Page 15 of Roughing It

hudson

I watch as the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen tries and fails to load her suitcases into my Jeep.

Once my hands brushed Blakely Bradshaw’s smooth skin, I knew I was in trouble. Does it justify my being an asshole and hiding in my car? Probably not, but I need space before I do something stupid like ask her if she’ll wrap her thighs around my head and let me wear her like a pair of earmuffs.

What the hell am I doing? Besides holing up in my Jeep, hoping she didn’t spot the outline of my cock against my zipper.

I haven’t reacted to a woman like this ever. Not even with Paige, and I thought she was the one. I snort.The one.More like the gone.

There’s a loud thump behind me, and I twist in my seat so I can enjoy the show. Blakely stands with her fists on her hips, glowering at one of her rose-gold suitcases, which now lies in the dirt.

This has disaster written all over it. What’s this city siren doing out here? Does she think she can hang with me, learnfrom me, for thirty days? She can’t even lift her goddamn suitcase. When she stamps her tiny foot before kicking the immobile luggage, I let out a bark of laughter.

That gets her attention.

Blue-green eyes, ocean eyes—and not the murky shores off Galveston, I’m talking somewhere exotic—stare at me wide and glistening with unshed tears. Her cute button nose scrunches, and she’s honest to god pouting, her puffy, biteable as fuck lip pooched out. What I wouldn’t give to run my teeth over it.

“I need help. Can you please put my bags in the car?”

Every word ends inuhand is sweet enough to give you a mouth full of fucking cavities. It’s also fake as hell.

“Sorry. No can do. I told you, Princess, if you can’t carry it, you can’t bring it.”

The pout and big doe-eyes disappear, leaving a spitfire in their place. “Don’t call me Princess. My name’s Blakely, which you’d know if you’d bothered to introduce yourself after plowing me over outside.”

Yep. Knew it. Her natural voice is much more mellow, the vowels a little longer, and no more of that annoying vocal fry bullshit. She almost sounds like she grew up in the Panhandle or West Texas. Interesting.

I rest one arm on the steering wheel and raise an eyebrow. “I plowed into you? If memory serves, you slammed that pretty face into me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jerk who didn’t introduce himself or shake my hand. And who won’t help me load my bags!”

“Good counterpoint,” I say, my voice dry as a bone.

“Ugh, you’re the worst!”

“No, you’re just a spoiled city girl used to getting her way.”

Blakely’s mouth opens, but she snaps it shut and makesanother feeble attempt to lift her suitcase into the back. She gets it halfway in before losing her grip.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Figure it out, or leave it behind. Either way, do something quick. I’m hitting the road in five minutes, whether you’re loaded or not.”

“You won’t leave me here. I’m the customer!”

“I absolutely will leave you here. When I agreed to this shitshow of a circus you’ve brought to my door, it was with the understanding you’d follow my rules. Or didn’t your boss tell you?”

A littlehmphsound pierces the air. “Kirk is not my boss. If anything, he works for me.” Her arms cross, pushing her more-than-a-handful tits together. My cock would look fantastic sliding between those while bumping into her pouty pink mouth.

Fuck. I’ve got to get a grip on my hormones. I’m thirty-five, not fucking fifteen.

“Tomato, tamato, Princess. Still doesn’t get your bags in the car.”

If looks could kill, the daggers Blakely shoots my way would be my demise. The next thing I know, the driver’s side half-door swings open, and a small finger pokes me.

“Listen here. You and I will spend the next thirty days together and have a grand old time doing it. I’ve got goals. Plans. Things I want to learn about myself. Things I want you to teach me while I’m out here. So put those muscles to good use, you bear of a man, and help me load my bags so we can get to the great motherfucking outdoors.”

The boner from earlier roars back to life at her fiery outburst, and my chest tingles where she poked me. A steady stream of thoughts runs through my head, none of them related to being outdoors—apart from a single highly detailedone where I chase this gorgeous creature through the pines until I catch her and fuck the sass out of her. The image of the supple skin of her back, red and raw from being pressed into the bark of a tree, my lips soothing the sting away while she slumps in my arms a pliant, sweaty mess, has me adjusting myself once again. If I don’t stop this train, I’m gonna come in my pants.

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