Spark Page 5

  Mom snorts and shakes her head, then turns her attention to the poor girl fighting with some lever. “You really don’t need to worry about that, honey. We’re going to take the place regardless of how nice the fireplace is. Can we fill out the paperwork now?”

  An hour later, we are the proud lessees of unit number one-one-two at Pinehurst Village Apartments and our keys will be available to pick up late next week, which gives us just enough time after we fly home on Friday to pack up our cars with what stuff we still have and drive back out here…a thirteen hour road trip I’m not particularly looking forward to.

  “So, Mom, when do you start your job?” I inquire once we’re back inside the late-model rental car, heading back to the resort. “Will you have a set schedule, or will it vary day-to-day?” She had returned from the interview with a glowing face and a skip in her step, and without even asking, I knew everything had gone well.

  “I start the Monday before Thanksgiving,” she pauses to look both ways before pulling out onto the main road, “and after the first couple of weeks of training, I should work from seven to three, with Tuesdays and Wednesdays as my days off.”

  “Okay, cool. At least I’ll know what availability to tell people when I start looking tomorrow. Did Luke mention any place I should begin with?”

  Nodding, her mouth quirks up mischievously. “His friend runs a place called the Half Pipe Pub, supposedly a popular pub down on the mountain, and while I was there, he put in a call and got you a bartending job if you want it, but you don’t have to take it.”

  “What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaim as a mixture of relief and annoyance washes over me. “I’ve been freaking out all afternoon about how we’re gonna make these high-ass rents if I couldn’t find something right away.”

  “Crew, baby, I appreciate all of the responsibility you’ve taken on for this family since you graduated, but it shouldn’t be your place to stress over how we’re going to pay rent. I’m the parent here, and one way or another, I’ll figure it out. I’d do anything for you boys.”

  She looks over her shoulder at Caleb in the backseat and winks at him then returns her focus forward. “You offering to stay home and homeschool him is more than enough for your contribution to the family. With the money we made on the house and what we saved this summer, we have enough to get us through five or six months. Not to mention, the pay at my new job is a substantial increase to what I was making before. We’re gonna be fine.”

  Scrubbing my hands up and down my face, I groan. “That still doesn’t answer why you didn’t tell me, Mom. And of course I’m going to work; don’t be ridiculous. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t? That’s not how you raised me.”

  “I asked him in case you made a big deal about working, which I figured you would,” she snips, “so I’ll call him when we get back and get the details about what you need to do. Now, at least you’ll know when you can start and what hours you can work, but once we get settled here and everything worked out with Caleb, I fully expect you to go back to school. You’re a smart kid, and you’re not going to spend your life making drinks for other people.”

  I love her optimism—I envy it, honestly—but I’m afraid she’s setting herself and Caleb up for disappointment thinking he’s just going to miraculously get better. Lord knows, I pray for that to happen every single day, but until I see the improvement, I have to keep my expectations low. With each new doctor, and the endless combination of drugs over the last couple of years, I kept thinking one would work, but now I know better.

  “I already told you I’d go back once everything settles down, but that’s not my main concern right now. You and Caleb. Our family. That’s it.”

  She smiles sadly at me, reaching her right hand out and resting it on top of mine. “I love you and your loyalty, Crew baby, but you’re nineteen, and you deserve to live the life of a young adult—have fun, make friends, date…all that stuff. I appreciate everything you do more than you can ever know, but don’t lose yourself in the middle of all this. Okay?”

  I nod half-heartedly, mostly because we just pulled up in front of our cabin and I don’t want to argue with her anymore. “Okay, Mom, but I’m taking that job. Tell me who I need to call or where I need to go and I’ll do it before we leave.”

  Sometime later, in the early evening, the three of us are lounging around the room. Mom is curled up in the rocking chair with a magazine, Caleb is playing Minecraft on the iPad in one bed, and I’m flipping through the TV channels while lying in the other. Suddenly, a light rapping sound startles us all. Mom glances over at me, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone, and I give a quick shake of my head with an equally puzzled look.

  Caleb leaps up and hurries to the door, throwing it open without even bothering to ask who it is. Standing on the other side is an out-of-breath Hudson, grinning cheerfully while she bounces on the balls of her feet.

  “Oh good, you’re all here,” she remarks, her brilliant blue eyes scanning the room. “I brought something to show you.”

  Mom scrambles to her feet and pads across the floor to greet her as I stay right where I am, a little shocked at her unexpected arrival. After my odd reaction to her last night and then again this morning, I was hoping to keep my distance from her as much as possible for the rest of the week. I’m not sure why, but simply being in her presence makes me feel out of control, and I don’t like it.

  “Hudson, honey, come on in out of the cold.” Mom motions for her inside. “Is everything all right?”

  Closing the door behind her, Caleb’s gaze travels up and down the length of her backside, narrowing in on her ass, which I assume looks perfect in the dark blue skinny jeans she’s wearing. I want to yell at him to stop eye-fucking her, but I don’t…for obvious reasons. I can’t help but be jealous of his view, and I silently beg her to turn around so I can enjoy it too.

  “Yes, ma’am. Everything is fine. I just wanted to show you all what I found online today, and what the Green Halo carries that I think will help.”

  Mom crinkles her forehead, even more confused now as her eyes leap back and forth between me and Caleb. “Help with what? What’s the Green Halo?”

  Hudson strides over to where the dinette table and chairs are in the far corner of the room and removes a bag from the pocket of her hoodie, placing it on the laminate surface. “The guys didn’t tell you? My dad and uncle own one of the small dispensaries in town, the Green Halo, and after Caleb told me about his epilepsy this morning, I spent the afternoon exploring which strain would be best for treatment.”

  “You didn’t need to do that,” I rebuke, my tone sharper than I intended. “We already know what will help; we’ve researched this for months.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge my dig, just keeps on talking to my mom. “Apparently, marijuana with a higher ratio of cannabidiol, or CBD, to THC seems to be what works best, though each patient responds differently.”

  “Again, all stuff we already know,” I interject.

  This time, she shifts her stare over to me, shooting a quick would-you-shut-up-and-let-me-finish look before continuing, “All of the marijuana for the dispensary is grown on location here, in the greenhouse behind our family’s home. Even though it’s now legally sold for recreational purposes, you still have to be twenty-one to buy or possess it, so we don’t make it widely known, but I’m the one who basically runs the growing operation.”

  “What?!” the three of us all exclaim in unison.

  The edge of her mouth tips up in a bashful smile as she nods her head once. “Yeah, I took after my dad and inherited the green thumb of the family, and now that the resort keeps him busy, I’ve pretty much taken over.”

  “Do you smoke it too?” Caleb questions curiously.

  She draws her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing on it nervously, and nods again. God, why can’t I stop looking at her mouth? “Well, yeah, I have to determine how the different types taste and…feel, ya know? Like if it’s more of a heady,
lofty effect, or a total body response. For you,” she tips her head at my little brother, “it’s not about getting stoned though; it’s about finding the right strain to minimalize your seizures.”

  “And you—your family has a product like this?” Mom inquires, taking a seat at the table next to her, now fully interested in what Hudson has come to say. After all, it is the sole reason we’re moving halfway across the country.

  Hudson’s face lights up with pride as she opens up the Ziploc and empties the contents on the surface. “Well, I brought a couple of different kinds we grow for him to try. Once you determine which one seems to be more beneficial, I can tweak that strain and even diffuse an oil of it that can be dropped directly on the tongue.”

  “How much does all this cost? It looks like a lot,” Mom remarks.

  “This is on the house.” She pushes her long, blond braids back behind her shoulders with a timid expression, as if she’s nervous my mom won’t accept it. “After you find a doctor here, it’ll take a while to submit the medical marijuana application, and even then, if you, Mary, buy it recreationally, you’re limited to a quarter ounce until you can claim your residency. That’s not considering the ridiculous government tax on top of the already outrageous prices the dispensaries charge.”

  Mom raises her hand up to her chest, splaying it on top of her heart, obviously overwhelmed. “I, uh, I don’t know what to say except thank you, though I’m hesitant to accept this without your parents knowing, considering this is money out of their pocket.”

  “Don’t worry about Doug and Mel. I’ll let them know, but they won’t mind. I’ve got a few plants that are my special projects, where I practice splicing strains and developing new products, and I keep all of the harvest from those until I tweak it. I keep my dad updated on our supply, but I’m the one who handles all of the charts and inventory. I’d recommend starting with this.”

  She drops her eyes to the tiny packets of green buds and points to one in particular. “It’s called Orange Krush, and it’s the closest we have to Charlotte’s Web—the one that’s been featured all over the news. They’re all labeled with their names, so keep track of which one he seems to have the best response to. I’ve included enough for you to try it out too, in case you’re curious, but I’d definitely not recommend driving afterwards.”

  Caleb walks closer to the table, still gawking at our visitor in a way that pisses me off. “Dude, you’ve gotta be the coolest fucking chick ever. You’re hot as shit, and you grow weed!”

  “Language, Caleb,” Mom warns, popping her chin up to look at him, “but I agree with your sentiment. She’s an angel in disguise.”

  Hudson’s neck and face turn red, and I wonder how far down her chest the splotches spread. My cock jumps at the thought of finding out, but then I remember I can’t.

  I like that she’s uncomfortable. Other than my couple of rude outbursts, I haven’t said a word, which seems rather ungrateful, and she’s obviously spent a good chunk of time today investigating this. Not to mention, she’s offering to give us something that could help my brother.

  Unfortunately, I think the reason she unnerves me is because my mom’s right; she’s damn near angelic. Beautiful in the most natural way, she’s genuine, friendly, and approachable, and I noticed yesterday she leaves smiles in her wake.

  Except from me.

  She makes me want to bend her over and fuck her until I feel in control again.

  Wow. Maybe I’m more of a dick than I thought.

  “It’s really not a big deal,” Hudson waves a hand in front of her face, “but I better get back home for dinner. If you need anything as you get ready to move, let me or my family know. We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

  Mom pushes up from her chair and wraps her arms around Hudson, engulfing her in a huge embrace. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to our family.”

  When she releases her, Caleb outstretches his arms and pulls her into a big hug next, tugging playfully on one of her braids. “You rock, hippie chick.”

  My face burns with…well, I’m not certain why it’s on fire, but it compels me to spring up off the bed and march toward the door. “I’ll walk you out,” I clip, in desperate need of fresh air. After a quick goodbye, she follows me outside, and once we’re out of earshot from my mom and brother, she spins around and pierces me with a furious glare.

  “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but all I want to do is help your brother,” she says, pointing her finger at me, her voice quivering with anger. “He seems like a good kid, and if one of my siblings were sick, I’d hope someone else would do the same for us. You don’t have to like me, but you don’t have to be such a jerk either.”

  I have no idea what comes over me, but watching her nervously lick her lips, my entire world narrowing to the tip of her tongue wetting that full lower curve, I realize the issue is her. Stepping forward into her personal space, I force her to back pedal until her legs hit the railing that surrounds the porch.

  “That’s the problem, Hudson,” I rasp as our bodies press snugly against each other. Lowering my face to hers, I catch a whiff of a mixture of strawberries and cream. She swallows hard while her pulse thumps rapidly beneath the thin flesh of her throat, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to press my lips to the delicate skin. “I like you a little too much, and acting like a jerk is my way of dealing with the fact I’m not supposed to.”

  “Why aren’t you supposed to like me?” The words float out of my mouth in a breathy whisper as his intense gaze lifts from my neck to my mouth and finally to my eyes.

  If I thought my body did funny things when I was in a room with him, this…I’m afraid this will probably give me a heart attack. My nerve endings are in hyper-alert mode, recognizing each and every place his body is in contact with mine, trembling as if I’ve never touched a boy before. The chilly outdoor temperatures are doing nothing to cool down the inferno raging inside me. If he doesn’t stop staring at me like he’s famished and I’m the only thing on the menu, I may do something really stupid…like kiss him stupid.

  “Because you belong to some other guy, and I don’t play with other people’s things,” he growls. His minty breath lingers between us, increasing my desire to find out if that’s what he truly tastes like.

  “Beckham?” I scoff. “Are you kidding?”

  He shrugs his shoulders, exhaling a deep breath. “I don’t remember the fucker’s name. Whoever you were with last night.”

  My unsteady hands push against his chest, a feeble attempt to get him away from me. “I don’t belong to anyone, especially not him, and I’m a girl, not a thing, jackass,” I spit. “But if that’s how you view me, I’d rather you stay away. Just keep being a—”

  His mouth is on mine before I can finish the thought, shutting me up instantly. Caught off-guard by his sudden movement, I scrunch the soft cotton of his gray hoodie in between my fingers, holding on tightly as his kiss steals away not only my words, but any sensible thought I have left.

  Urgent and demanding, his caressing lips ignite yet another blaze inside me, this one directly between my thighs. He coasts his large hands up the length of my neck and cradles each side of my face, triggering my lips to part slightly as an involuntary moan escapes.

  Taking full advantage of the moment, his tongue slides effortlessly into my mouth and sweeps forcefully against mine, confirming he absolutely tastes as good as I suspected. Then, as abruptly as the kiss began, he pulls away and breaks our mouths apart, leaving us both gasping for the brisk Rocky Mountain air.

  "You were right about one thing," he mutters lowly, brushing the pad of his thumb across my puffy lower lip.

  As my heart rate drops back down from Mach 10, I delve, "Yeah? What's that?"

  One corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided grin that reaches his twinkling eyes as he takes several steps backward, putting some space between us. "You're definitely all girl."

  "Definitely," I repeat
with a soft chuckle.

  Pushing off the rail, I make my way over to the porch stairs, unable to wipe the silly grin off my face. The last few minutes have turned my world on its head, but as I walk away, I'm already wondering if—and when—he might kiss me again.

  "But you were wrong about the other," he calls out as my feet hit the grass in front of the cabin, prompting me to turn back over my shoulder and look at him.

  I cock one eyebrow at him, puzzled. "What other?"

  "You will belong to me," he declares matter-of-factly before spinning around on his heel and disappearing inside.

  “Hudson, it’s your night to set the table,” my mom shouts down the hallway to where I’m hiding out in my room, puffing on my one-hitter while watching Pitch Perfect for the umpteenth time. “Lasagna will be ready in ten minutes. It’s just us tonight.”

  Groaning, I reluctantly roll off the solid white comforter thrown haphazardly atop my bed until my toes squish into the soft carpet—shag, of course. Then, trudging my way to the kitchen, where my mom and Grams are putting the final touches on dinner, I grab the plates, silverware, and napkins for everyone.

  Dinnertime with my family, even when it doesn’t include all of the resort’s guests, is certifiably insane. Even though my older sisters flew the coop, they keep showing up at meal times, claiming they miss us, but I know they’re just here for the free meal. Scavengers.

  Thankfully, tonight’s not one of those nights. I’m not in the mood for their twenty questions about how the date with Beckham went, especially when the flavor of Crew’s lips is still fresh on mine. Not to mention, I’m positive my mom or dad will be sure to ask for the most inappropriate details within the first five minutes of us all sitting down. One of the major downfalls of having unconventional, free-spirited parents who preach peace, love, and rock and roll is having the most awkward, cringe-worthy conversations with them.