Chapter 31
31
He wakes before dawn feeling oddly bereft.
He gets out of bed and does what he should have done the day before.
“My, my, my. That is a guilty face.”
With my phone cradled between my ear and my shoulder, I carefully glance around what I thought was an empty street. What is an empty street, no spying friend to be found—no one to be seen, what with it being only a handful of minutes past sunrise and all. Rolling my eyes, I hoist a weekend’s worth of camping supplies into the bed of my truck before shifting my phone to my hand. “You can’t see my face.”
In my mind’s eyes, I picture Aldo waving me off dismissively. “I can sense it. What’s wrong with you?”
Wrenching open the driver’s side door, I chew on my bottom lip, nervously contemplating how to word the latest development in my life before deciding to just rip off the bandaid. “I’m seeing Hunter,” I cough out the very reason I called Aldo in the first place. “Casually. Not, like dating or anything but, uh… something .”
There’s a pause. Some more pausing. Then, a snicker. “Am I supposed to be surprised?”
Well. Not quite the reaction I expected. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Yes, actually. I’m furious. I wanted the cowboy for myself.”
I huff a laugh before sobering. “I mean about Roberto.”
“Why would I be mad about that? You didn’t like him. That’s okay. I only wanted you to try, Lina.”
I’m not sure I did, but I’m not going to argue the matter—I’m not given the chance to. “Besides,” Aldo continues. “I like the big guy. Is he there now? Dai , let me talk to him.”
I snort as I switch to speakerphone and toss my phone on the dashboard, freeing up my hands to quickly pull my hair back in a braid. “No, he’s not here.”
“He’s not going camping with you?”
“Nope.”
I considered asking him. Agonized is perhaps a better word for it. But in the end, I couldn’t think of a casual way to invite a guy to go camping in a secluded location with no one but me for company for an entire weekend, so I decided against it. Besides, I could use some alone time—I want some alone time.
Or at least, I’ve almost convinced myself that I do.
Aldo makes a noise like he has a whole lot of opinions about that, but luckily for me, he doesn’t voice any of them. “You’re still coming over on Sunday, yes? I’m making you a cake.”
My stomach twists, but I smile. “You mean Davide is making me a cake.”
“My husband and I are a unit, Lina,” Aldo insists dramatically, making me laugh. “Is Lux coming?”
“Uh, no.” I didn’t ask. We left things a little weird the other day, and I might be licking my wounds just a little; I know Lux doesn’t have to tell me anything, but it stung to hear how much she didn’t want to. And anyway, I’m perfectly fine with a low-key birthday celebration, just me and the Bianchis. I stopped making a big fuss years ago. There’s no need to start up again now.
“And the big guy? Is he coming?”
Considering the big guy doesn’t even know it’s my birthday? “No. And stop calling him that.”
“Why? It’s very accurate.” Aldo pauses, and the silence screams trouble. “Unless it isn’t.”
Briefly closing my eyes, I silently wish for the fortitude to survive this conversation—even I can tell where it’s going.
“It is , isn’t it? He has a—”
“ Aldo .” Ducking inside my truck, I grab a baseball cap with one hand, my phone with the other. “I’m hanging up now.”
An affronted whine echoes through the early morning air. “Oh, come on.”
“ Bye . See you on Sunday.”
Despite his indignant screech of my name, I hang up. Shaking my head and chuckling beneath my breath, I plug my phone into the aux cord, my hiking playlist already loaded. Donning the cap, I start towards the truck bed again so I double check I have everything I need, but I abruptly come up short.
Cheeks immediately flushing red, I wince. “How long have you been standing there?”
Hunter’s smirk says it all, even if his mouth insists, “Not long.”
I groan and hide my face in my hands.
Heavy footsteps thump against the pavement before fingers pluck the hat off my head and chuckling lips graze my forehead. “Mornin’, honey.”
As a hand drifts to my lower back and urges me into a warm embrace, I sigh. I drop my hands to his waist, then my head to his sternum. “Morning.”
“Going somewhere?”
“The Lakes Trail. I was gonna camp for a couple nights.” A rumbling grunt erring on the side of unimpressed makes me pull away with a frown. When I find his expression normal, affronted, I chalk it down to my imagination—or wishful thinking. “What’re you doing here?”
“Had some errands to run,” he takes a second too long to answer, making me wonder if it’s the truth, but promptly distracts me. “Brought you breakfast.”
I don’t think a takeaway coffee and a croissant breakfast sandwich should cause quite so many warm-and-fuzzy feelings, but here I am, weak in the knees anyway. Taking both from him, I only briefly hesitate before rising on the balls of my feet and kissing him, murmuring my thanks against his lips before shyly retreating.
Toying with the end of my braid, Hunter glances over his shoulder, and I know he spots the pink tent I’ve yet to stuff into my backpack because the curve of his mouth gets less soft, more teasing—more stiff too, oddly. “Got everythin’ you need?”
“Think so.” Is it awkward? I feel like it’s a little awkward, like some uncomfortable tension thickens the air. Or maybe that’s just me being hyper aware of how hard I’m fighting the urge to ask him to join me; how close I am to losing that battle. “I should probably get going.”
I definitely don’t imagine Hunter’s nod being a little jerky. Is he mad I didn’t tell him? I didn’t know I had to. It’s not like we had plans. We haven’t had plans for a couple of days now; I haven’t seen him since the morning I woke up in his bed. In fact, I’ve barely heard from him at all because I’ve been too busy at Bloom to go to the ranch and he’s been too busy at the ranch to come into town, and he is so not a texter.
It dawns on me just then that maybe, just maybe, this might be a petty camping trip. A demonstration of casual . A great alternative to staring at Bloom’s front door all weekend, waiting for Hunter to walk through it.
Instead, he walks me to the driver’s side of my truck. He opens the door for me, shuts it for me too. Leaning in through the open window, he kisses me once, twice, three times, pecking away at resolve before stepping back. And as he waves me off, I convince myself I imagine the disappointed look on his face.
I should’ve brought the dogs.
It’s too quiet. Beautiful and serene, but so, so quiet. The trail was busy, but it seems like most people are camping at Pear Lake—which is exactly why I circled back to stay at the Emerald Lake campsite. Except for a couple other tents in the near distance, I’m pretty much alone.
I feel it. Alone. Lonely . It’s been a while since I hiked by myself, since the quiet trills of nature weren’t accompanied by the heavy footsteps and even breaths of a companion. And what’s weird is the solitude doesn’t strike me as all that familiar. As if over the summer, I slowly, bit by bit, unlearned what it felt like to be by myself all the time.
It’s unnerving how much I dislike it. How much slower the time seems to pass; I could’ve sworn dusk was only around the corner when I found a spot to settle for the night, but when I checked the time, I found sunset still hours away.
I set up my tent. I paddled in the lake, hoping the fresh water would wash away the weird restlessness itching my skin as well as a late summer’s day worth of sweat. I watched the sunset, stared at the star-speckled sky, flicked through my mom’s journal, and still, I couldn’t settle. Still, I find myself sighing at the mesh roof of my tent, willing the low buzz of cicadas to lull me to sleep.
When the insectile clicking turns to the chirp of awakening birds and the oppressive darkness of night begins to fade, I fight the urge to scream.
Throwing off the thin sheet I brought in lieu of a sleeping bag—God knows I don’t need one of those in this heat—I start to get up, figuring I might as well get an early start. I should probably just go home. I planned for two nights in the wilderness, but what’s the point? How is this any less pathetic than moping around in my apartment? If I leave now, I can make it back in time to open the store and give Nova the day off. Yes, I’ll—
I pause mid-reach for the tent’s zipper, frowning. I could’ve sworn I heard…
Rustling. Lots of it. Loud rustling caused by something heavy, something that sounds like it’s heading in my direction.
Of all the things in the world that scare me, wildlife has never been one of them. I know a whole lot of it lurks in Sequoia—Lux doesn’t keep a shotgun in a locked cabinet for no reason—but it’s always been a hypothetical danger. Never once have I touched the bear spray permanently clipped to my backpack. I’ve never reached for it like I do now. I’ve never all but accepted my fate as bear food like—
The bear says my name.
Unzipping my tent, I stare incredulously at the definitely-not-a-bear crouched in front of me. “Hunter?”
What’s also definitely not a sleep-deprived hallucination reaches out to tuck a strand of mussed hair behind my ear. “Hey.”
“What’re you doing here?”
Hunter shrugs, too nonchalant. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Couldn’t… I blink. “So you hiked out here?”
He nods.
An astonished noise leaves me. And another when I glance around him to see the sun still kissing the horizon. “In the dark? That’s so dangerous!”
“Yeah, well.” He’s smiling. I almost just sprayed red pepper oil in his eyes, and he’s smiling . He’s quipping, “I’m a big guy . Could take on a bear, don’t you think?”
Aldo . I’m gonna kill him.
Hoping my scowl takes the attention off my flushed cheeks, I reach out to poke Hunter’s chest, but he catches me by the wrist, kisses the back of my hand, and my scowl melts right off. When he tugs, I go, crawling out of the tent and letting him tug me to my feet.
Now that the shock of his presence is wearing off, I can take in the bare-chested glory before me. The sweaty sheen. The loose gym shorts—emphasis on short . The criminally, criminally , attractive backwards baseball cap. Shoulders, pectoral muscles, and biceps flex in unison as he shucks off a small rucksack and drops it to the ground, and I’m wondering if he brought a tent or if he plans to try stuff himself in mine when he takes my hand again. “Sorry,” he mutters gruffly, and I frown.
“For what?”
“Crashin’.” Dare I say he looks sheepish ? Staring at our hands, a little pink in the cheeks—and I don’t think it’s sunburn. “Tried to leave you alone.”
And he… couldn’t? Be still my beating freaking heart.
Swallowing over the sudden lump in my throat, I watch his thumb trace the curve of mine. I quietly admit, “I wanted to ask you. I was trying to be…” I wave my free hand in the air in lieu of really explaining.
Too long passes without a response, and the silence makes me itch. When I glance up, I find Hunter looking at me all… weird. Soft, but scrunched, like he’s thinking real hard about something. He opens his mouth and I panic, suddenly scared about what might come out so I find myself cutting in. “You don’t have work today?”
His mouth closes. He shakes his head.
I hum. I try not to smile. I fail. “That’s good.”
Thick fingers twirl a lock of my hair. “Yeah?”
“Suppose it’s a long hike for a quick booty call.”
Abruptly, his hand falls away. “That’s not why I came out here.”
It isn’t? “I’m joking.”
Hunter squints at me. “Are you?”
I drop my gaze again. Maybe not—I find it hard to believe he raced the setting sun to get to me simply to be in my presence.
Stepping back, he holds his hands up, palms towards me. “I won’t touch you. Scout’s honor.”
As if he was ever a Boy Scout—sounds way too social for him. “You’re always touching me.”
Hunter smirks a little, but he certainly looks serious as he rakes his gaze down the length of me in a way that feels as tangible as a touch. Sounds serious too when he says, “I find it real hard not to. Always have.”
Despite the very not-funny heat coiling in my lower belly—a girl needs some warning before being accosted by a look like that—I snicker. “ Always is a little dramatic.”
Both hands landing his hips, Hunter cocks his head at me. “You have a very selective memory, you know that? ‘Cause I can think of at least a dozen times.”
Curiosity makes me brave. “Name one.”
His eyes narrow, and suddenly, I feel like I’m losing a game I didn’t even know I was playing. “You were takin’ out Aster. Wobbled a little while mountin’ her. Knew you weren’t gonna fall, but I’d been imaginin’ puttin’ my hands on you since you walked into the barn wearin’ those fuckin’ jeans, so I did. Even though I could tell you were mad at me.”
I remember that. I don’t remember him looking at me the way he is now, though; eyes burning bright, his tightly-wound restraint almost a visible thing.
“That day we cleared out the old barn,” he continues, and I almost wish he wouldn’t, a little scared what might come out next. “You were wearing these tiny denim shorts and fuckin’ Simon kept staring at your ass.” He pauses. The corner of his mouth curls, wry and not a bit apologetic. “ I kept staring at your ass.”
A surprised, disbelieving huff parts my lips. “You didn’t even like me then.”
“I liked you just fine.”
“You were rude .”
Hunter shrugs, eyes freaking gleaming . “Tiny denim shorts,” he repeats. “ Very frustratin’.”
I blush something fierce, but I manage to say, “You were horrified at the idea of me flirting with you.”
“Horrified isn’t the word I’d use.”
I don’t want to ask what one he would—I don’t want to know. I just shake my head, holding my hands up in surrender, and Hunter promptly breaks that whole honor thing by lacing his fingers through mine. I snort as he squeezes, simper as he stoops to kiss my temple, shiver when he fingers the hem of my pajama shorts. I quip, “That lasted long.”
Hunter smirks. “Tiny shorts.”