Chapter 7
7
He catches a dozen men eyeing the short hem of a yellow dress.
Thirteen, including himself.
He irrationally, inexplicably considers it a triumph when he’s the only one who sees it the next morning.
I wake up on the sofa in Lux's living room.
Stretching out with a groan, I rub my eyes, itchy from the mascara I never took off, heavy from the sleep I barely got. I’m not sure what time I passed out, but I know it was late. It was well past midnight when people slowly started to filter off the property, and another hour or so later until those spending the night sloped off to bed, and then there was no way my brain would let me sleep knowing the mess that lurked in the kitchen just a few feet away. By the time I collapsed on the sofa, too tired to make it to the trundle bed on Lux’s bedroom floor, I was out like a light. Even though that was likely only a couple of hours ago, my biological alarm clock still wakes me up with the sun.
God, It must be awful to be tired and hungover. I can’t imagine morale will be great around the ranch today, and I mentally applaud whoever’s responsible for the coffee I smell brewing, the bacon I hear frying. Stomach rumbling, I follow the smell of breakfast, coming to an abrupt halt in the kitchen doorway when I find a tall, broad body stationed in front of the stove.
A tall, broad, shirtless body.
Suddenly, the drool pooling in my mouth has nothing to do with food, and everything to do with Hunter’s naked back. He looks bigger without clothes on. Maybe because I can see the softly defined muscles, earned from all the hard labor I see him doing every day, in all their glory. My gaze dips, my cheeks flushing as I zone in on the dimples indenting his lower back, and the pale, shiny stretch marks creeping up from the sweats slung obscenely low on his wide hips.
Despite my best efforts, I don’t quite have the willpower to prevent a quick glance lower at the firm, round ass contained by dark gray cotton.
I close my eyes. Swallow hard. Take a second to compose myself before making my presence known in a scratchy, high-pitched voice. “Good morning!”
Hunter glances over his shoulder—an enormous shoulder with some kind of soaring bird delicately etched across it—and dips his head in greeting. “Mornin’.”
“Morning!” A third voice echoes as Lux saunters into the kitchen, Alex already attached to her boob. Careful not to jostle him, she reaches around Hunter to snag the coffee pot. Pouring herself a mugful, she raises a brow at me. “Did you sleep here?”
“Uh-huh.”
“In that?”
I glance down at my wrinkled dress and grimace.
“Too wasted to ask for a change of clothes?” Lux teases over the lip of her mug.
I laugh. “Second-hand drunk from Nova? Absolutely.”
Lux snickers, snatching another coffee mug from the cupboard and dangling it at me. I take it, reaching for the coffee pot only to be beaten by a freaking bear paw of a hand.
I barely manage to choke out a thank you as Hunter fills up my mug.
“Milk?”
He has to ask twice before I realize he's talking to me, and even then I glance up to confirm that those pretty eyes really are aimed in my direction. “Yes, please.”
I expect him to just hand me the carton of oat milk sitting on the kitchen counter, but no. He grabs it himself, angling the open lip towards my coffee. “Tell me when.”
Don't look at his chest.
Do not look at his chest.
I look. Just a little. Just long enough to note the smattering of dark hair, and to realize that I have a thing for pectoral muscles. Huge freaking barrel-esque pectoral muscles that look the perfect place to rest a girl’s weary head.
My coffee is practically white by the time I remember to say, “Stop.”
Either oblivious to my gawking or nice enough not to mention it—personally, I lean towards the former—Hunter regards my questionable beverage with a raised brow. “Sugar?”
I shake my head and he retreats, but not before giving me another one of those almost-smiles. I wait until he reverts his attention to the eggs scrambling on the stove before pinching myself on the arm, genuinely shocked when I feel a sting of pain that confirms I’m not dreaming.
“Hunter.”
I recognize Lux’s tone. I don’t like it. Even more than I don’t like the sly, suspicious look on her face.
She asks, “Did you sleep here too?”
“Yes, ma’am. Oscar told me to take the spare room.”
Lux hums, gaze flitting my way. “And where did you sleep, exactly?”
“Sofa.”
Another hum.
Hunter doesn’t see Lux jerk her head towards the porch, but he must hear the screech of the screen door as I follow her outside, and I can only pray that’s all he hears.
With a vice-like grip on my arm, Lux drags me down the steps and what I hope is a safe distance away from the house before hissing, “Did you give him a blowjob or something?”
“ Lux !” I cast a frantic look behind us—voices freaking carry out here.
Undeterred, she continues, “Hunter just made you coffee.”
I pretend I’m not just as freaking perplexed. “So?”
“Like, willingly.”
“I was there, Lux.” God, if I’d ever hoped Hunter’s dislike of me was all in my head, or at least a little exaggerated, the look on Lux’s face would’ve eradicated that notion. I repeat, “So?”
“ So I would’ve been less surprised if he’d thrown coffee in your face.” She cocks her head, narrowing her eyes. “It was a hand job, wasn’t it?”
My cheeks burn. “I did not do that.” There's only one person that I've done that to and it happens to be the brother of the girl wiggling her eyebrows at me suggestively.
“ I think he likesss youuuuu, ” Lux sings playfully, swaying her hips in as vigorous a dance as the baby sucking his breakfast from her nipple will allow.
Ha . My drugging theory is more likely than that. “I think he just feels bad.”
An expectant look on her face, Lux gestures for me to elaborate.
“I kinda yelled at him the other day.”
Lux blinks. “You yelled?”
“A little.”
“I didn't know you were capable.”
“Oh, shut up.”
The corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “Did you call him a big meanie?”
“Lux.”
“A butthead?”
“Stop it!”
“Did he cry?”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “Of course he didn’t.”
Lux’s expression softens. “Did you?”
“No.” I pause. Sigh at the ground. Mumble, “Wanted to.”
“Look at you,” Lux coos, patting my shoulder. “Yelling at men. I’m so proud.”
I shrug her off, even as a tiny voice in my head echoes the sentiment.
At her demand, I provide the Cliff Notes version of the conversation, getting a thoughtful hum in response. “So you just guilted him into submission?”
The prospect of that makes my stomach turn; the only thing worse than someone disliking me for no reason is someone feeling forced to like me. “Apparently.”
That damn little smirk makes a reappearance. “Were you topless?”
I just barely resist the urge to chuck my lukewarm, milky, sorry excuse of a coffee at her, and only because I don’t think Alex would appreciate the shower. “I hate you.”
As the resident sober person on the ranch, I shoulder the brunt of the cleaning-up burden. I don’t mind; the store is closed today, if I hiked I’d probably collapse from exhaustion, and sitting around my empty apartment would bore me to tears. So, while almost everyone else recovers, I willingly pick through the enormous mess we made last night, making a point to keep my gaze away from the stables, and the ranch hand lurking around it.
Confused doesn’t begin to cover how I feel. I feel like there’s a joke being played, a punchline just around the corner, like Hunter’s going to turn around at any minute, all 'ha ha, you thought I wanted to be your friend? Loser.'
But, in a twisted turn of events, the more I try not to look at Hunter, the more my eyes drift in his direction. And I don’t know if his drift in mine, or if he simply feels my beady, anxious stare, but sometimes, we lock gazes. Stay that way for a split second before I inevitably tear mine away and pretend to be completely fascinated by a crushed plastic cup.
When it happens for a fourth time, I huff and turn my back, a physical restraint against seeking him out. Scooping a discarded beer bottle off the ground—and warding off a serious case of déjà vu—I silently chastise myself for getting all in my head about nothing. We had one short conversation and he made me coffee. Big whoop. Nothing to get so freaking flustered about.
Careful, Caroline. Your attention deprivation is showing.
Even though my needy brain tries valiantly to convince me someone’s watching me, that I must glance over my shoulder to confirm, I keep my gaze on the ground. Only when an outburst of noise comes from the house do I look up just in time to watch a group of people, all looking decidedly worse for wear, stumble outside.
Moaning and groaning, Nova blindly shuffles my way, a hand lifted to shield her face from the bright sun. “What the hell did I drink last night?”
“Everything.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth to keep from laughing. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
Abandoning her pitiful display for a brief moment, Nova cracks open an eye, one corner of her mouth lifting mischievously. “I slept in Grace’s bed.”
Of course, she did. “What happened to not getting involved with the Jacksons?”
“It was a momentary lapse in judgment.” Nova flicks a hand through the air dismissively as she plops herself on the ground by my feet. Slumping against my legs, she slides a miserable expression into place again. “Can you drive me home?”
I give the chin-length black hair tied up in a ponytail a gentle tug. “Course I will.”
Long lashes flutter as she blinks pleadingly. “Can we stop somewhere for food?”
“The greasiest burger we can find,” I promise. “Just give me ten minutes.”
Nova sighs contentedly as she flops onto her back, looking poised to take a nap right there on the grass while she waits for me to finish up. “I love you very much.”
I snort, nudging her limp form with my foot before going back to cleaning up. But it’s not long before another interruption comes sauntering over in the form of Cass Morgan, wearing a grin that honestly makes me a little dizzy because come on —the guy is gorgeous. “Need any help?”
I don’t even get the chance to shake my head.
“That was a rhetorical question, Caroline.” Cass holds a hand out, that smile cranking up to megawatt, and a comparison between him and the sun briefly comes to mind. “Hand it over.”
A small, bemused laugh escapes me as I obey, passing him the trash bag. “Knock yourself out.”
It should be easier with two people cleaning up rather than one, but the new presence is distracting. The flirting is distracting, and confusing, and kind of nice, honestly, because how often do I get flirted with? Never, that’s how often. And even though it’s just for fun, just a facet of his personality, it’s still nice. I still simper, just a little.
I’m only human, after all.
“Leave her alone, Cass.” The redhead, Tiny, Amelia , interrupts us, her intimidating boyfriend trailing behind her.
A hand pressed to his chest, Cass feigns offense. “I’m not doing anything. She’s coming onto me.”
Before I can do something dramatic like die of embarrassment, Amelia rolls her eyes. Her expression apologetic, she turns to me. “If you ignore him, he’ll eventually go away.” Her staged whisper fades into a screech of protest as she gets caught in a headlock and hauled away by Cass, who tosses a wink at me over his shoulder.
I watch the pair walk away, my smile fading when I catch sight of the man lurking in the background. I resist the urge to groan—apparently, Hunter and I are back to the whole scowling thing. I knew the last two interactions were too good to be true.
Before the disappointment can really fester, a hand lands on my shoulder, making me jump. “You scared me,” I scold Jackson, instinctively knocking him in the ribs with my elbow.
As quickly as it appeared, his touch falls away. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure.” A sense of foreboding settles in my stomach when he ushers me out of ear shot of anyone lingering around. “What’s up?”
“Did you give my sister alcohol last night?”
Crap .
“Eliza,” he clarifies. “Did you give my sixteen-year-old little sister alcohol?”
I gulp. “Yes. But—”
“What the fuck, Caroline?” His sharp tone makes me flinch, as does the curse he mutters harshly. “What were you thinking?”
Common sense begs me to tell him that it was Lux who asked me to buy it, but another voice, a louder one, insists that trying to shuck the blame onto someone else will just make it worse. After all, I did buy it. I did give it to her. And, despite what I joked yesterday, I’d rather he be mad at me than at Lux. “I'm sorry.”
Jackson sighs frustratedly, brushing a hand down his face. “Listen, I get that you and Lux are friends now, and I appreciate everything you've done to help us, but this is too far. Boundaries, Caroline.”
Embarrassment flushes my cheeks, crawling up my throat like bile, lingering behind my eyes until my head hurts. “I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have done that.”
An awkward silence settles between us, one that I break by clearing my throat and smiling as brightly as I can manage. “I should go. I need to take Nova home.”
Jackson simply nods, letting me walk away without another word. I bite my lip to stop it from trembling, keeping my head down as I hurry towards Nova. I practically fold in half when I pass Hunter, lurking too close by to not have heard every word of that. Even when I think I hear him grumble my name, I don’t look up.
I'm probably just hearing things anyway.