Текст книги "Spark"
Автор книги: Erin Noelle
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Seven minutes. Seven damn minutes.
Waking up before my alarm buzzes pisses me off. I either want to wake up far enough in advance that I can go back to sleep for a good amount of time, or not get up until I absolutely have to. Studies show that most dreams only last a couple of minutes in real time, and damn it, I could’ve had one of the best dreams ever in those missed seven minutes. Maybe one about Crew kissing me again.
Instead, I spend the time staring at the textured ceiling of my bedroom, figuring out how I’m supposed to act around him today. Do I pretend nothing happened yesterday? Do I act silly-girly-flirty like my sisters do around boys? Should I wear perfume? Makeup? God…I really suck at this stuff. Frustrated, I push the covers off me and spring out of bed, giving in to the inevitable. Three minutes earlier than I should have.
Twisting my hair up into two Princess Leia buns, I step into my favorite jeans, which have been washed a few hundred too many times, and pull on an even older Deadhead sweatshirt over a red thermal. I know it’s a bit cliché to wear this, considering my parents named the resort after the famous Grateful Dead song, but at the age of fourteen, they met at one of their concerts in Anchorage, Alaska, and they’ve been together ever since that day. Both of them claim they knew the first time they saw each other they’d found their soul mate. That was thirty-five years ago.
So, yeah, the sweatshirt gives me the warm fuzzies, inside and out, and I need every little bit of help I can today, to keep my cool.
I opt to skip the makeup other than my favorite strawberry chapstick, and apply an extra layer of deodorant and a spritz of whatever body splash is under the cabinet, just in case there was truth behind Cheyenne’s comment. While I love the smell of my greenhouses, I don’t want to walk around smelling like soil and fertilizer.
After throwing on my boots and coat, I venture out into the dark early morning, darting through the chilled mist and into the warmth of the greenhouse. During the hour and a half I spend with my herbal babies, my anxiety over Crew melts away as I immerse myself in the work.
With the holiday rush coming soon, I’ve got to make sure all of my buds finished with the curing stage are packaged and ready to go. Weighing and bagging is a time-consuming but necessary task I used to recruit Juno to help me with, but now, I’ll have to handle on my own. An immature sixteen-year-old, I wouldn’t trust Cheyenne to get off her phone long enough to pay attention and do the job right, and Brighton, at thirteen, is eager to learn, but still a little too young.
Just as I’m wrapping up my morning duties, a light tapping startles me. Whirling around, I see two silhouettes standing outside, with the muted light from the dawn breaking behind them. I scurry across the cement ground and open the tinted plexiglass door, shocked to see Crew and Caleb, both bundled up like they’re prepared for a blizzard.
“Mornin’, hippie girl. Cool hair,” Caleb greets me cheerfully. “Can we come inside? I’m freezing my balls off out here.”
“Of course, you little wussy. We wouldn’t want that to happen.” I giggle, moving back out of the doorway to let them in.
Crew doesn’t say anything at first, but as he steps inside and our eyes meet, his lips quirk up in an endearing, sleepy smile. Holy shit, that’s sexy. I wonder if that’s what he looks like right when he wakes up in the mornings. Does he sleep in pajama pants, or just his underwear? Boxers or boxer-briefs?
“Hudson? Did you hear me?” Caleb’s voice rips me from my daydream…my daydream that was quickly leading into indecent territory.
I pivot around to face him, but not before catching the flicker of acknowledgment in Crew’s smirking eyes, which is nearly as mortifying as my parents talking about their sex life at dinner last night. “What’s up, buddy?” Mentally berating myself, I shuffle over to the broccoli plants, where Caleb is standing and shaking his head.
“Not you too?” he groans, pinching his brow at me. “You’ve already got the look.”
Shifting my gaze back and forth between the two of them, I ask, confused, “Me too? What look?”
He sighs dramatically and throws his hands up in the air. “The same Crew-is-so-dreamy-I’ll-do-anything-for-him look that every girl between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five gets when they’re around him.” My face tenses as I try to not have that look. “Can’t you all see I’m his spitting image? A slightly younger, untainted version, I might add.”
“Shut up, Caleb.” Crew playfully shoves him as he joins us, allowing his arm to brush up against mine. “Don’t listen to this little punk. He’s just messing with you.”
I laugh to cover up the twinge of disappointment I feel, though I’m not sure why Caleb’s words sting like they do. Crew is the kind of gorgeous that is usually reserved for boy band members—part messy, part dreamy, all sexy. It’s not that I’m surprised girls fall all over him; I just don’t like being lumped in the same category, like I’m just another brainless chick, falling for his pretty face. I bite my lip, wanting to scream at him that I’m different, but knowing I’m not.
“What are you guys doing up so early?” I question, swallowing down my frustration and fighting to keep my face neutral. “Where’s your mom?”
“I woke up with a seizure and couldn’t fall back asleep. Plus, I think my body’s still on Texas time,” Caleb replies while he continues to mosey around, investigating everything. “Mom’s showering and getting dressed. She’s supposed to meet us at breakfast.”
His mention of the seizure immediately brings things back into perspective for me. I’ve got no right to be disheartened about anything; my primary concern with the Elliott family is to do what I can to help Caleb heal. The kiss needs to be pushed to the back of my mind.
“How often do you have them?”
“Every morning, when I wake up, and then a couple of other times during the week—usually when I’m stressed or exhausted.” He sounds so matter-of-fact, like seizures are an expected part of someone’s normal daily routine. It breaks my heart. Bending down to sniff the rosemary and thyme, he changes the subject. “This stuff smells good. You cook with it a lot?”
I nod once, not wanting to talk about herbs, but to find out more on his condition. “Yeah, occasionally. What’s it like? The seizures, I mean.”
“Honestly, I don’t remember them when they’re over. From the looks on the faces of everyone around me, I guess it’s pretty fucking bad, but I don’t know,” he replies with a shrug. “The headaches are what kill me. It feels like my head is gonna explode from the pressure.”
“Did you try out any of the stuff I brought yesterday?”
“No, we didn’t,” Crew rumbles from behind me, sending a tingle up my spine, but I refuse to turn around. I don’t want to get the look again. “We thought it’d be best if you were with him the first time. None of us have ever used one of those vaporizers before, and we didn’t want to fuck it up and waste what you gave us.”
“It’s not rocket science,” I assert. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
He moves closer, his chest resting against my shoulder blade, his warm breath drifting across the back of my neck. “I thought you were gonna help us.”
Guilt slices through my gut as I recognize how selfish my last comment was. This isn’t about you, Hudson, I remind myself. “I am and I will,” I reassure them both, glancing down at my watch briefly. “I have to go set up for breakfast now, but I don’t have classes today, so I’m free after that. Whenever works best for you guys, I’ll be there.”
“Mom’s gotta run some errands after breakfast, so after you get finished would be great. Caleb and I’ll just be chillin’ around here for a while.”
“’Kay, sounds good.” I smile over at the younger Elliott brother, who’s now inspecting the poblano pepper plants. “You ever had Chiles Relleno before?”
Twisting his mouth, he looks up into the sky, as if he’s trying to remember if he has or not. “If you have to think that long about it, they must not have been very good,” I joke. “Why don’t you pick a few and I’ll make them for your breakfast? If you don’t like them, I’ll whip you up an omelet instead.”
“Really?” His face illuminates with delight. “I’ve never picked my breakfast before. This is kinda cool.”
“Yeah, and later today, I’ll show you around the other greenhouse, where we grow the pot, so you can see it in all of the different stages.” Peering over my shoulder at Crew, I lift my eyebrows in a questioning manner. “If that’s okay?”
He flashes a captivating grin and nods. “Absolutely. As long as I can come too.”
“I’ll think about it,” I flirt back, unable to resist his enticing charm, but quickly turn away to help Caleb choose his peppers.
****
A little before eleven, I hang my apron up, flip the light off in the kitchen, and close the door behind me, finally finished cleaning up after the breakfast rush. I ended up preparing no less than ten dishes of Chiles Rellenos, because as the other guests began to filter in and saw what Caleb and Crew had on their plates, they wanted it too. It was so well received from everyone Doug even suggested we make it a permanent item on the menu, which thrilled me. I may have a bit of a pleaser mentality, but I like knowing I pull my weight around here.
Also during breakfast, Mel confirmed with Mary that she knew about me giving the boys a smoking lesson this afternoon—which she did—and then invited them all over for dinner tonight so they can talk to her about moving and the paperwork she needs to start on. So, basically, I’ll be spending most of the day with Crew, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.
I don’t want to be one of those girls who goes all goo-goo around him, but when he stares at me with those mesmerizing green eyes…when he says things about me belonging to him…when he kisses me unexpectedly…shit, when he just exists, I can’t help it. I am thoroughly intrigued by all things Crew Elliott, no matter how hard I try not to be.
“What have I gotten myself into?” I mumble to myself as I run into my house for a quick freshen-up.
After I wash my face to remove the greasy feeling, brush my teeth, and apply a new coat of chapstick, I bound out of the house and across the property to cabin number eight, pretending I’m not in the least bit nervous. But before I make it up to the top step, the door flies opens and Crew barrels out, directly toward me.
Like déjà vu from the night before, his lips crash down on mine without any warning, capturing me in a staggering kiss that forces me to grab hold of his arms to keep from losing my balance. My mouth opens for him instinctively, our tongues stroking one another’s with wild abandon, his sure and demanding, mine shy and welcoming, and I stop thinking about anything other than how amazing this moment feels. I never want him to stop doing this.
His hands tangle in my hair and I slant my face, deepening the kiss. Nudging me with his hips, he backs me against the porch frame, pinning me, his thick thigh pushing my legs apart until he’s pressed up against my throbbing core. I moan into his mouth as he drains me of my sanity, unable to resist the urge to rock against him, feeling his length start to harden against me. He draws my lower lip between his teeth, sucking and nibbling like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and I hold on tighter, my fingers flexing against his muscled shoulders.
Caleb clears his throat loudly at the doorway, causing us to swiftly break apart and whip around to face him, like kids caught with our hands in the cookie jar. “Y’all can finish making out later. Right now, you’re supposed to be getting me high,” he protests with his arms crossed over his chest.
At first, I’m afraid he’s really annoyed with us, but when I lift my mortified eyes to meet his, he winks playfully, somewhat relieving my guilt-ridden conscience. I exhale my pent-up breath and glance at Crew, whose gaze is still fixed on me. Unfazed by his brother’s interruption, he leans down and skims his soft lips across my cheek, landing them next to my ear.
“Sorry, not sorry. I’ve been waiting all fucking morning to do that,” he whispers, then grabs my hand to lead me inside, “and we’re definitely finishing this later.”
This is not a part of the plan. She is not a part of the plan. But now that we’re here—here with her—the plan is being rewritten. It fucking has to be.
I hadn’t meant to attack her like that, but ever since she walked away from our kiss last night, swaying that tight ass as she pranced across the grass to her house, I haven’t been able to think about anything else except feeling her lips against mine again. All morning, I’d been on my best behavior, holding back the fierce urges to touch her, to kiss her, to show her how I was gonna make her mine, just like I promised, but when I saw her approaching out the window, I couldn’t deny myself any longer.
It hasn’t helped that Caleb won’t shut his trap about how hot she is, droning on and on about her throughout the entire evening and starting up again first thing this morning. I want to tell him he has no fucking clue how perfect that sweet little mouth tastes. Shit, I can only imagine what the rest of her is like. But considering he’s now seen our little show, I’m sure I’ll get an earful later about how I stole his girl.
After shutting the door behind us, he dramatically throws himself across the bed and groans. “I guess I’ll have to move on to one of your sisters. Which one do you suggest?”
Hudson stifles a giggle as she sits down at the table, her cheeks still flushed with color, either from the freezing temperatures or lingering effects from my kiss. I’m arrogant enough to think it’s more of the latter.
“Hmmm…” She acts like she’s thinking, rubbing her thumb back and forth over her chin. “Well, Juno and Nali are definitely too old for you, and Kota is borderline, but she’s the bitchiest of all of them, so you’ll want to leave her alone anyway. So that leaves Cheyenne and Brighton, though I think Cheyenne may have a boyfriend right now. I’m not sure, ‘cause her Facebook relationship status changes more often than I change panties.”
The second the word tumbles out of her mouth, the image of her in nothing but a scrap of lace appears in my head, and instantly, I can feel the blood rushing straight to my dick. Thankful I’m seated in the chair across from her, the table hiding the evidence, I casually adjust myself, hoping she doesn’t notice.
When I see Caleb doing the same thing, it takes damn near everything inside of me not to tackle him and wrestle him until he surrenders, but I assume that’d probably scare the shit out of Hudson. And to be quite honest, the unfamiliar twinge of jealousy kinda scares the shit out of me.
“But I’m not sure you could handle Brighton. She’s a sassy little thing who may give you a run for your money.”
Not realizing she was still talking until she stops and the room grows quiet, I search for something casual to say before the silence grows awkward…since Caleb’s apparently too lost in a fantasy daydream about having six sisters pleasure him to respond.
“Where in the hell did your parents get all of your names? Not one of you is like Lauren or Tiffany?” I ask.
“Nah, they thought it’d be cool to name us all after where we were conceived.” She scrunches her face up, as if the thought of her parents having sex disgusts her. “Then I guess they thought it’d be funny to make us all explain it for the rest of our lives.”
I run through the list of names in my head quickly, then wonder aloud, “You were all conceived in different states?”
“Actually, five states. Juno and Nali are Alaska, Dakota is South Dakota, I’m New York, Cheyenne is Wyoming, and Brighton and Denver are both here in Colorado.” Standing up, she walks over to the mini-fridge and grabs three bottles of water, tossing one on the bed next to Caleb and setting the other two on the table in front of each of us.
“Doug used to work as a consultant for an environmentalist group, so they moved around quite a bit. Everyone but me was actually born where the family was living at the time. I was just a vacation souvenir.” She chuckles then takes a quick drink before continuing, “In 2000, Colorado passed the first medical marijuana law, and my uncle Danny asked my dad to join him in setting up a farm and a dispensary. And we’ve been here ever since.”
Caleb pushes himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Why do you call them by their names and not Mom and Dad?”
“They don’t like for us to, because they feel society attaches gender-specific roles with those labels, even though I still think of them as my mom and dad in my head. They encourage us to see them—all people—as individuals, and not to conform to stereotypes. Ya know…hippie love-thy-neighbor stuff.” The corners of her eyes crinkle with the broad smile stretching across her face. I really like when they do that.
“You can love on me anytime.” Caleb waggles his eyebrows. “Especially while we’re staying here, I’m definitely your neighbor.”
Throwing her head back with a deep belly laugh, she shakes her head. “I admire your persistence, but I think I’ll stick with loving on one neighbor at a time.” The wicked look she throws in my direction isn’t missed. “You should try to work your magic on Brighton. If nothing else, she’ll school you on some XBOX.”
“She plays video games?!” he asks in disbelief. “That’s badass.”
“Yeah, when you guys come over tonight, she’ll be happy to show you everything she’s got. I don’t know anything about it, except I suck when she tries to teach me. It’s like a foreign language to me.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out an orange rectangular pack of papers and tosses it on the table. “But now, we’re going to try and fix you up. Come sit over here with me and your brother. Where’s the stuff I brought yesterday?”
I stand up and grab the bag from the top of the dresser, purposely allowing my fingers to skim across hers when I hand it over. “Why don’t you sit in my lap so Caleb can have the other chair?” I suggest, not thinking about how in the fuck I’m going to keep from getting hard with her cute little ass pressed into my crotch.
“Umm…okay,” she murmurs as the tip of her tongue strokes fleetingly over her bottom lip—something I’ve noticed she does when she’s nervous. It makes me want to make her nervous. Often.
She unfolds her legs and lifts her hips out of the chair, allowing me to slide into the seat before lowering her down onto my thighs. Unfortunately, she misunderstands the moan that rolls in the back of my throat as her making me uncomfortable, so she shoots back up, apologizing profusely.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can, uh, just stand up or sit on the floor.” She fumbles over her words, refusing to make eye contact.
Grabbing her narrow waist, I insistently tug her down on my lap and wrap my arms around her middle, holding her back flush against my chest. I trace the tip of my nose up her exposed neck, inhaling the mouthwatering scent of smoky bacon and sweet maple syrup. Fucking shit, I suddenly have the overpowering desire for a second breakfast, and there’s only one little blonde who can satisfy my hunger right now.
“You didn’t hurt me…not the way you’re thinking,” I growl in her ear. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite you,” I softly dig my teeth into the back of her neck, then add, “at least, not too hard.”
Her muffled whimper vibrates against my lips, which does nothing to help with my self-control problem, but I force myself to focus on what we’re supposed to be doing before I spread her out on the table and lick every inch of her delicious body. “Are you rolling a joint, or teaching him how to use the vaporizer thing?” I croak out as Caleb moseys over and joins us at the table.
“I’m gonna show you guys how to use the vaporizer first, but I prefer an old school spliff.” She twists around slightly, holding her eyes on mine. “Have you ever smoked before?”
“A few times at parties,” I admit openly. “If it was being passed around, I’d take a hit or two, but that’s about it. I’ve never smoked anything but a joint.”
“You?” She switches her focus to my younger brother.
He snickers with a quick shake of his head. “I tried it once at a friend’s house last year, but it felt like there was a house fire in my throat, so I never did it again. Not to mention, Crew kicked my ass when he found out.”
I tighten my grip around her as I remember how pissed I was the day I went to pick him up at his buddy’s house and walked in on them smoking. With his condition, Caleb knows better than to experiment with drugs or even alcohol, especially when he didn’t know where it came from and I wasn’t there in case something happened. I get he’s a teenaged boy and wants to do what his friends are doing, but pulling that shit, when he didn’t know how his body would react, was just fucking stupid. I made sure he never wanted to act stupid like that again.
“Okay, well, this will be a little different for you,” she explains while emptying a few crystal-encrusted buds from one of the clear packets onto the flat surface. “Vaporizers are the preferable method for people using cannabis for medical purposes, because it doesn’t actually burn the weed. It heats it to a boiling temperature, allowing it to release its yield without ever catching fire, and then literally vaporizes it…hence the name. So you’re not going to get that fiery feeling in your throat.”
Still a little confused, I ask, “Why’s that better?”
“In addition to it being more efficient overall, this way you’re not getting any of the harmful toxins from the paper and dark smoke. Another alternative is ingesting it in foods, like I’m sure you’ve heard of pot brownies before, which I’ll be more than happy to make for you, but it’s a much slower reaction, and there’s no way of telling how much of what you digest will get into your blood stream. The lungs are much faster in absorbing the marijuana than the stomach. Just remember to inhale slow and steady.”
Caleb and I both watch as Hudson methodically splits the buds into tiny pieces with her fingernails, then grabs the vaporizer and begins demonstrating how to heat the device and how to pack the weed in the chamber. A couple minutes later, she puts the mouthpiece up to her lips and slowly draws in a deep breath.
Blowing out a foggy cloud of smoke, she offers the vaporizer to Caleb and cocks one eyebrow. “You ready, stud?”
Timidly, he takes the device from her and glances over at me, searching for reassurance. I tip my chin in his direction and offer an encouraging smile. “I’ll only kick your ass this time if you don’t do it,” I tease.
His face relaxes as he lifts the box up to his mouth and sucks in a long, deliberate breath. After lowering the vaporizer away from his face, he holds the air in his lungs for several seconds—much like Hudson just did—and then exhales a puff of haze. With a somewhat surprised look on his face, he looks down at the table, then up at both of us.
“Wow, that wasn’t anything like I remembered. It tastes really…I don’t know…sweet almost?”
“Yeah, everything I use in my greenhouses, for both the food and marijuana, is all-natural. There’s never a chemical taste,” Hudson boasts as she grabs the device and hands it to me. “Here, you try it out, Crew.”
I mimic their actions and pull a decent size hit from the vaporizer, impressed at how smooth it is compared to my previous experiences, then pass it back to her. “Yeah, that’s a lot milder. Why do you prefer joints?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs with a lazy grin. “I’m old school, I guess. Grew up with my parents smoking joints. It’s just what I’m used to. Feels more natural…simpler…”
She takes another puff before sliding the box across the table for Caleb to hit again, then leans back into my chest and rests the back of her head on my shoulder, nearly killing me as her weight shifts directly onto my cock. Tilting her neck back so that her mouth is less than an inch from my neck, she finishes her earlier thought in a breathy whisper, “Innocent…like me.”
