14. Ashlie
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ASHLIE
A fter landing in Fort Bender, we pop into Patti’s Place for lunch. The dark weathered wood gives the diner a rustic feel, bringing back some nostalgia from my teenage years when the bell tinkles overhead. This place holds a lot of memories.
“Grab a seat wherever,” Ms. Patti calls over her shoulder, tending to the few regulars on this slow Tuesday afternoon. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
Hunter leads the way to a booth at the far side of the diner. As soon as he slides into the vinyl seat, he twists to look around the room. “It looks exactly the same.”
“I forget you haven’t been back since then.” The faded photos of surfers and anglers lining the walls are just as I remember. My eyes drift to the brown and white striped surfboards anchored at the end of the diner. “That summer was iconic.”
“It was alright.” He shrugs. “I would’ve sat at the counter, but someone’s already in ‘your seat.’”
“My seat?”
Hunter points to the stool in the middle. “Yeah. The first time we met, you said, ‘Chase, you better tell your friend to get out of my seat.’” He uses a high-pitched voice and splays his fingers, pretending to be me. “Then you pulled out a book and ignored us for the rest of lunch.”
“I mean, that was my seat. But that’s not the first time we met…”
“Yeah, it was.”
“The first time I saw you was at the museum with Artie.”
“Naw. It was right there. You were wearing that swim captain jacket and had your hair piled on top of your head.”
I blink at him, not only realizing he’s right, but also taken aback by the details. “You remember what I was wearing?” I ask.
“I…” He pauses, mouth gaping as he drops his eyes.
“Well, talk about a blast from the past!” Patti places menus and glasses of ice water on the table. Her dark hair is graying now at the edges, but her friendly smile and plump frame still give off young Mrs. Claus vibes—glasses and all. The flour-stained apron only adds to it. “I haven’t seen you two together in years. How you been?”
“I’m good! Glad to be back home,” I say.
“Can’t complain,” Hunter replies, sliding out of the booth seat. “I’m gonna head to the restroom. Can I get a burger and fries please, Ms. Patti?”
“You got it!” She nods and waits until he’s out of earshot before turning to me. “Well, it took you two long enough to figure it out.” Patti gives me a knowing smile.
My head juts back, brows pulling together. “Me and Hunter? We’re just friends, Ms. Patti.”
“You mean to tell me he still looks at you like that and you still haven’t noticed?”
“What are you talking about?”
Her head falls to the side as she shoots a playful glare over her glasses. “Back when you two would come in with Chase and Kayla, that boy looked at you like you hung the moon. You did have that preppy boyfriend, so I get the distraction back then. But what’s your excuse now?”
“He doesn’t… look at me.” Heat creeps up my neck despite my fumbled protest.
“If you say so.” Patti shrugs with a smile. “What can I get you with that steaming plate of denial?”
“Um, a turkey wrap…”
“You got it.” She winks before collecting the menus and shuffling behind the counter.
Staring at the condensation dripping down my glass, I reassure myself that Patti’s wrong. She has to be . Hunter doesn’t look at me any differently than he always has . But it’s no help because Patti just said he’s always looked at me that way. Closing my eyes, I shake the confusing thoughts from my head. He doesn’t see me like that . We’re friends . Just friends . But the heat hasn’t left my neck and is steadily rushing toward my face.
“You good?” Hunter asks, sliding back into his seat.
My cheeks flush as I nod. I was so caught up replaying Patti’s words, I didn’t hear him come back.
“Are you blushing ?”
Unable to meet his eyes, I reach for my glass. Patti’s wrong, and even though I know it, I’m finding it hard to look at him and prove it to myself right now. “No. It’s just hot in here.”
“Who is it?” The amusement in his voice as he scans the room makes this even more embarrassing. “Is it the baseball cap in the corner?” He leans over the table, whispering, “Ooh, no, it’s Bert, isn’t it? I knew you liked older guys.”
I glance at the dozing older gentleman at the booth. He’s been a regular ever since Patti’s Place opened. A giggle slips out at Hunter’s teasing, releasing some of the anxious energy Patti left me with.
“Naw…it’s that monster peen book you were reading on the plane, huh?”
“ Ugh , why are you in my business?” I ask, my shoulders shaking from laughter. “You told me to pick up a book. Let me live!”
He chuckles too, a deep, heartwarming sound that causes my eyes to betray me. When they slide up to his, he’s staring right at me, and my face ignites. Patti was right. He’s looking .
Hunter drums his fingers on the bottom of the steering wheel, tapping to the beat of the hip-hop song on the radio as we pull into the grocery store parking lot. Since we were the first to get into town, Hunter and I are tasked with stocking the fridge for the week. The afternoon sun illuminates the brown highlights scattered in his dark curls, and I can’t turn away. As much shit as I give him about his cockiness, Hunter’s a sight to behold. Right now, I’m definitely the one looking .
I managed to tamp down the blushing once we started eating lunch, but I’ve had the hardest time keeping my eyes off him. I’ve tried to busy myself with my phone so he doesn’t notice my noticing, but it’s not working. The last few weeks have been more confusing than ever with thoughts about him—his eyes, his lips—and what it would be like to go there with him. Disaster, that’s what . I shake my head and turn toward the window as a distraction. Hunter and I would be complete chaos together . Right ?
Once inside the store, Hunter pushes the cart through the aisles while I ride on the end. I hop off periodically to grab items from our list and jump right back on as we weave through the store. He sails around corners, tittering at my high-pitched squeals as I try to hang on. The older couple we speed past in the cracker aisle scowls at us like we’re two teens goofing off, which only makes us laugh harder. When we reach the bread aisle, I leap off and drop bagels in the cart with a yawn. That’s the last thing on our list. I can’t wait to settle in at the lodge.
“Hey, Ash, catch.” Hunter hurls a bottle across the cart, and I look just in time.
It slips through my fingers as I juggle it in the air before finally grasping the plastic bear. What do we need honey for ?
“Just thought you could use a friend, honey bear .” A smile crawls up his face as he waits for me to make the connection. The way he’s hung on to that stupid name from the night we ran into Bryan is ridiculous. As soon as I think he’s let it go, he slips it into conversation just to irk me.
“Ha. Ha.” Rolling my eyes, I slide around the cart to put the bottle back on the shelf. “You’re a riot.” A thud in the basket behind me makes me turn. Another damn honey bear .
There’s a smart-ass glint in his stare when he says, “Maybe I want the honey bear.”
Actually honey, Ash . Not you…
I resist the urge to bite my lip and grab the bottle from the cart. “You don’t even like honey.”
“Wanna bet?” he asks, stepping in my path.
“Hunt, you can’t turn everything into a bet.”
“Wanna bet?” he asks again, waggling his eyebrows.
“Boy, move.” Nudging him out of the way with my hip, I’m just about to get the honey back on the shelf when he wraps his hand around mine.
“Naw. I want it.” He’s looking again. His stare, combined with his roughened fingers covering mine makes my breath catch.
“Why? So you can say ‘honey bear’ all week and act like you’re not teasing me? No thanks…”
“Why does it bother you so much?”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I lie, stepping back. Heat creeps up my neck again as his eyes dip to my lips and back.
“Ooh, so you like when I call you ‘honey bear’ then?”
“Nope. Didn’t say that either.” I turn away from him as my cheeks warm.
“So why are you blushing again?”
Damn it ! “I’m not.”
“Then look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, I count to three before turning, hopeful the flushing in my face has dissipated enough that he won’t have the satisfaction of seeing it. “See. Nothing. Can we go now?” I toss the honey in the basket, sick of this little game he’s playing.
“Sure thing, honey bear… ” His eyes lock on mine, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip like he’s savoring the redness seeping back into my cheeks.
“ Ugh ! ” I whip around on my heel, scurrying quickly as his chuckle chases me down the aisle. The most annoying part of him calling me honey bear isn’t the reminder of that night we ran into Bryan. It’s the bravado in his voice that sends guppies swimming through me whenever he says it. The awareness of the wetness between my thighs. How much I enjoy it .