Page 63 of Roughing It

“Be careful, Blakely, wouldn’t want your lifeline—I mean your phone—to fall in the water, now would you?”

“For your information, I have excellent balance, and I’m a pro multitasker. I can hold my phone and fish, no problem. Not like I’m catching anything, anyway.” I stick my tongue out at him, then roll my shoulders, put on my bestBlakely Bradshawsmile, and with a steadying breath, go live.

“Hello, BBs! I’m coming to you from the middle of Lake Pika—which is named for a local animal. You need to search for this adorable little critter! It’s so cute!” I giggle and then pan to Hudson. “And here’s my amazing guide and cabin mate, Hudson Brooks of Peak Adventures in lovely Trail Creek, New Mexico. He’s taking me fishing. Can you believe it?” I scan the lake and the surrounding trees with my camera, then turn it back on myself and continue. “Ever the chivalrous one, Mr. Brooks did not make me use live bait, though I have to say I’m getting slightly suspicious. We have been fishing for a hundred years?—”

“Two hours,” he snorts from behind me.

I grin and roll my eyes at the camera. “Fine, two hours. The point is, I’ve yet to catch a single fish! Meanwhile, my virile outdoorsman here has managed to catch seven. What do you think, BBs? Did he give me the bad luck pole? Or maybe all the fish have crushes on him?” I give a conspiratorial wink into the lens. “From the comments on my last livestream, all y’all do!”

Hudson huffs and goes back to his rod and reel. Shit. Was that too far? Keeping my smile on my face is no easy feat, given the anxiety cartwheeling in my stomach. Did I make him mad? I’m about to cut the live and check with him when an unexpected weight tugs on my line.

Faster than I can scream, my phone flies from my hand, and I tumble over the side into the icy water.

Stinging liquid rushes into my nose, and the shock of the freezing temperature steals precious seconds before my brain and body agree on what needs to happen. Kicking my feet, I claw for the surface.

I’m a strong swimmer, but I’m wearing heavy boots and multiple layers and have no idea which way is up. The frigid water locks my muscles, and I’m on the verge of panic. Dread claws my throat with each bubble of air that escapes from mylungs, but light filters through the murky water. Surely, I’m close.

I amsonot dying while fucking fishing. Or before I get to sleep with Hudson Brooks.

Something grasps my arm and hauls me in the opposite direction I’m swimming. With a glorious burst, I’m free from the depths, sputtering out lake water while sucking in fresh air. My entire body shakes, and despite trying to speak, no words will come out.

Like he’s talking through a wall, I hear Hudson. “Blakely, baby, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

My first muddled thought isget me out of this fucking water.The second ishe called me baby.Third?Holy shit, he’s naked.

“Blakely!” his voice snaps louder.

I turn wide eyes on him.

“I’m climbing the ladder, then I’ll pull you in. You’re okay.”

All I can do is blink.

“Fuck. Taking that as a sign you understand.”

He heaves himself onto the back of the boat. I get a quick flash of his toned ass and bare thighs before he wrenches me out of the water and into his arms.

“Blakely, can you hear me? … Blakely!” Hudson’s voice is sharp and thundering. “Fucking say something!”

Am I not answering him?

“N-naked?”

He muffles a snort against my hair. “Yeah, baby. I’m naked. Had to dive in after you.” His mouth is warm against my forehead. “I’m so fucking sorry. Gotta get you out of these wet clothes. Okay?”

“S’okay.”

I’m sitting on the cooler, swaddled in a blanket. My feet are bare, and my clothes are in a pile next to me while a half-dressed Hudson rubs my arms up and down. Up and down. It hurts. Like when your leg falls asleep.

“P-pins.”

“Yeah, goddamn pins and needles. It stings, but we’ve gotta get your blood flowing.”

My eyes narrow.Nowhe understands me?

Wind whips my wet hair and slices through the blanket. Trembling, I inch as close to Hudson as possible while he steers us back to shore. My muscles ache, and my throat and nose burn—how much water went up it anyway—but my mind clears.

As the fog lifts, I realize I wasn’t in the water more than a minute before Hudson fished—ha—me out, but it felt like a lifetime. The boat glides toward the shoreline, but it can’t go fast enough. I want back on land. Now.

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