Roughing It

14. Blakely

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

blakely

DAY ELEVEN

I wake up in our bed with a pounding head and a fuzzy brain. Stupid whiskey.

Hudson and I kissed. A lot. More than all the past few days combined, but then he pulled back. Again. And I finished what was left in the bottle.

This song and dance—one step forward, two steps back—is getting old.

Despite my mental haze, I clearly remember Hudson’s concerns. It stings thinking he doesn’t trust my motives, but I guess I can’t blame him. I haven’t given him a ton of reasons to believe me.

“How’re you feeling?” Hudson asks, coffee already in hand.

“Shhh. Why are you yelling?”

He smirks. “I’m talking in a normal voice. You’re hungover.”

“Ugh, why aren’t you?”

His low, rumbly chuckle makes my stomach flip. “Some of us can handle our whiskey,” he says. His handsome face grows serious. “If you’re worried we did more than kiss, you shouldn’t be. I wouldn’t take advantage of a situation like that.”

“I trust you, Bear.” I pause and swallow. “And you can trust me, too.”

Hudson kisses my temple. “I believe you, Spitfire. Now get dressed while I make you a coffee.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Why? Isn’t it still too cold to do anything?”

“Nope. Cold front moved out. It’s a balmy forty-seven out there.”

Groaning, I pull the blanket up over my head. “And what does this mean for me?”

He yanks the cover down. “We’re going fishing.”

One brisk shower, two cups of coffee, a dry piece of toast, and a tiny disagreement about what to wear while fishing later, Hudson and I are on our way. His arms overflow with a small styrofoam cooler, his backpack, fishing rods, and a trowel.

“What’s the little shovel for?”

He shakes the cooler at me. “Bait.”

My feet come to a stop. “What?”

“Fish won’t bite an empty line.”

“Don’t you have those fake ones?” My words squeak out.

“Sure, but digging for worms builds character.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

I blanch. “I am not touching a worm.”

“You’re too good to do some digging, Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Are you asking?” Shaking his head, he peels open the lid on the cooler, showing me some sodas, water bottles, and snacks. “Worms work better, but we’re using spinners today.”

“You’re such a shit.” With a toss of my hair, I power ahead of him, not stopping until I reach the water’s edge. He only has to adjust my direction three times during the twenty-minute hike from the cabin to the lake, so I’m claiming it as a victory.

Hudson steps onto the bow of his small speedboat and before I can run away, he’s got me onboard. The purr of the motor and the splashing of the water against the stern echo in the eerie quiet of the large body of water. Hudson navigates us away from the shore, the clearing long out of sight, hidden in swathes of trees and the distance we’ve put between it and us.

“How deep is this water?” I ask.

“Maxes out around ninety feet.”

I shake my head and mutter as I stare out over the dark, choppy water. I prefer my water clear, like pools, hot tubs and springs, the Caribbean. This is the perfect setting for a scary movie about a water ghost rising from the cryptic depths and taking its revenge on the living. AKA us.

It doesn’t help that the sun is hiding behind clouds. And while Hudson wasn’t lying when he said it’s warmer than yesterday, it’s still cold, especially with the occasional wind bursts. Out here in the open water, there’s no buffer, and it rips through my sweatshirt.

I’m ready to tell Hudson that we should go back to the cabin when my raincoat hits me in the face.

“What the hell?”

“I figured you’d forget your jacket, so I grabbed it. I can’t stand listening to you whine about being cold all day. Put it on.”

Hudson’s going to owe my dentist for all the teeth grinding he provokes. “Nice to know making out didn’t change your personality. Still an asshole, I see.”

He laughs—an honest to god laugh. The unexpected noise evaporates all my annoyance and makes me tingle. It’s magnificent. Rough, loud, authentic. I’ve heard him chuckle, bark, even snort, but this is special.

Hudson snags one of the fishing poles, places the lure on the line, and hands it to me.

“If I catch a fish, do I have to touch it?”

“You eat fish, right?” He raises one eyebrow at me.

“This is so not the same as eating already dead, prepared, cooked fish.” I bat my lashes at him and pooch my lower lip.

“Fine,” he sighs. “If you catch anything, I’ll help you remove it from the hook. Happy?”

“Yes, very.” I give him a quick kiss.

After what feels like ages of quiet, I scoot closer and nudge him with my knee. “We should have stayed in bed and gotten to know each other more. Instead of this.” I gesture toward my tangled fishing line and the gloomy water.

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but don’t you need content for your socials?”

“Sure, but this is so…” My nose wrinkles.

“That explains it perfectly.” He chuffs, then grows silent. His eyes cut to me once, then twice.

“What?”

Hudson jiggles his fishing pool, his eyes fastened on the tiny red and white bobber dancing in the water. “It goes without saying, but I don’t want any more personal moments filmed.”

“Hey.” I lean in and nuzzle my face against his. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’d still like to have you in my lives and stills, but only these types of things.” I wave around us. “Anything else is ours, Bear. I promise.” As I speak, I skim my fingers over his thigh, inching ever higher until he snatches my wrist.

“Fishing now, fun later,” he says.

“Boo. How about fun now, fishing never?”

“Blakely…”

“Fine,” I huff .

Hudson helps me unknot my line and shows me how to cast, telling me to wiggle it, let it sink, then slowly reel it in and repeat. He models it for me, and while I don’t care about fishing, I care that he cares. He’s so detailed and thorough as he explains what to do, and that level of expertise is damn sexy.

Within the first hour, Hudson catches four fish, and I catch zero. To say I’m thoroughly unimpressed by fishing is an understatement. I shoot him a dirty look whenever he reels one in. After the fourth unanswered catch, it’s time for a distraction.

“This is boring.”

“Spoken like someone who hasn’t caught a fish.”

I level him with a glare and toss my hair. “No, spoken like someone bored out of her mind. We’re sitting here with a stick and string.” I tilt my face back, hoping for even a flicker of sunshine to warm me. “In summer, with the heat of the sun and a bikini, I could enjoy fishing, but right now? Blech .”

Hudson doesn’t answer, but I’m used to it at this point.

“Oh!” I perk up. “How about we continue our twenty questions game? We didn’t finish last night.”

He grunts. “Fine. It’s my turn.”

“Fire away, Bear.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

My voice is tight when I answer. “I have a half-sister.”

Hudson wrinkles his brow. “Care to elaborate?”

Nibbling my bottom lip, I shift in my seat. “She was a couple of grades ahead of me in school, but we had very different childhood experiences.”

He sets his rod in the holder and turns. “How so?”

I fiddle with my pole, willing a fish to bite. “We have the same dad. It’s one of those small-town secrets that everyone knows. Her life was night and day from mine. She grew up in a big house with her mom, her grandparents, and eventually a nice stepdad. She was popular and well-liked. Meanwhile, I was living on the outskirts of town, hoping the water wouldn’t get turned off and trying my best to be invisible at school. It’s not her fault, but it made it hard to be around her, wondering if, with a small ripple in fate, that could have been me.”

Hudson secures my reel and wraps me in a warm hug. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re you.” He pulls back, a smirk on his full lips. “Even if you’re a brat.”

With a laugh, I say, “Okay, enough emotions. Let’s get to the good stuff. Plus, you asked two in a row, so I’m cashing in a big one. Do you use condoms and get tested regularly?”

“Shit.” He gapes at me, his mouth open. “That’s a personal question.”

“Yeah, but if we’re going to progress in our… relationship, we need to talk about it, right? So why not tie it to a game.” I wink at him.

Hudson’s back is ramrod straight, and his ears are pink. “I last tested two months ago and haven’t been with anyone since. My bloodwork was negative for anything. I always use condoms with casual partners. What about you?”

“I have a birth control implant but have only gone without a condom with one prior partner.” I pause, thinking of my last relationship. “Ryan and I always used condoms. I never felt right going without one with him, which given how much he was sleeping around, turned out to be a good thing. I got tested when we broke up. It came back negative, and I haven’t hooked up with anyone since.”

I watch Hudson’s face. He’s taking in everything I shared. It’s a blunt way to find these things out, but it’s a conversation that has to happen.

His Adam’s apple bobs, and a mixture of emotions flicker across his freckled face. Anger, heat, hunger. “You deserve someone who thinks enough of you not to cheat.”

Smiling at him, I say, “I agree. Know anyone up for the job?”

He doesn’t answer, opting instead to thread his fingers into my hair and pull my face to his. “What would your preference be with me?”

“With you?”

His nose brushes mine before his lips graze against my mouth. “Uh-huh.”

“I would want to feel all of you. Nothing in between us.” I lean in, ready to claim him, when his line jerks, snapping us out of the moment.

Hudson: five. Blakely: zero.

Another eternity passes, and I still haven’t caught a single stupid fish. However, I do manage to snag some candids and even convince Hudson to pose for a selfie with me after swearing I won’t post it anywhere.

Balancing my phone in one hand, fishing pole in the other, I lean against the railing, mindlessly scrolling and hearting comments.

“Be careful, Blakely, wouldn’t want your lifeline—I mean your phone—to fall in the water, now would you?”

“For your information, I have excellent balance, and I’m a pro multitasker. I can hold my phone and fish, no problem. Not like I’m catching anything, anyway.” I stick my tongue out at him, then roll my shoulders, put on my best Blakely Bradshaw smile, and with a steadying breath, go live .

“Hello, BBs! I’m coming to you from the middle of Lake Pika—which is named for a local animal. You need to search for this adorable little critter! It’s so cute!” I giggle and then pan to Hudson. “And here’s my amazing guide and cabin mate, Hudson Brooks of Peak Adventures in lovely Trail Creek, New Mexico. He’s taking me fishing. Can you believe it?” I scan the lake and the surrounding trees with my camera, then turn it back on myself and continue. “Ever the chivalrous one, Mr. Brooks did not make me use live bait, though I have to say I’m getting slightly suspicious. We have been fishing for a hundred years?—”

“Two hours,” he snorts from behind me.

I grin and roll my eyes at the camera. “Fine, two hours. The point is, I’ve yet to catch a single fish! Meanwhile, my virile outdoorsman here has managed to catch seven. What do you think, BBs? Did he give me the bad luck pole? Or maybe all the fish have crushes on him?” I give a conspiratorial wink into the lens. “From the comments on my last livestream, all y’all do!”

Hudson huffs and goes back to his rod and reel. Shit. Was that too far? Keeping my smile on my face is no easy feat, given the anxiety cartwheeling in my stomach. Did I make him mad? I’m about to cut the live and check with him when an unexpected weight tugs on my line.

Faster than I can scream, my phone flies from my hand, and I tumble over the side into the icy water.

Stinging liquid rushes into my nose, and the shock of the freezing temperature steals precious seconds before my brain and body agree on what needs to happen. Kicking my feet, I claw for the surface.

I’m a strong swimmer, but I’m wearing heavy boots and multiple layers and have no idea which way is up. The frigid water locks my muscles, and I’m on the verge of panic. Dread claws my throat with each bubble of air that escapes from my lungs, but light filters through the murky water. Surely, I’m close.

I am so not dying while fucking fishing. Or before I get to sleep with Hudson Brooks.

Something grasps my arm and hauls me in the opposite direction I’m swimming. With a glorious burst, I’m free from the depths, sputtering out lake water while sucking in fresh air. My entire body shakes, and despite trying to speak, no words will come out.

Like he’s talking through a wall, I hear Hudson. “Blakely, baby, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

My first muddled thought is get me out of this fucking water. The second is he called me baby. Third? Holy shit, he’s naked.

“Blakely!” his voice snaps louder.

I turn wide eyes on him.

“I’m climbing the ladder, then I’ll pull you in. You’re okay.”

All I can do is blink.

“Fuck. Taking that as a sign you understand.”

He heaves himself onto the back of the boat. I get a quick flash of his toned ass and bare thighs before he wrenches me out of the water and into his arms.

“Blakely, can you hear me? … Blakely!” Hudson’s voice is sharp and thundering. “Fucking say something!”

Am I not answering him?

“N-naked?”

He muffles a snort against my hair. “Yeah, baby. I’m naked. Had to dive in after you.” His mouth is warm against my forehead. “I’m so fucking sorry. Gotta get you out of these wet clothes. Okay?”

“S’okay.”

I’m sitting on the cooler, swaddled in a blanket. My feet are bare, and my clothes are in a pile next to me while a half- dressed Hudson rubs my arms up and down. Up and down. It hurts. Like when your leg falls asleep.

“P-pins.”

“Yeah, goddamn pins and needles. It stings, but we’ve gotta get your blood flowing.”

My eyes narrow. Now he understands me?

Wind whips my wet hair and slices through the blanket. Trembling, I inch as close to Hudson as possible while he steers us back to shore. My muscles ache, and my throat and nose burn—how much water went up it anyway—but my mind clears.

As the fog lifts, I realize I wasn’t in the water more than a minute before Hudson fished— ha —me out, but it felt like a lifetime. The boat glides toward the shoreline, but it can’t go fast enough. I want back on land. Now.

“I d–d-don’t like f-fishing.”

Hudson tucks me closer, pressing kisses to my lake-soaked head. We dock, and he grabs me and crushes his lips to mine. Then he breaks away, throwing my blanket-clad body over his shoulder. “Gotta get you warmed up ASAP.”

“Hudson, p-put me down!” I may be in shock, but I still have my dignity. Or at least what remains after falling into a lake in the middle of a live.

Shit.

“No, it’s faster this way.”

“I n-need my phone.”

His steps falter. “Are you seriously worried about your phone?”

My tongue is like a dead slug and won’t cooperate. “Livestream. When I fell. Th-thousands of people. I need to l-let them know I’m okay.”

“Fuck.” He spins around, me still slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and runs to the boat.

When he grabs my phone, the stream is still going.

“Tell them. P-please?”

I can’t see what he’s doing, but I hear him growl, “She’s fine.” Then nothing.

“W-way with words,” I grouse from my skewed vantage point.

“Yeah, I’m a real fucking wordsmith.” He squeezes me. “Stay with me, Spitfire.”

The next time I blink, Hudson’s anxious face hovers over mine. “You back with me, Blakely? You passed out for a sec there.”

I nod or do some sort of wobble while I place where I am—curled up on something soft and warm. I go to sit up, but firm pressure keeps me in place.

“You need rest.”

Again, I imitate a dashboard bobblehead. “Okay.”

My nose and throat sting, and my head pounds; maybe the nodding is too intense. What am I lying on? It’s so fluffy and cozy. I could fa?—

“Nope. Resting, not sleeping. Need you to stay awake.”

My eyes are like two bricks. “I’m tired,” I pout.

“That’s the adrenaline fade.”

The fireplace crackles to my left, close enough for me to enjoy the heat. My brain tries to puzzle everything out like the world’s worst word problem: If the bed is fifteen feet from the fire, but Springy the evil sofa isn’t stabbing Blakely in the back, how many gallons of water did she drink from the lake?

There’s a breath passing as a laugh. “Moved it.”

“Huh?”

“The mattress. You needed to be closer to the fire.”

“Oh.” I blink at Hudson. Twice. “Thank you.” It’s then I realize soft sheets graze every bit of my body. I peel the blankets back, and yep… I’m naked.

“Sorry.” Hudson chokes out the word, then sits by my feet, head in his hands. “I asked if it was okay, but you were out of it. I had to get those wet clothes off you, and you weren’t—” He swallows. “You probably think I’m fucking incompetent.”

I take in his defeated posture. This stoic, beautiful man. He thinks he failed me.

“Hudson.”

He lifts his face, and the worry I see there stabs me in the chest. “Yeah?”

“Were you naked, or did I imagine that?”

I smile at his pink ears. “Where was your underwear?”

“I was going commando. I don’t think I’ve ever undressed that fast in my life.”

Warmth that has nothing to do with the fire or blankets speeds through me. I crook a finger and say, “Shut up and get under this blanket with me right now.”

He stares at me like I’ve grown a third eye. Or like he had to tow me out of a lake deathtrap, carry my waterlogged body home, and find a way to keep me safe when I passed out. Oh, wait…

“Not asking, Bear. Get your ass over here and warm me up. We both know the fastest way to get me hot is for you to touch me.” I giggle at my double entendre. I’m funny. Or maybe I’m really out of it.

Crawling up the length of the bed, Hudson climbs under the covers and wraps his burly frame around mine. The brush of cotton against my bare back raises goosebumps over my flesh.

I bring his hand to my lips and press a soft kiss against it. “Hudson, you dove into Lake Doom, naked.”

“Blakely, I?—”

“Hush, this is the best part. As I was saying, you dove into Lake Doom naked and pulled me to the surface. You carried me home and made me a pallet on the floor. You watched over me, making sure I was okay. You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t fuck up.”

“It’s my job to keep you safe. And so far, I’ve taken you on a hike that led to blisters and fishing that ended in disaster.”

Rolling over so we’re face to face, I give him a small smile. “Don’t forget about tormenting me with knot tying and navigation.”

He huffs. “Those are actual skills, not punishments.” His lips press to my forehead, and his voice drops. “Scared the shit out of me when you went over, Spitfire.”

The fire pops, and I shiver. “Me too.” Swallowing, I thread one of my legs between his, stealing as much of his precious warmth as I can.

Things could have gone very differently today.

Hudson draws symbols I don’t recognize on my skin, his fingers walking the expanse of my back. I shiver again, but this time it isn’t from the cold.

I need Hudson.

Is it rational to want him right now? No, probably not. But fuck it.

I kiss him. Kiss him like he saved my life. Like I’ve wanted to since I saw his cocky ass outside Peak Adventures. Like he set my nerves on fire with that first kiss days ago and has been denying me what I want since.

Like he’s what I’m searching for.

The kiss grows, morphing into something hungrier. When his tongue slides along the seam of my mouth, I open to him. His breath becomes mine, and for the first time since falling into the water, I can breathe.

I inhale him, every brush of his tongue, every nip, every scorching press of our lips. And then, like always, Hudson breaks the kiss.

He murmurs against my neck, “Blakely, easy. You had a big scare, and we need to get your temperature stabilized.”

“I want you to warm me, Bear.”

Hudson’s fingers skim my neck, tilting my face. “Take a shower. It’ll help. Rinse off the lake water. I’ll make some tea.”

Tears spring to my eyes at his rejection. Fucking post-terrible-experience emotions .

“No, don’t cry. That’s not… I’m not turning you away.”

“Feels like it.”

“Shit.” Gently gripping my trembling chin, Hudson kisses his way from my jaw to my ear and whispers. “Shower first. Then we’ll see what else we can do to keep you warm.”