Roughing It

21. Hudson

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

hudson

DAY TWENTY

Blakely stares into space, occasionally mumbling to herself, while I move around the kitchen. She’s been off since telling me more about Hawthorne, and despite enjoying her time in Trail Creek, she’s keeping something from me. Something heavy.

Last night she shoved her phone under her pillow and curled around me like I could keep whatever shit’s chasing her at bay. I did my best to live up to that expectation, and will every day she grants me the chance.

Dropping breakfast in front of her, I say, “Talking to yourself?”

Her eyes widen, and she jumps when the plate hits the wooden table. “Was I?”

“Yep. In your sleep, too. Last night, it was a lot of my name. Which made it hard as hell to get any rest.” I lean and kiss her neck. “Even asleep, you’re a nuisance. ”

“You love me. Admit it.” As soon as the L-word leaves her lips, she freezes.

She has no idea how close those words are to being the truth.

“I mean it, you love it . Me saying your name.”

I softly bite where her neck and shoulder meet. “No need for verbal acrobatics.”

Blakely lays her head on her arms and groans. “Hudson, what are we going to do?”

As much as I want to push her right now, I’ve learned enough about Blakely Bradshaw in our twenty days together to know she’s stubborn as shit. So, I give her an out. “Practice your survival skills.”

The little annoyed huff she makes is so fucking cute. “That’s not what I mean, asshole, and you know it.”

I lift her chin from where she tries to hide it and kiss her. “I do.”

But there is one thing we need to address. Clearing my throat, I say, “I thought about what you said last night. About needing something lasting. Something real.” Fuck, here goes. “This thing between us, Spitfire?, it’s fucking real.”

Her mouth opens, but I plow ahead, cutting her off.

“But I agree. You shouldn’t make choices based on a single bad day or even a handful of good ones.” I swallow. “And neither should I.”

Her lashes flutter as if fighting off tears. “So what? We just wait and see what happens?”

“For now.” Do I wish I could tell her to throw everything she’s built away and stay here? Yes. Do I wish she’d come to that conclusion on her own? Fuck yes. Is it way too soon to be thinking of a lifetime with her? Triple goddamn yes.

I hoist her from the chair, loving how her legs automatically wrap around my waist.

“I can live with that. For now.” A crooked smile brightens her face, and I can’t help but kiss her.

The buzzing of her phone breaks the moment, and I pull away with a groan. The way I wish that fucking phone had landed in the lake…

Blakely squirms in my grip, stretching toward the table. “It’s Ki?—”

“Kirk, yeah, I know.” I’m about ready to chuck Kirk into the lake, too. I plop Blakely back into her seat and stomp to the sink.

In her time here, she’s taken every video call out in the open, not caring if I hear the conversation. But today, when she answers, she says, “Hey, Kirk. Give me a sec.”

My shoulders stiffen, and I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of her.

Without meeting my eyes, she steps away from the table. “I’m taking this on the porch.”

I nod and watch her retreat; irritation partners with concern to two-step in my stomach. Washing the few dishes we dirtied takes all of ten seconds, and while I don’t mean to stand where I can hear her half of the conversation, it’s a small fucking cabin.

Kirk’s voice is muffled, but Blakely’s so damn loud I have no trouble making out her words. “Why are you calling me? Aren’t you on vacation?”

There’s a brief pause, and despite knowing better, I step closer.

“I’m fine, Kirk… trying not to worry about her. Instead, I’m focusing on enjoying my time with Hudson.”

Hearing her say that she wants to focus on our remaining days together eases some of the curdled milk feeling in my gut.

“Of course,” she snaps, and shit, I want to know what he asked her.

“Give me a break. You didn’t call to fuss at me about only posting stills. I’ll do a livestream soon enough. Is this about checking on me or because you’re worried about your bottom line?”

Fuck. Kirk is one of her people. If she’s lashing out at him, this is serious. And now that I think of it, she hasn’t done a video since our bow and arrow lesson. Even yesterday, outside of some staged photos while we were in town, she didn’t have her phone out.

I’m dropping the ball with her. Something big is going on with my girl.

Her voice rings louder, indignation sharpening her words. “You know what’s not fair? My mother threatening to drag me through the mud, talking about my childhood, and leaving nonstop messages to get money out of me!”

That’s it. I can’t sit in here with my thumb up my ass while she’s hurting. I plow through the cabin door and slide onto the porch swing next to Blakely like she’s motherfucking home plate.

Now that I’m out here with her, I can hear Kirk when he asks, “Do you plan on talking to her?”

Tears trail down her rosy cheeks, but anger sparks in her eyes. “No. You know how I feel about it. I can’t believe you expect me to reach out to her.”

I scoop her into my lap, hoping the gentle sway and closeness will be a calming balm. Her eyelids flutter, and she buries her nose in the crook between my neck and shoulder. Warm, wet droplets land on my collarbone.

Kirk’s face twists in discomfort and sympathy. “You don’t have to talk to her. And I’ll back you however you decide to handle this.”

“Good. Because it’s not happening.” Her voice is firm, leaving no room for discussion. With a quiet goodbye, she drops the phone.

“What was that about?”

“My mom.”

Those two words are the only answer she gives me. Questions buzz in my brain. There’s so fucking much we need to talk about. Her mom. The way she assumed the worst about Trail Creek yesterday. What’s going on between us. What happens when the countdown clock reaches zero. But my tongue is lead.

This relationship is a roller coaster on broken tracks. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try to weld the gaps and keep us on this ride for as long as I can.

“I’m taking you on a date.”

She lifts her head, eyes glassy with unshed tears, but the beginning of a smile plays on her lips. “A date?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Figure it’s about time.”

That beautiful smile grows. “You’ve taken me on lots of dates.”

I blink twice. “I have?”

“Sure.” She pinches my side, and that little action untangles the knot in my chest. “Not traditional ones necessarily, but we’ve been on sunrise hikes, shopping in Trail Creek, had a picnic at a hot spring.” She pauses and wrinkles her nose. “I’m not counting the fishing trip.”

I wince, thinking about that disaster, but it also gives me an idea. “Tell you what. You enjoy the day. Relax, read one of your new books, take a long bath. Just be ready to go at six.”

She raises an eyebrow at me.

Pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, I move her out of my lap. “You’ll want your boots and waterproof jacket, but other than that, wear what you like.”

“What do you have up your sleeve, Bear?”

“You’ll find out at six.” With that, I leave her pouting on the porch swing. I’ve got a date to plan and a woman to woo.

“Blakely, you ready?”

She’s sitting amongst the exploded debris of her suitcases. Her side of the cabin is always messy, but this is akin to a disaster zone. Shirts, pants, and dresses are scattered and spread from the bed to the wall and everywhere in between.

She jerks when I say her name and shakes the dazed look from her face. “Shit, is it already six?”

“Yep.”

A string of curses falls from her mouth, and she throws a pale pink top to the already heaping pile on the floor. “I lost track of time. Sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out what to wear for hours. It’s stupid. I tried on everything I brought. Then, I thought checking my socials would be a good idea, but that was a mistake. Internet trolls always suck, but it’s worse when it’s your fa…” She cuts off mid-ramble.

My eyes trace over her features, and what I see has my jaw tightening. Her hair is disheveled, and she’s wearing cut-off shorts and one of my flannels. And while that combo ranks pretty fucking high on my fantasy list, it’s clear it’s not intentional. But worst of all? Her eyes are red and puffy, and the tip of her nose is red. “Have you been crying?”

“A little.” She waves her hand in the air in a dismissive motion. “Hormones. Or maybe a high pollen count.” When I don’t break my stare, she shrugs. “Really, I’m fine now.”

She’s lying. And even if she isn’t, it doesn’t diminish my concern. Anything that makes my Spitfire cry is on my shit list.

“Blakely.”

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

She used that line with me yesterday, too.

“I want to enjoy tonight with you. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready. I can’t wait to see what you planned.”

I can tell the moment she processes the sight of me. My ego gets a firm stroke when her cheeks pinken and her breath hitches.

“Wow.” The single word comes out as an awed whisper. “Handsome. How did I miss you coming in?”

My lips quirk into a half smile. She missed me earlier this afternoon, but I keep that secret for now. “I used a camp shower and got dressed on the porch.” The tips of my ears burn, and I cough. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“You nailed it.”

I’m far more dressed up than she’s ever seen. My go to are jeans, a flannel, and hiking boots during the day, and joggers or sweatpants in the evening. But tonight, I pulled out all the stops. Or as many stops as I can stand. Bo ran a white button up and the only suit jacket I own out to me. He gave me shit for the first hour he was here, and the group chat with him and Gray has been going off since he left. Fuckers.

But I’ll take their harassment for her.

She rises from the floor, drops a kiss on my lips, and smooths a hand over my furrowed brow. “I promise to tell you. Tomorrow.”

Blakely takes her time changing clothes. It doesn’t bother me that she wasn’t ready. Doesn’t even surprise me. What is bothering me is that she’s holding back. But hell, I can’t blame her. We haven’t put a label on whatever this thing is between us. The clock keeps ticking on her departure. I consider myself lucky she’s opened up as much as she has.

With a groan, I run my hands down my face. I’m not buying the bullshit logic I’m selling myself. The truth is, I don’t care about anything except wiping those tears away, showing her she’s safe, and making her happy. Keeping her.

I’m waiting by the door when I spot her phone. It’s a good ten feet away from where she was when I came in, like it got tossed across the cabin. I consider kicking it even further. Maybe it accidentally lands in the fireplace. That fucking thing is nothing but trouble.

A pair of slender arms wrap around me, and Blakely kisses the center of my back and runs her fingers along my shoulders. “Alright, Bear. Show me what you’ve got.”

I spin and press my face into her hair, inhaling her sweet floral shampoo. “Can’t seem to deny you anything, Spitfire.”

In a wordless answer, Blakely crushes her mouth to mine, her tongue slipping between my lips, her hands twisting in the material of my shirt. Her smaller frame molds against me, a perfect fit.

There’s nothing like the feel of her.

When she moans around my mouth, I break the kiss, then rest my forehead on hers, waiting for our hearts to slow. “If you kiss me like that again, we’ll never make it out of here,” I whisper, close enough for our lips to brush with every word.

“Would that be the worst thing?”

Would it? My eyes travel her body, committing each delicate inch of her to the deepest part of my memory. Fuck off, division. So long, state capitals. All my brain matter is for one thing and one thing only: Blakely Bradshaw.

Blakely laughs and pushes me, putting space between us. “Just kidding! Let’s go. You got all dressed up for me. I’m not spending the night inside.”

I guide her through the door, taking a moment to appreciate her outfit. The hiking boots and leggings are practical, the skin-tight dress, though? That’s all her.

Slinging her forgotten waterproof jacket over my shoulder, I lace our fingers together and lead her to the Jeep.

Being the gentleman my parents raised me to be, I open the car door. But in a move that would make my momma blush, I slap Blakely’s shapely ass as she climbs in.

“Hey!” I love it when she pouts.

I drive us down the narrow path meant for hiking, not a vehicle, until it’s too overgrown to go any further. Still knocked a good twenty minutes off the trip. A glance at Blakely tells me she hasn’t figured out where we are.

The sun sets behind the higher mountains as we hike through the forest, following the last third of the worn path toward the lake. The golden hour glow creates a tawny warmth, the lingering light filtering through the leaves.

“Every day out here is better than the one before,” Blakely says, a hint of wistfulness threading her words. I squeeze her hand and bid her onward; the forest isn’t our destination for the night.

About twenty yards from where the treeline breaks, I stop. “Trust me?”

“Yeah.” She answers quickly, but narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Asking why defeats the purpose of giving me your trust, Spitfire. Now close your eyes.”

She snorts. “If you’re planning on White Fanging me out here, eyes open or closed, I won’t be able to navigate back on my own.”

“ White Fanging ? I don’t even want to know. Now, close your eyes.”

Blakely’s lower lip juts out, but she does as I ask. Mindful of the brambles and brush, I steer her out of the trees and into the clearing that surrounds Lake Pica.

“Where are we?”

“The lake.” At my answer, Blakely stiffens.

“What are we doing here?”

“Shh.” I cradle her against my chest. “Can’t have you scared of the water. We’re making some new memories.”

The tiny nod is enough of an okay for me.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

Blakely’s mouth drops, and she takes two steps forward before turning.

“This is… did you do this? Today?”

I survey my handiwork, proud of what I accomplished. Battery-powered lights loop around the bow of my docked boat, and pillows and blankets pad the floor. At the shoreline, a seating area waits with a basket full of food and a crackling fire.

“Bo gave me a hand, but yeah, I did this today.” Sweeping her blonde hair to the side, I kiss the sensitive spot beneath her ear and hug her.

“How?”

I chuckle and kiss her in that same spot, loving the goosebumps that spring up on her skin. “The hardest part was sneaking into the cabin to get the wine. But you were in the bath with your earbuds and some sort of alien-looking goo on your face. You’re a terrible singer, by the way.”

“People tell me I have a lovely voice!” She cranes her neck and gives me her best mean mug.

“Hate to break it to you, but they’re liars. You need more honest people in your life, fewer yes-men.” When her pouty face returns, I can’t resist sucking her plump lower lip between my teeth. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

The immediate dilation of her pupils doesn’t pass my notice. Into her ear, I whisper, “Real food first.”

My bratty baby arches her back and grinds her hips into my cock. “Fine. Feed me.” Then, with a loud laugh, she strolls to the fire pit.

“Wait, so you’re saying you foraged for this?” Blakely asks, shoveling another bite of the dandelion green salad into her mouth.

“Yep.”

Her eyebrows raise. “All of it?”

I glance at her plate. “Most of it.” Her glare at my short answers never gets old.

“What’s the crunchy bit?”

“Pi?on pine nuts. Toasted ‘em.”

“And the dressing?” She licks her fork, and there’s a corresponding twitch in my pants.

The desire to feed her, care for her, show her she’s mine pulses through me, impossible to resist. Shifting, I lean forward and draw her into my lap, spearing a bite before gently slipping it between her lips. With each mouthful, I murmur an ingredient. Anticipation grows thick between us, turning our menu discussion into a test of patience.

“Chokecherries.” I slide one hand down her throat, letting the weight settle on her pulse point. “Olive oil.” I lick the corner of her mouth. “And honey.” I push my thumb between her lips, then slowly drag it back out until she releases it with a soft pop .

The empty plate falls to the ground, and we’re on each other. Hands. Lips. Teeth. I nip at her collarbone before soothing the sting with a sweet kiss. My fingers trace the path my mouth traveled, and Blakely quivers under my attention.

Her mischievous little hands drift south until one skims over the front of my pants. Fuck. The gentle kisses I’m leaving on her neck turn into bruising, open-mouth ones. Need possesses me, and I grip her waist, attempting to bring her closer.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” My words are a rasp in her ear.

Blakely pulls back and licks her bottom lip before tugging it between her teeth. “I could have sworn you said my shampoo didn’t smell that good.”

“I lied.” Our mouths meet again, and I swallow her moan. She guides one of my hands to her chest, encouraging me to draw circles around her nipples—the pebbled peaks visible beneath the fabric of her tight dress. With a roll of my hips, I pinch one between my thumb and index finger.

“Hudson.” My name is the most delicious whimper I’ve ever heard, and when she rolls her hips against mine, I count backward from a hundred by sevens to keep from losing it.

At fifty-eight, I give up. With a curse, I yank her dress up to her belly button and thrust upward, the hard line of my cock pressing against the thin barrier of her leggings. This wasn’t the plan. But I’m helpless to stop.

It’s fumbling and hungry and sloppy, the two of us chasing pleasure. Grinding, touching, kissing our way to the edge. Blakely falls first, her body tensing before melting into a pliant puddle. I follow hot on her heels, leaving a sticky mess that quickly cools in the night air. This woman just made me come in my goddamn pants.

And then Blakely Bradshaw once again blows my mind.

“Unzip,” she says as she sinks to her knees before me. I catch her elbow, but she pulls away and shakes her head. “Need to clean you up.”

Fucking shit hell . “Blakely, you don’t need to?—”

“I want to.” Her hands undo my belt buckle, the button, and then, achingly slow, each tooth of my zipper. “Lift.”

I do as she commands, this gorgeous woman kneeling before me, everything I don’t deserve. “You’re killing me, baby.”

She nuzzles her face against my thigh, then using little licks, she laps up the proof of how much I crave her. I’m too spent to get hard, but it doesn’t mean Blakely cradling my cock in her mouth and purring doesn’t feel fucking amazing. It isn’t until I’m half hard again that she places me back into my underwear and zips up my pants.

Without waiting, I haul her into my arms, forcing her mouth to mine. The mix of her natural taste, a hint of my salty release, and the bittersweet remnants of the chokecherry dressing are a heady combination on her tongue.

Eventually, our kisses slow, the fire dies around us, and the air grows cold. Resting my chin on her head, I say, “It’s getting late, and our date isn’t over yet.”

I douse the embers of the fire and help a shaky Blakely into the boat. Her nerves are apparent with each halting step, and her voice quivers when she asks, “Are we headed somewhere in particular?”

“No, just to open water.” A vicious shiver racks her body, so I settle her onto the boat floor, nestled safely in the pillows and blankets. “You aren’t getting anywhere near the side of the boat tonight. Trust me.”

“I do.” She tucks one of the downy comforters under her legs and watches me in the faint glow of the string lights and the stars overhead.

The water is smooth as glass and inky black, and the early November air has a bite. As soon as I let the motor idle and drop anchor, I sink onto the makeshift pallet and gather my girl in my arms.

Blakely’s head rests on my shoulder while she measures her hand against mine as we whisper back and forth. Silly stories from her twenties for her, bragging ones from my teens for me. A seemingly trivial moment that will never fade from my mind.

“Tell me about Paige.”

It’s a steep departure from the lighthearted tale of the first, last, and only time Buster asked her to use the griddle. But if I want her to open up, I have to do the same. Even if I’d rather eat raw elderberries.

“What do you want to know?”

She rolls so she’s lying on me, her chin propped up on my chest. “You said you met when you were getting your MBA and then she moved here?”

“Yeah.”

“And you guys dated for three years?”

“Uh-huh.” Wonder how long she’ll let me get away with non-answers.

“You proposed, and she ran off a month later.”

It isn’t phrased as a question, so I don’t say anything. But neither does Blakely. With a sigh, I give in first.

“It crushed me. I bought a house, was imagining our life. And then one day, she was gone. Leaving behind a hateful voicemail telling me she deserves more than I can give her.”

Blakely kisses my chest. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but was it totally out of the blue like that? One day here, one day gone? ”

Staring up at the sky overhead I say, “No, not out of the blue… For months she’s been dropping hints she wasn’t happy, then the hints turned into pressuring me to move. It started small—suggestions that we open up another branch of Peak Adventures in Albuquerque. When I said I wasn’t interested, the more hateful she got. Complaining about Bo and Gray being around too much, me being willing to settle and having no drive.” I sigh. “That’s not it, you know? I have drive. I want Peak Adventures to be a business I can leave my own kids someday, but not at the cost of giving up who I am.”

Quiet settles over us again, the lapping of water against the boat the only sound until Blakely says, “Her massive loss is my gain.”

“Huh?”

She smiles at me. “That woman’s an idiot.”

A grin tugs at my mouth. “Yeah? I think I’m the idiot.”

“Why do you say that?”

I smooth a stray hair behind her ear, then glide my finger down her cheek. “I keep falling for women who are made for more.”

“Hudson…”

“Shhh.” Rolling so we’re side by side, I pull her so she’s once again resting her head on my shoulder. “Look up.”

“Bear—”

“No more. Now look up at the stars, Spitfire.”

Her sweet gasp tells me she’s seeing it. The entire reason I brought her back on the water. Above us is a smog and light-free sky. A perfect expanse of darkness with nothing to block out the creamy swirls of the Milky Way.

“This is incredible.”

My eyes lock on her face. “It sure is.”

Lying here in the bottom of a boat, cheeks flushed from our earlier activities, nose a little chapped from the cold, makeup- free, hair windblown and wild—she’s everything. The universe has nothing on her.

She squeezes my arm and points. “Quick! Two shooting stars. Make a wish. One for each of us.”

As the eons old light fades, I close my eyes and wish for the one thing I can’t have. For her to stay.