Page 107 of Roughing It

DAY TWENTY-ONE

I spread my arms and legs out, starfishing in the center of the bed. Wait. If I can stretch out, that means I’m alone. Is it wrong I was hoping to wake up with Hudson’s mouth between my legs? Ah well. There’s always tomorrow.

With a bone-cracking yawn, I force my sleep-laden eyes open. A sliver of pink peaks out above my eyelashes. I half-heartedly swat at it, but when it doesn’t disappear, I put in more effort, coming away with a small handwritten note.

That jerk stuck a sticky note on my forehead. Who does that?

Don’t think sleeping in is getting you out of talking. Last night was great.

- Bear

He signed it Bear. My stomach does a flip. I’ve learned enough about my taciturn cabin mate over the past twenty-one days to know signing itBearis Hudson speak for “I had a really fucking good time. I love you and want to put babies in your belly.” Maybe it’s not a hundred percent accurate translation, but it’s pretty damn close.

I clutch the crumpled sticky note tighter.

Hudson Brooks is a man like no other. Strong, capable, and, yeah, grumpy, but it works for him. Beneath the delicious grump is a caretaker. One who goes from barely speaking to whispering things in my ears that make my heart jump into my pussy, all while trying to wrap me up in cotton wool. And I adore all sides of him.

A tingle slithers down my spine, thinking of our date. Despite not ending in sex, it was by far the most intimate date I’ve ever been on.

The drip of Hudson’s sexy voice, his rough hands so gentle on my skin as he caressed my back until I drifted to sleep, carrying me to the Jeep and tucking me into our bed and his arms.

Ten out of ten. And the icing on the cake?

No one else on the planet knows it happened.

I’ve spent virtually every moment of the past five years living my life online for others to dissect, judge, or applaud. But last night was for the two of us.

I rub the tender ache in my chest. A voice in my head whispers I can have this from now on if I’m brave enough to take a chance.

A louder voice—the insecure, scared part of me—shouts, drowning out the idea of staying with a flood of ugly reality slaps. But the ugliest one isn’t even in my head. It’s the buzzing of my phone.

Flopping to my side, I glare at the noise. The alerts climbhigher and higher. It’s not lost on me that they look like little red flags.

Nope. Not dealing with that. Not until I kiss Hudson, drink some coffee, and talk to my therapist.

I slip on one of Hudson’s discarded flannels and a fresh pair of panties before making my way to the kitchen. Small priority reorder: drink some coffee, kiss Hudson, talk to my therapist.

When I open the cupboard to grab a mug, I find a small folded piece of paper. My lips tilt upward as I take in Hudson’s messy, scrawled writing.

Knew you’d go hunting for caffeine. I’m cleaning up by the lake. Be back soon.

- Bear

So much for my kiss. Therapy it is.

I sip my coffee, the sweetness of the pecans cutting through the bitter roast. Not as good as when Hudson makes it for me, but it’ll do.

Another fortifying sip, and I send off a quick text to Camila.

Do you have time to meet?

Camila

Yes ma’am. When?

Now?

Camila

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