Page 32 of Roughing It

“It’s stupid, but in for a penny, in for a penis. Wait, no! Pound. In for a pound.”Ohmyfuckinggodwhatiswrongwithme.I bump my fist against my forehead and mumble, “You’re using my shampoo.”

“Sorry. Grabbed whatever was closest.”

A flash of annoyance tempers some of my shamebarassment. “Seriously? I only brought one bottle, and it isn’t even a full bottle, and what if I run out? I can’t use whatever three-in-one store-brand garbage you have! Plus, it’s seventy dollars a bottle.”

The curtain snaps back. “Seventy dollars? Princess, you got ripped off.”

“It’s specially made for me. Customized for my hair and with scents I selected.”

Hudson’s face is torn between amusement and horror. “Are you shitting me? It doesn’t smell that good.”

“You are such an asshole. And you’re wrong. It smells amazing. I smell amazing.”

With that brilliant parting shot, I stomp away, muttering. “Stupid jerk, usingmyshampoo. And has the audacity to say it doesn’t smell good. What a… a… ugh! I can’t even think of a word to call him.”

“You seem fond of asshole.”

I spin, a thousand lashes on the tip of my tongue, but they shrivel to dust at the sight of him clad in a towel. He’s still damp and too damn beautiful. It isn’t fair.

Scrambling for my phone, I drop onto the couch. I need to talk to literallyanyonewho isn’t Hudson Brooks. And there’s one person who always answers my call.

Kirk’s smiling face greets me. “Blakely! How’s my favorite social media maven doing today?”

“You picked the biggest asshole on the entire planet, possibly the entire universe, for this! You did it on purpose. Admit it.”

“BB, calm down. What happened? You were fine the last time we talked.”

“Things change, buddy.”

The back of the couch shifts as Hudson leans against it. “The princess is upset I used her fancy-ass city girl shampoo.”

“Don’t call me Princess!”

“Apologies, Spitfire. Or should I call you Peeping Tina?”

Kirk cocks his head. “I might be missing some information here. Hudson, where’s your shirt? Blakely, are you still in your pajamas? What exactly is going on out there?”

We both mumble, “Nothing,” in perfect unison.

My manager holds his hands up. “Okay, my bad. Let’s take a calming breath.”

Hudson plops down next to me, his bare leg burning against mine. The towel strains to keep his thick thighs contained. “It’s all good. Just a misunderstanding.”

If I had the power to shoot eye daggers, Hudson’s body would be pinned to the wooden walls right now. “Don’t speak for me, jackass.”

Our eyes lock, and I’m caught in his orbit, the crushing weight of his gravity pulling me closer and closer. Chests heaving. Bodies ready to collide.

“I know I’m on the outside looking in here, but you two should kiss and get it over with.”

Kirk’s tease snaps the tension between us, and I slam the phone on the table without saying another word.

One awkward moment of silence later, Hudson asks, “You called your boss to tattle on me?”

“He’s my manager, and no. I wanted to talk to anyone who isn’t you.”

Hudson slumps back into the cushions, and for a second, I worry I offended him. Add it to my karmic tab, I guess.

“Hudson, I’m sor?—”

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