“Thanks for including me on your excursion, Mary,” I state politely, my manners belatedly kicking in. “I’m gonna clean up a little before dinner. See you guys in about an hour.”
“See you soon, Hudson. Thanks for coming with us!” she replies with a big smile and a short wave, oblivious to my uneasiness as she scampers out of the cold.
“Let your sister know I’m coming for her!” Caleb shouts, darting toward the heated shelter of their cabin.
I don’t mean to—I don’t want to—but my gaze is locked on Crew before I can stop myself, my greedy eyes roaming the length of his tall, strong body as he stands next to the car with his hands shoved in his pockets. There’s a good twenty feet between us, but I can see the confusion stamped across face.
“You coming for me later too?” I throw the words out good-naturedly, playing off Caleb’s last words in an attempt to let him know I’m not upset with him, but I don’t realize the suggestiveness of them until it’s too late.
“Depends if that’s what you want,” he drawls seductively, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow at me after the cabin door shuts.
“And if I said it wasn’t?” I smirk back.
Releasing a husky laugh, he shakes his head. “I’d say you’re a terrible liar.”
“We’ll see,” I retort, mad at myself for being unable to think of anything witty to say.
I spin around on my heel, stomping away from him before I embarrass myself anymore, but before I make it two steps, he’s wrapping me up from behind, snaking his arms around my waist and yanking me to his chest. “I’ll come for you anytime you want, snow angel,” he rasps huskily into my ear, “but what I really can’t wait to see is how you look when you’re coming apart underneath me.”
Holy shit, did he really just say that? Breathe, Hudson, breathe.
Kissing my neck tenderly, he drops his arms, freeing me, and then pats my butt. “Now go take a shower or whatever you gotta do. We’ll be over in a little while, beautiful.”
After a lively meal filled with Denver performing impressions of his favorite cartoon characters, verbal sparring between Caleb and Brighton teetering between shit-talking and flirting, and the rest of my sisters—yep, all of them showed to ‘welcome’ our guests—shooting envious daggers my way in between bites of beef stew as they watched Crew and I steal not-so-discreet glances, dinner is over.
Grams wishes us all a good night as she disappears into her bedroom, probably itching to dig back into one of those smutty romances she enjoys reading, while Juno, Nali, and Kota pile into the Jeep and return to their apartment, their stomachs full of a home-cooked meal and freshly-served disappointment. I know I shouldn’t feel the smug satisfaction I do as they pull away, but damn it…it’s my turn to finally land the guy.
Mel pours Doug, Mary, and herself an Irish coffee as they set up shop in the den around the laptop, my parents continuing to help Mary prepare for the move, leaving the rest of us sitting around the table, wondering what we should do next.
“You ready to get your ass handed to you by a chick?” Brighton taunts Caleb, her blue eyes sparkling at the challenge of both him and the video game.
He scoffs, thrusting his chest out as he stands up. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for such a little thing. Let’s see whatcha got.”
“Ooh, I don’t wanna miss this,” Denver bounces out of his chair. “Bri’s gonna make this dude cry like a pussy.”
“Denver Payne Shavell! Don’t say that!” I warn in the best parent-scolding tone I can conjure up, but still fail to hide the amusement in my voice. I know, because he winks at me and repeats the p-word again.
Cheyenne rolls her eyes—I’m not sure if it’s directed at me, Denver, or the lot of us—then announces she’s going to her room, pausing briefly to see if anyone pleads with her to stay and hang out. It doesn’t happen, so she storms away with an exasperated huff.
Laughter floats around the room as Brighton, Caleb, and Denver all gather their plates and dump them in the sink before ambling off to the game room, leaving Crew and me alone at the table. I really don’t want to spend the rest of the evening watching a TV screen with computer-animated army guys killing each other, but I’m apprehensive about inviting him to my room…though I’m not quite sure why. It’s not like he’s going to try anything crazy with both of our families under the same roof.
“Is there somewhere we can chill for a while? Maybe away from all the excitement?” He squeezes my fingers that have been interlaced with his ever since we finished the actual eating part of dinner. “Just me and you?”
The way he says those last four words has me clenching my thighs together, staving off the flood of moisture that’s been threatening to drench my panties. Pushing away from the table, I pick up both his and my empty bowls, drop them off in the kitchen, and then tip my head in the direction of my hallway. “Come on.”
With each step I take, the rate of my heartbeat increases exponentially, and by the time we’re inside the close quarters of my bedroom, I’m afraid I may break out in an all-over body sweat I’m so damn tense.
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” I propose, looking around the small space, realizing there’s not much to do but watch TV or read one of the gardening books stacked on my small desk.
Striding over to where I keep the expansive library of DVDs I own, he squats down to scan the titles. “Wow, you’ve got like every Tarantino film out there. I’m impressed,” he comments as he thumbs through the plastic cases.
“What were you expecting? Dazed and Confused, Half-Baked, and Pineapple Express?” I jest, even though I do own all three of those movies, as I fluff and position the pillows alongside the headboard for us to lounge against before climbing up onto the bed.
He chuckles lightly and tosses a don’t-be-ridiculous look over at me, pursing his lips. “That’s not the only thing I see you as, Hudson, but I was expecting your collection to be a little more…girly.”
Grabbing a movie from the shelf, he removes the disc and inserts it into the player without me seeing what it is. He then kicks his shoes off and joins me atop the mattress, slinging one arm around my shoulders to pull me in close while leaning back into the cushioned wall. I haven’t thought of a snarky comeback yet, because I’ve been too mesmerized watching the way he carries himself around my room with ease, like it’s exactly where he belongs.
His lips press firmly to the top of my head as his arms squeezes me even closer to him, and I exhale a blissful sigh. “After all,” he murmurs into my hair, “we’ve already established you’re definitely all girl.”
“True Romance is kinda girly,” I contend, fully aware of the tingling sensation spreading throughout my entire body. “And it’s one of my favorites.”
“Shh, just watch.”
Curling into him, I rest my head on his chest and lock my eyes on the screen, but before the opening credits appear, a blood-curdling scream echoes throughout the house.
I can count on three fingers the number of times in my life I've truly feared for my own or someone else's life.
The first time was when I was twelve and my mom—not quite eight months pregnant with Denver—slipped on a patch of black ice, breaking multiple bones and sending her into early labor. My dad was out of town on a business trip, and because of the whiteout blizzard, the ambulances couldn't reach us, nor could we make it to the hospital. My sisters and I ended up delivering him on the floor of my parents' bathroom, and although I kept my composure throughout the entire birth, I was terrified that either my baby brother or my mom would die before the medics made it to us.