Baking With A Rockstar (A Brooksville Novel Book 1) Read online

  “All that’s left is making some croissants for tomorrow and decorating a set of cupcakes once they’re cooled. Easy peasy. I’ll just see you back home later.”

  He’s staring at me, shoulders pulled back and jaw set, not saying anything for a moment.

  I’m not always the best at reading people, but Hudson seems to be an extra hard case for me. Is he waiting for something? One thing I do know is that holding eye contact with him for long periods of time feels weird. Normally, I wouldn’t think of myself as socially awkward—not more than average, at least—but I’m afraid I might start stress-sweating soon under his intense gaze.

  I clear my throat, hoping to get rid of this awkwardness between us. “Unless you...you know—”

  Before I can continue, he interrupts me, taking a small step toward me. Seems like he doesn’t take the term “personal space” too seriously.

  “Unless I what, Charlie?” He says my name in a way that makes my whole body shiver, and I’m almost positive he did that on purpose.

  I wave my hand around nonchalantly. “Oh, you know, cash in your muse payment for the day.”

  Hudson throws his head back and laughs loudly. “You sound so happy about our arrangement.”

  “It’s not that. But you’ve helped me for two days already without getting anything in return. That wasn’t part of the deal, and I’m starting to feel guilty about it. I don’t want to be in your debt." I swallow repeatedly, always feeling uneasy with any form of confrontation.

  His laugh vanishes as quickly as it appeared, now firmly replaced by a big frown. “You know, if it really makes you so uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it. I’m not going to force you to spend time with me if you don’t want to. Just say the words. I wasn’t thinking things through the other day, and maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it. Or pushed it, for that matter.” His shoulders slump a little before he breaks eye contact.

  “No! It’s really not a problem.” Now it’s my turn to frown. “I’m just a bit nervous I guess, because I still have no idea what to expect from these sessions. I don’t do well with the unknown. I like to know what to expect, so tell me, and I’ll feel better about it. Do you need us to sit down, or is it enough if we’re just in the same room? I’m not sure what the exact rules are—not that I know what you need me for anyway.”

  “No rules, Charlie.” He stares at me with an expression I can’t decipher, almost like his words are supposed to have a deeper meaning. I’m not sure if they do, but my insides definitely feel like they got the memo, turning all soft and squishy.

  “Well, okay then. If you just want to hang out, you can sit down on the stool over here while I finish up?” The words rush out of my mouth in rapid-fire, making me sound as nervous as I feel. To make it worse, I pat the silver metal stool next to me, like he isn’t capable of figuring out which one I’m talking about—especially since there’s a total of, well, one stool in the room.

  Just shoot me now.

  He sits down at the edge of it, his long legs outstretched in front of him with his feet crossed at the ankles. Relaxed, carefree. It might seem odd, but I don’t remember the last time I’ve had someone this laid-back in my life. The confidence mixed with a slight level of cockiness makes for an interesting combination that might just be the tiniest bit intriguing to me. Throw in the smell of his delicious cologne, that practically surrounds me like a little cloud, and my hormones are ready to party.

  Not even half a minute later, he starts squirming around. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do? I’d love to help.”

  Since we’re pretty much at eye level right now, I only have to turn my head to the side to look him straight in the eye. Like I knew it would, his gaze catches mine immediately, holding it prisoner for a long moment before I give in and nod. “All right. Go wash your hands. I’ll show you what to do.”

  Let’s bake with the rockstar. No biggie at all.

  Yeah, right.

  Not only does he wash his hands, but he also grabs a black apron from the hook behind the door. He looks adorable in his little get-up when he stands beside me again, an eager expression on his face.

  “I’ll show you how to make the croissants, okay?” Since the dough needs to rest for several hours beforehand, I prepared it this morning. All that’s left to do is the easy part of the process. His eyes are focused on my hands as I explain how to roll out the dough and cut it with a dough cutter.

  “Why are we doing rectangle shapes? I thought croissants are triangles.” He looks genuinely confused when I look up at him.

  No one’s ever asked me that before, and I can’t hold back the big grin. “Well, there’s a really easy explanation for that. The rectangle ones hold more chocolate than the triangles.”

  Hudson stares at me like I just told him the secret of life before he starts laughing. “Oh, Charlie, I like the way you’re thinking. More chocolate. Gotcha. Rectangles, it is.”

  With matching grins on our faces, I show him how to slice the baking chocolate before placing it on the dough and rolling it all up. “There, a little sleeping bag for the chocolate.” When I look up at him, Hudson blinks at me, his head tilted to the side. The intensity in his gaze makes me feel self-conscious, and I absentmindedly brush at my face. “What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

  Without saying a word, Hudson’s hand stretches toward my face, and my heart starts beating erratically. He’s going to touch me, and I’m pretty sure I’m only one step away from hyperventilating. Just the thought alone sends my body into a frenzy. It’s like everything’s suddenly on high-alert—my skin feels hypersensitive, awaiting the unexpected touch to happen while there’s a rolling feeling in my stomach. My lips are dry but I refrain from licking them when Hudson is in such close proximity.

  When his fingers touch my cheek, I can’t keep my eyes from fluttering closed. He lingers there for a few seconds, and I don’t dare open my eyes, too afraid of what I might or might not see in his.

  “There. Just a little flour.” One more brush of his thumb across my cheek and jaw, and then his hand is gone.

  “Oh. Yeah. Of course. Thanks.” The words come out in such a mumbled mess, I’m not sure he understood me.

  Thankfully, he shifts his body, focusing on the task in front of him. “Could you show me one more time?”

  Without questioning it—as well as thankful for the distraction—I go through all the steps one more time. Then his hands are next to mine, mimicking my movements alongside me, innocently brushing my fingers. The room suddenly feels too hot, and my knees feel weak. The hair on my arms has risen, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.

  Before my nerve endings go into complete overdrive—or worse, I suffer a cardiac arrest—I decide to go back to my cupcakes, a.k.a. my new safe zone. Despite having several feet between us, it doesn’t feel like my body is ready to calm down yet.

  I need a better distraction.

  “What’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened at one of your concerts?” For some reason, this question has been swirling around in my head, so why not use the chance and ask?

  My eyes flicker back and forth between Hudson and the cupcakes, unable to look at him for more than half a second. At least the cupcakes are ready for me to decorate now.

  Apparently, Hudson doesn’t have to think long since he answers almost immediately. “Definitely one of my stage-diving experiences a few years ago. It was a hot summer day, and the crowd was crazier than usual. A woman twice my size pulled me down into the audience and put me in a chokehold before I even had a chance to stand. She said she’d only let me go if I promised to marry her. Needless to say, that was my last stage-dive.”

  “What?” That certainly got my attention, the disbelief of it temporarily making me forget about the moment we just shared. My hands stop in the middle of filling up the icing bag. “You’re kidding.”

  He shakes his head and chuckles. “Nope. My band members thought it was hilarious, and the
press had a field day with it too. Sadly, that means I’ve got plenty of proof.”

  “Wow.” It’s crazy to imagine anything like that happening. Quite impossible actually, for me.

  He shrugs, his hands busy again. “It’s okay. The good moments usually outweigh the bad ones.”

  “Did you always want to play music?”

  “For as long as I remember.” Hudson’s staring at the wall opposite him, his eyes shimmering with an expression I haven’t seen before. “Every single time I was with my grandpa, there was music—either on the radio, or he played it himself with one of his many instruments. It made him incredibly happy, and I guess it kind of became our thing.”

  A cloudy look crosses his face, his lips almost white from pressing them together so tightly. “When he passed away, I was only thirteen. And let’s just say, I didn’t take it well. The pain was almost unbearable, and music the only thing that helped. I ended up playing on a daily basis and never looked back.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hudson.” Losing someone you love is the absolute worst.

  “Thank you.” He’s still not looking at me, and the urge to reach out and comfort him is hard to resist. His chest heaves up and down, like he’s inhaling big bouts of air, before he continues. “Anyway. Shortly after, my friends and I formed our band. We were discovered only a few years later after posting some videos online.”

  It’s easy to tell he’s trying to move on from the uncomfortable topic, and I’m trying my best to help with that. “That’s cool. I bet that made things a lot easier to be discovered that way.”

  “It did.”

  I’m still mulling over all this newfound information when I feel his eyes on me.

  “Since we’re playing this game, can I ask you a question too?”

  Dread overcomes me immediately. When someone inquires if they can ask you something, it’s most likely a loaded question. My instinct wants me to say no, but that would be rather hypocritical.

  “Okay.” I draw out the word, not sounding sure at all. This time, I don’t look away, ready to face whatever he’s planning on throwing my way. Noticing the way he’s biting his cheek, I’d say it’s going to be something embarrassing or upsetting.

  After rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand, he finally spits it out. “Does Mira see her dad often? I haven’t heard you talk about him.”

  Well, that conversation just went in a totally different direction rather quickly.

  “Nope. It’s just us.” For some reason, I’m actually glad he asked me that question, happy this little bit of information is out in the open, even though it makes me uncomfortable.

  This conversation is making one thing crystal clear—I’m starting to like Hudson, and I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.

  Even though his curious eyes are still on me, I try to stir things away not only from myself but also into safer territory. I decide to ask the first thing that comes to mind. “What job would you be terrible at?”

  Hudson doesn’t react at all for a moment, making me anxious I hit another nerve with my question, but then he throws his head back and laughs.

  I release a sigh, at the same time wondering what’s so funny.

  After calming down, he shakes his head. “I’m afraid there are a lot of things I’m bad at, but right now, I have to say I’d be the worst baker ever.”

  He motions toward the counter, and my eyes go wide when I see what’s in front of him.

  Chapter Six

  Laughing doesn’t seem to be enough for the sight in front of me, so I snort a little too. “What on earth have you been doing over there?”

  Hudson joins in, and it feels good to crack up over something, to completely let loose without a care in the world. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve done that.

  Folding up a few pieces of chocolate-stuffed dough into rectangles was apparently more than our rockstar could handle. Instead, the croissants have no recognizable shape whatsoever. Each one is just a big blob with chocolate bits and pieces sticking out at every possible angle.

  “I can’t...I don’t know what to say.” My voice comes out in almost a shriek, and I have to look away from his baking attempt before I start crying from all the laughing.

  He pokes my arm with his finger. “Hey, don’t be mean. I have no problem owning my weaknesses.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with laugh lines, and I like that he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

  That’s a big plus in my book. It might even earn a gold star.

  Patting his arm, I try my best to refrain from more laughter. “No worries at all. No matter what they look like, they’ll still taste delicious.”

  He lets out a big breath. “Phew. I’m so happy to hear that. I was actually worried for a moment I ruined them.”

  “Nope, we’re all good.” I smile at him and can’t keep the grin off my face for the remainder of the time we work in silence.

  Once we’re done with everything, I point toward the abandoned stool. “Why don’t you relax now and do your...musing thing—whatever that entails. I’ll just clean up quickly.”

  Turning around, I walk over to the big sink but not without hearing his low chuckle behind me. This man is a walking ray of sunshine, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve smiled this much. I try to focus on the huge pile of dirty bowls and other equipment that has piled up over the past few hours rather than how his laugh reverberates through my entire body—well, at least I try to. With determination, I shove up the sleeves of my shirt and turn on the faucet.

  Hudson suddenly appears next to me, nudging me aside with his hip. “I clean, you dry.”

  My breathing hitches and I tell myself to use caution—a huge amount of caution—after the way everything went down with Sebastian. I’ve had more than enough time since last year to dissect my past relationship with him, making me realize how toxic and bound to fail it was from the beginning. Being careful seems to be the last thing on my mind when it comes to Hudson though. No, that’s actually not true. It’s on my mind, prominently so, but shoved back into the corner and all but forgotten within the first minute of him being around me.

  “Sponge?” He holds out his hand, and I silently place it in his palm, trying hard not to touch his skin in the process.

  Been there, done that. With my luck, a moan might just slip out of my mouth at the contact this time, or something equally embarrassing. “You really don’t have to do this. You already help me at the bakery, and let Mira and me stay at your house too. I feel like I’m taking over your whole life. I don’t want to be even more of a burden.”

  I lower my head a little, not wanting him to see the vulnerability I’m sure is visible in my eyes. I’ve been trying hard to not let the past rule my present, but that’s always easier said than done.

  Words stay with us, no matter how hard we try to forget them.

  The feeling of not being enough has lessened over time, but it’s moments like these that bring it all back. Doubt is an ugly part of the brain that should stay hidden forever, but seldom does.

  I look up just as he lifts one of his hands to my face before dropping it at the last moment. His gaze holds mine, determination unabashedly portrayed in his eyes. “You listen to me, Charlie. Neither of you are a burden to me. No, I didn’t expect to come home to a couple of roommates, but I’m glad you’re here. Very glad, actually. I know it sounds completely crazy, but these couple of days with you guys have been better and far more fun than most of my last year. So please stop apologizing and saying negative things about you or this situation. I really don’t like hearing them.”

  I blink, disbelief rattling my very core. I swallow a few times to try and get past the lump in my throat that’s suddenly keeping me from breathing properly. I’m not sure if he can see the emotions on my face, but if he does, he doesn’t let it on. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  “It’s nothing. Really.” His hand touches my arm lightly, only for a second, but long enough to still feel his warm
fingers imprinted on my skin moments later.

  Sebastian’s hands were usually cold.

  I’m not sure where that thought just came from but I shake it off. Rather, I’m trying to think of something else to say, needing the distraction before I turn into an emotional mess from his words. “So, why don’t you tell me what exactly you mean when you talk about your muse sessions? That way, we can avoid further confusion about it. The other day, it seemed like you didn’t want to talk about it in front of your grandma. Is it a secret?” I lean in a little, curiosity taking over.

  He doesn’t laugh like I expect him to, so I watch him for a moment as he adds a few drops of soap into the water. When he finally turns my way, I’m surprised to see the serious expression on his face and a sigh escape his lips. “Actually, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us. It would make my life a lot easier if no one else knew about it.”

  This new bit of information stuns me for a moment. “Oh okay. Sure, no problem at all.”

  “Thank you.” He lets out another big breath, and I wonder what’s up with all of this.

  There’s clearly more to these sessions than I thought there was. Or maybe I just don’t get it because let’s face it, this isn’t my scene at all. I mean, I didn’t even know who he was when we first met.

  The comforting sound of the running water stops when Hudson turns off the faucet. With the sponge in his hand, he starts washing one of the mixing bowls I used earlier. I’m not sure what I expected, but this seems more normal than I thought it would. Somehow, I thought I’d find the picture of my rockstar roommate washing the dishes to be hilarious, and maybe even slightly odd. Instead, it feels like no big deal—just two people sharing a completely normal and mundane task.

  While I’m still clueless about what’s going on, I’d really like to change that if possible. “Can you at least tell me what exactly it is you’re planning on doing during these sessions?”