Crude: A Stepbrother Romance (45 page)

P A S T

“This is fucking impossible.” I slam the laptop shut, my eyes blurred from the rows and rows of spreadsheets I’ve been staring at.

“What’s impossible?” Bryce looks at me coolly from across the office; always so calm, always so precise with his emotions in a way that I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to be.

“
This
,” I say, flipping the bird to the laptop in front of me.
 

Bryce chuckles; “Mind over machine, Hudso-”

“I’m not a fucking accountant, man.” I growl at him, standing to walk over towards the big windows looking out over the river that bears my name; or the opposite, I guess. “I mean we’re
soldiers
, Bryce.
This
?” I turn, pulling at the lapels of a suit that costs more than I used to spend on food in a year as I shake my head at him; “This isn’t us man. What the fuck was he thinking putting us in charge of shit like this?”

Bryce is quiet, looking at me pointedly in that zen way he does that’d be infuriating if he wasn’t my brother; “No one ever said you were an accountant, Hudson.”

“Ok, then what do you call looking at numbers all fucking da-”

“I call it problem solving.”

I arch my brow at him; “Excuse me?”

“Problem solving. You’re not ‘being an accountant’, Hud, you’re looking for problems and finding solutions, which is what you’re good at.”

I laugh; “You’ve
met me
, right?” I shake my head; “Dude, I
am
the problem most of the time.”

“Ok, who figured out how to get us past that roadblock on the Chinese border?”

I roll my eyes; “It’s called bribing, Bry-”

“Who got us out of that detention center in Cairo after all that shit went down where they were going to sell us to the State Department?”

“Oh, you mean the shit that went down because of
me
?”

He rolls his eyes; “Somalia, Angola, the DRC; dude, you’ve saved our butts like two dozen times, and it’s because you know how to think your way out of a box.”

“Bryce, you’re don’t know what you’re-”

“Oh fuck off, Hudson.” He stands and walks over to the window; “When will you just admit to yourself that you’re a whole new man, and that the fuck-up you
were
died back there in the desert?” He looks at me with cool, stony eyes; “And when will you just learn how to take a fucking compliment, man?”

P R E S E N T

We’re back inside the house camped out on opposites sides of the sofa in the library looking out over the moon-lit grounds of her father’s house. If I had my way, she’d be on my
lap
, and preferably naked, instead of four feet away across the giant expanse of couch. But I know she’s right that we need to maintain distance; I know what this can’t look like. Of course, being this close to her when I can still
taste
her on my tongue is driving me nine different shades of crazy, and I shift again uncomfortably as my cock presses rock hard against my pants.

She’s glowing in the im moonlight streaming in through the windows; her whole face lighting up in a way I’ve seen so rarely since walking back into her life as she grins at me from the other end of the sofa; “So, is that what you do to
all
the young female politicians that Archer Holdings funds?”

“Oh, absolutely” I say with a totally straight face; “Although most of them don’t try and yank my hair out by the roots when they come on my tongue.”

I can see the shade of red her face goes even from here, and even through the white light of the moon as she rolls her eyes; “Dick.”

“Oh, is that what you were after?” I’m teasing her, but I shrug and start to reach for my zipper.

“Hudson!” She hisses, her eyes darting to the wide open library doorway before her concerned look drops back to me and she sees the smirk on my face. “Asshole,” she says with a wry grin. She swings her feet up into the couch as she turns to face me; “So that’s how you used to get all those girls you’d parade around with? Just
whip out
the fishing rod and see what bites?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” The banter is making me grin, and I can see her roll her eyes as she tries to hide the flash of smile on her face. “Of course, it helps to have a big
rod
.” I say with a sly wink, and I love seeing her face instantly get even redder as she buries it in her hands.

“Well,
I
wouldn’t know.” She says primly; mock sophistication in her voice.

I arch an eyebrow at her and she bites her lips and rolls her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about walking in on me in the bathroom; “I mean I wouldn’t know what it
feels
like.”

“But you’re dying to, right?”
 

My hand slides over her foot and up to her calf, and I can hear her sharp intake of breath; “Mayb-”

“
There
you are!” Reagan jerks her feet away from me at the sound of Donald’s voice behind us as if she’d just had them in hot coals. I frown as I see her relaxed body instantly stiffen back to formal, political Reagan.

“Goddamnit Reagan,” Donald grumbles, storming into the room towards us; “It is
not
ok to just
walk away
from mingling with those types of people like that; it sends a bad message.” He glares at me, his eyes narrowing as if trying to suss out why it is Reagan is here alone with me in the dark library.

Good thing you didn’t come knocking fifteen minutes ago, dick
, I think to myself.

“What, ‘
those type of people’
like Chet Kennedy?” Reagan rolls her eyes as she stands and smooths out her skirt; “I have far more important things to worry about than what dipshits like
him
think of m-“

“Dammit we
talked
about this Reagan!” Donald fumes; “I don’t care if Chet Kennedy is literally Adolf Hitler; he tests
amazingly
well
with your target demographic.”

I can see her tensing up, the laid-back and relaxed Reagan of five minutes ago gone as she frowns; “So, what, are you trying to pimp me out for ratings, Donald?”

“You better believe it.”

She stares at him for a second before she shakes her head in disgust; “Fuck you.” She whirls on her heel and storms out of the room.

“Jesus, Donald,” I mutter, standing as well and glowering at him; “I mean she
hates
the guy-”

“You know,
Hudson
,” Donald interrupts, his eyes narrowing at me; “I see what you’re doing, and you’re
not
going to ruin this for me.”

I furrow my brow; “For
you
?”

“For the campaign.” He mutters, but I know what he means, and it puts me instantly on edge; “We both want the same thing for the campaign, Hudson.”

“For Reagan, you mean.”

He shrugs; “A campaign is a campaign; I’d have figured a big important business man like yourself would understand that,” he says with a sneer. “Reagan makes a great figurehead for that campaign, but it’s the
run
that’s important here.”

“You mean it doesn’t matter if she wins or not, as long as the
campaign
is good?” My voice starts to rise as I shake my head in disgust at him.
Because then you become the next wizard campaign manager for putting a twenty three year old girl up for a New York Senate seat and running a ‘good campaign’, even if she doesn’t win.

“I don’t expect one of William’s army buddies to understand.”

“
Marines
, dick.”

Donald shakes his head; “Regardless, it’s nothing you’d understand. If Archer Holdings wants to finance the campaign, that’s great. And if they think you need to somehow protect her like some sort of bodyguard, fine, I’m even ok with that too.” He frowns and takes another step towards me before he sticks his finger out and pokes me in the chest; “But if you think there’s anything
else
for you here, I’m here to tell you that you are
sorely
mistaken.”

“Fuck you, Donald.”

“Look, you’re here to protect an investment, right?” He frowns at me again; “So do your fucking job. ‘
Protect
the investment’ doesn’t mean suddenly deciding you know more about running a candidate than I do, ok?”

“You’re pushing her too hard.”

“She’ll adapt and she’ll mold into what she needs to be.”

I shake my head at him and his mechanical robot answers; “Jesus, Donald; are you fucking serious?”

“Hudson, this isn’t the first time I’ve helped a trust-fund kid play politics you know.”

I can feel my temper start to rage inside, my hands clutching at my side; “We both know she’s a lot more than that.”

Donald just shrugs; “Look, I get it. She’s beautiful, charismatic, magnetic; she’s William’s
daughter
- I mean really Hudson, I get why you’re following her around like you are.” For a moment I bristle; suddenly wondering if Donald actually
knows
what’s going on between Reagan and I. “I mean I’m
glad
you’ve decided to be her friend like you’ve been-”
whew, guess not
“- and that’s exactly the kind of attraction we’re working for her target demographic.” He looks at me shrewdly; “Don’t fool yourself though, Reagan has an angle here, and that angle is to
get elected
, not be your
pal
.”
 

“Donald, the only one playing shadow angles here is
you
.” I growl, feeling my jaw tense.

He shrugs; “Look, you want to help her? Keep her locked down; keep her focused on what she
needs
to do.” He starts to walk out of the room before he pauses and turns at the door; “Stick to the
plan
, Hudson.” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in this dark library full of ghosts and questions and my own shattered thoughts.

P A S T

“Well
I
think it’s awesome,” Chelsea says, sipping on her coffee.

“Thanks. I mean it’s just a low-level position for the campaign, but he’s a pretty strong incumbent, so it’ll be great experience to work for his office.”

Chelsea grins, “Dad would’ve
loved
that you’re getting into politics you know.”

“
Not
why I’m doing it, but fine.” I mutter.

Chelsea huffs and slaps her hand down hard on the bench we’re camped out on in Central Park; “Ok,
honestly
, when are you going to let all of that go?”

I scowl and look away from her; “What does it matter?”

“It matters because it’s not
healthy
to keep letting it eat away at you like that! Ok,
fine
, we get it! Dad worked a lot, and he missed some stuff, and you’re mad about it!”

“Are you
not
?” I snap at her.

“We all have
regrets
, Reagan, but no, I’m not mad at him for working hard, or for Mom dying so young.”

I look away again, wordless and angry.
 

“He did what he could-”

“Well it wasn’t good
enough
, now
was
it!?”

Chelsea’s face tightens as she holds my furious look and shakes her head; “He’s
dead
, Reagan; you think you can get around to forgiving him now anyways?”

P R E S E N T

Donald is talking about polling points, or something to do with “provisional budgeting,” but I’m honestly not even hearing a word he says.  It’s hardly been a handful of hours since what happened back at the house in Greenwich, and while we might be back in the City, my mind is still
right
back there on that balcony, watching my breath crystalize in the chill of the air as Hudson’s hot mouth devours me-