Roughing It

13. Hudson

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

hudson

I add more logs to the already roaring fire, hoping it will keep the cabin warm overnight. Blakely is already in bed, huddled under the blanket, shivering.

“The fire is great, but now that I’m further away and in my pajamas, I’m freezing. I’m so used to central heat and air and cranking the thermostat up when the temps are this low.”

The mention of Blakely’s “pajamas” has me adjusting myself. It’s no wonder she’s cold, considering the slip of silk and equally tiny shorts she’s wearing. “Once you fall asleep, you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for the helpful advice, asshole.”

I chuckle and climb into bed. Making myself comfortable, I rest my arms behind my head and consider the best way to explain how her filming me without my knowing makes me feel. However, my body has other plans, and my eyes droop. The hours spent chopping wood to get Blakely out of my system were reset by her blatant admission and flirting tonight. Thankfully, my solo time took care of the lingering tension, but now I’m tired .

Fighting off the fatigue, I clear my throat, ready to talk, but a noise I can’t place sounds in the dark. An animal? No. The fire? No.

Blakely.

“Spitfire, what’re you doing?”

“It’s m-my te-teeth.”

I run my hand over my face, a gesture I often do when dealing with my city mouse roommate. “You’re dramatic.”

“N-no. I’m n-not. I’m just c-cold.”

“Scoot closer, but don’t you dare put your icy feet on me.”

Without hesitation, Blakely snuggles up next to me, and the chattering of her teeth stops. Mere seconds later, her cold toes press into my calves. Little brat.

I whisper, “I might think this was a ploy to get closer to me.”

“We always end up like this anyway, may as well start this way, too. Now, shhh, time to sleep, Bear,” she whispers back, her eyes already closed.

“Before you fall asleep, we need to talk.”

Blakely presses her body to mine. “Can it wait till tomorrow? You’re so warm. I want to cuddle.” She skims her lips against my jaw. “Unless there’s something else—besides talking—you want to do.”

Fuck. Do I want to do more than talk? Of course. I want to ravage her gorgeous body. Leave marks all over her skin. Taste every inch of her, bite and bruise her in the best way. Despite a fuck-ton of kisses, I haven’t been able to take the next step. Despite craving her like nothing before.

There’s enough lingering doubt to keep me from taking things to the next level. Each kiss pulls me deeper, and if I go beyond that, I’ll end up hopelessly lost in the whirlwind that is Blakely Bradshaw.

I may have crossed the kissing line, but I’m holding firm against anything more—or at least trying to. Today’s show for the camera tells me it’s the right call. Don’t get me wrong. Blakely getting so worked up over me swinging my axe that she had to get a little release didn’t hurt my ego. Fuck, that was hot.

But she filmed us without talking to me. Her focus was on her viewers and her account. I was already wary of getting hurt like I did with Paige, but now I wonder if Blakely wants this or if it’s a ploy to grow her account. I need to sleep on this.

I need to know this is real.

My cock adamantly disagrees with me, though, and is aching to slide into her. I grab her wandering hand before it has the chance to slip beneath the waist of my joggers and press a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

“We can wait until tomorrow to talk. But don’t think you’re getting out of it.” My mouth captures hers before moving to her forehead. “Get some sleep, brat.”

She huffs but doesn’t argue with me, which I take as a win. Blakely is going to be my undoing.

But part of me welcomes it.

DAY TEN

From behind me, Blakely stirs. I stoke the fire and glance at her over my shoulder. She looks so cute, rubbing her eyes, hair all rumpled, pillow lines on her cheeks.

“What time is it?”

“It’s three. Go back to sleep. I’m adding more wood to the fire. Don’t want it to go out.”

“Did the temperature drop again?”

“No, it’s holding steady.”

She pulls her knees to her chest, watching me. The flicker of the flames bathe her in their orange glow, like some sort of fire goddess.

Setting one last large piece in the flames, I crawl back into bed and pull Blakely to me, spooning her from behind. I drape one arm over her stomach, the other under her pillow. Her body melts against mine, and I hide my face in her hair, taking a greedy inhale of her sweet floral scent. And that damn fancy ass shampoo.

She squirms, trying to turn to face me. “Stop all that wiggling,” I grumble and hold her tighter, relishing the sensation of her ass against my cock.

Blakely huffs, “Spoilsport,” and shifts against me once more.

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to keep from rutting her right here and now. Gripping her hip, I nudge her ear with my nose. “Sleep.”

It isn’t long before she’s snoring in my arms, adorable little snuffles and sniffs. I kiss her neck twice, then let exhaustion pull me under.

A handful of hours later, I wake with Blakely wrapped around me like vines on a trellis. Unwinding myself from her grabby hands, I take in the pout of her lips, the small lines around her eyes, the turned-up tip of her nose. Her blonde hair has gone from silky waves to messy snarls, but it only makes me want to tangle my hands in the mussed strands.

Fuck, Hudson, you big sap. Get a grip. I scold myself as I take a leak. Blakely’s got me waxing poetic in my head. I blame Bo and his Hallmark movie mentions. And her pillowy lips. And hourglass curves. And maddening mouth.

I curse myself on the way to the kitchen, but I make two cups of coffee—one black, one with two sugars and more cream than could ever be right .

A soft yawn precedes thin arms wrapping around my waist. Blakely buries her face in my back. “Good morning.”

Turning, I steal a quick peck and hand her the mug.

“For me?”

“For you.”

After the first sip, she smacks her lips like I’ve made her some gourmet creation. “Mmm. Liquid gold.” Then she smiles. “Thanks for keeping me warm last night.”

“Turns out sleeping next to you isn’t the worst thing.”

She laughs. “Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You keep me humble.”

“There are many words I could use to describe you, but humble isn’t one.”

She rolls her eyes, hands me her half-finished coffee, and strolls to the bathroom.

“It’s too cold for what I had planned. How about a cabin day?” I ask, placing our mugs on the counter.

Her eyes study me, narrowing for a moment. “This feels like a trick. You aren’t going to make me weave a blanket from roots and build a windproof shelter out of my hair or something equally terrible?”

So fucking dramatic. I don’t bother answering her. She blows a raspberry at me and disappears behind the bathroom door. While she’s in there, her phone buzzes. And buzzes. And fucking buzzes.

When the damn thing goes off for a fifth time, I snap, storming to the bed and answering the video call. “What?” I growl in greeting.

“Um, Hudson? It’s me, Kirk James. Blakely’s manager?”

I settle on the mattress and kick my feet up. “Is something wrong? Why’re you calling? ”

He holds his hands up in a placating manner. “No. No. Everything’s good. Better than good, even. Is Blakely available?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” His eyes flit rapidly.

My lips press into a thin line. “You squeamish about women using the restroom, Kirk?”

“No! I’m not sure how Blakely?—”

“Everybody shits.”

The slim man turns pink all the way to the top of his bald head. Crap. I probably offended him.

Then I hear a scandalized screech and the sound of small feet stomping across hardwood. “I wasn’t doing that!”

I glare at Kirk like this is his fault. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I was washing my face and brushing my teeth.” Each word sounds like a dog snarling. I’m in so much trouble. May as well dig the hole a little deeper.

The heat of Blakely’s eyes bore into my forehead, but I fight off the prickles on my scalp. “She snores. Did you know?”

Kirk shakes his head, mouth still open.

“Yeah. Louder than my fucking father. You should’ve warned me.”

His nervous laughter filters over the video. “Sorry, man, I had no idea she snores.”

“I don’t snore!” Blakely flings herself onto the bed next to me, finger out, ready to poke me. I snatch her hand before she has the chance and gather her into an angry bundle in my lap.

“You do. Loudly. And talk in your sleep. It’s a wonder I’ve gotten any rest at all.”

“You’re making that up. No one has ever complained about sleeping next to me, thank you very much. ”

“They were probably all scared you’d yell at them,” Kirk chimes in.

“It’s a good thing I’m not scared of you. Isn’t it? This way, you get to hear the truth.” Her mouth drops open, but before she can tell me off, I press my lips to her cheek and hand her the phone.

The tension in her jaw and shoulders disappears, and she relaxes against me.

I’m considering kissing her again when Kirk interrupts. “Blakely, glad you are up. Let’s talk numbers. The livestream yesterday was massive.”

Blakely tilts her head back and beams at me before turning to Kirk. “Really? I knew it would be huge. I haven’t looked at it since posting!”

“You should; people are eating it up. They are big fans of Mr. Brooks there and the idea of the two of you as more than roommates.” Kirk’s eyebrows wiggle up and down, and he gives us a knowing grin. “I knew you two would make a compelling couple.”

With a wave of her hand, Blakely refocuses the conversation, and while she’s perfectly at ease, my agitation triples. “Get serious. Let’s talk numbers. What are you seeing?”

“Your biggest post to date. ‘Blakely Bradshaw and her Sexy Lumberjack’ is trending.”

Blakely elbows me in the ribs. “I knew it.”

“You need to read through the comments. I recommend you do it together.” Again, he shoots us a shrewd look. “So, you two finally kissed.”

“There have been a few errant kisses, some heavy flirting, and a touch of mutual masturba?—”

As I snarl, “Blakely!” Kirk yells, “Stop right there! I love you, BB, but nope. Please don’t finish that sentence.”

She giggles and shrugs. “Fine. I expected Hudson’s reaction, but I never pegged you for a prude, Kirk.” She leans into the lens and, in a dramatic stage whisper, adds, “Marcus tells me things.”

Kirk covers his face. “This is so inappropriate.”

With another laugh, Blakely ends the call and immediately opens one of her many apps. I watch her scroll until the screen is nothing but a blur. Every now and then, she laughs or groans, but then she goes stock-still in my arms.

The picture on her phone makes my breath catch. It’s the two of us—my arms around her waist, my mouth grazing her ear. She’s angled toward me with a dreamy look on her face.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were a couple. Blakely saves the image to her camera roll, a pink flush on her cheeks.

She ducks her head. “What? It’s a great picture of me.” She wriggles in my lap until we face each other, her legs on either side of my hips. “Want to hear some of the comments?”

“Um…”

“Listen to this one! ‘ I swore I’d never follow Blakely Bradshaw, but if she keeps sharing that delicious hunk, I’ll be a follower for life. ’ You’re helping me convert the haters.”

When I don’t say anything, she continues reading. Many of the comments mention me or speculate on Blakely and me as a couple.

“They love you, Hudson! You could start your own account and have thousands of followers within a month.”

I listen, frozen in confusion and frustration. This is everything I’ve avoided. There’s a reason I don’t deal with this shit for the business. I don’t want or need a bunch of random assholes talking about me and my love life. Or whatever the fuck this thing is between us.

Minutes pass before she realizes I haven’t spoken. She tips her head to the side. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna check on the fire.” Shifting her off my lap without speaking, I skulk to the fireplace. I’m wrong for walking away without talking to her, but I’m liable to say something I’ll regret—something about her only thinking of herself again.

After stabbing the logs with the poker, I hunker on the couch, losing myself in the flickering flames and my thoughts. I signed up for this, but I never planned on people seeing something so intimate. When I brushed my lips against her neck and whispered in her ear, I thought it was just us. Not Blakely, me, and thousands of internet shit stirrers.

The weight of the couch cushions shifts as Blakely perches next to me. She’s close. Very close. For a second, I consider putting some space between us, but then she settles a hand on my thigh and starts talking.

“Hey, you okay? You kind of ran off there at the end of the conversation. I thought we were having fun.”

I keep my eyes on the fire. “I don’t know what to think about all this. It’s fucking invasive.”

“I thought you didn’t care what a bunch of strangers on the internet think of you?”

“This is different. It’s not about me as a guide. This is about what I thought was a private moment between us.” I pause and rub my beard. “I feel a little used. ”

Blakely sucks in a gasp of air at my words. “Used?”

“Being played to boost your numbers, or whatever it is that matters to you and Kirk. Is any of this real to you? Or is it all a show for your job, your persona? It’s so easy for you to flip the switch and become Blakely Bradshaw social media star.”

She climbs into my lap, looping her arms around my neck. “It’s no show. I mean, it’s kind of a show, but I’m not using you. It’s a symbiotic relationship. Each time I post something, your business grows, too. I thought you understood how this works. Do you want me to take the post down? I will. It won’t stop the reposts or the trending, but?—”

“No. I… fuck.” My head falls forward into her chest. “I don’t know, Blakely. They aren’t even using my name. I’m Blakely Bradshaw’s lumberjack or hunk.”

“Hudson, I promise, you’re so much more than either of those things. I’ve also been pretty damn honest and obvious about the fact that I’m attracted to you.” She lifts my chin and caresses my jaw. “If you think this is me trying to butter you up to get you on camera, or worse, some kind of long con for viewers, you don’t know me at all. You asked me to trust you; can you do the same? Trust that I have our best interest at heart, but also that I want you. With the cameras and without.”

Her words are what I’ve been wanting to hear: that I can trust her, that whatever this mutual attraction is between us, it isn’t some fake romance to get viewers.

As I open my mouth to tell her this, she says, “We’re still learning about each other. How about we play twenty questions? I have so much I’m dying to know about you. And you can do the same.” She waves her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “But in a way less tense way.” She trails off and raises her eyebrows at me. “What do you say, Bear?”

I have a thousand questions I want her to answer, but I can start with twenty. “Fine, but I get to go first.”

“Deal. How about some more whiskey?”

“It grew on you?”

“If you mean can I choke it down? Then yes.” She grins. “It’s a lot like you.”

The idea of Blakely choking me down makes my dick ache, but to cover it up, I give her a teasing push. When she slides out of my lap, I stride to the kitchen and grab the bottle.

When I return, Blakely snags the whiskey before curling up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder and throwing her legs over mine. Like it’s what I was born to do, I trace lazy circles on her arm while my other hand settles on her knee.

“Alright, Spitfire, question one: how the hell did you end up a social media star?”

She gives me a wry grin before sipping the dark amber liquid. Her little cough is so fucking cute. “I thought we were easing into this.” When I don’t offer her a reprieve, she sighs. “It was honestly an accident. I’d been in Austin for ten years, eking out a living. Then Covid happened, and everything went tits up. I was lucky to keep busy with freelance jobs and work remotely, and thankfully, I had enough saved to keep paying my bills. But I had way too much extra time, so like everyone else during the pandemic year, I started vlogging.”

“Vlogging?” I open my mouth, and she tips the bottle to my lips.

Her laugh dances in my ear along with the pops of the fire. “I had a stupid rant about how much my roots had grown out go viral, and overnight, I had an influx of followers. I never looked back.” She pauses to take another drink. “I curated my following into a niche market focusing on Austin style and popular places to be seen. And suddenly, I was someone.”

I squeeze her knee. “You were always someone.”

“Trust me, I really wasn’t. And I’m still not. But it’s nice to pretend.”

She goes quiet before snorting. “Boy, that was way more answer than I was expecting to give. My turn. Question one: if you didn’t work for Peak Adventures, what would you do?”

“There’s nothing else.” We pass the bottle back and forth; each sip warms me from the inside out, as does the easy conversation between Blakely and me.

“Nothing? You never dreamed of being an astronaut or fireman or circus clown?”

“Circus clown?” I chuckle and give her neck a quick peck.

“I don’t know! I just mean you couldn’t have always wanted to be a guide and wilderness expert.”

Did I ever want anything else? Did I ever have the option? Rather than answering, I ask my next question. “How old are you?”

“Um, wow. What a deflection. That’s rude to ask, by the way. I’m thirty-three, if you must know. What about you?”

I smirk. “Thought it was rude to ask?”

“Well.” She hiccups; her pretty eyes glassy. “You already did, so I figure we’re past being polite.”

“Thirty-five. Easy one, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Strawberry, hands down. Was Paige your last serious relationship?”

I raise my eyebrows at her question. Ballsy. “Yeah.”

“Have you dated since then?”

“You asked two questions in a row. And yeah, I’ve dated, but nothing long-term.” I eye her. “Same question to you.”

“I dated another Austin influencer, Ryan, for too long. Turns out he’s a cheating cheater.” This time, she tilts the bottle up for more than a shot.

“When did it end?”

“The day before I turned thirty-three. He was the gift that kept on giving.”

I snort at her deadpan tone and pull her in for a kiss. The desire to stamp the mention of another man out of her mouth has me stealing the nearly empty bottle and moving it out of the way, not caring if it spills. Flipping us so Blakely is underneath me on the couch, I seize her lips with mine. I flash back to a couple of days ago when I first crossed this line.

Our kiss is fervent, needy. Her tongue slips between my lips, and her lithe body presses up against mine. She’s so warm, so alive. I pull her closer, loving how she tastes like whiskey and melts at my touch.

The ragged moan she lets out has my balls tightening and my cock throbbing. With a curse, I break the kiss.

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” There’s a note of hurt in her words.

I sweep a stray strand of hair off her face, then rest my forehead against hers. “I’m sending you mixed messages, and that’s not like me. But, Spitfire—” I lift my head so she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I want to believe this attraction is more than just for show.”

“It’s more. I promise.” She punctuates her words with soft kisses. “I want you, Bear. So much.”

I snag a few more greedy kisses, savoring the whiskey on her tongue. Denying myself everything I want, I gently push up and put space between us and say, “When it happens, and it will happen, it won’t be on this shitty couch after we’ve been drinking.”

Blakely licks her swollen lips, all flushed like a displaced goddess.

And I’m the mortal fool denying her.

Soon, there will be no more hesitation or holding back. No more worrying about what might happen, and I’ll praise her like she deserves.

I just hope I’m not left holding a shredded heart when Blakely’s time here comes to an end.