Hudson took another drink and spied a bald eagle as it swept over the water before disappearing into the bush.
“Damn,” he murmured. It had been years since he’d seen an eagle, and the sight brought a lump to his throat. In DC, he was too busy with work to get out much and enjoy nature the way he’d been brought up to. He’d been a guy who enjoyed hiking, sledding, boating, and biking. But his life was different. Right now, the only exercise he got was at the gym, and he’d forgotten how amazing the outdoors was.
Right now, standing on this dock enjoying the late afternoon sun, watching an eagle glide across the lake, DC seemed a million miles away.
Hudson crushed the can and tossed it in the pail of garbage he’d amassed during the last eight hours of work. His back was killing him, and he thought maybe thirty minutes in the hot tub would cure that particular ailment. He was just about to clean up his mess when he noticed someone heading down to the dock. He shaded his eyes so he could see better.
“Son of a bitch,” he said, taking the steps two at a time. Hudson reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the upper deck. He didn’t hesitate and strode forward to envelope the man in a huge bear hug. Which was reciprocated—for exactly two seconds—and then the newcomer pushed Hudson away with a slap on the back as a wide grin spread across his face.
“Jesus, Hudsy. Don’t get all emotional on me. When the hell did you turn into a girl?”
Hudson took a step and shook his head. Nash Booker. The guy was his oldest friend, and up until a few years back, they’d been in close contact, talking at least once a week. But then life got in the way. Nash had fallen off the grid, and Hudson’s job became his number one priority.
He grinned, taking in every detail. Nash’s hair was on the long side, and there were a few new tattoos, but on the whole not much had changed. Tall, with long lean lines, the guy had been a division one quarterback for Texas A&M, until he’d been kicked out of the program. As he was bullheaded with an attitude the size of Texas, no one had been surprised. What had been surprising was that he’d lasted long enough to win State. He’d always been the crazy one in their group, stubborn as hell with a wild streak that made most folks uneasy. But when your back was against the wall, Nash was the guy you wanted in your corner.
“It’s been, what, two years since I’ve seen you?” Hudson asked.
“Three.”
That surprised Hudson. When the hell had time gotten away from him? “Last I heard, you were thinking of going to Nepal to climb Everest.”
“Buddy, that was last year.”
Hudson’s eyebrows shot up. “You did it?”
Nash grinned. “I did.”
“You crazy-ass bastard.” Hudson grinned. “So what are you doing here?”
Nash nodded toward the boathouse. “That, my friend, is a long story. You got any more Bud?”
“Absolutely.”
The two men made their way back down to the dock, and once Hudson pulled a couple more beers from the fridge, they sank down on the low-slung Adirondack chairs.
“Shit, our names are still carved into these.”
Hudson looked down at his chair. Saw the HB etched into the arm. His smile slowly faded when he spied RD right there underneath his, a small heart drawn between them.
“I stopped by your place in DC.”
“Yeah?” Hudson took a sip from his can.
Nash leaned back in his chair. “Ran into Candace. She filled me in.”
“Huh.” That kind of surprised Hudson. “She’s still at the house?”
“She answered the door.” Nash gave him a side look. “You good with it? The divorce?”
Hudson nodded. “She deserved a hell of a lot more than I could ever give her.”.
The two men were silent for a few moments, and then Hudson spoke. “Becca’s here. Back in Crystal Lake.”
Nash didn’t answer right away. He fiddled with his beer, and, always the observer, Hudson sensed something was up. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. Becca and I keep in touch.” He shrugged. “It’s been a few weeks, but we talk every now and then.” Nash watched him closely. “You seem surprised.”
Hudson was more than surprised. Heat flushed through him. “You never said anything about Rebecca before.”
“It never seemed like a good idea to bring up the past when we talked.” Nash took a sip of beer and then leaned forward. “Truthfully, I didn’t think I had to keep you in the loop where Rebecca is concerned. She was your girlfriend, but she was one of my best friends. That’s nothing new.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s been years, Hudsy. You left her, remember?”
Hudson’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, his gaze on the water once more. “You’re right. I guess I’m just surprised.” He was feeling a hell of a lot more than surprise, but right now, Hudson wasn’t exactly sure what that other stuff was. He decided to ignore it and change the subject.
“So what’s the story? Why are you back?”
The tension dissipated as Nash’s face broke open in a wide grin. “You’re not going to believe it.”
“Try me.” Nothing Nash Booker did surprised him. This was the guy who at seventeen entered a race at a track in Detroit, agreeing to drive his cousin’s car even though he’d never driven stick before. He won the race, the trophy, two hundred and fifty bucks, and his cousin’s girl. After his football fiasco, he’d been all over the world, working at whatever job he could find to fund adventure after adventure. It wasn’t exactly a stable life, but then Nash had never been the kind of guy to lay down roots.
“You know Sal is sick, right?”
Hudson nodded. “I heard.” Regan Thorne had filled him in the day before.
“He wants to sell his place, and I’m thinking of buying it.”
“The Coach House.” Hudson snorted, but his laughter died when he saw the look on Nash’s face. “Seriously?”
Nash nodded. “Crazy, right?”
Truthfully, the notion of Nash working in a bar wasn’t crazy. Hudson was pretty sure the man had done a ton of bartending in his day. But business owner? That was something else entirely. That was a commitment, and Nash Booker had never committed to anything more than a good time, and that only lasted as long as it felt good. He had a Gypsy soul. Hell, his own family knew it.
“So you’re telling me that you coming back here is permanent.”
“Could be.” Nash tossed his empty can. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Hudson raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I don’t think you do.”
“You think I’m not responsible enough. Not dedicated or grounded. You think I’ll go nuts staying in one spot longer than a year.”
“That’s generous. Six months is what I would have said.” Hudson eyed his friend. “Have you thought this through?”
“That’s why I’m here. To think things through.”
Hudson let things settle as he pondered Nash’s words. “Where you staying?”
“Up the road. My grandmother left me the cottage when she passed on last year. It needs a bit of updating, but it’s solid. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“If you need help with anything, let me know.” Hudson looked down at his handiwork. “Feels good to get the hands dirty.”
Nash got to his feet and stretched. “How long you plan on sticking around? I hear your old man isn’t doing great.”
“He’s not. I took a leave from work to deal with things, and right now, everything is up in the air.”
“You got plans tonight?”
Hudson got to his feet and followed Nash up the steps. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead. What’s up?” They reached the top steps just as a gust of wind rolled across the water. The air was definitely on the chilly side, and the sun had dipped behind the tree line.
“It’s wing night at the Coach House. Thought I’d get a head start on the whole thinking-things-through thing.”
The Coach House. Wing night. Shit. Had it really only been a we
ek since he’d been back?
“Becca works there Monday nights,” Nash said.
“I know.”
Hudson took a moment to respond. He had to. Because his heart started up, beating something fierce, pushing something hard and almost…angry through him.
“You and her aren’t…” Hudson’s jaw clamped down because he couldn’t verbalize what he was thinking. “You guys…”
Nash’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and cocked his head to the side. “I told you already, Hudsy. Becca and I are friends, and we’ve kept in touch.”
Hudson looked away from eyes that saw too much and wished he’d kept his damn mouth shut.
“What’s up with you two anyway? You run into each other yet?”
Naked limbs. Delicate mouth bruised from his kisses. That tattoo on her lower hip. His tattoo. They were images he couldn’t shake, and the reason he’d spent half the night in bed with a raging hard-on and a need to see her so bad, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“You could say that,” he muttered.
“And?” Nash prodded.
That was the big question now, wasn’t it? Where the hell did he and Rebecca go from Saturday night? They couldn’t go back. Couldn’t change what had happened between them.
The note Rebecca left made it seem as if Saturday night was a mistake. As if it was something she regretted. Hudson Blackwell didn’t believe in regret. He believed in action and consequence. She’d opened the door for him, and he’d walked right on through. That was her action and his reaction.
As for the consequence? The consequence was still unknown. The consequence was buried in need and want and desire. They’d always been good together. Sure, the sex had been off the charts, but they’d had so much more than just the physical. Until he’d left and screwed up everything. For a long time, he’d blamed his father for making it impossible for him to stay in Crystal Lake. Eventually, he’d realized it was on him. Every decision. Every action and consequence was on him. He could use the excuse of being young and stupid and irrational, but again, it only held so much weight.
By the time Hudson figured it out, it was too late. Rebecca had left Crystal Lake and married some guy he’d never heard of.
And now what? Had Saturday night only been about sex? Just a connection with a woman who would always hold a special place in his heart? Or was it something more?
Seeing her at the hospital, in his father’s room, kissing the old man tenderly as if he meant something to her, that had thrown Hudson for a loop. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t like being off his game.
“Hudsy?”
Hudson turned to Nash, his brain running full steam ahead. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower.”
“And?”
“Chicken wings and beer sound about right.”
Nash nodded and followed him into the house. “That’s good.”
Hudson didn’t know if it was good or not. He only knew that he had to see Rebecca again. That was his action. As for the consequences? Truth be told, he didn’t give a goddamn.
Chapter 12
“Table three needs a pitcher of beer and another five pounds of Dry Cajun.”
Rebecca punched in the order and shot Tiny a frazzled look. “Where did all these people come from?” She glanced out at the boisterous room and shook her head. The Coach House was packed. Every single table was occupied and not a seat at the bar was open. Mondays were busy, but she hadn’t seen it like this in months.
“Hockey game.”
“Huh?” She grabbed two empty pitchers and began to fill them from the fountain.
“High school. First game of the season, and the boys started strong. A lot of folks think they’re on the road to State this year. I hear the game was rowdy and the crowd pretty hyped.”
“I bet.” Rebecca watched as a table near the stage erupted in loud laughter, with a lot of backslapping and roughhousing. She placed the filled jug to the side and slid the empty one in its place, watching it carefully so as not to give it too much of a head before grabbing up the jugs and heading out to table three.
There were three couples at the table, and Rebecca knew them all. Margot and Pete Havershane, Jodi and Daryl McDougal, and Katelyn Davies practically sitting in Jason Bodemont’s lap. Jason was a couple of years older than Rebecca. He was good-looking, she’d give him that, but he’d always been an arrogant, entitled know-it-all. From what little she’d seen since her return to Crystal Lake, he hadn’t changed one bit.
He’d asked her out more than once over the last few months, but she’d always said no. She hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, and Rebecca was guessing Katelyn was the reason.
Rebecca dropped the jugs in the middle of the table and stood back. “Your wing order is in. We’re pretty busy, so the wait will be longer than normal.”
Katelyn slipped her arms around Jason. “Hey, Becca.” She dropped a kiss on Jason’s cheek. “Since when do you work at the Coach House? I thought you worked at the vet clinic.”
“I do work for Burke at the clinic, but wanted some extra cash. I started about six months ago.”
Katelyn frowned and sat up straighter, reached for a mug. “I’ve never seen you here.”
“That’s ’cause Rebecca only works Monday nights.” Jason winked up at Rebecca. “It’s the only reason I come in.”
Katelyn’s smile was as frosty as the north wind that buffeted the outside of the building. “Really? And here I thought it was for the wings.”
Jason laughed and smacked his lips together. He didn’t take his eyes from Rebecca. “Those too.”
There was an awkward silence, and Margot piped up. “I don’t know what is going on, but I hear Ethan Burke is moving back home, and Hudson Blackwell is in town.”
“Blackwell, huh?” Jason smirked. “Come back to count his daddy’s money.”
“John isn’t dead yet,” Rebecca said, indignantly. “And Hudson doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his father’s money.”
“That’s right,” Jason said. “He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about much in Crystal Lake. Isn’t that right?”
Margot’s eyes widened, and everyone looked uncomfortable, even Katelyn. They were all townies and well versed in the sad history of her busted romance with Hudson Blackwell.
“Is that all for now?” Rebecca asked tightly, taking a step back. She didn’t wait for an answer and threaded her way through the crowd, motioning to the busboy to clean the booths at the back.
By the time she returned to her place behind the bar, a slow-simmering anger heated her cheeks. And to make matters worse, she wasn’t even sure why. Jason was an asshat. She expected him to be rude. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t said anything that was untrue. Hudson had left. He’d broken ties, and that was the end of that.
She was over it. She’d been over it for a long time. Saturday night was just a… God, Saturday night. She bent her head, knowing that her cheeks were about as red as the label on the bottle of beer she’d just handed Tiny. Her hands were shaking, and she swallowed that stupid lump that had a bad habit of clogging her throat when it was most inconvenient.
“I’ll take two Guinness.”
She nodded but didn’t look up, trying to clear the lump and get her nerves settled. It took a bit, but she was able to plaster a fake smile on her face when she finally managed to look up. The fake smile lasted all of two seconds.
“Nash!” Holy. Cow. Margot was right. There was something in the water. “What the hell?” she asked, grinning crazily. “What are you doing here?”
He chuckled. “I told you I might come home for a bit.”
“I know, but I guess I thought you’d give me some warning.”
He grinned cheekily. “And here I thought you’d love the surprise.”
“I do…” Rebecca’s smiled dimmed a bit. “You said two?”
Nash watched her for a few seconds before responding. “Yeah. Two. I’m here with
Hudsy.”
No shit.
“You okay with that?” he asked slowly.
“Yeah. It’s fine.” She shrugged. “We’re fine.”
“’Cause we can go somewhere else.”
“There is nowhere else.”
The man in question suddenly appeared, sliding up to the bar beside Nash, his dark eyes finding Rebecca right away.
For the longest time, the two of them stared at each other as if there were no one else in the place. As if the music wasn’t blasting, or the two tables directly behind him weren’t being rowdy and loud. It was as if the world melted away, leaving only Hudson and Rebecca.
He looked good. God, but he looked good. His thick hair was combed back, exposing every angle of his handsome face. Those high cheekbones and square jaw. The sexy beard that covered his chin and gave him a dangerous edge. The dark navy crewneck with white collared shirt.
And those eyes. A girl could get lost in them.
Rebecca glanced away. She’d gotten lost in them once. Considering all it took was a couple of vodkas and some nostalgic music to get her into bed, she was damn near close to losing her shit all over again. She grabbed a mug and angled it slightly; the first thing Tiny had taught her was that there was only one way to pour a Guinness and it was an art form she’d learned quickly. Once she topped it, she put it aside to settle and grabbed the second mug, repeating the same procedure.
“Hey,” Hudson said softly. “I came by your place Sunday.”
Rebecca stared at her hands. They were shaking slightly, and she had to work hard to keep them still. Tiny sidled up beside her. He reached over and grabbed a couple of limes, his gaze moving from Rebecca to Hudson.
“You got this?” Tiny asked, a small frown touching his lips.
Rebecca nodded and murmured, “I’m good.”
You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake Book 1) Page 8