Chapter Five
Dixie
The beef tenderloin was probably exquisite. I wouldn't know — I'd taken three bites and couldn't taste any of them.
Hunter's hand rested on my thigh under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles against the fabric of my dress. We'd been seated for twenty minutes, and I'd already lost track of whatever Hudson's college roommate was saying about their fraternity days.
The ballroom glittered around us — crystal chandeliers casting warm light across white linens, the five-tier cake I'd helped decorate standing proud near the dance floor.
Kendall had outdone herself. Hearts and roses everywhere, but somehow it worked.
She sat at the head table practically vibrating with joy, her tiara catching the light every time she laughed at something Hudson whispered in her ear.
"More wine?" Hunter murmured, already reaching for the bottle.
"Better not." I'd had champagne on the terrace earlier. Needed to keep my head clear. "Water's fine."
His thumb stilled on my thigh. "You okay?"
"Just taking it all in."
Across the table, Jolene Massey watched me with that assessing gaze I'd come to recognize. Not hostile, exactly. More like she was solving a puzzle and couldn't quite make the pieces fit.
"Dixie," she said during a lull in conversation, "Hunter mentioned you work at The Hungry Heifer. How long have you been there?"
"Almost two years now."
"And before that?"
I felt Hunter tense beside me. "Mom—"
"I'm just making conversation, darling." Jolene's smile was pleasant. Practiced. "We barely know anything about her."
"I was in Houston for a while," I said evenly. "Came back to Bitter Root to be closer to family."
"Houston." Jolene nodded slowly. "Big city. What brought you back to our little town?"
My mother. My daughter. Rock bottom and the desperate need to climb back up.
"Sometimes you don't realize what you have until you leave it behind." I met her gaze. "Bitter Root is home."
Something shifted in Jolene's expression. Not warmth, exactly, but maybe the beginning of respect. Ward grunted approvingly from his seat and reached for his whiskey.
"Smart girl," he said. "Nothing wrong with knowing where you belong."
The servers cleared our plates as Kendall's father stood to give his toast. He cried.
Kendall cried. Half the room cried. Then Whitney Pemberton took the microphone and somehow made her maid-of-honor speech entirely about herself and her own search for love, casting meaningful glances toward Hunter that made my jaw clench.
Hudson's best man was mercifully brief. Then Hudson himself stood, and the room went quiet.
"I never thought I'd be the Massey twin who found his person first," Hudson said, looking at Kendall with naked adoration.
"Hunter's always been the charming one. The one everyone gravitates toward.
" He raised his glass toward our table. "But I got lucky.
I found someone who sees exactly who I am — flaws and all — and loves me anyway.
That's what I wish for everyone here tonight. Someone who sees you. Really sees you."
His eyes met Hunter's across the room. Something passed between them — brotherly, complicated, real.
Hunter's hand found mine under the table and squeezed.
"To Kendall," Hudson finished. "The best decision I ever made."
Everyone drank. The orchestra started up, and Hudson led Kendall onto the floor for their first dance. They moved together like they'd been doing this forever, her massive dress somehow not tripping either of them, both of them laughing at something only they could hear.
"Dance with me."
I looked up. Hunter was already standing, hand extended.
"Now?"
"Unless you'd rather listen to Whitney plan her future wedding out loud."
I took his hand.
The dance floor was crowded now, other couples joining after the bride and groom's solo. Hunter pulled me close — one hand at the small of my back, the other holding mine against his chest. I could feel his heart beating under my palm. Steady. Strong.
"You survived the family interrogation," he said quietly.
"Your mom's not so bad."
"She likes you. I can tell."
"How?"
"She didn't ask about your five-year plan." His lips brushed my temple. "That's reserved for women she's trying to scare off."
I laughed despite myself. "Good to know I passed the first test."
We swayed together, bodies close, the music wrapping around us.
His hand slid lower on my back, pressing me against him until I could feel the heat of him through his tuxedo.
Other couples drifted past — Laverne and some silver-haired man I didn't recognize, May circling with her phone, Hudson and Kendall lost in their own world.
"Dixie." Hunter's voice dropped, rough and quiet. "What happens after tonight?"
"What do you want to happen?"
"That's not an answer."
"Neither is yours."
His hand tightened on my waist. "I know what I want."
"Which is?"
"This." His breath was warm against my ear. "You. Not for a weekend. Not for a deal."
My heart stuttered. "You barely know me."
"I know enough." He pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes.
"I know you work harder than anyone I've ever met.
I know you're talented and funny and you don't take my bullshit.
I know the way you looked at that cake today — like you'd found something you thought you'd lost." His voice dropped lower.
"And I haven't stopped thinking about you since Wednesday night. "
I should tell him. Right now, before this went any further. The words sat on my tongue — I have a daughter, I'm a recovering addict, I'm not who you think I am.
But his eyes were so green in the candlelight. His hand was so warm on my back. And I wanted one night where I wasn't defined by my past. One night where I was just a woman a beautiful man wanted.
Tomorrow. I'd tell him tomorrow.
"Take me upstairs," I said.
His jaw tightened. "You sure?"
"I'm sure."
We didn't run, but we didn't linger either.
Hunter made brief excuses to his parents — something about an early morning — and we slipped out while dessert was being served.
My phone buzzed in my clutch as we crossed the lobby.
I silenced it without looking, angling the screen away from him out of habit.
The elevator couldn't move fast enough.
The moment the doors closed, his mouth was on mine. He kissed me like he'd been holding back all night — all weekend. His hands cupped my face, tilting my head back so he could deepen the angle. I grabbed his lapels and pulled him closer, needing more, needing everything.
The elevator dinged. We stumbled down the hall, his lips still on mine, my fingers fumbling with his bow tie. He got the door open somehow and we tumbled inside.
The suite was dim, lit only by the glow from the bathroom and moonlight through the window. Rose petals still scattered across the white bedding from housekeeping's romantic turndown service. Hunter pulled back just long enough to look at me, his chest heaving.
"Wait here."
He disappeared into the bathroom. Water started running. When he came back, he was grinning.
"Come see."
The jacuzzi tub was filling with steaming water. He'd gathered the rose petals from the bed and scattered them across the surface. On the marble edge sat an ice bucket with champagne and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
"When did you—"
"Ordered it when I booked the room." He stepped closer, fingers finding my zipper. "Part of the Valentine's package. Figured we should at least look the part."
"And now?"
"Now I'm glad I did." His eyes held mine. "Is this okay?"
"Yes."
He drew the zipper down slowly, pressing his lips to each inch of skin he exposed. The dress pooled at my feet. I stood there in just a strapless bra and panties, fighting the urge to cover myself under the intensity of his gaze.
"God." The word came out reverent. "Look at you."
"Your turn."
I pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Yanked the bow tie free. His shirt buttons scattered when I pulled too hard and neither of us cared. His chest was broad and muscled, exactly what I'd imagined under those crisp shirts. Dark hair trailed down his stomach and disappeared into his waistband.
I reached for his belt.
He sucked in a breath when my fingers brushed him through his pants. Hard already. Straining against the fabric. For me.
"Tub," he managed. "Before I take you against the wall."
"That's supposed to discourage me?"
He laughed, low and rough, and stripped off the rest of his clothes. His cock stood thick and ready, and my mouth went dry at the sight of him.
He stepped into the tub and held out his hand. I unhooked my bra, slid off my panties, and let him help me in.
The water was perfect — hot enough to pull a sigh from my lips. He settled onto the built-in bench and pulled me onto his lap so I straddled him. His cock pressed against my stomach, hard and insistent. His hands spanned my waist, thumbs stroking the curve of my hips.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi."
He reached for the champagne, popped the cork, and poured two glasses. Handed me one.
"To surprises," he said.
I touched my glass to his. "To bad decisions that feel right."
We drank. Bubbles fizzed on my tongue. Hunter set both glasses aside and pulled me closer, water lapping at our skin.
"I've been thinking about this all day." His lips traced my collarbone, my shoulder, the curve of my neck. "Watching you in that dress. Wanting to touch you. Wanting to taste you."
"Touch me now."
His hands slid up to cup my breasts. His thumbs brushed my nipples and I let out a soft moan.
"Sensitive?" He did it again, watching my reaction with dark eyes.
"Very."
He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth. Sucked gently at first, then harder when I gasped. His other hand slid between my legs, fingers parting my folds beneath the water.
"You're so wet," he murmured against my breast. "All this for me?"
"Your fault."