Chapter 11
Hunter
I may suck at camping, but I’m absolutely going again—assuming Renleigh comes along. And maybe we lose the others.
Someone is brewing coffee. I’m not sure how that’s achieved on a campsite, but bless whoever figured it out and thought to bring it along.
Renleigh’s hair is splayed along my bicep, her cheek pressed against my bare chest. Her lips are barely parted and tiny breaths slip between them. The guys aren’t exactly being quiet outside, so I’m sure she’ll wake soon. I just can’t seem to rush her, though.
The girl I was with last night was a complete one-eighty from the one who swore off ballplayers and blocked my best flirting attempts at Earl’s.
This version of Renleigh Blackwood was forward, aggressive, and so fucking sexy.
Not that the other version isn’t all those things too, it’s just that this Renleigh let me put my dick inside her, so at my base self, I’m kinda biased.
I might also be in trouble because last night wasn’t just wild, it was the best sex of my life. Which brings me back to the whole camping thing, because if the wilderness had anything to do with it, I’ll start working on my troop badge right now. Sign me up. Fuck baseball.
Okay, maybe not fuck baseball. But I can make time to get more outdoorsy and shit. With Renleigh.
I’m musing over all things she and I could do together out here, alone, when she stirs against my body and stretches her arms over her head.
“Hey,” I breathe out.
She turns into me more, rubbing her face against my skin, her eyes squinting against waking up.
“What time is it?” Her voice is raspy. That’s sexy too.
“I think six, maybe? It’s not bright out yet, but the sun is coming up. And someone is making coffee.”
She cracks one eyelid open, and even in the dim shelter of the tent, the light blue looks like diamonds.
The subtle curve to her lips tips toward a bashful smile.
She shifts her naked body against mine, careful to keep herself covered with the top layer of the sleeping bag, and when our eyes meet again, she quickly drops her forehead to mine and closes her eyes. She’s adorable when she’s embarrassed.
“You want coffee?” I sweep the stray hairs from her face and smooth them behind her ear before guiding her head to my lips and pressing a soft kiss to her skin.
“Yeah, that might help,” she says in a whisper.
“I’m going to assume you mean help with waking up and not help processing what went down, because I have zero regrets.
” I’m being honest as I pull the top of the sleeping bag open so I can get to my feet.
I reward myself with a solid glance at her naked body, however, and take a mental snapshot of her ample breasts and the thin trail of hair that leads to her fucking goddess of a pussy.
“I’ll answer that after the coffee,” she says, which feels a bit like a backtrack. I wince as my back is to her while I pull my jeans on and shove my feet into my still-damp shoes.
“If I learned anything on this trip, it’s pack backup shoes,” I grumble, my feet squishing against the sole as I amble my way through the tent opening with my shirt in my hand.
“Well, good morning, stud,” Adler teases.
He’s in charge of the coffee, it seems, which is fitting since he probably knew he’d need to nurse a hangover this morning.
He pours a cup from a large silver pot and hands it to Brooks, our rookie shortstop.
I played with Brooks in high school, and he went to Iowa for college.
He’s quiet, though it looks like Adler may have gotten him to open up last night, probably more than he wanted to.
Brooks seems to be paying the price this morning, too.
“Hey, can I get a cup?” I ask, snagging a black travel mug from the top of the now-empty cooler and hold out it while Adler pours.
He gives me side eyes, and his smirk seems to be holding something back. I think I know what that is.
“No, this coffee is not for me. Yes, Renleigh is in my tent. And no, I am not going to give you any more details.” I take a sip from the full mug and keep my lips closed as I swallow down the hot, strong drink.
“Dude, you may just be a legend. Renleigh Blackwood hates ballplayers,” he says through a gurgled cough-laugh.
I gesture the mug toward him and squint one eye.
“Maybe she just hates bad ones,” I tease.
“Fuck off. You lucky fuck.” He tosses a hand towel at me that hits my back when I turn to walk away.
I leave the two of them with their hangovers and coffee, then dip my head as I slip back inside the tent. Renleigh is fully dressed when I get inside, and I’m not even shy about being disappointed.
“It’s not a nude camp, Hunter,” she scoffs, teasingly.
“But it could be,” I say, quirking a brow.
I kneel next to her as she slips on her boots, and offer her the coffee. She clutches it in both hands once her boot is tugged up her calf, humming as she takes a long sip.
“This is so terrible but so very good.”
I chuckle.
“Adler made it, and I have a feeling he just boiled coffee grounds into liquid.
She nods, still sipping, and utters over the rim of the mug, “Makes sense.”
I lower myself to fully sit on the ground, and I’m about to swing my leg around her so I can hold her against my chest, when she gets to her feet and backs up a few steps.
“So, this is Roddy’s stuff, huh?” She gestures to the rumpled sleeping bag that, in the light of day, is clearly too small for a couple. It’s barely big enough for a single, and definitely not one my size.
“It is. I borrowed it. I wanted to look like I knew what I was doing . . . with the whole camping thing.”
I grab the back of my neck as Renleigh smirks at me. I think I’m blushing because my cheeks feel tight. What the hell?
“You knew what you were doing. I mean, in here. The whole camping thing was a bust. But in here . . . it was good.” She’s blushing now.
“Good, huh?” I’m fishing for more. I’m fishing for again.
She waggles her head side to side as she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her overalls.
“You were all right,” she says this time, clearly teasing me. She must be teasing. There’s no way last night was just all right. Last night was incredible. The two of us together are incredible. And I know I satisfied her. She was quite vocal.
She winks at me as she holds up a finger, and I relax a little.
She has me all kinds of unsteady. I’m usually the confident one.
I’m also usually the one who’s dressed first, who’s ready to leave, who’s in charge of a second date.
Renleigh, however, holds all the cards in this scenario.
I’m holding an empty box and maybe a Jack of diamonds.
“It’s in the cabinet by the glasses. Everything is labeled. He can handle it, Mom. You don’t need to—”
She’s steps outside while she talks on the phone, her fingers woven into her hair and her palm on her head.
“You need to go?” I whisper.
She glances my way, her brow furrowed, and she holds up a finger again.
“I’ll just . . .” I gesture to the tent, and she nods.
I pull the sleeping bag out first, shaking the dirt and leaves from the flannel side before rolling it tight.
I think I’ll toss that in the wash before I give it back to Roddy.
Someone is bound to gossip in the locker room, and when he finds out I was in his sleeping bag with Renleigh, he’ll probably knock my teeth out, then burn his sleeping bag on principal.
Maybe if I bring it back clean and fresh, I’ll get to keep my teeth.
I start taking apart the tent, piling up the poles with the stakes before moving on to the fabric, when Renleigh groans to my right.
“Everything okay?” I fold the tent canvas around the various other pieces and bundle it together with the sleeping bag.
“No,” Renleigh says, her answer swift and surprisingly honest.
“Can I help?”
She’s already begun marching toward my truck.
“No,” she says again.
She flings her backpack onto the back seat, then climbs in the passenger side. I drop the camping gear in the back, then walk over to Adler to let him know we’re leaving. He snickers and winks, still impressed with my conquest, I suppose. He really knows how to cheapen it.
I climb in next to Renleigh, and glance toward her lap, where she’s texting someone on her phone.
“Is your dad okay?” My stomach tightens as my mind races with negative thoughts. I hope he didn’t have another stroke or fall.
Renleigh doesn’t answer immediately, still firing away texts, line after line.
I let her work through whatever is happening, biting my tongue—literally—as I drive us along the dirt road back to the highway.
She finally drops her phone between her thighs and promptly bites her thumbnail as she stares out the passenger window.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I finally say.
She huffs, rolling her neck before moving her gaze to me. I glance to my right a few times, balancing my sight between her and the roadway.
“My mom is trying to help my dad. She hasn’t been here for years, but today, right now, she wants to help with his physical therapy. And she told my sister to go home and enjoy herself, because she ‘has it handled.’ And you know what my sister did? She went home.”
Her words fly out in a single breath, and my muscles tighten on instinct, the tension rolling off her and bleeding into my body.
“That . . . sucks? I’m sorry?” I don’t know the full story, but I glean enough from her tone.
“It’s . . . fine,” she sighs out, dropping her shoulders and turning her gaze back out the window.
“It doesn’t sound fine,” I continue.
She shakes her head but doesn’t respond.
We drive in quiet for the next several minutes, Renleigh continuously checking her phone while I mentally riffle through the right words to say.
I come up empty, and she doesn’t seem to be hearing from whomever she’s trying to get hold of.
The air is practically boiling with anxiety.
It’s palpable, and I’m half-tempted to pull over for a short walk to get my head right.
“This was a stupid idea,” Renleigh mutters.
I think she both didn’t and did want me to hear her.
“I’m sorry?” I squint one eye and tilt my head as I glance at her.
“This. Me coming out here. I shouldn’t have come.”
My chest tightens. Fuck, she actually regrets this. Me. Last night.
“I’m sorry. I thought we could have a good time. I had a good time . . . with you. And not just because—”
“It’s just that I don’t do this. This!” She sweeps her palms out in front of her, like a conductor, and I try to regain my train of thought before she hijacked it.
“I’m sorry. But . . . what do you mean by this?”
Her sudden laugh doesn’t really make me feel better.
“Exactly. See? This is nothing. Which is why I shouldn’t have come.” She huffs again, her eyes darting around the cab with her stream of thoughts. She’s freaking out. And as bad as it feels to be summed up as “nothing,” to some degree, it’s my fault she feels like this.
“I didn’t mean to pressure you, and I didn’t really have expectations or hopes. Well, no, I had hope. Gah!” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I pull up to the stoplight right off the highway.
“You didn’t pressure me. I made a mistake. This was a mistake, is all. I’m sorry. It’s me, okay?”
I laugh, but then realize she’s being serious, and the sound drops from my mouth.
“Oh, wow. You’re really giving me the it’s not you, it’s me bit. Wow. Just . . . huh.” I stroke the stubble on my chin with my palm, my elbow balanced on the driver’s side door.
“Because it’s not you. Trust me,” she says.
If I had half a clue what the hell was happening, I might be apt to trust her. But this actually might be a genuine case of someone getting cold feet. And all I wanted was a second date.
I pull up to her house, her Jeep parked out front alongside what looks like a pricey Mercedes sedan. The black paint is coated with a thin layer of Oklahoma dust.
I shift into park and reach into the back seat to hand Renleigh her bag. She grasps the top strap, but I hold on to the other side for a beat, coaxing her gaze to me.
“We’re heading to Nashville tomorrow. Three days. Maybe when I get back?”
She blinks, her expression devoid of all the passion that colored it pink just hours before.
“Good luck in Nashville. I hope you get the W.”
I let go of her bag, and just as fast, she slips from my truck and shuts the door behind her.
How the hell is this my lot in life—always watching Renleigh Blackwood walk away?