8. Hunter
CHAPTER EIGHT
HUNTER
“ I ’m cutting you off.” Taking the drink out of Ashlie’s hand, I set it on a nearby table.
She puffs out her bottom lip and whines, “You’re no fun!”
Holy hell, I want that lip between my teeth . “You’re drunk, and it’s time to go.”
“Just let me finish it.” She stumbles, reaching around me for the cup. “I already paid for it.”
“Naw. I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Let’s find you some water.”
“Can we get tacos?” she slurs, holding onto my arm for balance. I won’t be surprised if she loses the high-heeled boots before we make it to the parking lot.
“So you can puke all over my car again? Naw, I’m good…” I dig out my phone and shoot off a text to Aiden. “Give me your phone so I can text Willa.”
“Oh, no. Is she okay?” Willa pops up out of nowhere while Ashlie relearns how pockets work. “What happened? Who did she run into?”
“Marcus.” I shift my body to catch Ashlie as she sways to the music unsteadily. She drops her phone, and Willa hands it to me.
“ Ugh . Asshole.” She offers her water to Ashlie, who pushes it away. “Let me help you get her to the car.”
“Have you seen Aiden?”
“I’m pretty sure he left with Isaiah to ‘catch up.’” She throws up air quotes. Wrapping her arm around Ashlie, she maneuvers through the crowd. I follow closely behind, steadying the drunken fairy when she sways too far, knocking Willa off balance. I’m focused on the doors in front of us when Ashlie pulls out of Willa’s grasp suddenly, catching her heel on the top step. Her body lurches forward and slams onto the stairs.
“ Shit !” Willa and I say collectively.
“ Owww ,” Ashlie groans, sprawled out like a marionette. We scramble to sit her up, and I scan her body for injuries. No blood, but the heel broke off her boot in the spill. Willa stops me when I reach for the zipper around Ashlie’s thigh.
“She can’t walk barefoot with all that broken glass in the parking lot.”
“I planned on carrying her.” I reach again for the zipper and slip off the boot. My hand pauses on her foot as I home in on the sexy-as-fuck pink polish on her toenails. Willa clears her throat, and I’m met with a stifled smirk when I look at her. “What?” I say, a little too sharply.
“ Nothing …” She holds up her hands defensively, then gets to work on the other boot.
We help her stand, and I put my hands on Ashlie’s cheeks until her glazed eyes focus on me. “Ash, I’m gonna pick you up.”
She nods lazily as I lift her, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and snuggling into my chest. “Don’t drop me.”
Goosebumps scatter across my body when she nuzzles her nose against my neck, her parted lips noticeably close to my skin. “Just…hold on.” That damn perfume drives right through my senses like a drug I’ll always seek. Gritting my teeth, I fail to avoid taking a breath without another hit of the sweet scent. Willa’s watching us with the same annoying smirk, one hand holding the boots while the other sits on her hip. “Ready?” I ask, ignoring the look on her face. She gives a curt nod and walks past me to the exit.
Once I buckle Ashlie in, I take a look at her ankle. It’s double the size it was, and turning redder by the second. There’s no way she’s walking on that in the morning. “Hop in the back,” I say to Willa as I close the door. “I’ll drive you to your car.”
“I’m good. I parked right there.” She points to a purple car parked a couple of spots away. “Hey…” That fucking look is back on her face as we walk around to the trunk. “You’re in love with my sister.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Naw.”
The condescension in her eyes makes it obvious she’s called my bluff before I ever said a thing. “Look, it’s not my business. I’m just saying, I see it. And whenever you two figure out your shit, I approve. Make sure she gets some ice on her ankle.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond before turning on her heel and strolling to her car.
“ Figure out our shit” ? What the hell does that mean ? I know I have shit, but it’s got nothing to do with Ashlie. We’re friends, and that’s how it needs to be. I shake away the nonsense and slide behind the wheel. There’s nothing to figure out .
When we get to Ashlie’s apartment, I set her on the couch and arrange the throw pillows into a plushy throne. “Eat your tacos, honey bear,” I say, ripping the paper bag open for her. I don’t know why I keep calling her honey bear , but she’s too wasted to complain tonight. I don’t hate the way it sounds coming out of my mouth either. With how hard she went at the club, I’ll be surprised if she remembers a thing about it tomorrow.
“My ankle hurts.” Ashlie falls sideways against a pillow, wincing as I prop her leg on the coffee table.
“I know, Ash. Let me get you some ice.” I kick my shoes off and head to the freezer, snagging a couple of water bottles from the fridge before grabbing an ice pack. When I return, she’s halfway through her second taco, eyes closed, shimmying her shoulders in a “happy food” dance. Despite how annoyed I was at myself for giving in to her incessant pouty-lipped request, she’s fucking adorable right now. Chuckling, I sit on the cushion next to her, moving her bad leg onto my lap so I can wrap the ice around it. She’s staring at me when I look up.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You’re a good guy, Hunter.” Her bobblehead nod is a clear indication of how far gone she is. “You don’t let other people see it, but you are…and you have pretty eyes.” She giggles as she leans her head back.
Laughing, I look to the floor. “Yeah, well, you’re drunk and not going to remember any of this tomorrow.”
“Maybe. But it’s still true. You know how to take care of people when it matters.” Our eyes lock, and the urge to press my lips to hers is alarming.
Doing the first thing I can think of, I crack open some water. “You need to drink this, and go to sleep,” I say, securing her hands around the bottle. After a couple of tries, she finds her mouth. “I’ll help you to your bed whenever you’re done eating.”
She takes a few gulps, giggles again, and snores lightly as she starts to fall asleep. Smiling, I let myself take her in, just for a minute. Her eyelashes cast a shadow over the glittered freckles on her nose, and I stifle that nagging urge to kiss her. Fuck, man . Off-limits .
It has to be the full moon. That’s maybe the tenth time I’ve had to ignore the impulse to drown in her tonight. Willa’s sidebar from the parking lot echoes in my head. Figure out your shit . There’s nothing to figure out. Ashlie needs stable relationships, and I can’t stand the thought of being tied to anyone longer than a couple of weeks. We want different things .
The food wrappers crinkle in my hands as I gather the garbage from Ashlie’s lap and move it to the coffee table. “Ash,” I whisper. “I’m gonna carry you to bed. You ready?”
She responds with a snore, so I cradle her in my arms and walk her into her dark bedroom. I lay her on the pillow, rolling her to the side to slip the fairy wings off her shoulders. She instantly curls her body, slipping praying hands under her cheek as if she’s already lost in dreamland.
Her silk hair bonnet peeks out from under the pillow, and I slide it over her curls. If I’ve learned anything from watching Ashlie help my sister, it’s the necessity to protect the curls at all costs. She’ll thank me in the morning.
She groans about her ankle again, and her pinched expression hits me square in the chest. Folding the other bed pillow in half, I reach under the comforter to prop up her foot. I doubt she’ll keep it there all night, but it’s better than nothing. She already has ibuprofen on her nightstand, so I head back into the living room to grab her water bottle. When I stick it on the small table, she stirs.
“Hunt,” she whispers. “Can you stay with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out on the couch.”
“No”—she pats the space next to her—“right here. Just until I fall asleep.”
I shouldn’t do it. Tonight has been too charged on my end. I need to walk my ass out to the couch, but she looks right at me with those sleepy doe eyes, and I can’t say no.
Silently, I climb on top of the blanket, utilizing the bedspread between us as a safety barrier. I slide my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling, thinking of every random thing besides how much I want to pull her closer. She’s quiet for several minutes, but when I look over, she’s watching me. “Ash, go to sleep.”
She props on her elbow, leaning in close enough for me to see her freckles in the pale moonlight streaming through her window. “Thank you,” she whispers, then brushes her lips against mine. Her featherlight fingertips graze my cheek, and I freeze as she kisses me again, pushing the tip of her tongue past my parted lips.
Give in, dummy . Latch on and drown in her . But the voice of reason in the back of my head is louder than my desire. “Ash, no,” I say, pulling away. “You’re drunk.”
“I just wanted to know if you tasted the same.” She leans in one last time. The soft pressure of her mouth on mine opens a trapdoor that drops me straight into devastation. I kiss her back, and everything around me stills. Buzzing warmth washes over me, each molecule in my body rejoicing at the reunion of our lips. Just as I grip her waist, she pulls away with a sigh and lays back on her pillow. “You do,” she whispers, her drowsy eyes falling shut as if she didn’t just turn my world on its head.
I lie next to her for a while before creeping out to the couch. My mind reels while I savor the tingles still coursing through my lips. What the fuck just happened ?