by Erin Noelle
“Thank you, sweetie.” Mel kisses me on the cheek when I walk by. “When you’re finished, can you tell your dad and Denver that the food’s ready? They’re outside chopping wood for the cold front moving through tomorrow.”
“Yeppers. Is it finally gonna snow?” I ask, passing under the arched doorway that leads into our spacious dining room.
“That’s what the weather guessers are claiming, at least,” she replies distrustfully, then adds, “Let the girls know it’s time too, please.”
Ever since I can remember, we’ve always eaten dinner together at the table, a time to share about our day and stay connected as a family. When my mom says it’s time for dinner, unless we’re sick in bed or have other special plans that have been previously approved, our butts better be in our chairs, ready to participate in the conversation. This has never really bothered me, because before today, I’ve never had anything exciting to talk about, and now that I do, I don’t much feel like it. For once, I want something to be all mine.
After I quickly set the table, I call upstairs for Cheyenne and Brighton to come down before alerting Doug and my little brother that it’s time to head inside. I haven’t changed out of my clothes from earlier, wanting to hang on to the faint trace of Crew’s cologne lingering in my plaid flannel shirt, so before everyone else joins me at the table, I take a quick sniff of it and allow a giddy giggle to escape, still a little uncertain about what what happened earlier means.
“Yes, you need a shower, and no, it’s not funny.” Cheyenne startles me as she comes up from behind, making me jump several inches in my seat. She plops down next to me and crinkles her nose up like something stinks. “You always smell like outside…earthy; it’s no wonder you never have boyfriends.”
“Leave her alone, Chey,” Doug scolds as the rest of the family filters in, everyone taking their usual seat. “She had a date just last night, which I’m sure she’s dying to tell us all about. Aren’t you, Hudson?”
I squirm uncomfortably in my chair, hoping no one is paying much attention, since they’re all busy piling their plates full of Italian deliciousness. Several minutes pass without another mention of it, but as soon as everyone has served themselves and settled with their food in front of them, the topic is approached again.
“Now, we’re all ears, Hudson. Tell us about last night. When are you seeing him again?” Mel asks eagerly.
All eyes are locked on me, everyone waiting for me to divulge into some sensational story of heated passion. Setting my fork down on the edge of my plate, I take a drink of water and clear my throat. “I’m not sure I’ll be going out with Beckham again,” I mumble apprehensively, twisting a napkin in my lap. “The date was pretty bland, and I think we’re just better off as friends.”
“Oh, honey, what happened? Were you embarrassed to see him afterwards at school today?” Mel’s expression quickly morphs into one of disappointment and pity. “If so, that’s totally normal. Don’t think he’s gonna go around telling his friends what you were like in bed, ‘cause that’s just a myth. Guys really aren’t like that.”
“Yes, we are,” Doug interjects, “but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Be proud you were good enough that he wanted to gloat. I tell all my friends how incredible Mel is in the sack.”
What in the hell?
“There’s nothing for him to talk about! We didn’t have sex! He took me to a movie, then brought me home and kissed me goodnight. That was it,” I insist, trying not to make eye contact with anyone while ignoring the snickers from my sisters.
“Why not? Did you tell him you weren’t interested?” Mel inquires.
Tossing my napkin down on the table, I shout, “No! He didn’t ask if I was interested or not, but if he would’ve, my answer would’ve been no!” I pause to take a deep breath then lower my voice to a calmer octave. “After hanging out together, I just wasn’t feeling it. It was like going out with Denver…there was no spark between us.”
No one says a word for what seems like an eternity until Grams chimes in. “Did you feel a spark when you were making out with that cute boy in front of cabin eight this afternoon?”
Somebody, please shoot me now.
All hell breaks loose at the table as everyone’s shouting different things at me...everyone but Grams, who’s curiously silent again, sitting directly across the table from me, wearing a smug smile like she just won the damn lottery.
“Enough! That’s enough!” Doug stands up and bangs his spoon on the table like a judge with a gavel, demanding the courtroom’s attention. Once it’s quiet, he falls back into his chair and slides his eyes over to me. “Hudson, please enlighten us on what Grams is talking about. Is it true?”
Fidgeting like a guilty defendant on a witness stand, I shake my head no, but murmur, “Maybe.”
More pandemonium ensues, mostly coming from Cheyenne and Brighton, who are arguing they already claimed him and that life isn’t fair. Annoyed that my sisters are trying to make this about them, this time it’s me who jumps out of my seat to get everyone’s attention.
“Stop it! All of you! Just stop being so weird!” I scream, my control teetering. They all shut up and stare at me in amazement. I never lose my cool, like never ever, and this is the second time I’ve yelled in less than ten minutes.
Shaking my head, I drop my chin to my chest and take several deep breaths. “Look, Beckham is a nice guy, but we’re just gonna be friends, because that’s all I want from him.” I stop and peer up at everyone, ensuring they’re paying attention before continuing, “I don’t know anything about Crew Elliott other than I met him last night, then saw him again this morning, and I felt something different. Call it a spark, an attraction, whatever you want, but it was definitely more than I’ve ever felt around another guy.”
“But, sweetie,” my dad interrupts, “they’re only visiting. He’ll be gone next weekend.”
“No, they’re actually moving here. Mary, the mom, had a job interview today, and they went looking for a place to live this afternoon,” I clarify as I sit back down. “The younger son, Caleb, has epilepsy, and they haven’t had any luck with the traditional drugs and treatments, so they’re moving here in hopes that medical marijuana can help with his seizures and migraines.”
Both of my parents’ eyes fill with compassion as I go into detail about the family’s situation, and I know instantly that no matter what happens between me and Crew—even if it’s nothing at all—they’ll want to assist in any way possible. I explain how I researched the strains and took some samples of our stuff over to the cabin this evening, in order for Caleb to hopefully get some relief while they’re getting settled here.
“You know we’ll do whatever we can, Hudson,” Mel says sincerely, glancing around the table. “All of us…anything they need. I can’t even imagine what that poor woman’s going through. We’ve been so blessed to have healthy kids.”
Nodding appreciatively at my mom and dad, I relax momentarily, thinking the craziness has passed, but the second I pick my fork up, ready to finally dig into the now-cool meal in front of me, Cheyenne opens her big mouth.
“What does any of this have to do with you kissing Crew today?” she snaps, obviously still bothered by the thought.
However, rather than blowing up again or telling her to mind her own business, I simply flash a sugary-sweet smile in her direction and say, “Girls who smell like dirt must do it for him.”
Seven minutes. Seven damn minutes.
Waking up before my alarm buzzes pisses me off. I either want to wake up far enough in advance that I can go back to sleep for a good amount of time, or not get up until I absolutely have to. Studies show that most dreams only last a couple of minutes in real time, and damn it, I could’ve had one of the best dreams ever in those missed seven minutes. Maybe one about Crew kissing me again.
Instead, I spend the time staring at the textured ceiling of my bedroom, figuring out how I’m supposed to act around him today. Do I pretend nothing happened yesterday? Do I act silly-gi
rly-flirty like my sisters do around boys? Should I wear perfume? Makeup? God…I really suck at this stuff. Frustrated, I push the covers off me and spring out of bed, giving in to the inevitable. Three minutes earlier than I should have.
Twisting my hair up into two Princess Leia buns, I step into my favorite jeans, which have been washed a few hundred too many times, and pull on an even older Deadhead sweatshirt over a red thermal. I know it’s a bit cliché to wear this, considering my parents named the resort after the famous Grateful Dead song, but at the age of fourteen, they met at one of their concerts in Anchorage, Alaska, and they’ve been together ever since that day. Both of them claim they knew the first time they saw each other they’d found their soul mate. That was thirty-five years ago.
So, yeah, the sweatshirt gives me the warm fuzzies, inside and out, and I need every little bit of help I can today, to keep my cool.
I opt to skip the makeup other than my favorite strawberry chapstick, and apply an extra layer of deodorant and a spritz of whatever body splash is under the cabinet, just in case there was truth behind Cheyenne’s comment. While I love the smell of my greenhouses, I don’t want to walk around smelling like soil and fertilizer.
After throwing on my boots and coat, I venture out into the dark early morning, darting through the chilled mist and into the warmth of the greenhouse. During the hour and a half I spend with my herbal babies, my anxiety over Crew melts away as I immerse myself in the work.
With the holiday rush coming soon, I’ve got to make sure all of my buds finished with the curing stage are packaged and ready to go. Weighing and bagging is a time-consuming but necessary task I used to recruit Juno to help me with, but now, I’ll have to handle on my own. An immature sixteen-year-old, I wouldn’t trust Cheyenne to get off her phone long enough to pay attention and do the job right, and Brighton, at thirteen, is eager to learn, but still a little too young.
Just as I’m wrapping up my morning duties, a light tapping startles me. Whirling around, I see two silhouettes standing outside, with the muted light from the dawn breaking behind them. I scurry across the cement ground and open the tinted plexiglass door, shocked to see Crew and Caleb, both bundled up like they’re prepared for a blizzard.
“Mornin’, hippie girl. Cool hair,” Caleb greets me cheerfully. “Can we come inside? I’m freezing my balls off out here.”
“Of course, you little wussy. We wouldn’t want that to happen.” I giggle, moving back out of the doorway to let them in.
Crew doesn’t say anything at first, but as he steps inside and our eyes meet, his lips quirk up in an endearing, sleepy smile. Holy shit, that’s sexy. I wonder if that’s what he looks like right when he wakes up in the mornings. Does he sleep in pajama pants, or just his underwear? Boxers or boxer-briefs?
“Hudson? Did you hear me?” Caleb’s voice rips me from my daydream…my daydream that was quickly leading into indecent territory.
I pivot around to face him, but not before catching the flicker of acknowledgment in Crew’s smirking eyes, which is nearly as mortifying as my parents talking about their sex life at dinner last night. “What’s up, buddy?” Mentally berating myself, I shuffle over to the broccoli plants, where Caleb is standing and shaking his head.
“Not you too?” he groans, pinching his brow at me. “You’ve already got the look.”
Shifting my gaze back and forth between the two of them, I ask, confused, “Me too? What look?”
He sighs dramatically and throws his hands up in the air. “The same Crew-is-so-dreamy-I’ll-do-anything-for-him look that every girl between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five gets when they’re around him.” My face tenses as I try to not have that look. “Can’t you all see I’m his spitting image? A slightly younger, untainted version, I might add.”
“Shut up, Caleb.” Crew playfully shoves him as he joins us, allowing his arm to brush up against mine. “Don’t listen to this little punk. He’s just messing with you.”
I laugh to cover up the twinge of disappointment I feel, though I’m not sure why Caleb’s words sting like they do. Crew is the kind of gorgeous that is usually reserved for boy band members—part messy, part dreamy, all sexy. It’s not that I’m surprised girls fall all over him; I just don’t like being lumped in the same category, like I’m just another brainless chick, falling for his pretty face. I bite my lip, wanting to scream at him that I’m different, but knowing I’m not.
“What are you guys doing up so early?” I question, swallowing down my frustration and fighting to keep my face neutral. “Where’s your mom?”
“I woke up with a seizure and couldn’t fall back asleep. Plus, I think my body’s still on Texas time,” Caleb replies while he continues to mosey around, investigating everything. “Mom’s showering and getting dressed. She’s supposed to meet us at breakfast.”
His mention of the seizure immediately brings things back into perspective for me. I’ve got no right to be disheartened about anything; my primary concern with the Elliott family is to do what I can to help Caleb heal. The kiss needs to be pushed to the back of my mind.
“How often do you have them?”
“Every morning, when I wake up, and then a couple of other times during the week—usually when I’m stressed or exhausted.” He sounds so matter-of-fact, like seizures are an expected part of someone’s normal daily routine. It breaks my heart. Bending down to sniff the rosemary and thyme, he changes the subject. “This stuff smells good. You cook with it a lot?”
I nod once, not wanting to talk about herbs, but to find out more on his condition. “Yeah, occasionally. What’s it like? The seizures, I mean.”
“Honestly, I don’t remember them when they’re over. From the looks on the faces of everyone around me, I guess it’s pretty fucking bad, but I don’t know,” he replies with a shrug. “The headaches are what kill me. It feels like my head is gonna explode from the pressure.”
“Did you try out any of the stuff I brought yesterday?”
“No, we didn’t,” Crew rumbles from behind me, sending a tingle up my spine, but I refuse to turn around. I don’t want to get the look again. “We thought it’d be best if you were with him the first time. None of us have ever used one of those vaporizers before, and we didn’t want to fuck it up and waste what you gave us.”
“It’s not rocket science,” I assert. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
He moves closer, his chest resting against my shoulder blade, his warm breath drifting across the back of my neck. “I thought you were gonna help us.”
Guilt slices through my gut as I recognize how selfish my last comment was. This isn’t about you, Hudson, I remind myself. “I am and I will,” I reassure them both, glancing down at my watch briefly. “I have to go set up for breakfast now, but I don’t have classes today, so I’m free after that. Whenever works best for you guys, I’ll be there.”
“Mom’s gotta run some errands after breakfast, so after you get finished would be great. Caleb and I’ll just be chillin’ around here for a while.”
“’Kay, sounds good.” I smile over at the younger Elliott brother, who’s now inspecting the poblano pepper plants. “You ever had Chiles Relleno before?”
Twisting his mouth, he looks up into the sky, as if he’s trying to remember if he has or not. “If you have to think that long about it, they must not have been very good,” I joke. “Why don’t you pick a few and I’ll make them for your breakfast? If you don’t like them, I’ll whip you up an omelet instead.”
“Really?” His face illuminates with delight. “I’ve never picked my breakfast before. This is kinda cool.”
“Yeah, and later today, I’ll show you around the other greenhouse, where we grow the pot, so you can see it in all of the different stages.” Peering over my shoulder at Crew, I lift my eyebrows in a questioning manner. “If that’s okay?”
He flashes a captivating grin and nods. “Absolutely. As long as I can come too.”
“I’ll think about it,
” I flirt back, unable to resist his enticing charm, but quickly turn away to help Caleb choose his peppers.
****
A little before eleven, I hang my apron up, flip the light off in the kitchen, and close the door behind me, finally finished cleaning up after the breakfast rush. I ended up preparing no less than ten dishes of Chiles Rellenos, because as the other guests began to filter in and saw what Caleb and Crew had on their plates, they wanted it too. It was so well received from everyone Doug even suggested we make it a permanent item on the menu, which thrilled me. I may have a bit of a pleaser mentality, but I like knowing I pull my weight around here.
Also during breakfast, Mel confirmed with Mary that she knew about me giving the boys a smoking lesson this afternoon—which she did—and then invited them all over for dinner tonight so they can talk to her about moving and the paperwork she needs to start on. So, basically, I’ll be spending most of the day with Crew, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.
I don’t want to be one of those girls who goes all goo-goo around him, but when he stares at me with those mesmerizing green eyes…when he says things about me belonging to him…when he kisses me unexpectedly…shit, when he just exists, I can’t help it. I am thoroughly intrigued by all things Crew Elliott, no matter how hard I try not to be.
“What have I gotten myself into?” I mumble to myself as I run into my house for a quick freshen-up.
After I wash my face to remove the greasy feeling, brush my teeth, and apply a new coat of chapstick, I bound out of the house and across the property to cabin number eight, pretending I’m not in the least bit nervous. But before I make it up to the top step, the door flies opens and Crew barrels out, directly toward me.
Like déjà vu from the night before, his lips crash down on mine without any warning, capturing me in a staggering kiss that forces me to grab hold of his arms to keep from losing my balance. My mouth opens for him instinctively, our tongues stroking one another’s with wild abandon, his sure and demanding, mine shy and welcoming, and I stop thinking about anything other than how amazing this moment feels. I never want him to stop doing this.