Page 33 of Roughing It

“Sorry about using your shampoo and shit. It, um, smells pretty good.”

From the table, muffled words that sound suspiciously likedid you two kiss yethave me diving for the phone.

“Hang up, Kirk!”

A husky chuckle pulls my attention. “How about we start today over?”

Taking a deep breath, I swallow my pride. “I’m sorry. I overreacted to the shampoo, peeped on you in the shower, and called and told on you to Kirk.”

The panty-dropping smirk he gives me has me squirming on the couch. “I knew you called to tattle.”

Waving his words away and rising from the couch, I say, “Can I make you a cup of apology coffee?”

“My second apology coffee in three days. At this rate, you’ll be making my coffee the rest of your time here.”

I roll my eyes and pour us each a cup, his black like his soul, mine sweet and creamy. Carrying the drinks to the couch, I say, “Yeah, right. Don’t get used to it.” As he takes his cup, an electric zing snaps through my fingertips where our skin meets. I suck in a gasp of air and stare as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He feels it, too.

“Hud—”

With a grunt, he’s on his feet. “We’re hiking today. Your feet are in better shape, and you’ve got lighter hiking shoes. Be ready in ten.”

And once again, my Bear runs.

Hike 2.0 is much more in line with what I expected on day one. The path is a gentle slope, covered in pine needles and brush, not feet killing rocks of death. It’s later, so the sun is up, its rays casting shadows on the forest floor around us. Having lived the first half of my life in the plains of west Texas and the second half in the Texas Hill Country, I’m not used to the majesty and overwhelming height of the surrounding trees. Or the altitude.

Let’s be real, a Texas hill has nothing on a northern New Mexico mountain.

So, while my feet are fine, my lungs aren’t, and it isn’t long until I’m begging Hudson to stop.

“Please? I can’t breathe.”

“If you can talk, you can breathe.”

“You have the worst bedside manner in the world, Hudson. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Seeing as I’m not a nurse or doctor, no.”

“R-U-D-E. That’s what I mean.”

“Oh, then yes. One bratty princess said I’m rude after reading a bunch of bad reviews about me.”

Guilt pings in my chest. That was shitty of me. I would cry in the fetal position if someone sat down and started reading the crappy things people say about me aloud. What was I thinking?

And more than that, what am I doing? I’m failing at the tasks Hudson has set out for me, failing at finding myself, failing at everything. So far, all I’ve discovered is I suck at navigation, and Hudson has the power to make me feel completely out of control.

“Luckily for her, I don’t give a shit what people think.” Iraise my head to find Hudson watching me. “Come on, Spitfire, a little farther, and we’ll be there.”

We step out of the treeline and into a small clearing overlooking the edge of a cliff. Below us is a glassy lake; in the distance, clouds float like cotton candy wisps around mountain peaks. The trees below us are glorious shades of green, rust, and gold.

It’s flipping amazing. The peace that’s proven so elusive for so long settles over me, and for a moment, I forget about my struggles. It’s just me, the sky, the breeze, and the trees.

A rough finger brushes an errant strand of hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear.

Me, the sky, the breeze, the trees, and Hudson.

My skin prickles where he touches me, and I slip closer to his warmth on instinct. Hudson has about seven inches on me, but I know I’d fit perfectly into the cradle of his arms.

“Wild hare.”

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