2. Hunter
Chapter Two
HUNTER
Abigail’s eyes widen as she stares up at me. “What do you mean?”
I can’t help but track the movement of her pink tongue as it darts out to moisten her full lips.
“I mean exactly what I said.”
The air between us practically sizzles.
For a split second, I consider closing the distance between us so I can taste those lips again and show her exactly what I mean instead of telling her. But before I can move, Abigail takes a sudden step backward.
Instantly, she winces.
“Easy, baby.” I guide her to a nearby boulder and ease her down gently. “Let me look at that ankle.”
I kneel in front of her and carefully take her boot off and roll down her sock.
Shit.
The ankle’s already swelling.
“Abby, what are you even doing up here?” I ask even though I already know the answer.
Wyatt mentioned she was flying in, and I’ve been watching the skies like a damn teenager waiting for her arrival.
“I’m in town for Jace and Lindsay’s couple shower.” She hisses when I hit a tender spot. “I thought I could handle this trail, but...” She gestures helplessly at her ankle.
“It’s definitely sprained.” I roll her sock back up but leave the boot off. “I’m carrying you back down.”
Abigail’s eyes pop wide. “Hunter, no. I’m too heavy!”
I snort as I look her over from head to toe. “I bench press calves that weigh more than you, city girl.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and she opens her mouth like she’s about to argue before thinking better of it.
“Fine,” she says reluctantly. “But only because I don’t see another option.”
I scoop her up easily, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She’s light, just as I expected, and fits against my chest perfectly.
“Hold on to my neck, baby,” I instruct.
Abigail hesitates. Then, finally, she wraps her arms around me.
As we start to head back down, I keep my eyes focused straight ahead. Because if I look at her now, with her lips just inches from mine, I’ll be done for.
I’ve known Abigail Clayton since we were kids. I was Brody’s friend first and was always at their house, always orbiting the Clayton family like a moon caught in their gravity. They took me in after my dad died and my mom left, and made me feel like I belonged somewhere when I had nothing.
Abigail always tagged along with Brody and me, and her blonde curls bounced as she tried to keep up on those skinny legs. Even at twelve, she was beautiful, all big blue eyes and a smile that lit up her whole face. Smart as a whip too, always with her nose in some book twice the size of what other kids were reading.
By the time she was sixteen and I was nineteen, I was completely gone for her.
She’d grown into those long legs and started filling out her shirts in ways that made my mouth dry. But she was Brody’s little sister. Off-limits. Sacred.
When she left for college and then took that fancy corporate job in Houston, I told myself it was for the best. I dated other women. Moved to Montana for a bit. Tried to move on.
But no one ever measured up.
No one had Abigail’s laugh or tilted their head the way she does when she’s thinking hard about something.
Ever since Wyatt called to tell me she was coming back from Houston, I’ve spent the last two weeks wondering when I’d run into her. Imagining what I’d say. How casual I’d be.
I never imagined I’d get to feel her in my arms.
After all these years, Abigail’s more stunning than I remembered. Her face has matured from pretty to gorgeous, with high cheekbones, full lips, and those same piercing blue eyes that see right through me. Her curves filling out her hiking clothes, the way her jeans hug her ass, how her round tits press against my chest with each step I take.
“Hunter?” Her voice snaps me back to the present.
“Yeah?”
“You can put me down when we get to the house. I don’t want everyone making a fuss.”
I can’t help but laugh at that.
“Your entire family lives to make a fuss, Abigail. It’s the Clayton way.”
The main house comes into view, grand and sprawling with its wide front porch and stone columns. Home to the Claytons for generations.
I see Wyatt before he sees us. He’s standing on the porch with his phone pressed to his ear, but the moment he spots us, his expression shifts from concentration to alarm. He ends his call abruptly and jogs down the steps toward us.
“What the fuck happened?” He scans his sister for visible injuries.
“East ridge trail collapsed. Found her hanging on by her fingernails over a twenty-foot drop.”
“I had a good hold,” Abigail protests, color rising in her cheeks.
I give her a sharp look. “You were clinging to a scrub oak that was pulling out by the roots. Another minute and you’d have been at the bottom of that ravine.”
Wyatt’s face darkens.
“Goddamnit, Abby. Those trails have been off-limits since the spring washout. There are signs posted everywhere.”
“I didn’t see any signs,” she mumbles. Then she presses her lips together in that stubborn way I remember so well.
Melody appears in the doorway, one hand resting on her rounded belly.
“Wyatt? What’s—” Her eyes widen when she sees Abigail in my arms. “Oh no, what happened?”
“Your sister-in-law decided to go hiking on the ridge trail,” Wyatt grumbles.
Melody’s face shifts from concern to exasperation.
“The ridge trail? Abby, that whole area is unstable! We’ve had three slides already this spring.”
“I’m aware now, thank you,” Abigail says tightly. Then she winces, and her hand goes to her ankle. “I think I’m bleeding through the bandage.”
That gets everyone moving.
Wyatt hurries ahead to hold the door while Melody directs me toward the living room.
“Put her on the sofa,” Melody instructs as she grabs pillows to elevate Abigail’s foot.
I lower her carefully onto the cushions, and for just a second, our eyes meet. An electric and undeniable current passes between us. The memory of her hungry mouth on mine flashes in my mind. I step back quickly and break the connection.
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Melody says. She either didn’t notice or is politely ignoring whatever just happened between us.
Wyatt crouches by his sister’s foot and gently unwraps the makeshift bandage. Abigail hisses in pain.
“Sorry.” He whistles low when he sees the swelling. “You did a number on this, sis.”
“Is it broken?” I’m hovering awkwardly behind the sofa, not sure if I should stay or go.
“Can’t tell for sure without an X-ray, but?—”
“No X-ray,” Abigail interrupts. “It’s just a sprain. Some ice and elevation and I’ll be fine.”
The front door bangs open, and Brody and Luke storm in. They look ready for battle.
“We heard someone fell off a cliff.” Brody scans the room until his eyes land on Abigail. His shoulders visibly relax. “Oh good, you’re not dead.”
Luke moves past him. His expression is more controlled, but concern is evident in his eyes. “What happened?”
Abigail attempts to lighten the mood with humor.
“Hunter saved me from certain death. Very heroic. He’ll probably expect a parade.”
Brody’s face splits into a grin.
“Oh yeah? Hunter Thomas to the rescue, huh?” He punches my shoulder. “Nice work, man. Though saving baby sister usually earns you a beer, not a parade.”
“She wasn’t exactly in a swimming pool with water wings,” I growl, irritated that she’s downplaying the danger she was in. “The trail collapsed. She was hanging off the edge of a twenty-foot drop.”
Luke’s eyebrows shoot up. “The ridge trail? Jesus, Abby, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wanted to see the view from the lookout point. I grew up on this ranch, same as all of you. I know these trails.”
“Knew,” Wyatt corrects. “Past tense. Things change in seven years, Abigail.”
Melody returns with the first aid kit and a bowl of warm water.
“Instead of standing around giving her grief, maybe you boys could help?”
She hands towels to Brody and directs Luke to get ice packs from the freezer.
Wyatt continues his examination of Abigail’s ankle, his touch gentle despite his stern expression.
“This needs X-rays, Abby. We’ll take you to the clinic in town.”
“It’s not that bad,” she protests, but when he touches a particular spot, she jerks and goes pale.
“Yeah, we’re getting it X-rayed.” Wyatt’s expression is firm and leaves no room for argument.
I take a step back, suddenly feeling out of place in this family scene. I’m the ranch manager now, not the kid who practically lived here. There’s a line between us that wasn’t there before. A professional boundary.
A boundary I thoroughly obliterated when I kissed her on that ridge.
“I should get back to work.” I rub the back of my neck. “Got a new irrigation system going in the south pasture today.”
Wyatt glances up, and it looks like he forgot I was here. “Right. Thanks for bringing her in, Hunter.”
“No problem.” I try for casual, but my voice sounds strained even to my own ears.
Abigail’s eyes find mine again, a question in them that I’m not ready to answer. What did that kiss mean? Where do we go from here? How do I tell her I’ve been waiting years to hold her like that?
I don’t know. All I know is that everything’s changed, and I have no idea what happens next.
The next three days are absolute torture.
After Wyatt texted me that the X-rays showed just a bad sprain, I expected to hear from Abigail. Some kind of acknowledgment of what happened between us on that ridge. A thank-you. A “let’s talk.”
Hell, even a “that was a mistake” would be better than this silence.
But nothing. Radio silence. And it’s driving me fucking crazy.
I check my phone for the hundredth time today and scroll through our nonexistent text thread like somehow I missed something. Nothing’s there except the last message from months ago when she asked about the ranch’s quarterly numbers. All business.
I toss another hay bale onto the truck bed with more force than necessary. The new ranch hand—Kevin or Kyle or whatever his name is—gives me a wary look and steps back.
“Something wrong, boss?” he asks as he adjusts his gloves.
“Nope.” I grab another bale. “Just getting the job done.”
He nods but gives the hay a wide berth, like my bad mood might be contagious. Smart kid.
The truth is, I can’t get that kiss out of my head. The way she melted against me after I pulled her to safety. The way she gripped my shirt like she’d never let go. How she looked up at me with those blue eyes, pupils blown wide, and whispered my name like a prayer. The soft gasp she made when our lips finally connected.
It wasn’t just relief at being rescued. There was something more there. Something that’s been building between us for years. I felt it. I know she felt it too.
So why is she avoiding me now?
I’ve seen her car at the main house. Caught glimpses of her through windows. Once, I even saw her hobbling across the yard on crutches, but she disappeared inside before I could make my way over. It’s like she’s playing some elaborate game of hide-and-seek, except I’m the only one seeking.
I’ve never been the type to obsess over women. Usually, it’s the opposite. They chase me until I get bored or they realize I’m not looking for anything serious. But this is different. Abigail is different.
That kiss awakened something in me that feels primal. Possessive. Protective. Like some ancient part of my brain has recognized her as mine and won’t tolerate any other outcome.
It should scare me, this intensity. But it doesn’t. It feels right. Like all these years of fighting my feelings for her were the unnatural part.
I finish loading the hay and slam the tailgate shut with enough force to make the whole truck rattle.
“Take this to the south pasture,” I tell the new guy. “I’ve got something to take care of at the main house.”
He nods, clearly relieved to be escaping my mood. I don’t wait to see him drive off. I’m already striding toward the Clayton place, each step more determined than the last.
I let myself in through the side door that leads to the kitchen, and the sound of women’s voices hits me before I see them. I round the corner and freeze.
Abigail is leaning over the massive kitchen island, surrounded by fabric swatches, flower arrangements, and what looks like a hundred paint samples. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, with a few strands that escape to frame her face. She’s gesturing at something on a tablet while talking to a woman in a crisp blouse who’s taking notes.
And then Abigail looks up and sees me.
The sentence she was in the middle of dies on her lips.
Her blue eyes widen, and for a split second, she looks like she’s considering bolting from the room. That’s all the confirmation I need that she’s been avoiding me on purpose.
“Hunter.” Her voice is composed despite the flicker of panic I caught in her eyes a moment ago. “What a surprise to see you here.”
Before I can respond, the perky woman standing next to Abigail practically bounces forward, hand extended.
“You must be Hunter Thomas, the ranch manager!” She pumps my hand enthusiastically, her grip surprisingly firm for someone so small. “I’m Veronica Phillips, the wedding planner. And can I just say, you are absolutely just in time!”
I raise an eyebrow and look between her beaming face and Abigail’s carefully neutral expression.
“Just in time for what, exactly?”
Veronica pulls me toward their work area like we’re old friends. “We’re having a bit of an issue we could use your expertise on. Abigail says you know this ranch better than anyone.”
I glance at Abigail, whose cheeks have gone slightly pink. She’s been talking about me, has she?
“What kind of issue?” I cross my arms over my chest and try not to focus on how good Abigail looks today in her tight shirt and jeans.
Abigail sighs and adjusts her position to take weight off her injured ankle.
“Lindsay really wants chandeliers hung from the rafters in the barn for the shower. It’s apparently a non-negotiable part of her vision.” She points to some photos on the tablet. “Something like these. But we weren’t sure about the setup or if it’s even possible.”
I lean over to look at the pictures. The images show elaborate crystal chandeliers hanging in rustic barn settings. Pretty, but completely impractical for our space.
“The rafters won’t hold those. Not safely, anyway. They’re decorative, not structural.”
Abigail’s face falls. “Seriously?”
I nod. “They’d come crashing down the minute you turned on the music.”
Abigail sighs, disappointment evident in her eyes. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Something in her expression tugs at me. Before I can stop myself, I’m mentally reconfiguring the entire electrical system of the barn.
“Tell you what, the rafters won’t work, but I could rig something up with steel cables. We’d need to strengthen the electrical system, too. Those chandeliers plus a DJ’s equipment would blow every fuse in the place.”
A spark of hope lights up Abigail’s eyes. “Really? You could make it work?”
I feel a smirk forming on my lips. “I’ve got an engineering degree and seven years of rigging up solutions on this ranch. A few chandeliers aren’t going to beat me.”
“That would be fantastic!” Veronica says. “When could you start? We’re on a pretty tight timeline.”
“I can get started right now.” I check my watch. “I’ve got a couple hours before I need to check on the new calves.”
Turning to Abigail, I add casually, “You could come help me as my assistant. We’d make a good team, knock it right out.”
Abigail’s eyes widen slightly, but before she can respond, Veronica claps her hands together.
“That’s perfect!” She’s completely oblivious to the tension crackling between Abigail and me. “Two heads are better than one, and this way you can see exactly what we’re looking for, Abigail.”
Abigail shifts her weight, wincing slightly when she puts pressure on her bad ankle.
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be with this.” She gestures down at her foot.
“You don’t need to climb anything,” I say. “Just hand me tools, hold the light. Simple stuff.”
Veronica gathers her papers into a neat stack.
“This works out great since I actually need to run to the craft store. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” She slips her tablet into her bag. “Just text me if you need anything else for the chandeliers!”
Then she’s out the door in a whirlwind of enthusiasm that leaves behind a sudden silence.
I turn to Abigail and grin as I nod toward the barn. “Shall we?