Chapter 9
Beau
He told me to dress nicely and I obsessed over what I was wearing.
I mean, I knew what steakhouse we were going to, but I wasn’t sure what Hunter expected when he took a woman out on a date.
I didn’t want to overdress. I also am not the woman who pretends to be someone she is not.
With all that in mind I wore my favorite jeans.
They fit me perfectly, and somehow make my much too generous ass look good.
I paired that with a soft pink sweater that falls off my right shoulder.
I also put my hair up, allowing a few strands to fall down around my face.
I wore diamond stud earrings that my father bought me when I graduated.
I went light on the makeup, mostly because I always do.
I also wore pink heels, and I suppose that was me showing I was dressing up.
I’m usually either wearing boots or one of the many pairs of Hey Dudes I own.
Seriously, they’re like walking on air. If I’m not in those?
I’m in my flipflops. They’re flipflops I pay a fortune for, but they’re comfortable and never let me down.
So, heels? That’s big for me. I mean, yeah, I can wear them, but not often.
I doubt Hunter will catch on when it comes to the simple change I’ve made—which is probably a good thing.
Besides, he seems to like how I look, so I’m not going to worry about it.
Hunter did choose well tonight. Corbin isn’t a town known for fine dining, but this place is one of my favorites.
The food is really good. Although, I don’t eat out that much unless it’s fast food or Italian because that’s what the guys I work with drift toward.
I know girls are supposed to love shit like this, but it’s not my thing really.
We do go to Remi’s often, but if I had my choice, I’d choose to cook at home for my family.
Yet, I’d never tell Hunter that. He made an effort and that means a lot.
I’m pulled away from my thoughts when the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I can’t stop the instant shudder that moves through me. I turn and look around the immediate area with a caution that’s born from experience.
“Everything okay?” Hunter asks.
“Just a weird feeling. You know? Like there’s someone staring at you or what’s that old wives’ tale? Someone is walking over my grave.”
“Babe you’re sexy as hell. There are all kinds of men looking at you and every single one of them is wishing they were me right now.”
I feel myself blush. “That’s crazy.”
“It’s true.”
“I haven’t changed my looks since the other night, Hunter.”
“Harper—”
“And you still kicked me out of your bed,” I remind him, feeling the pain from that simple truth as if it just happened yesterday.
“I think we’ve covered the fact that I’m a stupid asshole,” he grumbles.
“Mm,” I hum.
“We said no looking back. Remember? We’re starting over.”
I stare at him. I know my defenses are firmly in place, but it’s still hard. I want to do whatever it takes to keep him in my life. Which is just pathetic. “Okay,” I finally answer—not sure if I truly mean it.
“Good, now, how was your filet?” he asks, studying me.
“Great,” I answer pushing my plate away.
“Maybe I should have taken you to the Depot,” he mutters, talking about the restaurant on Main Street.
We’re just finishing our dinner at Remi’s.
Remi’s is a bar and grill at the end of town.
The tables are distressed wood painted black, the chairs are mismatched and different colors.
The floors are wood, too. They’re worn and distressed.
That along with the high ceilings and decor that looks as if it came straight out of an antique shop in Texas, makes the place comfortable and relaxing.
It’s actually my favorite place to eat. Well, besides David’s—which is more like a buffet and something the guys love.
The food is okay there, nothing extra, but the all-you-can-eat thing appeals to everyone—especially Gordo.
“Hush. This is actually my favorite restaurant. So, you did good.”
“It’s mine, too. Though I don’t come here often. If I’d known you did, that would have changed.”
“I don’t come here much either. I rarely eat out to be honest. Well, unless the guys at the garage demand it. Otherwise, I just cook at home. I enjoy it because I used to do it for Dad. In some ways, cooking makes me feel closer to him. It kind of reminds me of the time we used to spend together.”
“You and your dad were close,” he states, his gaze raking over me. It feels like he’s trying to figure me out. The thought makes me want to laugh. Heck, I can’t even do that. I confuse the hell out of myself.
“Super close. It was always just him and me. A lot of single dads would have let me fall through the cracks. He never did. Dad always put me first. I think he felt guilty because he didn’t really know what to do with a girl.
I loved the life he gave me. It was beautiful.
He taught me everything he knew about cars as well as encouraging my interest in painting.
He died proud of me and never a day went by that he didn’t know I loved him, and I didn’t know that I was his world.
“That’s beautiful,” he whispers, his face soft and I can tell he really does like that I had that. It makes me smile.
“Well, I’ve met your Dad. I daresay he’s made it known he cares about you and he’s proud, too.”
Hunter shrugs. “Izzy and I have always known we’re loved,” he answers mentioning his sister. “Although, they sucked at naming their kids.”
I giggle. “I take it you don’t like your name.”
“Babe, seriously? I used to beat kids up daily in school because of my damn name. Who in the fuck wakes up and says I’m going to name my kid Bartholomew?”
“A man named Bartholomew?” I hazard a guess. He grunts in reply. “Well, you also got the name Hunter and it’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you think so, but you’re the only one that calls me that. Everyone else calls me BB, because the Bartholomew fuck up wasn’t enough. Dad had to compound it by calling me Bad Bart.”
I should stop my giggling, but I can’t. “That really is absurd.”
“Sure, you can laugh, but just saying, baby, that shit stuck and will not go away.”
“I think BB is kind of cute.”
“I’d rather you find me irresistible, even cocky is better than cute.”
“Well, you are cocky, but cute is good. Tom Cruise is cute. Look how much money he’s made from it.”
“Oh God, shoot me now,” he moans, and I lose it, throwing my head back, laughing and yes … snorting. Damn it all.
“I’m … Sorry …,” I apologize as I catch my breath.
“You better be glad you’re sexy as hell, woman,” he mutters back. “You owe me now, though.”
“Owe you? How do you figure that?”
“For laughing at me. I have a very fragile ego, and you’ve just crushed it completely.”
“Poor baby,” I croon.
“You have no idea. So, now you owe me.”
“Dare I ask what I owe you?”
“One dance,” he explains, shocking me.
“A dance?” I murmur, my gaze skating over to the part of Remi’s that turns this place into a roadhouse.
There’s a roll of log pillars about five feet apart separating the dining area from the pool tables and dance floor.
It keeps the area open because you can see and walk between them to get to that area, yet clearly designates it, too.
Seriously, it’s kind of the best of all worlds rolled into one.
I’ve always loved it, but when I come here it’s to eat and play pool with the boys.
I do not dance. I’m not even sure I remember how because it’s been so long.
“Wouldn’t you rather play pool instead?” I ask.
Hunter grins at me. “Nope. I want to dance with you.”
“Cowboy, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“What’s wrong, Harper? Are you scared?”
“If anyone should be scared here, it’s your toes. I’m not a dancer,” I tell him with complete honesty.
“You just haven’t had the right partner,” he says, standing up.
He reaches his hand out. I really shouldn’t, but I automatically put mine in it.
Damn it. What is it about Hunter that sends my self-preservation flying?
I let him lead me to an old jukebox and watch as he picks a song.
My eyes go wide, because that’s one of my favorite songs.
It’s old but I remember Dad and I driving down the road with it blaring.
It’s hard to believe that was eight years ago.
God, I miss him more and more every day.
I can’t find my voice to express any of this to Hunter, so I don’t say a damn thing.
I just walk with him as if I’m in a trance.
I’m in big trouble.