by Melody Anne
When all of the chaos of the day ended and the sun was starting to set, she found herself alone with Hudson. The men had worked hard, scarfed down a ton of food, and then rushed away to get home. It had all been overtime for them, but still they’d had to give up a Saturday to get it done. She was sure they wanted to get back to their families and enjoy the rest of a beautiful Washington weekend.
“The Key Club kids are gone, but we can stop there tomorrow and see them. For now, come with me. Now you get to see the best part of driving a tractor,” Hudson said after locking the trailer.
“Where are we going?”
“Trust me,” he said, holding out his hand.
She took a step back and smiled. “My gramps told me from the time I was a very young girl to never, ever, ever trust a guy who told me to trust him.” She grinned at him, letting him know she was joking — or sort of joking, at least.
“Your grandfather’s a wise man, but trust me anyway,” he said, this time taking her hand and pulling her to one of the larger tractors. It looked as if something was hanging from the bucket on it, but she didn’t have time to look before he was lifting her inside the cab with a seat just big enough for them to squeeze into it together, their bodies pressed
close.
He began driving toward the river side of the property, the sun painting beautiful colors in the sky. He moved the tractor close to the water in a clearing where she could look up and see the skyline while still feeling as if they were in the middle of nowhere. Then he raised the bucket up so it was level with the tractor cab. He stood and held out his hand.
“Come with me, madam,” he said in a low drawl.
“Come where?” she asked as she stood, eyeing his hand with suspicion.
“Don’t worry. It’s not far,” he assured her. She shrugged her shoulders, took his hand, then found herself walking along the side of the tractor on a thin bar. When he lifted her inside the huge bucket, she gasped as he joined her.
“When did you do this?” she asked, looking inside the huge spoon.
“While you were busy flirting and eating,” he told her. He moved over and sat on a bed of cushions and blankets, then reached into a basket and produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.
She sat down close to him, but not touching, marveling at how soft it was. She easily laid back in a comfortable slouched position. He’d filled the bucket of the tractor with pillows and blankets, and brought a basket of cheese, fruits, chocolates, and wine. Lying back she had a perfect view of the sky.
“This might be the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” she said with awe as he handed her a nearly full glass of wine.
“I was hoping so,” he said. He pulled a dessert tray from the basket and leaned back, closing the few inches between them so they were pressed into each other. He laid the tray on his lap and took a sip of wine.
“Have you done this often?” she asked. She was trying desperately not to sound jealous, but the thought of him doing this with other women took some of the magic of the moment away.
“Yep,” he said with a grin. Of course he had. “My brothers and I used to find construction sites and climb into the buckets with beer and chips. We never brought cushions . . . or women,” he finished, making her feel so much better. Her heart beat a little faster at his words. This was a first for him too. She was very pleased to hear it.
“Is that what made you want to build things?” she asked. She sipped on her wine as the color faded from the sky, their world growing darker. She searched for the first stars. She loved to find them, then watch in fascination as the sky slowly filled.
“No, I wanted to build from the time I was two or three. I got a set of those Lincoln Logs for Christmas and wouldn’t share them with my brothers. We always shared everything, but I was seriously territorial over those logs. I’d make cabins, and fireplaces, and different styles of houses. Then, when I got a little older, I’d look for scrap pieces of wood and put things together like birdhouses and miniature silos. Noah grew interested in architecture pretty young too, and he started drawing things up. I’d find materials and bring the drawings to life — in miniature scale of course.”
“Wow, do you still have the things you made?” she asked. “What a treasure.”
He shook his head. “No, I’d create something, and then tear it apart so I could reuse the material.”
“That’s tragic,” she told him.
“I wish I did have them,” he admitted. “Then when I have kids someday I could’ve lined them all up to see which little ones took an interest . . . which kids wanted to tear things up, and which ones wanted to rebuild. Now I might have to try to recreate them just so I can do that.”
“I’m never having kids,” she said. Her glass was empty, and she looked at it with a frown. He laughed as he grabbed the bottle and refilled.
“Why aren’t you having kids?” he asked.
“I know, I know, it seems so odd for a woman to say she doesn’t want to procreate. But seriously, I’ve never been one who looks at children and feels a skip in my heart and a clutch in my stomach. I see dirty faces, snotty noses, and hissy fits. I see mothers who can barely keep their eyes open and have mismatched socks because they’re so flustered. As the kids get older, all of that mellows. But then I see the worst in humanity: teenagers who are horrible pains in the butt, in my opinion. They are rude, ungrateful, messy, and demanding. If a person’s lucky, they make it through all of that, and then it’s a fifty-fifty chance they have a relationship with that kid. Tons of them hate their parents, tons never come home, and a lot fall off the deep end, getting into drugs or a life of crime. I’d rather not take the risk.”
When she looked at Hudson, his eyes were wide, his mouth open. Then he laughed. “Wow, I’ve never heard someone describe children like that. Everyone I know always says they’re the future, and we’d be empty without them. I’ve always planned on having kids, but after that speech, I might have to change my mind,” he said, his laughter growing.
“I’m just saying what I’ve witnessed. I also know people who truly enjoy their kids. But I figure I’d be on the losing end of the deal. My parents were good people, but they didn’t want to be parents. I was lucky and had gramps. He loved me, and I was a little jerk to him a lot of the time. I’m glad he didn’t give up on me, but that doesn’t excuse the way I treated him.”
“You aren’t exactly responsible for how you treat others as a child,” he said.
“I fully disagree with you,” she said. “We learn manners at a very young age. Those manners should be enforced. Gramps had a gentle hand, and he spoiled me. I think families were closer fifty years ago because kids got the crap beat out of them if they were disrespectful. Nowadays everyone wants their kids to have a voice. I agree with that as a strong woman, but having a voice and being a total jerk are two different things entirely.”
“So, you think your grandfather should’ve been harder on you?” he asked with another chuckle.
“For sure!” she said, emphatically nodding her head.
“I can honestly say I’ve never heard a person complain before that their parents or grandparents weren’t hard enough on them as a kid.”
“Yep, gramps has said the same thing to me when I’ve told him he should’ve spanked me more often,” she said as she grabbed a piece of apple and cheese and popped the combo in her mouth.
“You surprise me, Daisy. You’re such a proponent for those in bad situations, but you believe in an iron fist,” he pointed out.
“No, I believe in discipline. Those are two different things. I can’t stand abuse. But in my opinion, to let a kid run around wild, acting like an idiot, is child abuse just as much as punching them. A hit certainly hurts them in the moment and can have lasting repercussions throughout their lives if it’s done too often. But letting them turn into a criminal will also impact them for the rest of their lives.”
“So all it takes is a good spanking once in a while, and the world is a bette
r place?” he asked.
“That’s not all it takes, but that’s a start,” she said, refusing to budge from her position.
“I like it,” he told her. “You do have solid points. I certainly don’t want to come up against you in court.”
“Nope, you don’t want that to happen. You’d most certainly lose,” she said with a wide smile.
He filled their glasses again and then snapped his fingers, making her jump. The stars were beginning to spread across the sky and she was pretty sure she could stay right where they were for the rest of the night. It wouldn’t be a bad place to wake up — especially if she was in this man’s arms.
“I do have one thing I made when I was nine,” he told her.
It took a couple of seconds for her to switch back to talking about the beginning of his love of building.
“What do you have?”
“I was nine and the neighbor had chickens that my mother always talked about. She said it would be great to have our own chickens, so we’d have fresh eggs year round. So I went to the library with Noah and found a book on chicken coops. He designed one with my input, then I spent the next couple of months gathering materials.” He paused as he took a drink of wine, looking as if he was a bit lost in the past. She waited.
“For Mother’s Day that year I built her the luxury version of a chicken coup. My brothers and I had all saved every dime we could, and that morning when she got up she went outside and found a beautiful coup with ten chickens inside. She cried as she hugged each one of us. The first time we gathered eggs from there, and she cooked them for us; I swear was a magical experience. They were the best eggs I’ve ever eaten, even to this day.”
Daisy felt tears sting her eyes as she watched the wonder in his gaze, and heard the awe in his tone.
“Your mother sounds like an amazing person,” Daisy told him.
“She was the best. We had a horrible father, and she made up for that in spades. She was certainly tough on us, but she loved us unconditionally. I wouldn’t ask for any different life than what I grew up with.”
“I don’t think I would either. There were times I was really upset with my parents. When they were alive, I didn’t see them a heck of a lot, and then they were gone before I got a real chance to know them. I missed the version of them I’d created in my own head. But no matter what, the one consistency I had was gramps. He was always there for me and I like how things have turned out.”
“I like how you turned out too,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, sending instant heat through her.
From the moment they’d stepped inside the bucket of this tractor, she’d known more would happen than sipping wine and eating cheese and fruit. But now that she was hearing that tone in his voice, she was very aware he was going to kiss her.
“I’d like to see the chicken coop,” she said, hearing her own huskiness in her tone.
“I’ll take you anytime you like,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He took the glass from her hand, setting it back in the basket, and he reached for her. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, and she most certainly kept seeing stars. The way he touched her, made her feel as if she was the only woman in the world was intoxicating. She didn’t ever want it to end.
She leaned back and let the moment take her . . . let her mind blank, and let the man she couldn’t stop thinking about, bring her pleasure. Maybe it was better this way . . . maybe it was good to let go. Maybe it didn’t have to be about who was right and who was wrong.
Maybe . . . just maybe they could reach for those stars.
Chapter Nineteen
“Joseph Anderson if you ask how I’m feeling one more time I won’t care that this glass I’m holding came from Italy on our twentieth anniversary, and I’ve been very careful with it since that beautiful time. I’ll chuck it straight at your head and I won’t feel an ounce of remorse when it cuts you.”
Hudson, Crew, and Brandon had to turn away and cover their mouths to keep from laughing out loud. They’d only been in the beautiful gardens outside of the Anderson mansion for an hour and Joseph had seriously questioned Katherine on how she was feeling five times. If she so much as sighed, he was jumping to his feet to make sure she was okay.
“You sneezed,” Joseph said, a pout in his voice. It was quite humorous to see the man so many respected, reverting to acting like a child who hadn’t gotten his way when it came to his wife. He was a humbled man with Katherine willing to do anything and everything for her.
“Everyone sneezes,” Katherine said. “I feel better than I have in a very long time. The surgery worked, and I’m feeling better. You have to give me time to get fully back to myself, and you have to do that without hovering.”
“I’m sorry,” Joseph said after a short pause. “You’re right, my love. I’m just reminding you to take it easy. You’re still vulnerable. Your body has been put through a lot lately. I’ll try my best to do better. I worry so much about you. I can’t seem to stop myself.”
She reached over and caressed his face, love shining in her eyes. “I know, Joseph. I love how much you love me. And I love you just as much. So, let’s enjoy that love and not worry about tomorrow.”
He leaned over and gently kissed her on the lips, and Hudson couldn’t help but feel a bit envious. He’d never felt that way before, but watching the pure love between Joseph and Katherine after nearly fifty years together was something beautiful to behold.
“They’re making me miss my wife,” Finn said with a laugh.
“Not me. They’re making me terrified to ever fall in love. What if you’re in love and lose that person?” Crew asked.
Both Hudson and Finn looked at their brother like he might have something growing from his head.
“Aren’t you the psychologist, the one who always preaches to us about how we can’t live our lives in fear?” Hudson finally asked.
“We can’t live in fear, but we can certainly be wise in the decisions we make,” Crew said, rolling his eyes.
“Who are you?” Finn asked. “You never roll your eyes or talk this way. You’re always in control. Something’s been up with you for a while, and I, for one, would like to know what in the heck it is.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Crew said before zeroing in on Hudson. Damn it. He never should’ve talked to his brother the day before. He’d thought it was safe with Crew being a professional and all. He glared at him as he tried to stop him from speaking.
“Hudson, on the other hand, has problems.” At those words, not only did Finn look at Hudson, but Joseph and Katherine turned his way too.
“Is everything okay, Hudson?” Joseph asked.
“You’re now asking the boys since you can’t ask me,” Katherine said with a chuckle. She didn’t seem to mind at all if Joseph’s meddling was focused on someone other than herself.
“Now, that’s just not fair. Crew was the one who brought it up,” Joseph said. “What’s going on?” He focused right back in on Hudson.
“Nothing’s up,” Hudson said as he shifted in his seat. They all continued to stare him down. He was completely uncomfortable having this conversation in front of his Aunt Katherine. There was no way he was talking about woman troubles with the classiest woman on the planet in his presence. She’d think he was a terrible human being, and he cared far too much what she thought about him to risk her coming to that assessment.
“Would you like to come with me, Aunt Katherine? I think the boys are planning on grilling Hudson. It’d be fun to watch, but you know he won’t say anything if we’re here,” Brooke said as she came back from inside the house.
“I’d love to walk the gardens,” Katherine said as she took Brooke’s hand and stood.
“Call if you need anything,” Joseph said. Katherine’s shoulders stiffened a bit, but then she turned, blew a kiss to her husband, and arm in arm, walked away with Brooke.
“Overprotective . . .” could be heard before their voices faded.
“It’s not that I’m overprotective, I just want to encase her in bubble wrap,” Joseph said as if that was perfectly normal. His words made them all chuckle.
“Okay, enough of that. Now talk to us, boy,” he demanded of Hudson.
Hudson let out a sigh as he reached over to the cooler and grabbed a beer before leaning back in his chair.
“Have you ever wanted to strangle and kiss a woman at the same time?” Hudson finally asked.
Silence greeted his words for several heartbeats, and then laughter rang out. He didn’t look at his uncle or his brothers. He was miserable, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He felt foolish over talking about his relationship with Daisy, but he also felt as if he didn’t have any other choice.
“Yes, many times,” Joseph admitted. “But not in a very long time. I think you eventually reach a point in your relationship where you admire the person you’re with, you respect them, and you acknowledge the differences between you. The two of you might not always agree, but you always love one another. Knowing the difference of what matters and what doesn’t will help you get through even the hardest of times.”
“I bought my land from your buddy, Bruce, but what I didn’t know was that he has a spitfire of a granddaughter who didn’t want the land sold. Her grandfather gave her all of the money, and she offered me the money back for the land. We were in a standoff and then I made a stupid agreement that I’d sell her the land back if she could convince me she was able to use it for a better purpose.”
“You did what?” Crew gasped. “You’ve been searching for this type of property forever. I can’t believe you’d do anything to risk losing it.” His brother’s mouth was hanging open in shock.
“I know, I know. For one thing I didn’t think it would be possible for her to convince me, so there were no worries on my part when I agreed to the terms of the deal. And for another, I bought the property. I’d have to actually give it to her to lose it,” Hudson said.