Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
AMY
Ipulled the rake across the dry, empty yard, kicking up a respectable cloud of dust in my wake.
There was no grass, only parched earth scarred by the weeds that had once covered it like a bristly green and brown rug.
But even without a lawn, it looked surprisingly better.
I’d already made arrangements for a landscaper to come and fix the sprinklers and plant grass seeds.
Hunter walked out onto his front porch, wearing a tight white t-shirt that seemed to be working overtime to contain the mass of muscles beneath it.
Sometimes the man looked so ridiculously intimidating, it was a wonder that the crows and squirrels in his front yard didn’t all flee for safety.
He picked up his toolbox from the porch and walked down the steps.
Nothing had been settled or untangled after the night in the pilot house.
I still couldn’t reason my own actions when I’d walked up there and nearly jumped naked into his lap.
I’d been so damn relieved to see him back safe that everything else, the anger, the hurt, had all but vanished.
I’d missed him so much, and he looked so miserable sitting there with his empty bottle of whiskey, dark expression and open gash, all I could think of doing was something to make him feel better.
There had been plenty of selfish motive too.
Seeing him sit there without his shirt, looking irresistibly hot as usual, my body had reacted instantly.
If nothing else, my physical desire for Hunter Stone never wavered.
In a way, it was a curse because it seemed the best way to protect myself from heartbreak was to say no to him.
But I hadn’t found the self-discipline I needed to turn him away.
For now, nothing had been resolved, but we were talking again.
And I needed that. I needed him to still be a part of my life.
I watched him from beneath the wide brim of the straw hat I’d been wearing to keep the sun off my face. The weather had been unseasonably warm, but I loved it. It was always easier to coax myself outside into the yard when it wasn’t shrouded by a layer of cold fog.
“Where are you headed to with your box of tools, Mr. Handyman?”
“Heard someone wanted to fix the engine on their boat.” He lifted the wide brim of the hat to see my face. “I don’t have any work, and I can’t sit around all day with Slade and play video games. He’s annoying to play with because he’s way better and he gloats like a fucking spoiled brat about it.”
“In other words, you needed something to take your mind off wanting to throttle your brother?”
“Yeah, something like that.” He glanced around at the yard. “Who knew there was a yard under all those weeds? Guess I need to do the same.”
“Yep. You guys will be the only eyesore left when I get this place all spiffed up.”
“Spiffed? See, that’s what I missed the most. Your comical vocabulary.”
“Really?” I pressed my boobs so that they jutted against the snug cotton fabric of my shirt. “You missed my comical vocabulary most of all?”
“Well, not the most.” Not giving a damn that we were standing in the front yard, he reached over and pinched my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
I felt the pinch between my legs as if he’d reached down my shorts and stroked me.
Time spent not touching each other had been like a long torture session for both of us.
He lowered his hand to his side.
“Why don’t you boys have work?” I looked up at him. “It’s not because of me giving David the boot, is it?”
He shrugged. “Might have something to do with it, but Rincon was having staff problems. He decided to shake up everything, including his crew on the water. He’s laying low for awhile and then he’s looking for new people.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, just wait until the three of us show up at your door needing to be fed.”
“Considering that the three of you can consume more food than six normal human beings, that would be scary. As it is, we don’t have much in the kitchen except poisoned cookies.”
“Did you say poisoned cookies? What the hell, did Santa leave you a bucket of coal or what?”
“Don’t ask. Just be glad that Mom only came after you with a vase.” I glanced away to let him know this wasn’t the time for advice about my mom. I motioned toward the toolbox. “Are you really going to fix the Ranger’s engine?”
“If it’s all right with the owner.”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Are you walking down there?”
“Too hard to carry this on my bike. But I’ll need the keys to the boat.”
I walked over and rested my rake against the porch. “Be right back. I’ll walk down there with you. I could use a break from yard work. Just let me check on my mom.”
Mom was in my dad’s old chair. She’d fallen asleep watching her favorite soap opera. Oddly enough, as groggy and out of it as she’d been on the new meds, she always remembered exactly when to sit down for her show. She still knew exactly what was happening in the series.
I grabbed the boat keys from the drawer where we kept them.
I tossed my hat on the kitchen chair, knowing that I’d be struggling to keep it on my head on the breezy walk down to the marina.
It was silly, but I was excited, like a schoolgirl with a damn crush, about spending some time with Hunter.
He was like that for me. As annoying as it was, I was never able to tamp down those same giddy feelings I got when I was going to see him.
I hopped down the steps, and we headed in the direction of the marina. “What will you guys do now? Hey, maybe we could fix up the Ranger and renew our dads’ commercial fishing licenses. We could start a fleet of fishing boats,” I suggested.
“Not sure if two trawlers, including one that might not even be seaworthy anymore, would make a fleet.” Hunter combed his black hair back with his fingers.
The fabric on his shirt was stretched so thin with the movement of his massive arm muscles, I could almost see his tattoos clearly through it.
“Slade’s the only one with fishing in his blood.
I’m not sure what the hell to do. We’ve all managed to stash some cash away.
Working for Rincon had its risks, but it also had its benefits. ”
“Like not having to work too hard for money?”
“Shit, Street, when you put it that way, makes me feel like a lazy ass loser.”
“Does it? Then I phrased the question perfectly.” Mrs. Grinwald’s black and white cat, Tux, came out from behind the rose bushes in front of her house.
I leaned over, and as usual, the cat snaked itself around my legs in a perfect figure eight, making sure to rub every inch of its head, body and tail against my jeans.
I stroked his ears. “Tux, I think you just might have been a pair of socks in a former life.” A bird skittered out from the bushes and pulled away the cat’s attention.
Hunter had grown quiet. He stared straight ahead as we walked, and I took the opportunity to gaze at his profile. His cheek was healing. The cut had scabbed over. It would leave a scar, but at least he was able to move his face without it bleeding again.
“You never did tell me how you got that cut.” I’d hurt his feelings with my earlier comment, so I decided to change subjects.
He shook his head, letting me know he didn’t really want to go into detail. “Bad losers at a poker game,” he finally muttered.
We walked on. Gunmetal gray seagulls coasted overhead on outstretched wings, waiting for something tasty to pop up above the water’s surface.
Most of the fishing boats and even some of the pleasure boats were out at sea.
It was an exceptionally beautiful day, clear blue with white puffs of clouds and water that looked like green glass.
I took a deep breath. The pungent smell that was uniquely coastal filled my nose. “This is the kind of day where I wonder how anyone can live in a place where you can’t see the ocean? How do people who live in the middle of the country, landlocked and miles away from the coast, stand it?”
“Don’t know.”
I grabbed his arm to stop him and circled around in front of him. “You’re mad about what I said.”
“No, I love being told I’m a loser. Especially coming from you.”
I smiled up at him. “Especially coming from me? So, what I say means something?”
“Stop. You know damn well it does, Street.”
I traced my fingers over the black ink I could see underneath the stretched white shirt. “Here’s the thing—”
He sighed. “Here comes one of those infamous Street lectures—”
“Fuck you, and that’s right, so listen. Your dad sucked.
O.K. I didn’t need to state the obvious, but it’s my lead in.
The one thing he did right was work hard.
He was a good fisherman, and while that was the only thing about his entire existence that should have earned him a shred of respect, it’s a fact.
But you guys, you’re all so much above him on the human chain that it’s like you aren’t even the same species.
Hunter, don’t let him be above you on that.
Even if he is just a crappy, ugly memory, he doesn’t deserve to be thought of as a man who worked harder than his sons. ”
Hunter gazed down at me with those brown eyes that could see right into my heart. I knew my words had reached him. His throat moved as he swallowed, almost as if he was swallowing back what I’d told him. “We should get going.”
I put my hands on his chest to stop him from moving forward.
“At this pace, I won’t have any light to work on the engine.”
“Good.” I pressed my body against his. “Do you have any gas in the Durango?”
“Some,” he said almost as a question. “What do you have in mind?”
I rubbed my hip against his fly and wasn’t disappointed to feel his cock hardening against me. “I was thinking, it’s such a nice day, it would be a shame to waste. You know that quiet little place on the side of the marina where we used to go when we wanted to—”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me along to the marina. “I fucking missed you, my wild little Street Corner Girl.”