Page 64 of Pictures in Blue
Hudson moves to grab him, but Ethan ducks under his arm and maneuvers around his body and meets his dad by the door. “See you later, bro!” Calls Elias with a two-fingered salute and a smile that tells me this whole town is up to no good.
Hudson responds with a middle finger that holds a set of car keys. At the look of surprise on Elias’ face, I’m assuming they are his and I sigh in relief that I don’t have to walk anywhere else considering my ankle is starting to throb.
“Take it!” Elias calls back, laughing. “You need it more than I do right now.”
My whole body is pulsing at the idea of being around Hudson, in his house, surrounded by his scent, his things, his life, for the remainder of my trip. The deal we made in the woods just this morning is feeling flimsier by the minute.
The ride to get my stuff at the inn is quiet. Hudson’s grip on the steering wheel tightens the further we drive and I want to ask what he is thinking, but I’m not sure I’d get an answer.
Before he pulls the truck to a complete stop, I hop out of the passenger side and go inside as quickly as my ankle will allow. I go up to my room and grab my packed suitcase and gear. With one last look around the room to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind, I turn toward the door and jump when I see Hudson leaning against the door frame, legs crossed at the ankles, watching me. His dark hair is pulled into a low bun and his sleeves are rolled, reaching the spot just below his elbow. His stubble is a bit longer than this morning and it shades his face, darkening his features in a way that makes my lower half ache with the need to brush my fingers across it. My mind flits to an image of his face between my legs, wondering what it would feel like there; the roughness of it creating the most delicious friction.
“What are you thinking about over there, Sunshine?” he asks, darkly.
I clear my throat and avert my gaze from his. “Um… uh… nothing,” I stutter.
“Mmmm,” is all he says in response as he crosses the space between us in a few strides. He takes my belongings from me and heads for the door. Pausing before he leaves, he looks back at me, waiting for me to follow.
Without a word, he reaches out his free hand for me to take. I hesitate, then picture myself losing my balance and tumbling down the stairs, further injuring myself. So I place my hand in his and use it to steady myself as we descend the stairs. The epitome of a gentleman without hesitation. I can only imagine what it looks like to an outsider.
A doting husband helping his injured wife down the stairs and into the car, making sure she is secure and safe before walking around to the driver’s side to take them to their happy home and do what married couples do.
We step down the steps slowly, his grip tightening on my hip as I try to catch my breath. Between his arms around me and struggling to get down the stairs, my heart is racing. Once we reach the landing, I make the mistake of glancing up at him. His eyes bore into mine and my voice is barely audible. “Thank you,” I manage. Hudson brushes a piece of hair back and runs a finger along my jaw like he just can’t help himself and before I can even comprehend his touch on my skin, he turns away and repositions us to help me the rest of the way down.
I never thought I would be turned on by someone helping me into a car, but here I am. Hudson places one hand on my back with the other bracing the back of my knees as he gently lifts me into Elias’ truck. Without a word, he grabs the seatbelt and stretches it across my torso to my hip, clicks it in place and closes the passenger door all somehow without making contact with me. My body hums with tension and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat.
He is still as he drives us back to his house and I am infinitely glad he was able to swipe the keys from his brother-in-law. I don’t think I could have walked back and I also didn’t want him to carry me back again. The tension in the cab of this truck is bad enough with the two feet of space between us and if our bodies were in contact again, I don’t think I would be able to stop myself from touching him. Would he want me to? I shake my head at the thought.
No.I tell myself. We have an agreement.
But look where that got you.The voice inside my head argues.In an enclosed space, in his home for days on end. Just the two of you. You and the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
Two weeks. We can deal with being in close proximity for two weeks. Right? Right.
“Avery?” Hudson says a bit louder than his normal volume and I realize I must have zoned out for the rest of the drive because we are now parked in front of his cabin, three of the dogs peering through his front window. It’s hard to believe I was just here a few hours earlier. It feels like a lifetime ago and omething in Hudson has changed. He was tense before, but that is nothing compared to how tense he is now.
He clears his throat and I realize I still haven’t spoken. “Yeah, sorry. Um, thanks for borrowing the truck. I don’t think I would have made it on my ankle. I probably need to ice it again before I go to bed.”
“You’ve only iced it once?” He says in a clipped, displeased tone.
“Uh, yeah. I haven’t really had the chance with the roof leaking and all.”
He quickly gets out of the truck and makes his way to my side. I unbuckle my seatbelt in preparation and it’s a good thing I do because as soon as he gets the door open, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me inside. The number of times this man has carried me is beginning to be too many and not enough at the same time. Without adjusting his grip, he manages to easily make it up his porch stairs, across the few feet that stretch from the stairs to the front door and then carries me inside to a large sectional couch in his living room.
As soon as he sets me down, Judy and Bernard jump up on the couch and sprawl out on either side of me, fighting for my attention. Hermes and Patch are settled in front of the fireplace—patiently waiting for Hudson to light it—and Buddy is on his heels, panting, searching for a treat in his hands. While he looks through his freezer for an ice pack, I take the opportunity to take in the rest of the room.
Across from the couch sits a stone, wood-burning fireplace with a wooden mantle littered with his carvings. A large flat screen is mounted above it and built-in bookshelves hug either side of the fireplace. The shelves are filled with more carvings in between stacks of books I plan to investigate later when Hudson isn’t hovering over me like a mother bear. To the right of those is a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the forest in the back, along with a lake I assume he owns to the left of the trees. Behind them is a striking view of the mountains, three peaks clearly visible through the clouds.
My breath catches at the wildflowers that scatter his yard. Striking blues, pinks, and purples blend together to create a painted canvas out of a fairy tale. I’m so used to seeing perfectly cut grass with straight lines and no weeds—the typical yard in a residential area—but this is the exact opposite and a complete contrast to the front yard. Where the grass is short up front, it thrives in the back. For every clean line near the walkway up front, there’s lush greenery that comes to a point with buds and petals flourishing from the top. I want to sit on the back porch with a cup of steaming coffee in hand and watch the flowers sway in the wind. I could sit there all day with my camera, taking pictures and savoring the beauty nature graced his backyard with.
Tomorrow.I tell myself. That’s how I am spending my day. If I still can’t walk without pain or swelling, I am going to plant myself out there on one of the deck chairs and spend the day reading one of his books, camera in one hand and coffee in the other. A dream.
“When I built this place, I couldn’t bring myself to cut the back yard.” Hudson appears at my side with a package of frozen peas and a hand towel. He wraps up the peas and gently picks up my swollen ankle. He motions for Bernard to move and he takes his place, sitting close enough to stretch my leg so my ankle rests on his lap. After he’s settled, he puts the homemade ice pack on my ankle—the cold soothing my now flushed skin where his fingers grazed it—and grabs the remote. Buddy settles himself on the other side of him, with Bernard cuddling up to Hermes and Patch after letting out the loudest sigh I’ve ever heard from a dog.
“He’s the one with the biggest attitude of the pack,” says Hudson in response. “He’s like a moody teenager half the time.” To prove his point, Bernard looks back at Hudson again before lying his head down on his paws facing the fireplace, as far away from Hudson as he can be.
Hudson scrolls through the apps on the tv before landing on Disney+ and selectsThe Princess Bridewithout a word. As the movie starts, he grabs the blanket—with a flannel pattern, of course—and drapes it over both of us. I find myself staring at him, in disbelief that this is the same man from just a week ago, who couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Now, here I am,in his house, sitting next to him practically cuddling with him on his couch about to watch one of my favorite movies with a gorgeous view behind me and dogs spread throughout the room. And the only thing I can think of is how peaceful I feel in this moment. In his home. With him.
About twenty minutes into the movie, Hudson takes the ice pack off my ankle and tosses it on the coffee table in front of us. He leans back and stretches his arm across the back of the couch, his hand landing just behind my head. I keep my legs draped across him seeing no reason to move them and settle further into the couch while Westley says for the millionth time “As you wish.”
