Page 123 of Roughing It

“Hey there, BBs. As you know, a certain relative from my past has been very active over the past few days. Sharing pictures and private moments from my childhood. Her hope in doing this is that I’ll pay her to stop. But thanks to advice from a brilliant outdoorsman—” I pan the camera to Hudson, whose lips quirk up in a half smile. Well, it could be a smile if you squint hard and haven’t ever seen one. “I’m taking a stand.”

With a deep breath, I stare into the camera. “Before I go any further, I want to talk about a couple of things. Yes, I changed my name. Legally, I’m Blakely Bradshaw, and that’s who I’m staying. The girl in those pictures, she’s gone. Not because I’m ashamed of her but because she had to change. Evolve. Rise from the ashes.”

I swallow, clearing my throat and fighting back tears. “The persona I’ve presented to you for the past five years, she isn’t me either. The truth lies somewhere in between the two. I carry Blake Lee’s scars and memories, Blakely’s wins and experiences. And from those two versions of myself, I’m evolving again.

“Being here, in Trail Creek, has honestly been transformative. I’ve learned what I’m capable of, who I have the potential to be. What does this mean for me moving forward?” I shrug, and Hudson squeezes my thigh. “Honestly, I’m not sure. There’s so much to think about, and I appreciate your continued support. Please don’t tag me in posts related to Brandee Shaw. I have to protect my mental health and well-being.”

When I sign off, my Bear kisses the hollow beneath my ear. “I’m real fucking proud of you, Spitfire.”

I’m proud of myself, too. I don’t have all the answers, and I know I’ll falter. But today is a step in the right direction. Now, if I could only decide if I should stay or go.

My arms and back ache. Any enthusiasm I may have felt about camping is officially gone. Not that it was particularly high to begin with. I’m not opposed to sleeping in a tent with Hudson, but I’m not jumping at three days without indoor plumbing.

We’re hiking back up the steep path towards the cliffside—the scene of berrygate. The trek was hard enough without a twenty-pound backpack.

“Bear, why are you torturing me?”

Hudson snorts and adjusts the larger pack he’s carrying. “You’d rather be up here for three days without supplies?”

“No, I’dratheryou carry all this for me.” Am I being a whiny brat? Yes. Do I care? No.

“Tell you what, Princess. I’ll carry your pack.”

I glare daggers at his back—for the nickname and the trap I smell.

“What’s the catch?”

“I’ll carry everything, then give you the Brooks treatment and make you earn your items.”

I briefly imagine him tripping over a rock. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to knock the smug smirk off his unfairly handsome face. But his footing is as sure as a billy goat’s. “No,” I huff. “I’m fine.”

“Thought so.”

Mumbling a string of creative cuss words, I trudge along. It takes another twenty minutes uphill—all we’re missing is snow—before we arrive at the cliff. The view is a worthy reward, though. It’s later in the day, almost sunset now, and the colors splaying across the sky are breathtaking.

“Why didn’t you bring me here on the first day?” Our first sunrise hike—and our second—were much closer to the cabin and not nearly as high up. Huh. Answered my question.

Hudson raises one eyebrow, then steps closer, slinging my pack off my shoulders. “I love this spot.” He wraps his arms around me, one resting on my neck, the other on my hip. “Been waiting a long time to share it with someone.”

If my knees give out, I don’t think I can be held responsible. My words are shaky when I ask, “You never brought anyone else here? Not even Pai?—”

“No one. Only you.”

Twisting, my lips crash into his in a sloppy kiss. It’s alltongues and teeth and heat. Need and lust and love rush through me, and suddenly, I’m on my back on the spongy, mossy earth. It’s déjà vu. The ground beneath me, Hudson’s heavy body over me. But he’s not tickling me, at least not on the outside. Inside, though, is going batshit crazy.

Hudson kisses my jaw, my throat, along my collarbone, tugging off my top layers as he goes. “I owe you a couple of spankings from the other day for how close you got to the edge of the cliff.” His lips travel lower, and he pauses at my chest, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking the sensitive peak through the lacy material still covering it.

In a flash, I’m on my hands and knees, peering over the cliff, the jagged rock face giving way to the tops of hundred-foot pines below. A tremor of danger prickles at the back of my neck.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

My core throbs. Who knew I had a caretaker kink?

Large hands unlace my boots and tug them and my thick thermal leggings off. I’m shaking. From the cold? From the heat? Who the hell knows?

I’m left in my pink panties and matching bra and wool socks. Thissowould not pass the fit check.

All thoughts of my remaining clothing fly from my head when Hudson curls over my back and whispers, “If you want me to stop, say so. If not, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” When I fervently nod, encouraging him, he nips my earlobe. “Count ‘em out, Spitfire.”

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