“Nice to meet ya, Hudson Shavell. I’m Crew Elliott, the arrogant ass for a son,” he jokes, his Southern drawl endearing, while holding onto my hand a few seconds longer than necessary. “I’m glad you got to meet the sweet son first, but don’t let that innocent face fool you; he’s more of a heartbreaker than I could ever dream of being.”
“Shut up, Crew!” Caleb exclaims, playfully punching his older brother in the ribs. “Don’t be cock-blocking me. Even if Hudson here isn’t digging my chili, have you looked around and seen the rest of her sisters? They’re smokin’ too, man.”
Unable to hold back, I burst out laughing as Mary flicks her younger son on the ear and shakes her head in disbelief, mumbling something about having boys. Meanwhile, Crew is scanning the dining room, obviously searching out my other smokin’ sisters, which puts a damper on my short-lived amusement. I know at least one of them will be all over him before the night is over, and seeing how I’m going on a date with someone else, I can’t very well call dibs on him, or whatever my sisters usually do when they all see a cute guy they’re interested in.
Never before have I cared much to find out how this process works, but I’m guessing it’s not like food. I suppose licking his face real quick to mark him as mine for when I get back wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Hudson! Hey, Hudson, your date just got here! Doug’s got him cornered in the lobby,” Cheyenne calls out from behind me, emphasizing the word ‘date’ with the sugary-sweet voice she only uses when she wants something. And unfortunately, I know exactly what she wants right now.
I twist around at the waist, careful not to snarl my nose up at her, and tip my chin in acknowledgement. “Thanks, sis,” I bite out. “I’ll go save him.”
Turning back toward Mary, Crew, and Caleb, I twist the corners of my lips up in an apologetic smile. “Excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you all, and I’m sure I’ll see you around quite a bit during your stay. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Our cell numbers are listed in the welcome packet in your cabin.”
Then, without introducing Cheyenne to the group, which I know she’s eagerly waiting for, I spin on my heel and hurry out to the lobby to rescue Beckham from the wrath of my dad’s inability to shut up, wondering why this day of all days Crew Elliott walked into the lodge. It’s almost like a sick joke from the gods. Finally, after hearing my boy-crazy sisters for years, never understanding what all the hype was about, I’m introduced to someone who turns my insides to a liquefied, chaotic mess at the mere sight of him, only to be yanked away and put in the arms of someone else.
Awesome-sauce.
Dinner is…interesting, for lack of a better word.
As luck would have it, I end up sitting directly across the table from Crew, who is flanked by Dakota and Cheyenne, both of who are sitting so close he can barely move his arms without elbowing them. I’m a little concerned they’re actually drooling in his food, but he doesn’t seem to mind, so I don’t either. Well, at least I tell myself I don’t.
With Beckham to my left and Brighton to my right, I’m settled between my favorite sibling and a guy who’s obviously interested in me, based on the number of times he’s nudged his knee against mine and how he keeps dropping his hand under the table to graze his fingers suggestively along my upper thigh. But instead of feeling content and at ease, I’m edgy and jittery, ready to jump up and bolt at the drop of a hat.
“So, Crew, where’d you say you guys are from again?” Beckham asks in between bites of chicken parmigiana, one of Gram’s specialties.
Crew looks up from his plate and his intense stare catches mine, sending an odd tingle down my spine. I hastily shift my gaze over to Caleb, who’s trying to sneak peeks down Cheyenne’s low-cut blouse while she’s attempting to inch her way into Crew’s lap. I already like this kid.
“Uh, I didn’t, but we’re from Dallas.”
“That’s cool.” Beckham nods politely, his long, straw-colored hair falling into his face with the movement. “I’ve never been to Texas, but I’d love to check it out someday.”
Crew snickers and sets his fork down, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Not much to see, man. It’s a bunch of flat land that’s hot as hell in the summer and cold as a witch’s tits in the winter.”
Incapable of resisting the magnetic pull any longer, I glance back over at him to find his eyes still glued to me, though his focus is narrowed in on where Beckham’s arm disappears under the table and into my lap. He scowls; at least, I think he does…or maybe it’s that I hope he does, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.
“Dude, you’ve got no idea what cold is until you’ve been up on the mountain during a January snowstorm,” I remark, tipping my head toward the enormous windows that cover one entire wall of the dining area and provide a panoramic view of Breckenridge Mountain. “A Texas boy like yourself, you’d swear you’re freezing from the inside out. I doubt you could make it an hour.”
“Is that a challenge, Miss Shavell?” Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the edge of the table and cocks a defiant eyebrow at me.
“It would be…if you were gonna be here in January, Mr. Elliott,” I retort sassily, secretly hoping for some off-chance that he would be here then.
With no regard to Beckham, who’s vigilantly observing the entire exchange, he winks at me, almost as if he just heard my silent thought. “Careful what you wish for.”
Crew has a way of looking at me that makes me feel like I’m the only other person in the room, which is simultaneously enthralling and unnerving, mostly because this guy is a complete stranger. I’ve known him all of an hour, and he’s already rattled me on several occasions, wreaking havoc on my usually composed and collected self. And what’s worse is I’m pretty sure he knows he’s doing it…and liking it.
Maybe Grams changed up her super-special brownie recipe and the two I snuck earlier while getting ready are affecting me more than I planned? Or maybe now that I’m going on a real date, my girly hormones are all out of whack? Either way, I’m flustered to the point my entire body is heating up like I’m sitting inside a sauna, and I’m in desperate need of some fresh air.
The wooden legs of my chair scrape loudly across the slate floor as I push away from the table and rise to my feet. “I’m absolutely stuffed,” I lie. I barely ate a thing. “I need to grab my purse from the house before we leave.”
Beckham glances down at the huge slice of chocolate cake he just served himself, and then back up at me. “Do you care if I finish this before we go?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll meet you out front.”
“I think that went well,” Beckham declares as he slides behind the steering wheel of his late-model black Ford truck, his lips lifting at the edges before he starts the ignition.
Nodding, I pull my coat tighter around my chest and offer a tight-lipped grin. “Yeah, with my family, you never know what you’re gonna get.”
“They were all really nice. Even your dad…he didn’t show me his gun collection or anything,” he jokes. “Though, I have to admit it’d be weird to eat with a bunch of strangers all the time. How do you get used to that?”
The truck pulls out onto the long, winding road that leads to town as I shrug my shoulders and stare out the window. I don’t want to talk about dinner, mainly because I’m really not sure what just happened. “It’s just what I’m used to. I’ve never thought about it much.”
We sit silently for a few minutes, and I wonder if he feels as awkward as I do. This night was supposed to be about my date with Beckham—a nice guy I met at the local college—not some conceited jerk from Dallas, who thinks he’s God’s gift to the female population…even if Crew does look like he just walked straight off the set of an Abercrombie photo shoot. So I decide to make a concerted effort to focus my attention on the date, pushing away all of the other tumultuous thoughts in my head. I can worry about those tomorrow, if they’re even still there.