18. Hunter
EIGHTEEN
HUNTER
I don’t buy her flowers. Instead, I go to the greenhouse and pick the most vibrant set of roses on the bushes. Most of the flowers in the garden are covered, winterized against the cold, but the hardier flowers inside still maintain their blooms.
Choosing the pink and white Rugosas was easy, taking me only fifteen minutes at each bush. But I spent half an hour going through our Mordens before landing on a few perfect orange Knock Out roses. While I bundle them up on the kitchen counter, Ella waltzes in, because of course.
“Ooh, pretty!” she says, smacking on a stick of gum. Doublemint, from the smell of it.
“At least you’re avoiding the red dye number 40,” I say to her under my breath. She still hears me and mimics my words.
“I’m assuming those aren’t for me or August. Probably not for Leo. So who is the lucky lady?” She hops up on the counter, swinging her legs.
I don’t respond right away. Instead, I focus on trimming the stems and placing them in the crepe paper I snagged from our housekeeper this morning .
“Could they be for one pretty curly-haired therapist?” She scoots her butt across the counter until she’s sitting almost on top of the flowers. I look up at her, arching an eyebrow.
“Holy shit! They are, aren’t they!” she says, clapping her hands like a seal. “Are y’all a thing? I swear I felt chemistry between the two of you. Oh, my God, tell me the details,” she says when she grabs my arm and starts shaking me.
“Jeez, Ella. What are you, twelve?” Heat creeps up my neck, and for once in the longest time I can remember, I blush. I fucking blush.
“Hunter,” she drawls.
“Yes, they’re for Winter,” I say.
“And you and Winter are…?” She leans into me when she asks.
“Winter and I are…” I search for the right word. Winter and I are giving each other powerful orgasms. Winter and I are dancing around our insane attraction for each other. Winter and I are…
Falling for each other.
What the actual fuck?
“…dating. Winter and I are dating.” When I look at Ella’s face, her eyes are misty, and she’s looking up at me as if I’ve said the most romantic thing ever.
“Calm down, Ellie,” I tell her quietly, tying a bow around the paper-wrapped bouquet.
“I am calm! I’m just happy for you, is all. And her. And August. And me!” She hops off the counter. “I feel it important to warn you, though: don’t do anything that will mess up August’s recovery. If things go south…just don’t let them go south in an explosive way that touches Augie, okay?”
I chew on her words for a minute. If things go south…aren’t they destined to go south?
Not always. This one is yours.
I push back the faces of Blair and Morris Winthrope from my consciousness and focus on the display of blooms. “I won’ t,” I promise Ella. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to deliver these flowers.”
Ella smiles brightly as I leave.
“Use condoms!” she yells out from the kitchen, and one of our guards looks up from his seat near the front door. His eyebrows shoot up, and a knowing smirk crosses his face. I ignore it.
When I find myself at her apartment building an hour later, I’m seriously reconsidering my entire plan for today.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. I’m never nervous.
Are you saying you want to date me, Hunter Brigham? She texted. And even though I should have left her alone, I should have said no, I couldn’t. It was like my mind and body rejected the idea of not being with Winter. So I said yes. Even though this fucked-up engagement to Blair Winthrope hangs over my head like a tornado about to drop and wreck all my shit up.
The valet waves at me from the passenger side window. Taking that as my cue to stop idling in front of her building, I get out, hand him the keys, and square my shoulders as I enter her lobby.
I’m four steps past the entrance of Winter’s building when I run into someone. Not someone—Winter.
“Hunter! What are you doing here?” she asks once she rights herself. The flowers are crushed a little as I inspect them, but I get distracted by the feeling of tiny paws settling on my pant legs.
“Oh! Down, Kitty!” Winter says.
I hear a masculine voice chuckle near us.
Turning, I see a tall and entirely too smiley man who legitimately looks like a superhero in a blockbuster movie standing near Winter.
“I will never get over that dog’s name,” he says.
And much to my annoyance, Winter gives him a gentle grin .
I stand even taller.
“Hunter Brigham,” I say, sticking my hand toward the man. He takes it, and I grip his hand firmly. Not too tightly to seem paranoid, but firmly enough to stake my claim.
“Marcus Law,” he replies. He’s still smiling, and that unsettles me.
“Marcus is my neighbor. He owns an amazing café bookstore down the street from here.” With Winter’s soft hand on my arm, I start to relax. I look at her and am pleased she’s looking back at me.
Only me.
Insecure much?
“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus,” I say, calming down. I release his hand.
Why the hell am I so amped up? Why am I feeling so goddamn awkward?
I am Hunter Motherfucking Brigham. I do not do awkwardness.
“Are those for me?” Winter cuts into my internal beratement, and I remember the flowers.
“Yes,” I say, not wanting to explain that I spent an hour in my mother’s garden picking the exact right flowers for her. At least, not wanting to explain that with Muscle Marcus in earshot.
Luckily, Marcus saves us all by moving on. “Don’t let me get in the way of you two lovebirds. Hunter, Kitty…” He pauses for a minute. “You know, I can’t keep calling you Kitty’s Mom. Will you give me your name now?” He shows his too-straight teeth, and I find myself irrationally wanting to punch them all down his throat.
Clearly our unstated truce is over. Fuck this guy.
Winter rolls her eyes and says, “It’s Winter.”
“Winter,” he says, drawing out her name. I step closer to my girl.
Yes. My girl .
I feel immense satisfaction when her body presses gently against mine.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure. See you around the café, Winter.” And with that, he gives us a tiny salute and heads out the front door of the building.
“So…” Winter says, drawing out the word.
I face her fully, taking her in. She has her North Face unzipped, and she’s dressed in a white cashmere turtleneck, light denim jeans, and snow boots. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, the riot of curls pulled back sleekly only to pouf out of the hairband. Her face is bare of makeup, and for the first time in the bright morning sun, I see the freckles on her nose and the small mole above her right eyebrow.
She looks stunning.
“So…” I say back to her. I can’t contain my smile.
“You never said what you’re doing here, H. Not that I’m not happy to see you. I am. I was just wondering what brings you into the city, specifically U Street. This doesn’t seem quite like your vibe.” She stops talking when I pull her into a hug.
I let her go way too quickly.
“Why are you nervous?” I ask. I cup her cheek, and she closes her eyes, leaning into my touch.
Yes. Just…yes.
This one is yours.
“I’m not nervous.”
I give her a look.
“Okay, you make me nervous! I told you I haven’t done this before and feel awkward. Like, are we going steady now? Am I supposed to wear your letter jacket?”
I laugh at her rambling.
“Winter,” I say quickly. “Will you go out on a date with me?”
Her eyes widen.
“Yes, of course. Wait. Like right now?” She looks around the lo bby as if a passerby could help her navigate this situation.
“Yes, right now. Unless you have plans already?” I let the question hang in the air, aware that I didn’t consider that she’d have plans for her Saturday.
“No!” she says in a rush. “I mean, I planned on working on case notes to send to Dr. Wagner, but no, I don’t have any plans.” She blushes. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking we’d go to artTech first.” Her eyes light up.
“First? artTech?”
“Yes, it’s an immersive art installation. Right now, they have a Renaissance display on roses.”
Her cheeks pinken, and I’m addicted to the sight.
“That sounds amazing,” she says wistfully.
“Then I thought we’d head to the indoor market to see if we can get you some crystals to add to your collection.”
She’s beaming now. “Okay, the art installation and the market. Sounds fun,” she says.
“By then, I figured we’d be hungry, so I thought we’d get lunch at La Maison. Maybe you could get French onion soup.”
“But you hate onions,” she whispers, drawing closer to me as I step toward her.
“I’ll have something different,” I reply with a shrug.
She bites her lip, and I want to draw it between mine.
“Maybe not onions. This is a date, after all,” she says. Her eyes sparkle.
I realize that I’m enamored with everything she does. She could clip her toenails, and I’d probably find that sexy too.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Then I thought we could go to a movie. Because a dating rite of passage is to have a movie theater date, so we definitely need to check that off the list.”
“What would we see?” she asks .
“Hmmm. Probably a scary movie. That way if you get scared, you can curl into my arms. It’s all very strategic, you see.”
She purses her lips, and twisting them into a grin, she says, “I don’t like scary movies though. The principle is stupid.”
“Scary movies are stupid? Some of the classic horror films are literal cinematic canon.”
She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Sure, I guess if one looks at it objectively as an art form. But it makes zero sense to me to pay to be frightened.”
I laugh at her reasoning. “I guess rollercoasters and haunted houses are out for us, huh?”
“Exactly,” she says brightly.
I don’t know if she knows it, but she rubs her hand on my chest, and the feeling drives me wild. It seems like an absent motion, though, but the fact that she’s giving me small touches, small moments of care and intimacy, makes me feel....
“Anything else?” she adds, quirking her eyebrow.
I rally myself to think clearly again.
“I was thinking we’d come back to your place so we could change for dinner. I have a suit in my car.”
“A suit?” she says. Her voice is a little squeaky.
“Yes, then I’m taking you to dinner at Tavalia.”
“I’ve never even heard of that place, but it sounds fancy.”
I chuckle. “It is, and it’s new. But I’ve heard good things about it. But it might be one of those places where the chef is making artistic statements with the menu.”
She bounces on the balls of her feet a few times.
“Okay, so this is a whole day date?” Kitty shakes his fur, the buckles on his harness clinking together.
“Yes, all day. Can I have you?”
She looks into my eyes for a moment, searching. “Yes, you can have me, Hunter. ”
I smile.
Spending a full day on a date with Winter doesn’t feel as awkward as it would with any other woman. I’m sure of it. I wanted to test a theory: would spending more time with her make my interest wane or would my feelings grow stronger?
The feelings I have for her are entirely new. I’ve felt affection and affinity for people before. My friends. August. Ella. But with Winter, this is something very different.
I’m drawn to her, connected to her. I want to breathe her in and never let her go.
This one is yours.
“Before I let you in,” she says as she brings her phone up to the mechanical lock on her apartment door, “just know my place isn’t huge. I wasn’t expecting guests, so it may be a little cluttered.”
The lock whirrs, and Winter opens the door slightly, turning back to me.
“I’m excited to see your home, Winter,” I say simply.
She smiles.
The apartment is quiet when we enter. We’d stopped by the service animal trainers who placed Kitty with Winter. They offer boarding for service dogs, and Winter decided to drop Kitty with them for the evening.
I told her that I didn’t mind Kitty coming with us to dinner, but she guaranteed me that she’d feel more comfortable going to a fancy place without eyes on her because she’s toting a dog.
“Legally, no one can bar your entrance. Furthermore,” I say.
“Furthermore, H? ”
“If anyone were to try to block you from going anywhere, I’d annihilate them.”
She sighed and said, “There you go sounding like you’re in the mob again.”
In the end, she decided boarding him for the night was what she wanted. I didn’t push her on it.
Winter spins around the small living space of her efficiency and flops her arms at her sides. “Well, this is my apartment,” she says. She’s right, it is small. But the space is comfortable, and just how I imagined Winter’s apartment would look.
Her bed is on the far side of the room, separated by a folding screen. A dog bed sits near the floor-to-ceiling windows, and there’s a great view of U Street and the university. She has what looks like a meditation space in the center of the wall of windows. Crystals and candles form a circle around a plush, oversized pillow. In front of it, there’s a large ceramic bowl.
After seeing her excitement at the crystals and incense I bought for her at the market, this feels a hundred percent Winter.
“It’s great,” I say. My smile is genuine.
I lift the flight bag higher on my shoulder, which snaps us out of our trances.
“Why don’t I take the bathroom to get dressed, and you take the room. I’m sure you’ll be much quicker than I am. Not that I’ll take a super long time. I just need fifteen minutes, tops.”
She’s fidgeting again, and I see her picking at her thumbnail. I step closer to her, and her breath hitches.
“Take the time you need.” I grab her hand and squeeze it lightly to stop her from picking.
She heads to the clothes rack and grabs a black dress before reaching for a sparkly silver jumpsuit. She bites her lip.
“What should I wear, H? ”
I drape my flight bag over her bed and walk over to her. “What do you want to wear, Sunbeam?”
She blushes again.
“Why do you call me that?” she asks.
I smile at her. “I’ll tell you later.” Then I place a kiss on her forehead. I want to kiss her more but stop myself. “What do you want to wear?”
“I have not the foggiest idea. What are you wearing?”
“I have a navy suit.”
“Okay, so not black then.” She flicks through a few more dresses before pulling out a gold satin wrap dress. It looks formless on the hanger, but when she clutches it close to her chest and beams at me, I say, “That one is perfect.”
She moves to her shoe rack, snags strappy heels, and heads to the drawers next to her bed. She pulls out black lace, and my mouth goes dry.
“I’ll be just a minute!” she says before shutting the bathroom door firmly.
As I pull off my shirt and toss it on Winter’s bed, I don’t resist the urge to pull one of her pillows to my nose…and accept that I’m thoroughly over my head.