Текст книги "Spark"
Автор книги: Erin Noelle
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
“This is it. It’s absolutely perfect,” my mom announces while standing in the living room of the model apartment we’re touring.
We’ve visited no less than five different apartment and condominium complexes this afternoon, all of them having some issue or another until now. One didn’t offer washer and dryer hook-ups, another didn’t have ceiling fans, and there was even one without a dishwasher. Who in the fuck hand-washes their own dishes anymore?
“Yeah, I like it too,” I agree whole-heartedly, scanning the modern design of the open floor plan. “All of the bedrooms are situated together, which is great for Caleb, but gives us all more privacy than we’ve had lately.”
When we decided to make the move to Colorado, Mom put our house up on the market and, much to our surprise, we had a full-price offer in less than two weeks. Not wanting to spend a lot of money on rent or storing all of our furniture, we sold most everything in an estate sale and moved into a small, pre-furnished two-bedroom rental house, which the owner let us lease month-to-month knowing we were moving soon.
I love my brother like crazy, but after sharing a room with him for three months, I’m not going to pretend I’m not ready for a little bit of my own space back. We’ll be close enough to hear him, but have the ability to shut our own doors when we want to. Plus, I’m tired of having to go to the bathroom to jack off.
“Caleb, what do you think? The bedroom big enough for you?” I ask as I peer over at him.
“Huh?” His eyes are zoned in on the short skirt of the young leasing agent who’s bending over to demonstrate how the fireplace turns on. “Is what big enough for me?”
Rolling my eyes, I huff an exasperated breath. The kid has seriously become a walking, talking ball of testosterone in the last year. I mean, I get it. I remember exactly how it felt when it seemed like I couldn’t blow my load enough times in a day. A gust of wind blowing in the right direction was enough to get me hard. And even though things haven’t changed much in the last few years, I can at least focus on other shit now. Important shit, like where we’re going to live.
“The bedroom.” I thump him on the side of his head to break his trance. “Are you okay with the bedroom that’s going to be yours?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s great. Everything about this place is great.” He waggles his eyebrows.
Mom snorts and shakes her head, then turns her attention to the poor girl fighting with some lever. “You really don’t need to worry about that, honey. We’re going to take the place regardless of how nice the fireplace is. Can we fill out the paperwork now?”
An hour later, we are the proud lessees of unit number one-one-two at Pinehurst Village Apartments and our keys will be available to pick up late next week, which gives us just enough time after we fly home on Friday to pack up our cars with what stuff we still have and drive back out here…a thirteen hour road trip I’m not particularly looking forward to.
“So, Mom, when do you start your job?” I inquire once we’re back inside the late-model rental car, heading back to the resort. “Will you have a set schedule, or will it vary day-to-day?” She had returned from the interview with a glowing face and a skip in her step, and without even asking, I knew everything had gone well.
“I start the Monday before Thanksgiving,” she pauses to look both ways before pulling out onto the main road, “and after the first couple of weeks of training, I should work from seven to three, with Tuesdays and Wednesdays as my days off.”
“Okay, cool. At least I’ll know what availability to tell people when I start looking tomorrow. Did Luke mention any place I should begin with?”
Nodding, her mouth quirks up mischievously. “His friend runs a place called the Half Pipe Pub, supposedly a popular pub down on the mountain, and while I was there, he put in a call and got you a bartending job if you want it, but you don’t have to take it.”
“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaim as a mixture of relief and annoyance washes over me. “I’ve been freaking out all afternoon about how we’re gonna make these high-ass rents if I couldn’t find something right away.”
“Crew, baby, I appreciate all of the responsibility you’ve taken on for this family since you graduated, but it shouldn’t be your place to stress over how we’re going to pay rent. I’m the parent here, and one way or another, I’ll figure it out. I’d do anything for you boys.”
She looks over her shoulder at Caleb in the backseat and winks at him then returns her focus forward. “You offering to stay home and homeschool him is more than enough for your contribution to the family. With the money we made on the house and what we saved this summer, we have enough to get us through five or six months. Not to mention, the pay at my new job is a substantial increase to what I was making before. We’re gonna be fine.”
Scrubbing my hands up and down my face, I groan. “That still doesn’t answer why you didn’t tell me, Mom. And of course I’m going to work; don’t be ridiculous. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t? That’s not how you raised me.”
“I asked him in case you made a big deal about working, which I figured you would,” she snips, “so I’ll call him when we get back and get the details about what you need to do. Now, at least you’ll know when you can start and what hours you can work, but once we get settled here and everything worked out with Caleb, I fully expect you to go back to school. You’re a smart kid, and you’re not going to spend your life making drinks for other people.”
I love her optimism—I envy it, honestly—but I’m afraid she’s setting herself and Caleb up for disappointment thinking he’s just going to miraculously get better. Lord knows, I pray for that to happen every single day, but until I see the improvement, I have to keep my expectations low. With each new doctor, and the endless combination of drugs over the last couple of years, I kept thinking one would work, but now I know better.
“I already told you I’d go back once everything settles down, but that’s not my main concern right now. You and Caleb. Our family. That’s it.”
She smiles sadly at me, reaching her right hand out and resting it on top of mine. “I love you and your loyalty, Crew baby, but you’re nineteen, and you deserve to live the life of a young adult—have fun, make friends, date…all that stuff. I appreciate everything you do more than you can ever know, but don’t lose yourself in the middle of all this. Okay?”
I nod half-heartedly, mostly because we just pulled up in front of our cabin and I don’t want to argue with her anymore. “Okay, Mom, but I’m taking that job. Tell me who I need to call or where I need to go and I’ll do it before we leave.”
Sometime later, in the early evening, the three of us are lounging around the room. Mom is curled up in the rocking chair with a magazine, Caleb is playing Minecraft on the iPad in one bed, and I’m flipping through the TV channels while lying in the other. Suddenly, a light rapping sound startles us all. Mom glances over at me, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone, and I give a quick shake of my head with an equally puzzled look.
Caleb leaps up and hurries to the door, throwing it open without even bothering to ask who it is. Standing on the other side is an out-of-breath Hudson, grinning cheerfully while she bounces on the balls of her feet.
“Oh good, you’re all here,” she remarks, her brilliant blue eyes scanning the room. “I brought something to show you.”
Mom scrambles to her feet and pads across the floor to greet her as I stay right where I am, a little shocked at her unexpected arrival. After my odd reaction to her last night and then again this morning, I was hoping to keep my distance from her as much as possible for the rest of the week. I’m not sure why, but simply being in her presence makes me feel out of control, and I don’t like it.
“Hudson, honey, come on in out of the cold.” Mom motions for her inside. “Is everything all right?”
Closing the door behind her, Caleb’s gaze travels up and down the length of her backside, narrowing in on her ass, which I assume looks perfect in the dark blue skinny jeans she’s wearing. I want to yell at him to stop eye-fucking her, but I don’t…for obvious reasons. I can’t help but be jealous of his view, and I silently beg her to turn around so I can enjoy it too.
“Yes, ma’am. Everything is fine. I just wanted to show you all what I found online today, and what the Green Halo carries that I think will help.”
Mom crinkles her forehead, even more confused now as her eyes leap back and forth between me and Caleb. “Help with what? What’s the Green Halo?”
Hudson strides over to where the dinette table and chairs are in the far corner of the room and removes a bag from the pocket of her hoodie, placing it on the laminate surface. “The guys didn’t tell you? My dad and uncle own one of the small dispensaries in town, the Green Halo, and after Caleb told me about his epilepsy this morning, I spent the afternoon exploring which strain would be best for treatment.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” I rebuke, my tone sharper than I intended. “We already know what will help; we’ve researched this for months.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my dig, just keeps on talking to my mom. “Apparently, marijuana with a higher ratio of cannabidiol, or CBD, to THC seems to be what works best, though each patient responds differently.”
“Again, all stuff we already know,” I interject.
This time, she shifts her stare over to me, shooting a quick would-you-shut-up-and-let-me-finish look before continuing, “All of the marijuana for the dispensary is grown on location here, in the greenhouse behind our family’s home. Even though it’s now legally sold for recreational purposes, you still have to be twenty-one to buy or possess it, so we don’t make it widely known, but I’m the one who basically runs the growing operation.”
“What?!” the three of us all exclaim in unison.
The edge of her mouth tips up in a bashful smile as she nods her head once. “Yeah, I took after my dad and inherited the green thumb of the family, and now that the resort keeps him busy, I’ve pretty much taken over.”
“Do you smoke it too?” Caleb questions curiously.
She draws her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing on it nervously, and nods again. God, why can’t I stop looking at her mouth? “Well, yeah, I have to determine how the different types taste and…feel, ya know? Like if it’s more of a heady, lofty effect, or a total body response. For you,” she tips her head at my little brother, “it’s not about getting stoned though; it’s about finding the right strain to minimalize your seizures.”
“And you—your family has a product like this?” Mom inquires, taking a seat at the table next to her, now fully interested in what Hudson has come to say. After all, it is the sole reason we’re moving halfway across the country.
Hudson’s face lights up with pride as she opens up the Ziploc and empties the contents on the surface. “Well, I brought a couple of different kinds we grow for him to try. Once you determine which one seems to be more beneficial, I can tweak that strain and even diffuse an oil of it that can be dropped directly on the tongue.”
“How much does all this cost? It looks like a lot,” Mom remarks.
“This is on the house.” She pushes her long, blond braids back behind her shoulders with a timid expression, as if she’s nervous my mom won’t accept it. “After you find a doctor here, it’ll take a while to submit the medical marijuana application, and even then, if you, Mary, buy it recreationally, you’re limited to a quarter ounce until you can claim your residency. That’s not considering the ridiculous government tax on top of the already outrageous prices the dispensaries charge.”
Mom raises her hand up to her chest, splaying it on top of her heart, obviously overwhelmed. “I, uh, I don’t know what to say except thank you, though I’m hesitant to accept this without your parents knowing, considering this is money out of their pocket.”
“Don’t worry about Doug and Mel. I’ll let them know, but they won’t mind. I’ve got a few plants that are my special projects, where I practice splicing strains and developing new products, and I keep all of the harvest from those until I tweak it. I keep my dad updated on our supply, but I’m the one who handles all of the charts and inventory. I’d recommend starting with this.”
She drops her eyes to the tiny packets of green buds and points to one in particular. “It’s called Orange Krush, and it’s the closest we have to Charlotte’s Web—the one that’s been featured all over the news. They’re all labeled with their names, so keep track of which one he seems to have the best response to. I’ve included enough for you to try it out too, in case you’re curious, but I’d definitely not recommend driving afterwards.”
Caleb walks closer to the table, still gawking at our visitor in a way that pisses me off. “Dude, you’ve gotta be the coolest fucking chick ever. You’re hot as shit, and you grow weed!”
“Language, Caleb,” Mom warns, popping her chin up to look at him, “but I agree with your sentiment. She’s an angel in disguise.”
Hudson’s neck and face turn red, and I wonder how far down her chest the splotches spread. My cock jumps at the thought of finding out, but then I remember I can’t.
I like that she’s uncomfortable. Other than my couple of rude outbursts, I haven’t said a word, which seems rather ungrateful, and she’s obviously spent a good chunk of time today investigating this. Not to mention, she’s offering to give us something that could help my brother.
Unfortunately, I think the reason she unnerves me is because my mom’s right; she’s damn near angelic. Beautiful in the most natural way, she’s genuine, friendly, and approachable, and I noticed yesterday she leaves smiles in her wake.
Except from me.
She makes me want to bend her over and fuck her until I feel in control again.
Wow. Maybe I’m more of a dick than I thought.
“It’s really not a big deal,” Hudson waves a hand in front of her face, “but I better get back home for dinner. If you need anything as you get ready to move, let me or my family know. We’ll do whatever we can to help.”
Mom pushes up from her chair and wraps her arms around Hudson, engulfing her in a huge embrace. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to our family.”
When she releases her, Caleb outstretches his arms and pulls her into a big hug next, tugging playfully on one of her braids. “You rock, hippie chick.”
My face burns with…well, I’m not certain why it’s on fire, but it compels me to spring up off the bed and march toward the door. “I’ll walk you out,” I clip, in desperate need of fresh air. After a quick goodbye, she follows me outside, and once we’re out of earshot from my mom and brother, she spins around and pierces me with a furious glare.
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but all I want to do is help your brother,” she says, pointing her finger at me, her voice quivering with anger. “He seems like a good kid, and if one of my siblings were sick, I’d hope someone else would do the same for us. You don’t have to like me, but you don’t have to be such a jerk either.”
I have no idea what comes over me, but watching her nervously lick her lips, my entire world narrowing to the tip of her tongue wetting that full lower curve, I realize the issue is her. Stepping forward into her personal space, I force her to back pedal until her legs hit the railing that surrounds the porch.
“That’s the problem, Hudson,” I rasp as our bodies press snugly against each other. Lowering my face to hers, I catch a whiff of a mixture of strawberries and cream. She swallows hard while her pulse thumps rapidly beneath the thin flesh of her throat, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to press my lips to the delicate skin. “I like you a little too much, and acting like a jerk is my way of dealing with the fact I’m not supposed to.”
“Why aren’t you supposed to like me?” The words float out of my mouth in a breathy whisper as his intense gaze lifts from my neck to my mouth and finally to my eyes.
If I thought my body did funny things when I was in a room with him, this…I’m afraid this will probably give me a heart attack. My nerve endings are in hyper-alert mode, recognizing each and every place his body is in contact with mine, trembling as if I’ve never touched a boy before. The chilly outdoor temperatures are doing nothing to cool down the inferno raging inside me. If he doesn’t stop staring at me like he’s famished and I’m the only thing on the menu, I may do something really stupid…like kiss him stupid.
“Because you belong to some other guy, and I don’t play with other people’s things,” he growls. His minty breath lingers between us, increasing my desire to find out if that’s what he truly tastes like.
“Beckham?” I scoff. “Are you kidding?”
He shrugs his shoulders, exhaling a deep breath. “I don’t remember the fucker’s name. Whoever you were with last night.”
My unsteady hands push against his chest, a feeble attempt to get him away from me. “I don’t belong to anyone, especially not him, and I’m a girl, not a thing, jackass,” I spit. “But if that’s how you view me, I’d rather you stay away. Just keep being a—”
His mouth is on mine before I can finish the thought, shutting me up instantly. Caught off-guard by his sudden movement, I scrunch the soft cotton of his gray hoodie in between my fingers, holding on tightly as his kiss steals away not only my words, but any sensible thought I have left.
Urgent and demanding, his caressing lips ignite yet another blaze inside me, this one directly between my thighs. He coasts his large hands up the length of my neck and cradles each side of my face, triggering my lips to part slightly as an involuntary moan escapes.
Taking full advantage of the moment, his tongue slides effortlessly into my mouth and sweeps forcefully against mine, confirming he absolutely tastes as good as I suspected. Then, as abruptly as the kiss began, he pulls away and breaks our mouths apart, leaving us both gasping for the brisk Rocky Mountain air.
"You were right about one thing," he mutters lowly, brushing the pad of his thumb across my puffy lower lip.
As my heart rate drops back down from Mach 10, I delve, "Yeah? What's that?"
One corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided grin that reaches his twinkling eyes as he takes several steps backward, putting some space between us. "You're definitely all girl."
"Definitely," I repeat with a soft chuckle.
Pushing off the rail, I make my way over to the porch stairs, unable to wipe the silly grin off my face. The last few minutes have turned my world on its head, but as I walk away, I'm already wondering if—and when—he might kiss me again.
"But you were wrong about the other," he calls out as my feet hit the grass in front of the cabin, prompting me to turn back over my shoulder and look at him.
I cock one eyebrow at him, puzzled. "What other?"
"You will belong to me," he declares matter-of-factly before spinning around on his heel and disappearing inside.
“Hudson, it’s your night to set the table,” my mom shouts down the hallway to where I’m hiding out in my room, puffing on my one-hitter while watching Pitch Perfect for the umpteenth time. “Lasagna will be ready in ten minutes. It’s just us tonight.”
Groaning, I reluctantly roll off the solid white comforter thrown haphazardly atop my bed until my toes squish into the soft carpet—shag, of course. Then, trudging my way to the kitchen, where my mom and Grams are putting the final touches on dinner, I grab the plates, silverware, and napkins for everyone.
Dinnertime with my family, even when it doesn’t include all of the resort’s guests, is certifiably insane. Even though my older sisters flew the coop, they keep showing up at meal times, claiming they miss us, but I know they’re just here for the free meal. Scavengers.
Thankfully, tonight’s not one of those nights. I’m not in the mood for their twenty questions about how the date with Beckham went, especially when the flavor of Crew’s lips is still fresh on mine. Not to mention, I’m positive my mom or dad will be sure to ask for the most inappropriate details within the first five minutes of us all sitting down. One of the major downfalls of having unconventional, free-spirited parents who preach peace, love, and rock and roll is having the most awkward, cringe-worthy conversations with them.
“Thank you, sweetie.” Mel kisses me on the cheek when I walk by. “When you’re finished, can you tell your dad and Denver that the food’s ready? They’re outside chopping wood for the cold front moving through tomorrow.”
“Yeppers. Is it finally gonna snow?” I ask, passing under the arched doorway that leads into our spacious dining room.
“That’s what the weather guessers are claiming, at least,” she replies distrustfully, then adds, “Let the girls know it’s time too, please.”
Ever since I can remember, we’ve always eaten dinner together at the table, a time to share about our day and stay connected as a family. When my mom says it’s time for dinner, unless we’re sick in bed or have other special plans that have been previously approved, our butts better be in our chairs, ready to participate in the conversation. This has never really bothered me, because before today, I’ve never had anything exciting to talk about, and now that I do, I don’t much feel like it. For once, I want something to be all mine.
After I quickly set the table, I call upstairs for Cheyenne and Brighton to come down before alerting Doug and my little brother that it’s time to head inside. I haven’t changed out of my clothes from earlier, wanting to hang on to the faint trace of Crew’s cologne lingering in my plaid flannel shirt, so before everyone else joins me at the table, I take a quick sniff of it and allow a giddy giggle to escape, still a little uncertain about what what happened earlier means.
“Yes, you need a shower, and no, it’s not funny.” Cheyenne startles me as she comes up from behind, making me jump several inches in my seat. She plops down next to me and crinkles her nose up like something stinks. “You always smell like outside…earthy; it’s no wonder you never have boyfriends.”
“Leave her alone, Chey,” Doug scolds as the rest of the family filters in, everyone taking their usual seat. “She had a date just last night, which I’m sure she’s dying to tell us all about. Aren’t you, Hudson?”
I squirm uncomfortably in my chair, hoping no one is paying much attention, since they’re all busy piling their plates full of Italian deliciousness. Several minutes pass without another mention of it, but as soon as everyone has served themselves and settled with their food in front of them, the topic is approached again.
“Now, we’re all ears, Hudson. Tell us about last night. When are you seeing him again?” Mel asks eagerly.
All eyes are locked on me, everyone waiting for me to divulge into some sensational story of heated passion. Setting my fork down on the edge of my plate, I take a drink of water and clear my throat. “I’m not sure I’ll be going out with Beckham again,” I mumble apprehensively, twisting a napkin in my lap. “The date was pretty bland, and I think we’re just better off as friends.”
“Oh, honey, what happened? Were you embarrassed to see him afterwards at school today?” Mel’s expression quickly morphs into one of disappointment and pity. “If so, that’s totally normal. Don’t think he’s gonna go around telling his friends what you were like in bed, ‘cause that’s just a myth. Guys really aren’t like that.”
“Yes, we are,” Doug interjects, “but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Be proud you were good enough that he wanted to gloat. I tell all my friends how incredible Mel is in the sack.”
What in the hell?
“There’s nothing for him to talk about! We didn’t have sex! He took me to a movie, then brought me home and kissed me goodnight. That was it,” I insist, trying not to make eye contact with anyone while ignoring the snickers from my sisters.
“Why not? Did you tell him you weren’t interested?” Mel inquires.
Tossing my napkin down on the table, I shout, “No! He didn’t ask if I was interested or not, but if he would’ve, my answer would’ve been no!” I pause to take a deep breath then lower my voice to a calmer octave. “After hanging out together, I just wasn’t feeling it. It was like going out with Denver…there was no spark between us.”
No one says a word for what seems like an eternity until Grams chimes in. “Did you feel a spark when you were making out with that cute boy in front of cabin eight this afternoon?”
Somebody, please shoot me now.
All hell breaks loose at the table as everyone’s shouting different things at me...everyone but Grams, who’s curiously silent again, sitting directly across the table from me, wearing a smug smile like she just won the damn lottery.
“Enough! That’s enough!” Doug stands up and bangs his spoon on the table like a judge with a gavel, demanding the courtroom’s attention. Once it’s quiet, he falls back into his chair and slides his eyes over to me. “Hudson, please enlighten us on what Grams is talking about. Is it true?”
Fidgeting like a guilty defendant on a witness stand, I shake my head no, but murmur, “Maybe.”
More pandemonium ensues, mostly coming from Cheyenne and Brighton, who are arguing they already claimed him and that life isn’t fair. Annoyed that my sisters are trying to make this about them, this time it’s me who jumps out of my seat to get everyone’s attention.
“Stop it! All of you! Just stop being so weird!” I scream, my control teetering. They all shut up and stare at me in amazement. I never lose my cool, like never ever, and this is the second time I’ve yelled in less than ten minutes.
Shaking my head, I drop my chin to my chest and take several deep breaths. “Look, Beckham is a nice guy, but we’re just gonna be friends, because that’s all I want from him.” I stop and peer up at everyone, ensuring they’re paying attention before continuing, “I don’t know anything about Crew Elliott other than I met him last night, then saw him again this morning, and I felt something different. Call it a spark, an attraction, whatever you want, but it was definitely more than I’ve ever felt around another guy.”
“But, sweetie,” my dad interrupts, “they’re only visiting. He’ll be gone next weekend.”
“No, they’re actually moving here. Mary, the mom, had a job interview today, and they went looking for a place to live this afternoon,” I clarify as I sit back down. “The younger son, Caleb, has epilepsy, and they haven’t had any luck with the traditional drugs and treatments, so they’re moving here in hopes that medical marijuana can help with his seizures and migraines.”
Both of my parents’ eyes fill with compassion as I go into detail about the family’s situation, and I know instantly that no matter what happens between me and Crew—even if it’s nothing at all—they’ll want to assist in any way possible. I explain how I researched the strains and took some samples of our stuff over to the cabin this evening, in order for Caleb to hopefully get some relief while they’re getting settled here.
“You know we’ll do whatever we can, Hudson,” Mel says sincerely, glancing around the table. “All of us…anything they need. I can’t even imagine what that poor woman’s going through. We’ve been so blessed to have healthy kids.”
Nodding appreciatively at my mom and dad, I relax momentarily, thinking the craziness has passed, but the second I pick my fork up, ready to finally dig into the now-cool meal in front of me, Cheyenne opens her big mouth.
“What does any of this have to do with you kissing Crew today?” she snaps, obviously still bothered by the thought.
However, rather than blowing up again or telling her to mind her own business, I simply flash a sugary-sweet smile in her direction and say, “Girls who smell like dirt must do it for him.”
