Текст книги "Spark"

Автор книги: Erin Noelle

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“Any idea where this is heading?” My mom’s voice, sincere but resilient, greets me the moment I shut the door behind me. “And ‘to bed’ isn’t the answer I’m looking for.”

Chuckling under my breath, as I knew this talk was coming, I shed my heavy coat and toe off my shoes before turning around to look at her. “I haven’t got a clue,” I admit honestly, knowing exactly what she’s referring to without even having to ask.

While I was gone, walking Hudson home, she moved from the table to the bed, now sitting cross-legged atop the comforter while aimlessly flipping through one of her celebrity magazines. “She’s not like any of those girls from back home, especially not Lila. I don’t want you playing games with her.”

“I’m not playing games, Mom.  At least, not on purpose.” I fall back onto the pillows of the other bed with a heavy sigh. “She’s different. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel it. It still doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing or where it’s going.”

Tossing her reading material to the side, she raises her chin and gives me the all-knowing Mom look. “She’s an old soul. There’s nothing shallow with Hudson. Everything she does, everything she feels, she does it bone-deep, from the heart. Even if you showed no interest in her whatsoever, she’d still do everything she can to help Caleb. She’s a healer; you can see it in her eyes. It’s part of the reason why she’s so passionate about the marijuana stuff; she does it ‘cause she knows it helps people who are suffering. I’m just not sure she’d know how to heal herself if she was ever the one hurting.”

I don’t reply at first as I mull over her words, the hard truth of them slamming home in my chest, particularly the insinuation I could be the one to hurt her. That’s not my endgame with her, not my intention, but I also know the likelihood of it happening is probably pretty high considering my track record. I didn’t come here looking for a relationship, but I wasn’t expecting to find someone like Hudson either.

She caught me by surprise.

I mean, yeah, when I see her, my cock notices and wants to come out to play, but it’s more than that. She’s so much more than just a pair of tits and some warm holes. Other than Caleb and my mom, I’ve never wanted to take care of someone else before. Never cared enough. It was more about what they could do for me.

But with her? I roll my neck, trying to dislodge the unfamiliar sensation settling over me. I’m just a guy whose future plans include homeschooling my little brother during the day, slinging drinks for tips at night, and looking to get my rocks off sometime in-between. A girl like her deserves someone a helluva lot better than a guy like me.

“Don’t you even start thinking like that, Crew Thomas Elliott,” Mom warns, as if my every thought is scrolling across my forehead. “You’re so much like her you don’t even realize it. You’ve sacrificed everything to move here with Caleb and me…gave up your friends, college, put your dreams on hold, all for the love of your brother and your determination to make him feel better. I told you just yesterday that you don’t need to lose yourself in all of this. You have the right to live your own life as well.”

“But he’s my brother…my blood. Of course I’m going to be there for him. But she…” I pause, struggling with how to say it. “It’s like she shares the same feelings about him, and he’s basically a stranger to her.”

Making a tsk-tsk sound with her mouth, she gets up and pads over the few feet between the beds, scooting me over to make room for her on my mattress. “You better not go screwing something up before you even give it a chance. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you can’t help but smile when you see her, or the way you both can’t stop touching each other when you’re close. I’ve never seen you like this before and I like it.”

She pauses to tousle my already messy hair, her mouth turned up in a happy smile. “The point of the conversation wasn’t to imply you’re not good enough for her—quite the opposite actually. You’re my son, my first baby, and if anything, I think most girls don’t come close to stacking up to you. I just wanted to make sure you realize how unique Hudson is, and how girls like her don’t come around very often.”

“I know, Mom,” I drape my arm over her shoulders and pull her close to me. “I’m just not sure with Caleb and working I have the time to put into something else. I need to stay focused on helping you two out.”

“If someone’s important enough to you, you’ll make time to fit them in your life, but for now, take it slow and listen to your gut.” Giggling, she pokes me in my stomach. “Whatever this spark is between y’all may blaze into something spectacular, or it may simmer out, but either way, I think you’ll be short-changing yourself if you don’t give it a shot.”

Kissing my cheek, she returns to the other bed and slides under the blankets, leaving me staring at the ceiling, lost in thought for the third straight night. Over and over again in my head, I replay chunks of the conversation with my mom, mixed in with images of Hudson from the last couple of days—the way her bright blue eyes crinkle up in the corner when she laughs, how she takes Caleb’s smartass comments in stride and is always ready to dish them back out, the way her full lips form the perfect O when she exhales perfect smoke rings. My last thought is Mom’s advice to listen to my gut.

For the past four-plus years, I’ve always followed my dick when it came to girls, and though it’s rarely led me down the wrong path, I’m not so sure it’s led me down the right one either. I’m a long damn way from listening to my heart on any of this shit, but my gut seems like a happy medium between the two.

And my gut wants Hudson.

At some point in the middle of the night, I hear Mom up moving around, getting Caleb some water and the vaporizer, but once it sounds like they have everything under control, I pass back out until I’m woken up by someone jumping on my bed.

“Wake up, lover boy. I’m hungry!” Caleb shouts while using my mattress as a trampoline, alternating between bouncing on his knees and his feet.

“What in the world are you doing?” I grumble as I roll over and hide my head under the pillow. “It’s way too fucking early to be this damn chipper.”

He snickers and jumps harder, the little shit. “It’s almost nine, assface. You need to take a shower when Mom gets out so we can go—”

As he’s talking, it hits me. If he’s the one waking me up, that means he didn’t have an episode this morning. Stunned at the realization, I spring up from under the fluffy down comforter and tackle him down on the bed.

“Nothing this morning?” I ask, my words gruffer than I intend them to be, my throat catching.

He shakes his head, with a grin on his face spread ear-to-motherfucking-ear. “Nope. Not even a headache, though Mom says I scared the shit out of everyone last night.”

“Hell, yeah!” I hoot loud enough for the neighboring cabin to hear…shit, maybe even the whole resort, but I don’t give a damn. We’re still a ways off from deeming this an effective treatment, and even though he had a pretty bad seizure last night, this is the first morning in months he hasn’t woken up with one, and I call that a fucking win. “Don’t worry about last night either, man. They’re all cool.”

An hour later, the three of us are floating on air—or maybe that’s the celebratory joint we shared—as we enter the main lodge for breakfast, eager to share the good news with Hudson and the rest of her family. Doug approaches our table almost immediately after we sit down, greeting us with a friendly smile.

“Mornin’, Mary,” he tips his head in my mom’s direction, then does the same to me and Caleb, “and gentlemen. Everyone sleep okay? Can I start you off with some coffee or juice?”

It doesn’t go unnoticed on my part how he doesn’t mention what happened after dinner last night, and I greatly appreciate it. Despite the fact Caleb puts on a great show around other people about how happy-go-lucky he is and how he pretends having epilepsy doesn’t bother him, I know for a fact he’s embarrassed after he has an episode in front of people.

I was the one who had to listen to him quietly cry himself to sleep at night after kids made fun of him, and no matter how many little shits’ asses I kicked for picking on my brother over the last couple years, there was still always someone who made a snide remark or dig at him. I can only hope we’ve left that life behind for good.

“I’ll start with some coffee, please,” Mom replies, then looks at me. “Crew, you too?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a cup too,” I nod, “though I’m already so alert this morning I’m not sure the caffeine is needed.”

Not paying attention to the conversation, Caleb is too busy scanning the dining room to realize it’s his turn to order a drink. “Caleb, dude, what do you want to drink?” I nudge him with my shoulder.

“Where’s Hudson? She usually takes our orders.” He completely ignores my question, though I’m glad he does, ‘cause I was wondering the same thing, but didn’t want to ask.

“She left just about fifteen minutes ago for the university…something about an exam today that she needed to get there early to review for,” Doug explains. “She asked if I’d seen you guys before leaving, but I hadn’t.”

I swallow back the disappointment, having completely forgotten she has classes in Denver three days a week. “What time does she normally get back?”

“Usually a little before dinner, depending on the weather and traffic. Would you all be interested in joining us for dinner again tonight?”

“That’s not necessary, Doug. We’re not going to intrude on your family time at home,” Mom’s voice drowns out both mine and Caleb’s quick ‘yes’.

Throwing his head back with laughter, he winks at me and Caleb. “It looks like you were outvoted, Mary, and you’re not intruding. The kids seem to get along,” he lifts his brow at me, emphasizing he’s noticed how well Hudson and I get along, “and Mel and I enjoy your company. Dinner’s around six, but you can come over whenever you’d like. Now, Caleb, what can I get you to drink, son?”

It’s a little after noon when I walk into the Half Pipe Pub, ready to meet my new boss and fill out whatever paperwork is necessary to make sure I’m ready to get to work as soon as we return from the move. I’m more than a little surprised at the bustling venue during a weekday lunch, but bodies are packed shoulder-to-shoulder at the bar, and nearly every table is claimed.

“Take a seat anywhere you can find one. Someone will be with you shortly,” a guy behind the bar calls out over his shoulder as he fills a pilsner glass with an amber beer from the tap.

Nodding my acknowledgement, I hang my coat on one of the free hooks right inside the front door then stride up to one of the open high bar-top tables that seats two, sliding onto one of the wooden chairs. While I wait for the server to come over, I take a few minutes to scan the entire area, acquainting myself with my new place of employment.

Comfortable and cozy, the place exudes a homey, welcoming atmosphere with a gigantic rock fireplace that spans the girth of the entire back wall. Numerous loveseats and recliners are positioned around the room’s main focal point, giving almost a coffeehouse-type feel to the area. The dark mahogany wood bar lines one of the sidewalls, stopping just before a hallway, which, according to the signs, leads to the restrooms. Five U-shaped booths with hunter green vinyl benches line the opposite wall, each sitting six to eight people comfortably, and the center of the room is scattered with rearrangeable tables, like the one I’m sitting at.

Snowboards, skis, and poles hang from the ceiling, and the walls are covered in framed posters and photographs, every one of them a different action-shot inside a half-pipe, staying true to the place’s namesake. In one of the corners close to the door, a jukebox—currently playing one of my favorite Mumford & Sons’ songs, Below My Feet—is situated not far from a mall-style photo booth, both of which currently have small crowds hovering around them. All in all, the place looks exactly like I pictured a mountainside pub in the middle of a ski resort to look, and strangely, I feel relaxed in the unfamiliar setting.

“Hey, baby. How’s this hump day treating you?” A hot, college-aged ginger, wearing a plaid flannel shirt tied up underneath her boobs with tiny khaki shorts and knee-high furry boots—an outfit that shows off an ample amount of cleavage and even more bare thigh—approaches the table with an impish grin and unmistakable twinkle in her eye. Her breasts accidentally brush up against my bicep as she leans over to place a coaster on the table in front of me. “What can I start you off with to drink? A Screaming Orgasm your style, or do you prefer a Slow, Comfortable Screw?”

“I, uh, I’m here about a bartending job,” I stammer momentarily, feeling the tips of my ears burn with uninvited arousal, but quickly rebound. “I’m supposed to meet a Brody here today?”

Her sultry, brown eyes grow wide as she squeals and bounces on her tiptoes; at least, I think her eyes are brown...it’s hard to focus with her tits bobbing directly in front of my face. “Oh, yaaay! You’re the new bartender we’ve been expecting! What’s your name? Cruz, right?”

“Crew. Just Crew,” I correct her, unable to fight back my pleased smile at her reaction over meeting me.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect.” She reaches out and traces her finger along my jaw and up my chin, landing it on my lips. “Just wait ‘til the rest of the girls see you; there’s gonna be a catfight for sure. You make sure you tell them I saw you first. My name’s Tasha. Don’t forget that…Tasha, with tits and a toosh.” Winking, she spins around, damn near insisting I look at her ass, which is pretty fucking nice, I must admit.

“Okay, let me go get Brody for you, and after you’re finished with him, I’ll order you a Red-Headed Slut. Once you have that sweetness in your mouth, you’ll never want to taste anything else,” she damn near purrs in my ear before prancing away to the other side of the bar.

It’s only then that I notice all of the waitresses are dressed similar to Tasha, like they just walked out of Playboy’s Ski Bunny issue, and suddenly I’m not quite so relaxed any longer. I’m still not sure what exactly is going on between Hudson and me. We’re definitely not in any kind of committed relationship, so I can’t figure out why I feel guilty for the conversation I just had.

I don’t even have time to let that thought settle before a guy who could pose as Guy Fieri’s twin—spiky bleached-blond hair, matching goatee, and all—sits down across from me, extending his hand across the table.

“I’m Brody Tanner, general manager of the Half Pipe,” he introduces himself with a smile.

“Crew Elliott, sir. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for meeting me today,” I reply politely, offering a firm handshake.

“Ah, I’m glad to hear you’ve got a nice Texas accent to match that pretty face. The women will go crazy for you, and you should make a killing here,” he remarks confidently. “I’ve got three rules to follow and we’ll get along just fine. First, show up for your shifts on time and sober. I know you can only work nights ‘cause you homeschool your brother, and that’s fine, but I expect you to be punctual. You can have a few drinks while you’re working, but I at least need you to start off running on all cylinders. Second, don’t steal from me. You can gift a few drinks to some ladies each night, but keep it under control.”

He stops talking as Tasha sets a pint of Guinness in front of him and some peach-colored fruity-looking drink in front of me, then continues once she walks away. “And third, no fucking the patrons or other staff while you’re on the clock, and yes, that includes getting your cock sucked. I’m a red-blooded male just like you, and yes, I realize the scenery around here is stimulating, some times more than others. I don’t care what you do when you clock out, but I’m not paying you to bust a nut. Got it?”

Struck silent by his bluntness, all I can do is nod my head, knowing I really need this job as my contribution to the family. The money should be good and they’re willing to work with my schedule; I’ll be hard-pressed to find that anywhere else.

“Great. I’ll get you the paperwork to take with you, and you can bring it back for your first shift. When can you start training?”

Clearing my throat, I answer, “The weekend before Thanksgiving.”

“Perfect, show up at three that Sunday. Welcome to the Half Pipe Pub, Crew. This will be the best job you ever have.”

I waited around as long as I possibly could to see Crew and Caleb before leaving for school, but considering I did absolutely zero studying for my Algebra test last night, at a little after nine, I hopped in my Crosstrek and headed down the highway toward Denver, more than a little disappointed. Arriving a couple of hours before class begins, I set up shop at a secluded corner table in the on-campus coffeehouse, arm myself with an extra-large piping hot cup of Colombian blend java, noise-cancellation headphones, and my trusty ol’ graphing calculator, and prepare to bury myself in the review materials.

Unfortunately, about a half an hour into my cram session, the chair across from me noisily skates out from under the table and an all too familiar body parks itself in it. Peering up from my textbook, I offer Beckham a half-hearted smile before dropping my gaze back to my notes, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Of course, he doesn’t.

Motioning for me to remove my headphones—which I do, not wanting to be an ass—he picks up the sheet of notebook paper I’ve been jotting notes down on and examines it. “You’re here early this morning, friend.” He looks up and winks at me like he’s just said the most clever thing. “You got a test today?”

“I do,” I reply tersely.

“Then that makes sense why you didn’t answer my texts last night. You were studying all night.”

I can’t determine if his comment was an observation—an incorrect one—or a question, so I choose to ignore it all together. Glancing down at my watch, I sigh. “Class starts in a little over an hour and I’ve still got three more chapters to review. So if you don’t mind,” I hold my hand out, “I need my notes back.”

“I do mind, actually.” He smirks. “The best way to prepare for a test is for someone to quiz you, so why don’t you let me help?”

Resisting the urge to tell him to take a hike, I find myself nodding in agreement, unable to be the bitch I want to be. The poor guy really hasn’t done anything wrong, and before Crew suddenly appeared in my life several days ago, I really enjoyed hanging out with Beckham. As a matter of fact, I was excited about going out with him. It’s not his fault God’s gift to me waltzed into the lodge last Sunday afternoon, stealing away my interest in him and every other guy that walks the face of the earth. The least I can do is to continue being his friend. After all, Crew isn’t really anything more to me than someone I’ve kissed a few times.

Right?

For the next sixty minutes, Beckham grills my algebraic knowledge, rewarding me with his endearing dimples every time I get a question right and taking the time to teach me how to derive at the correct answer on the ones I get wrong. By the time I’m packing my things away in my backpack, I’m surprised at how much more confident I feel after that little cram session.

“Thank you so much for doing that. I think it really helped,” I boast as I stand up and straighten out my jeans. “I’ll be at my car during my break if you want to hang out. I found a new band I think you’ll really dig.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you there after class.” He walks around the small, square table and leans in to kiss me on the mouth, but I turn my face just in time and his lips brush against my cheek. “Good luck on your test, Hudson.”

My exam goes exceptionally well; if I didn’t get a 100, I definitely made an A. And hanging out with Beckham, who’s actually a sweet guy when he’s not being over-the-top clingy or trying to impress me, isn’t nearly as awkward as I feared it would be. But by the time my last class of the day wraps up, I’m more than ready to be back at Fire on the Mountain. I’ve only wondered how Crew spent his day a little more than a dozen times, and I’m beginning to get on my own nerves. It’s borderline pathetic.

The latest Jasmine Thompson album keeps me company on the lengthy drive home down the highway, which, thankfully, has been recently cleared by the snow plows in anticipation of the rush hour traffic, and with the volume turned up almost full blast, I sound just like her…British accent and all. By the time I pull up at my house, it’s already dark outside and the arctic temperatures are plummeting. Impulsively glancing in the direction of cabin number eight, I notice the Elliott’s rental car is parked out front, but there aren’t any lights on inside. Weird.

I don’t have to speculate long on their whereabouts, because the minute I open my front door, I’m greeted with the sound of Caleb and Brighton squabbling over the correct placement of silverware on the table. Music to my frozen ears.

Sticking my head into the dining room, I find the two of them, along with Crew and Denver, all huddled over a single placemat at the head of the table, shuffling the utensils and napkin around the plate in the center.

“Are we expecting the Pope for dinner, or what? When did we get so fancy?” I ask with a chuckle, curious as to why in the world it matters where any of it’s placed as long as everyone has something to eat with and a paper towel to wipe their mouth.

They all stop what they’re doing and look up at me, acknowledging my arrival with a smile and a hello before returning their attention back to the insignificant task at hand. Everyone, but Crew. As soon as he sees me in the doorway, his face lights up like a Christmas tree and he pounces, eating up the length of the room in three lengthy strides.

“Thank God, you’re home. I was about to lose my mind with them,” he jests as he drags me back into the entry foyer, helping me wriggle out of my coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. “You deserve some sainthood award for putting up with more than one sibling on a daily basis. They never stop bickering, and apparently Caleb thinks he’s one of them.”

Capturing my cheeks between his hands, he lowers his face to mine and softly kisses my lips, then pulls back slightly to stare into my eyes. “How was your test, snow angel? Sorry we missed you this morning.”

I beam up at him, knowing damn well I’ve got some ridiculous, dopey grin on my face, but seriously, this is the best thing I’ve ever come home to. Like in the history of ever. I’m probably dreaming all of it, and it’s really going to suck when I wake up and slam back into reality.

“My test was great. I think I did really well.” I crinkle my brow, trying to remember if I mentioned it to him yesterday. “How did you know about it?”

“Your dad told us this morning why you weren’t at breakfast. We were later than usual,” he steals a glimpse over at his younger brother, “‘cause Caleb had his first episode-free morning in over four months today.”

My eyes grow wide with astonishment as I replay his words in my head. “Oh, my God! Are you serious?”

Nodding emphatically, he does nothing to hide the vast optimism in his voice. “After the one here yesterday, there’s been nothing…not even an absence seizure, which is when he spaces out a couple times a day, or a headache.”

“That’s incredible! Has he been using the vaporizer?”

“Yeah, every six hours or so. Now that the CBD is building up in his bloodstream, it really seems to be working. I know it’s early to say, but today was a huge step in the right direction.”

This time, it’s me who lifts up on my tiptoes, throwing my arms around his neck and crashing my mouth on his. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in forever,” I mumble against his lips, an equal mixture of hope and happiness coursing through me.

He grabs hold of my hand and leads me into the living room, where our parents and Grams are relaxing in front of the fireplace, each with a glass of wine. Answering questions about how my day went, I give them all a hug hello and express my enthusiasm, mainly to Mary, about Caleb’s noteworthy day.

“We have you and your family to thank, Hudson.” She wraps me in a tight embrace and I can feel the overwhelming joy radiating from her. “Without your kindness and generosity, we’d still be weeks away from getting into a doctor and getting a prescription.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help Caleb,” I reply truthfully as we release each other. “The kid has an unmatched charisma that you can’t help but fall in love with.”

Mel stands up with her near-empty glass and kisses the top of my head. “My Hudson the Healer. I’ve always said you should’ve been a doctor or a vet.”

I scrunch my nose up and shake my head. “Oh, heck no. That’s way too much time in school for me.”

“Speaking of time,” she squints her eyes to see the clock across the room, “I think we’re just gonna order pizza tonight instead of cooking, if that’s okay with everyone. It’s already close to six.”

We all nod in agreement, Crew and Mary not realizing how big of a deal my mom’s announcement is. My parents never allow us to order pizza unless it’s a special occasion, like one of our birthdays. What’s even funnier is knowing the argument currently taking place in the dining room is all for naught. They’re fighting over place settings we aren’t even going to use, since pizza is always eaten on paper plates. I should be a good big sister and alert them of this tidbit of information, but I’m more curious about who wins out and gets their way. My money is on Brighton.

“Sounds good. Is it okay if Crew and I hang out in my room and watch a movie until it’s time to eat?” Well aware my parents won’t care one bit what we do, I ask permission more for Mary’s benefit, ensuring she doesn’t object.

“No problem, sweetie,” my dad pipes up. “You guys can eat in there too. I’m sure you could both use a break from the young’ns.”

I nearly fall over with shock at his words, but keep my mouth closed. We are never, and I repeat never allowed to eat away from the table. Dining is a family experience in this house—at the table. Maybe my parents have hit the bong a few too many times today. Whatever it is, I’m not questioning it.

After excusing ourselves, I grab us a couple bottles of water and we escape to the peace and quiet of my bedroom, closing—but not locking—the door behind us. Spinning around, a little bit nervous and a whole lot excited, I collide face-first into Crew’s body and drop the waters on the floor, triggering his hands to shoot out to steady my shoulders, and at his touch, the outside world ceases to exist.

Slowly trailing my gaze from his hard chest, hidden underneath a heather-gray Henley, up over his bobbing Adam’s apple, I pause briefly to admire the utmost kissable lips on the planet, before finally locking my eyes on his expressive emerald irises. My mouth parts on a quick inhale, taken aback by the raw heat staring back at me, and without warning, I’m off the ground, in his arms, being carried over to my bed, while our tongues feverishly explore each other’s mouth.

“Been waiting all fucking day to taste these strawberry lips,” he growls, carefully lowering me down to the mattress on my back with my head resting softly on the feather pillow.

“Good thing you don’t have to wait any longer,” I whisper in a seductive voice I didn’t know I own. “I’m all yours.”

Crew hovers directly over me—his legs ensnared between mine as he props himself up on his elbows, framing each side of my face. Nestled right above the top of my mound, his undeniable arousal grows in size and stiffness by the second, and I can’t resist the natural urge to tilt my hips up ever so slightly, increasing the delicious pressure against my throbbing core.

“Fucking Christ, Hudson, you’re gonna kill me,” he murmurs as the tip of his nose traces along my jawline, skimming from one ear to the other. “Either that, or your dad’s gonna find us in here and do it himself.”

My fingers get lost in his thick, shaggy brown locks as I moan lightly with shameless pleasure. “Doug wouldn’t do that. He likes you a lot.”

“How do you know? Because he let me disappear behind a closed door with his daughter?” Smirking, he flexes his hips and grinds his cock into me again, inciting a one-way flow of all blood and moisture in my body to the exact pressure point he’s tantalizing.

I pull on his hair in response, yanking his head back to where I can take my turn kissing and nibbling on his neck and ears. “That, and because he’s letting us eat in my room. It’ll be a first for me. We always eat together at the table.”

Pushing up a few inches, he looks down at me skeptically. “You’ve never eaten in your room before?”

Shaking my head against the pillow, I draw the corner of my mouth in between my teeth and chew on it bashfully, keeping my stare locked on his. “There are a lot of things I’ve never done before, Crew.”