Spark Page 10

  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.”

  “I feel like an idiot in these things. Why doesn’t anyone else look as awkward as I feel?” Crew scowls as he struggles to keep up with me, shuffli
ng his ski-clad feet through the powdery snow. “I told you I should’ve tried snowboarding instead. I used to skateboard when I was younger, and I was pretty good.”

  As I slow down to wait for him, I veil my chuckle in the high collar of my white ski vest, not wanting to discourage him before he ever gets on the slopes. “And I told you snowboarding is much more difficult than skiing. Please, trust me on this; I’ve been doing it since I could walk. Now, if you stop your belly-aching and try to have a little fun, I’ll reward you with a full-body massage tonight to relieve your tight muscles.”

  A speedy transformation from his frown just moments ago, his lips curl up in a wicked, panty-melting grin and he playfully waggles his eyebrows at me. God, I’m in so much trouble with him.

  “You’re quite the little tease, and I’m pretty sure you like it.” He inches up next to me and pierces me with an intense, impassioned stare, reminding me of our unfinished business from last night.

  As if I could’ve forgotten.

  After we scarfed down our pizza, we attempted to watch True Romance for the second night in a row. Keyword: attempted. With both of us already sexually charged from our pre-dinner mini make-out session, when the phone booth sex scene steamed up the flat screen hanging on my wall, neither of us could resist the overpowering temptation to keep our hands and our mouths to ourselves.

  The movie was long forgotten as he tackled me back onto the bed, picking up exactly where we’d left off—greedy tongues, wandering fingers, thrusting hips, and muffled moans. I have no idea what got into me, but the usually pure and innocent Hudson was replaced with an unrestrained, promiscuous version of myself, and I fucking liked it.

  Sadly, just as his mouth had travelled down to my chest, his lips feathering around the swell of my left boob, Mary called out that it was time for them to leave. Groaning with irritation, I unwound my limbs from his and collapsed onto the mattress. His shared frustration was nearly palpable as he buried his face into my neck, shaking his head and murmuring, “No, no, no.” I wanted to ask him to stay, to tell her he’d be over later, but I didn’t want to come off as desperate and pathetic, so with one last exasperated kiss, I watched him walk out of my room with a promise we’d hang out today, his last full day before returning to Dallas.