The Roots of Us Page 3

  Subject: Film Editor Needed for Piece on a 50yo’s Body-Building Journey

  Delete.

  Subject: Shooting a Piece on Life as an Addict. Need Editor.

  Been there. Done that. Delete.

  Heightened voices rose from somewhere in the kitchen. I lifted my head when I heard a low, guttural growl. Assuming it was Bear Man, I closed my laptop, curiosity picking at me once again. If there was a chance I could discover why he had such a cloud hanging over his head, I had to take it.

  I stood. Tiptoed forward, trying to peer through the serving window without being noticed.

  “She won’t bite,” I heard the elderly woman say. “She’s just a woman, and it would do you some good to have no choice but to talk to someone. Especially someone of the opposite sex.”

  She was giving him a run for his money. I already liked her.

  “Martha—” Hudson said, his voice dipped in octaves of aggravation.

  “Don’t Martha me,” she bit back, a lioness swatting at her cub. I inched forward, stopping in front of the door as I tried to get a good look at the woman who reminded me so much of my nona. “It’s been nearly a year since you rid yourself of that awful woman. It’s time for you to dip your feet back into the pool. You’re too young and handsome to be single. Now get out there before she leaves.”

  This was the part where my curiosity bit me in the ass. Or rather, shoved me on my ass.

  With one hard push, Hudson came barreling through the double doors… only I was in the way. Trying to rush back to my table, I turned when the door caught the back of me.

  Down I went.

  I landed on my side, catching myself with my elbow. Hudson cursed behind me. When I twisted to sit up, he was rubbing his head. From the bright red horizontal line across his forehead and the glaring look he threw over his shoulder, I deduced he had collided with the frame. He grimaced when he noticed Martha shooing him forward with a brisk wave of her hands.

  I was about to get to my feet when he turned around and saw me on the ground. For a moment, he stood stone-still, eyebrows pressed together in a menacing furrow.

  “I have a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I laughed, but the sound was offbeat and kind of delirious. Embarrassment painted my skin in bright shades of red.

  “How did you—are you all right?” He offered a hand to help me up while holding a basket of bread. Gone was his rough demeanor, replaced by concern. Rocky and rough, yet serene and calm… Hudson. I liked the softness his features took when his guard was down. The round shape of worry circling the golden rings around his pupils.

  I took his hand. Rough and marred with calluses. But that wasn’t what I noticed first. It was how my skin seemed to ignite, like a tripwire set off, the sparks traveling through my veins until they filled my heart, bursting like fireworks.

  I retracted. Insta-love wasn’t my thing.

  “Yeah,” I managed, discreetly brushing my hands against my shorts. I shouldn’t have listened to that heady beating of my heart, but I had a weakness for men with rough edges and soft eyes and he was charging past the barricade I’d placed. I marked the acute details of his face. The faint lines in the corners of his eyes, probably from squinting in the sun too much.

  And then there were those baby blues. Something familiar and slightly terrifying swam inside them, sort of like staring at a white water rapid, wanting to dive in but knowing I’d be swept under in a heartbeat.

  Nona said a man would come into my life one day and replace everything I thought I knew about love. He’d erase the hurt left behind from my dad. Teach me that not all men were monsters, and would take every romantic cliché and multiply them by a thousand. The palms sweating, knees weak, skin-tingling kind of clichés I’d only read about.

  I never believed her. Not until that moment.

  “I’m just going to go… sit.” Backtracking to the table, I tripped over my feet in the process. I caught myself before I fell as a burst of nervous giggles shot from my mouth.

  Jesus, what in the hell was wrong with me?

  Nona never said I’d be good at luring ‘said’ man in.

  Once I sat, he stalked over to the table, which only took a few strides, his shoulders stiff. I tried to clear a portion of the surface for him to set the bread bowl down when the hard ping of a spoon clattered against the ground. My stomach tightened when I realized what had happened. He knelt to grab the spoon just as I did. Our fingers collided, both of us pulling back immediately as if we’d been shocked.

  Nona’s words circled inside my mind. Her many superstitions she taught me growing up.

  I wasn’t sure if I was speaking to him, or more to myself, but the words clawed their way up my throat and leapt off my lips in a freefall. “A dropped spoon is a sign that you’re in the presence of your next lover.”

  I gazed into his eyes as we both hovered near the spoon, and found myself drowning in a deep abyss of blue. So much pain. Too much heartache. And then they were closed-off and cold, like an ice storm settling in. That… that was what it must have felt like to be swept under by a current. That dangerous, suffocating, whirling feeling.

  Don’t like him. Please don’t like him. He’ll ruin you.

  He cleared his throat and hardened his gaze. “Complimentary bread.” His words were clipped and devoid of emotion as he sat the bread down. I moved the basket so it lined up between my tea and laptop. It formed the tip to my trifecta of objects. Good luck.

  A second ticked by. Still, he didn’t leave.

  I reached for a piece of bread and started picking pieces off, shoving them in my mouth as I watched him from the corner of my eye. Why was he still standing there? What the hell did he want? I finished the first piece of bread in three bites, but then stopped when I compulsively reached for another. It was a bad habit of mine.

  I groaned. “You’re hovering.”

  “I’m not.”

  I eyed him, grimacing. “Then what do you call it? The last I checked, when someone stands overtop someone else, not saying anything, that’s called hovering.”

  His eyebrows dipped. A professional scowler. “I’m sorry, I…” His stance shifted, face changing. He seemed so lost and unsure, wearing the same cornered look most men wore when confronted by a woman with confidence.

  It was his lucky day, because I decided to go easy on him.

  I stuck my hand out. “I’m Hartley.”

  He regarded it for a moment, inspecting every inch as if it were a snake waiting to bite. I didn’t have typical hands. My nails were kept painted in dark shades. Tattooed words spiraled around my wrist.

  I went to pull away, but then he grasped my hand firmly. “Hudson,” he finally said, his gaze slightly brighter, as if a sliver of a curtain had peeled back, allowing some of his light to shine through.

  “Like the river,” I noted, intrigued.

  He nodded and looked away, avoiding my eyes.

  I was right. Bear Man was shy.

  I liked that.

  His eyes slid over my body without a sliver of reaction on his face, and I couldn’t help but feel unnerved as color pulsed behind my cheeks. I was good at reading people’s faces. Their reactions. But his poker game was strong.

  “What you did for the little girl the other day… it was impressive.”

  I paused, watching his features, which were still stoic and hard, as if his face had been carved from marble.

  “You probably don’t remember,” I said, laughing to cover up my nerves “I was the one you handed her to so you could find her mom. I just… I don’t want to think about what would have happened to her had you not reacted so quickly.”

  There was a long pause before he said, “I remembered you the moment you walked in.”

  He was zero to one hundred. Eight more words said in a tone wrapped in layers of meaning. The flush of my skin deepened under the intensity of his unwavering gaze.

  He cleared his throat again, and then took a step back, blinking hims
elf out of the moment. “Your food should be ready. I’ll go check. Can I get you anything else?”

  Your number? I wanted to say. “No,” I said instead.

  I was out of my mind for finding him interesting. He was brutish and obviously damaged… but that was what pulled me in. It always did.

  A minute later, I smiled as the double doors swung open, only to have that smile wiped clean from my face.

  “Your potato skins, my lady,” Lucas said as he sat the plate down on a spot I’d cleared.

  I inched back to see past him, searching for any sign of Hudson.

  “He owns this place,” Lucas said when he registered my action. “He’s not a big talker. At least not since I’ve known him, which has only been for about a year now. I’ve asked him at least ten times to the parties I throw, and he always declines. Reclusive, that one.”

  My heart deflated a little, which shocked me. I was so sure there was something there with Hudson. A chemistry that couldn’t be ignored, even though he didn’t seem the type to indulge.

  “But…” Lucas leaned in closer. “I think he’s said more to you than I’ve heard him say in months. He usually comes in, does his job, and then leaves. A creature of habit, if you will. You must be special.”

  It was foolish to indulge, but that made me smile.

  I peered through the back window, catching sight of Hudson hurling a large rope over his shoulder before carrying it out to the edge of the docks. I scared him off. Plain and simple. Like a domesticated animal that’d been left in the wild for too long, he wasn’t used to human interaction anymore. Or maybe he wasn’t interested in the spark we both so clearly felt. Just like I shouldn’t have been.

  I shook my head. No. I wouldn’t go there. I didn’t vacate to Florida to tangle myself up in another man. Not even if they were deliciously sexy.

  I’d stay strong.

  But the superstitions never lie. The spoon dropped.

  One thing was for sure, though. If Hudson was my intended lover… we could only hide for so long before fate had her way.

  AUGUST 28, 2015

  IT HAD BEEN ALMOST A week since that day at the diner.

  I drove past it countless times while heading out to explore, but something told me to keep driving. Maybe it was the embers in my belly that reignited every time I thought about his eyes. Or the slow burning desire to turn back every time I passed it.

  But a smart woman knew when not to play with fire, and I’d learned from the best.

  Gathering up my filming gear, I tried to push away thoughts of Hudson. The lingering curiosity traced the edges of the slumbering butterfly’s wings deep in the pit of my stomach. Why couldn’t I forget his eyes? A reflective blue, like staring into a lake on a cloudless day.

  I thought about the countless men who’d passed through my life. They were a blur of tousled sheets, amber-filled glasses, and bad decisions. When was I going to break the cycle? Would I ever find someone who stole my heart and refused to give it back? Did I want that?

  Those were thoughts I’d never given floor time to before, so why now?

  A cold shiver ran down my spine as the weather shifted, the palm fronds singing a song of warning in the breeze. Holding down my sun hat, I tilted my head up to the sky. Angry tufts of clouds were rolling in with an alarming fury, like a thundering herd of wispy white stallions. I learned that in Florida it rained at nearly the exact same time every day, as if the weather followed a set schedule. Sometimes it would rain across the field I was shooting scenery images of, but never touch where I stood. Just a looming veil of gray in the distance I tried so hard to capture on camera.

  There was a beauty to the storms that I’d never experienced elsewhere. They had personality. A symphony of bright flashes of light followed by deep waves of sound. It was exhilarating and intimidating, and I’d become obsessed with capturing it.

  Thankfully, I had collected the last bit of film for my portfolio for the day. I figured I should capture some footage, even if I didn’t have an exact idea what I wanted to do with it. The sunlight felt so much brighter there. Thicker, as if I could taste the golden rays as they wound around the swaying palms.

  Setting my equipment outside the bus, I unlocked the side door and then slid the gear in. A few cars passed by on the highway, the breeze pushing in hard off the bay. Reaching for a water bottle, I pressed it to my lips just as the first drops of rain started to fall. I turned back to my bus to make sure everything was secure. Smiled at the many pictures I’d drawn along the walls of the bus—sketches of all the places I’d been. It was a collage of memories, reminding me of my vow to myself.

  Never root yourself to one place.

  Like being in a relationship, staying in one place meant losing that new, exciting feeling. It would grow old. Become too familiar as I stained it with my dark parts. I only ever stayed long enough to soak in the heart of the city, and then moved on.

  I hopped in just as the sky opened. Turned the engine, waiting for her usual purr, only to get a stuttering cough. Eyebrows furrowing, I twisted the key again and again and again, only to get the same sputtering pulse.

  Shit.

  I was drenched by the time I made it to the back of the bus. After popping the hood, I peered in, checking the battery. There was an unhealthy amount of corrosion built up around the connections, so I hurried to the side, searching for something to scrub the mess away with.

  All I had was an old T-shirt. It’d have to do. It took a few minutes of scrubbing to clear away enough to satisfy me, but once it was done, I got back in and tried the engine again.

  Still the awful stutter. I sat back, staring through the rain-soaked window at the hood, wondering what it could be. Was the battery bad? The alternator? Maybe I could flag someone down for a jump. Hopefully, a passerby would stop. Although with the way the sky looked, I doubted anyone would want to.

  When I got out, I realized someone was jogging toward me. Relief spread through my veins.

  Until I realized it was Hudson.

  “Hey,” he said once he was within earshot, water streaming down the sides of his face, beading along the edges of his beard. He glanced behind him to the main road, and then back to me. “I saw you. Thought maybe you’d need a hand.”

  In the rain, his eyes churned like wild river rapids.

  His white shirt was soaked, hugging his defined abdomen. His tousled hair was shades darker, like a velvet night sky supporting two bright stars I found myself lost in. He was more handsome when doused with water, as if the element itself was made for him.

  I blinked through the rain, trying to tame the dizzying feelings rushing through my veins, jump-starting my heart to life. Sure, I’d seen plenty of hot guys before, but there was something deeper that happened to me when I looked at him. A cosmic aligning that felt like a thousand stars bursting behind my skin every time his dark gaze found mine.

  And I hated that I felt that. I purposefully avoided the diner so I wouldn’t feel it again, because those feelings are what inspired the word danger, and I didn’t need any more run-ins with it.

  “Yeah,” I said, reaching to wipe the water from my eyes. The lost words I’d been searching for were slowing returning, rolling in with every blink. “Normally, I uh… I can get myself out of these situations, but I think I need a jump.”

  He moved around me, his proximity zapping every one of my senses awake. What was that scent he carried? Sandalwood and spice? It was heavy and rich, even in the rain, and it made me want to curl up in a blanket next to a fire with a good book and a hot cup of cocoa.

  “You have a knack for being in the right place at the right time, don’t you?” I thought about that day on the beach. “First you save the girl… and now me?” There was something about a man with a hero’s heart that hit a woman in all the right spots. A primal, instinctual feeling that couldn’t be overlooked, even when every fiber in my being was trying to.

  I thought the corner of his mouth lifted a little, but it was too
slight to tell. “I guess I do,” he said, his tone somewhat guarded.

  Turning toward him, I watched as his hands dug into the engine like he’d done it a time or two. “We keep bumping into one another like this, and I might think you’re a guardian angel in hiding,” I teased.

  He tensed. “I’m far from being considered an angel.” He was messing with something I couldn’t see. Seconds swam between us before he added, “I’m not… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

  A warm flush built behind my skin. I shouldn’t engage. I should pretend I didn’t understand what he meant and change the subject, but I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned in, feeling brazen, intoxicated by his presence. “And what thing would you be referring to?”

  When he moved to face me, I felt the way he looked at me in the pit of my stomach. He was a to-the-point kind of man. No games. No tiptoeing. His eyes dipped, skimming over the lace of my bra showing through the white shirt clinging to my skin. I drank in hearty gulps of the water carving creeks through the muscles of his stomach. When our eyes connected, it felt like a snapping of the fingers, waking me up to the heated feelings I’d been running from for what seemed like my whole life.

  I wanted him. Badly.

  And he wanted me, too.

  The air around us throbbed with that intoxicating, hungry feeling that took reservations and threw them out the window. It seemed to catch us both off-guard, because a moment later, we took a small step back from each other, as if distance alone would dampen what I no longer wanted to avoid.

  I wanted him to continue looking at me like that… like he’d give anything to know every part of me. Mirroring the feelings whirling like a tornado inside me, set on a path that could only lead to destruction.

  I tried to clear my throat as he turned back to the engine. “You didn’t… you didn’t scare me off,” I said as my heartbeat threatened to break my eardrums. “I’ve just… I’ve been busy. Exploring. Collecting footage.”