Chapter Three
Lana
“He asked you to do what?” Holly stares toward me with wide eyes as Hunter finishes the last few signings of the day.
The store has been a madhouse with mobs of people and little downtime.
It’s the first second we’ve had to talk, and even now, hours later, I can barely contain my excitement. “Are you serious?”
“Totally. I… I don’t know how it happened. I mean, how do I act normal now? He wants this authentic version of a girl like me and all the sudden I have no idea how to be authentic.”
She pinches her lips together. “Girl, I am so jealous. Are you sure he isn’t looking for a curvy, cute, single mom for his next story?”
I smile and squeeze her hand. “Is it weird that I’d rather it were you? Seriously… I’m totally blanking on what I actually do with my life. Surely, he doesn’t want to watch me eat half a frozen pizza and watch reruns of The Golden Girls.”
Holly snorts, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Honestly? That sounds like peak authenticity. Really, though, when was the last time you had a chance to do that? You’ve been so busy with your mom. How’s she feeling by the way?”
I shake my head, noticing that Hunter’s taking the podium for his reading. I’ve been nervous about this part. The moment where I listen to his deep graveled voice say all the filthy things I’ve been reading.
“She’s okay,” I manage, diverting my gaze back toward Holly. “My aunt agreed to go sit with her tonight so I could go out. I think this might be the first time I’ve left home for a place other than the bookstore, the hospital, or the market in months.”
“Just be yourself. That’s what he’s looking for.” She grins playfully. “You want me to come? I can be the over-the-top best friend. He must be looking for a side muse too, right?”
I laugh. “Sounds good. You can punch me in the leg whenever I start sounding like an idiot.”
“I wish! Kade has a birthday party on the other side of the mountain. I have to play nice with the mom. Did you know that parents stay at these parties now? What happened to just dropping the kid off and getting a second to yourself?”
I try to dial into what Holly is saying but there’s a panic in my chest that won’t let me focus.
I’d have paid to spend time alone with Hunter Black yesterday.
Today, it’s like a horror movie come to life.
I mean, if I can’t even make conversation with the mail man, how am I going to make conversation with one of the top romance authors in the world, especially if he’s taken small talk off the table?
I think my talks with people usually revolve around my dog or the weather.
In my defense, Bailey is always doing something cute, and the weather is always changing around here.
“Why don’t you show him around downtown, maybe get some Christmas shopping done? Then you can go back to your mom’s place, and I don’t know, be normal. Or… erase all those ideas and go back to his place,” she winks, “and be all the muse he can handle.”
I roll my eyes, but the blush creeping up my neck betrays me. “You’re impossible.”
Holly grins, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m just saying, he asked for authenticity, not sainthood. You can be normal and still be magnetic. You’ve got that whole ‘accidental enchantress’ vibe going.”
I snort. “What are you talking about? I’m awkward as hell.”
“Exactly… that’s why the enchanting part is accidental.”
I’m still laughing when the soft tap of a microphone cuts through the buzz of the store. The crowd quiets, heads turning toward the podium. Holly nudges me with a knowing smirk just as Hunter steps forward, his presence commanding without trying too hard.
Lord, the man is attractive!
I mean, it’s everything about him. His looks, his presence, the way his voice resonates so deep and calm. I’m soaking wet just standing here.
I’m guessing the sixty other women currently hypnotized are rocking the same soaking cotton… but he’s looking at me.
Why is he looking at me?
My cheeks pink as he clears his throat and opens the book, creasing the edge with his massive hand.
“If you can’t tell from my writing, I love the mountains.
Whenever I get a chance, I’m tucked away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere writing.
I have to say, Rugged Mountain is truly special, and I’m honored to be here today with all of you.
” He brushes his hand down over his beard.
“Today I’m reading a few paragraphs from my most recent book. I hope you enjoy.”
I swear the crowd is more silent than any I’ve ever heard, like every woman in the room is waiting with bated breath for him to speak.
I’m one of them.
‘Her breath hitched as he traced the line of her collarbone, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing her in pieces, every part of her a story he couldn’t wait to read.
He pressed her back against the cabin wall, the wood cool against her spine, her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. Soon, there was no space left between them. Only skin, breath, and the ache of desire they’ve had for far too long.
“Say it. Say you want this,” he whispered, mouth grazing her jaw.’
Hunter’s voice rumbles impossibly deep as he speaks and a shiver runs through me. I might die here and now.
‘She sighed and arched into him, her breath catching as his lips traced the curve of her neck. “I want this.” The touch of his mouth felt like a secret only her skin could read, and this moment was being held in time for the two of them alone.
If magic were to exist, this was it.
The cabin was dim, lit only by the flicker of firelight and the storm’s pulse outside, but he saw her clearly. Every shiver, every silent plea as his hands slid beneath the hem of her sweater, rough palms meeting soft skin. The instant desperation meets reality.
She gasped with recognition. This was the moment she’d imagined and feared. The one where wanting became need, and need became surrender. The moment where she’d finally have the man she’d been longing for.
She didn’t speak, but her body answered, arching into him, fingers threading through his hair, mouth parted in a silent invitation. He kissed her like he’d been waiting years, like every second without her had been a slow unraveling of his very being.’
Hunter turns the page slowly, voice dipping lower.
‘Her sweater slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet as his hands followed the curve of her waist, reverent and rough. She gasped when his lips found the hollow of her throat, and he smiled against her skin, knowing he’d found the place where her pulse betrayed her.’
A few people in the crowd shift, breath caught, eyes wide.
Hunter glances up briefly, and I swear his gaze is on me again.
My heart stiffens.
‘She wasn’t fragile. She was fire, and he wanted to watch her burn.’
He nods toward the crowd and closes the book. “You’ll have to finish the rest on your own and let me know your thoughts. I am open to questions if anyone has any.”
The room exhales at once as a woman in the front row raises her hand enthusiastically. She’s pretty with long dark hair and big brown eyes. For some reason, I’m a bit jealous of the moment of attention he shows her. “Do you write from imagination or experience?”
His gaze wanders toward me again for a fraction of a second. It’s noticeable enough that I wonder whether it was intentional. “A little of both,” he says, readjusting his watch. “Imagination gives me the freedom to go anywhere. Experience gives me a reason to go.”
Another hand goes up, another gorgeous woman with eyes on him like she’d devour whatever he’s serving. “You say you write from experience but you’re single. How does that work?”
I see now why he hates public events. People don’t understand when they’ve crossed a line.
There’s a subtle shift in his posture. “I start with something real. A memory, a feeling, a person I can’t forget. Fiction allows me to reshape it, create the what if’s.” He laughs. “The job is a lot easier when I have a muse.”
Wait… how many muses has he had? Maybe he does this all the time. Maybe he has a muse in every little mountain town he visits.
My stomach twists as I think about the trail of women who probably think they’re the reason for the ache behind his prose. I mean, his words feel lived because they have been.
Holly’s whisper pauses my racing thoughts. “You’re staring.”
I blink, tearing my gaze away from the massive man still answering questions at the podium. “I’m not.”
“You are, like you’re trying to read the footnotes of his soul.”
I laugh, but it’s thin. She has me dead to rights.
I want to know who makes him ache, who makes him long, and why he needs me if he has her.
“Oh God,” Holly bites back a grin, “he’s coming this way.”
I glance in his direction, though I don’t know why. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
She arches a brow. “Tell that to your face.”
“That noticeable?”
“Very noticeable. You look like you’re going to throw up and come all at once.” She glances at the clock. “Just in time, too. Your shift is up.”
I’m done? The day is over? How the hell is the day over already, and how the hell am I going to entertain this guy for the rest of the night?
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I unpin my name tag with trembling fingers, heart thudding like it’s trying to find the exit door.
Hunter makes his way through the crowd, eyes locked on mine like he’s already written the next scene and I’m the only one who doesn’t know my lines.
Holly slips away with a wink, leaving me standing there like an idiot who’s forgotten how to speak, how to breathe, how to be cool.
What did I get myself into?
He stops in front of me, close enough that I catch the scent of cedar on his skin. It’s warm, earthy, and familiar. It’s almost like he belongs here.
“Ready?” he asks, voice low, like it’s meant for just me. “I need a break from the lights.”
I nod, but it’s not my voice that answers. It’s the heat crawling up my spine, and the way my body leans toward his like gravity itself has a crush.
We’re moving. I don’t remember how, but I’m in motion, and soon we’re stepping out into the cold December air, shoulder to shoulder. It’s then that I realize this isn’t his story anymore.
It’s mine, and I want to be wrecked by it.