling teeth. “You have my attention. My phone is with our clothes, and my muscles and mind are relaxed. Now’s the time.”

He swallows, and I’m struck with the sudden desire to lick his Adam’s apple. But I refrain.

“I owe you more than an apology coffee, Blakely.” He sighs and drops his head back. “Something about you…”

“Dazzles you? Awes you? Mesmerizes you?”

His gruff laugh makes my chest flutter. “Honestly? Yeah. But also frustrates me, makes me stupid, makes me… an asshole.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” I say with a snort and a flick of water in his direction.

A ghost of a smile flits across his lips before disappearing. “You asked me who put the chip on my shoulder?”

I nod.

“Six years ago, I was engaged.”

I blink. Then blink again. That is not what I was expecting. “Engaged?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you divor?—”

“No, never married. She hoofed it outta here a month after accepting my ring. Paige grew up in Albuquerque. We met while I was finishing up my master’s.”

I wait, giving him a chance to say more. His grip on my ankles tightens. “I had a class that met once a month in person at UNM, and she asked me out for coffee after the first one. Five post-class dates and suddenly she was talking about moving to Trail Creek with me after graduation.”

“After five dates?” I can’t help but compare their situation to ours.

“Yeah.” He pauses again, his hands moving from my ankles to my calves. “It just sort of happened, but I spent three years thinking she was the one. She spent three years thinking she could turn me into something I’m not.”

Something closely resembling jealousy slithers through me.

“When you asked about my degree, it was her voice I heard. Telling me Trail Creek wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. How she deserved more than to be stuck in some podunk town with a hick like me.” He pauses. “And I lumped you in with her. ”

“What do you mean?”

“Shit. I’m trying to explain, but I’m fucking it up.” He runs his hand down his face. “When you came here, all pink luggage, fancy-ass shampoo, and big city attitude… well, I wasn’t fair to you. And you were right when you said I judged you. I’m sorry.”

“I know what people think when they first meet me. And I admit I lean into that persona. So I don’t blame you for thinking I would be like Paige.” I wrinkle my nose and spit her name out like it’s a green sour candy. “I probably am in some ways. But I want to be clear. I don’t think you’re some small-town nobody. You’re a businessman. A teacher. Someone your brothers look up to.”

“How do you figure?”

“There’s no way they don’t idolize the older brother who guided them to shelter and safety on multiple camping trips.”

“You make it sound like a big deal.”

“Hudson, you were what? Thirteen? Guiding an eleven-year-old and a seven-year-old through wild terrain with only your skills and smarts?”

His small frown has me wanting to back off the topic. “I’d been doing it for five years at that point. Three of those with Gray. My dad… he knew he could trust them with me.”

“That’s a big ask for a kid, though.” I brush his dark hair off his forehead. “But I’m sure he did.”

“Will you tell me something else I got wrong about you?” Hudson’s question is quiet, but there’s no mistaking it.

Memories twist and twirl. Ugly ones leap forward, vying for the honor of clouding my mind. The day my mother’s boyfriend made a pass at me, and when I told, the story flipped, painting me as the problem. Coming home after school that same day to a locked trailer and everything I owned packed in my little hatchback. Working multiple jobs as I remade myself from Blake Lee Shaw, sad, shunned, and scared into Blakely Bradshaw, confident, cool, and carefree. The evening of my thirty-third birthday, finding out what so many others knew: my ex was a cheating bastard. The aching loneliness of my apartment…

“I could use a snack. How about you bust out the picnic?” I wriggle, putting a little distance between us, but Hudson is undeterred. He simply pulls my feet back into his lap, tracing the same soothing circles as earlier.

“Come on, Spitfire.”

Not meeting his eyes, I swirl my hands in the warm water, staring at the little eddies my movements make. “I already told you this in a roundabout way, but I didn’t go to college. That’s why I’m so impressed by you having your business degree. I wanted to go to school, but it didn’t work out for me.”

“Your parents didn’t help you pay your way? Or support you?”

A harsh laugh bursts out of my mouth. “No. I’m really not a princess. Or if I am, I’m a self-made one.” Inhaling for five counts and then exhaling for six, I rein in the anger I still feel towards my mother. “I, um, my dad wasn’t around, and when I was seventeen, my mother and I… we had a...” I nibble on my thumbnail, “falling out. So, no, there was no one to help pay for college or offer support.”

“Shit, Blakely—” Hudson pulls me into his lap, wiping my little vortexes away. I’m straddling him now. My ankles hook around his wide hips, and my hands flutter before settling on his shoulders.

Heat surrounds me—the water and Hudson work like dueling furnaces, but I still shake in his arms. I bite back the urge to kiss him, instead leaning into the comfort of our teasing banter. “If you start pitying me, I’m liable to drown you in this hot spring. Got it, Bear? ”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Got it. Can I still apologize for my fuck up?”

“That I’ll allow.”

“So gracious, aren’t you?” His deep voice and breath skim over my ear, raising prickles of anticipation along my overheated skin. “I’m sorry for the way I acted during your skills assessment. It was unprofessional. If you wanted, you could blast me six ways to Sunday on your social media platforms.”

“Is that what you think I would do?”

“I thought I knew, but lately I’m thinking I don’t know shit.” His hands grip my hips. “Including how to do this.”

“How to do what?” My words come out as a whisper, and my stomach flutters when my chest brushes against his.

“Not want you.” Then he tugs me forward and presses his lips to mine in a breath-stealing repeat of the kiss we shared four days ago.