8. Hunter
Chapter eight
Hunter
Iwake before Skye, and spot check the orders. I’ve already done this but once more can’t hurt. I find nothing. They’re perfect
An hour later, I’m slipping under the covers and curling myself against her side.
Pale morning light slants through the window, catching dust motes that swirl lazy in the still air.
Outside, birdsong replaces the rain that's hammered the roof too often lately.
Sunlight falls on her skin where the blanket has slipped to expose her shoulder, and her breathing is slow and even for the first time since she stumbled through the cabin door carrying three hundred seventeen orders and a seemingly impossible deadline.
She bent instead. I caught her. Now the table where her planners sit stacked in boxes is proof.
My hand spreads across her back, fingers spanning her soft, plush curves, and she shifts closer in her sleep. The trust in that unconscious movement tightens my grip on her hip. She's mine now.
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused for a heartbeat before they find mine. Color rises in her cheeks, and she ducks her head against my shoulder with a soft sound that might be embarrassment or contentment. I tilt her chin up with gentle fingers, not letting her hide.
"Morning," I say.
"Morning." She touches my jaw, tracing the line of my beard’s growth with tentative exploration, and heat builds low in my spine. "We actually did it. The orders are done. One more step and we’re free."
"You did it. I just made sure you didn't collapse in the process." Kissing her forehead, then her nose, I brush my lips against her cheekbone. When I pull back, I can see want and gratitude on her face. "How do you feel?"
"Sore. Tired. Happy." She stretches against me, and the slide of bare skin makes my hand tighten on her hip. "I can't remember the last time I woke up without panic sitting on my chest."
"Get used to it." Rolling her beneath me, I settle my weight carefully and bracket her head with my forearms. "You're not going back to doing everything alone. Not the business, not the stress, none of it."
Wariness flickers across her expression before vulnerability chases it down. "Hunter, I live four hours away. I have a lease and clients and a whole life that doesn't fit in this cabin."
"So we'll figure it out." I lower my mouth to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, teeth grazing her sensitive skin until she gasps.
"Move your workspace here. Keep your apartment if you need it. Or sublet it, or we’ll find a way to break your lease.
I don't care about the logistics, Skye. I care that you stay. "
"You're very sure about this." Her fingers thread through my hair, holding me close instead of pushing away. "We've known each other less than a week."
"I've known you long enough to recognize what I want to keep.
" Lifting my head to meet her eyes, I make sure she sees the conviction in mine.
"You think time is what makes this real?
I've watched people spend years together and never see each other the way I see you right now. Time doesn't matter. Choice does."
Her breath catches, and moisture gathers at the corners of her eyes, but her hands pull back from my hair to press flat against my chest. The retreat is small, but I feel it in the sudden tension cording through her shoulders, the way her ribcage lifts with shallow inhales instead of deep ones.
"What if I'm not good at this?" The words come out thin, and her pulse hammers visibly at the base of her throat. "At letting someone in, at building instead of just surviving alone?"
"Then you'll learn." I catch her wrists before she can pull farther away, pinning them gently to the mattress on either side of her head.
Her breath stutters, and her eyes go wide, but she doesn't fight the hold.
"Same way you learned to let me help with the orders.
One day at a time, one choice at a time, until it stops feeling like risk and starts feeling like home.
I meant what I said about falling for you. "
“And I meant what I said about already falling,” she says and pulls me into a kiss that's desperate and clinging, her legs wrapping around my hips to hold me close. I let her set the pace, let her take what she needs, and when she finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard.
"Okay," she whispers against my mouth. "Okay, I'll stay. I'll figure out how to make this work."
I claim her mouth before the words finish, sealing the promise between us with teeth and tongue and the weight of my body pressing her into the mattress. She arches up to meet me, and I release her wrists to let her hands find my hair again, gripping hard enough to sting.
Later, we shower together. She lets me wash her hair, tipping her head back under the spray with closed eyes and parted lips while my fingers work shampoo through the strands. This is different from sex. Quieter. Just as binding.
When I wrap her in a towel and dry her off attentively, she leans into my touch like she's been waiting her whole life for someone to take care of her this way.
We dress in comfortable silence, her in leggings and one of my flannels that hangs to mid-thigh, me in jeans and a thermal shirt. The cabin feels like territory we've claimed together through shared work and hard-won trust.
The finished orders wait on the worktable in neat stacks, three hundred seventeen planners ready to ship. Skye runs her hand over the top box with wonder softening the tired lines around her eyes.
"I need to get these to the post office today," she says quietly. "Before the deadline actually hits."
"After breakfast." I'm already moving to the kitchenette. "Non-negotiable."
She doesn't argue, just settles onto one of the stools and watches me cook. When I set the plate in front of her, she eats without prompting.
She stares at her phone with her finger hovering over the email app as I pull into the post office parking lot.
"What is it?" I cover her hand with mine.
"I'm scared to look," she admits. "What if they're angry? What if they canceled?"
"Then we'll handle it." Squeezing her fingers, I draw her attention from the phone to my face. "But you won't know until you look, and the not knowing is worse than whatever's waiting."
She takes a breath, then unlocks her phone and opens her email. I watch her expression shift from trepidation to confusion to shock.
"Hunter." Her voice comes out strangled. "Look at this."
She turns the phone so I can see the screen. Customer after customer thanking her for the update she sent the day before she arrived at the cabin, saying they don't mind the wait, asking if she does custom corporate orders or wedding packages.
"They're not angry," she whispers. "They're offering me more business."
"Because you're good at what you do." I kill the engine and turn to face her fully. "And because you communicated with them instead of disappearing. You think you failed, but all they see is someone who cares enough about quality to make sure every order is perfect."
Tears stream down her face while she scrolls through messages with shaking hands. I unbuckle her seatbelt and pull her across the seat into my lap, letting her bury her face against my shoulder while relief shakes through her in waves.
"I thought I was losing everything," she says against my shirt, words muffled and raw. "I thought this was the end."
"It's the beginning." Stroking her hair, I gentle her through the emotional release the way I gentled her through exhaustion and panic over the last three days. "You proved you can handle the pressure. Now you get to decide what comes next."
She pulls back enough to look at me, mascara smudged under her eyes and her nose red from crying. "What if what comes next is you? Is this, whatever this is between us?"
"Then you're making a smart choice." Wiping the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs, I cradle her face between my palms. "Because I'm not letting you go, Skye. Not now that I know what it feels like to have you choose me back. I love you, Skye."
“I love you, too.” She kisses me there in the parking lot with the morning sun streaming through the windshield. When we finally break apart, her smile is genuine.
Inside, we make quick work of the shipping. When the clerk hands Skye the final receipt, she asks, "You sticking around Granitehart Ridge for a while?"
She glances at me, question and hope mingling in her expression, and I answer by pulling her against my side with unmistakable possession.
"Yeah," she says, turning back with a smile. "I think I am."
We're almost to the truck when Archer appears from the direction of Ridge Hardware, hands in his pockets and that quiet observation in his eyes. He takes in Skye tucked against my side and nods once.
"Hunter." His voice carries the weight of understanding. "Got a minute?"
Skye squeezes my hand and steps toward the truck. "I'll wait here."
Archer watches her climb in before turning back to me.
"You're good for each other. I can see the change in you.
Don't let the logistics talk you out of what you've built.
" He glances back toward town, and for just a moment, loneliness crosses his face, raw enough that I almost look away.
Then it's gone, and he's clapping me on the shoulder.
"Your turn's coming," I say.
He shakes his head with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "We'll see."
The drive back up the mountain is quieter, Skye's hand resting on my thigh while she watches the trees blur past. The deadline is met, the orders are shipped, and the panic that drove her up here has finally released its grip.
"What happens now?" she asks as we pull up to the cabin.
"Now we figure out what you staying looks like." Killing the engine, I turn to face her. "You need to go back to your apartment, pack up what matters, handle your lease. I'll help. I’ll make space in my cabin. We'll make it work."
"And then?"
"Then you come back to Granitehart Ridge, and we build your workspace." I cup her jaw, my thumb brushing across her lower lip. "Your business, your life. All of it fits here if you want it to."
She searches my face for doubt or hesitation and finds only certainty. "You make it sound simple."
"It is simple. You choose to stay. I choose to keep you.
Everything else is just details we'll figure out together.
" Leaning across the console, I kiss her slowly and thoroughly until she's breathless and clinging to my shoulders.
"Come inside. I want to show you your new studio.
I pulled this cabin off the rental market. "
I lead her to the cabin's back room that's been serving as storage since I started renting out the property. Boxes and old furniture clutter the space, but the bones are good, with wide windows facing the mountain view, solid wood floors, and enough room for a proper workspace.
"What is this?" Skye turns in a slow circle, taking in the dimensions, and her hand lifts to press against her throat.
"Your new studio." I hug her against my chest, hands settling on her hips to anchor her in place.
"We clear out the junk, bring in the right tables and storage, set up the lighting you need.
You'll have space to work without tripping over inventory.
" I turn her to face the windows. "And you can see the mountains while you create. Move into the cabin, bring your business here, and we’ll remodel it to your standards. Start building your life here."
Her knees buckle, and I tighten my grip to hold her upright. She turns in my arms, staring up at me with raw wonder in her expression.
"You've been planning this," she whispers.
"Since yesterday, when you said you were scared this would disappear." I frame her face with both hands, making sure she sees the truth. "I don't do temporary, Skye. When I build you something for real, I’ll build it to last."
She rises on her toes to kiss me, and the emotion behind it is answer enough. When she pulls back, her smile is trembling but genuine.
"Okay," she whispers. "Let's fix it up."
We spend the afternoon clearing the room, and by sunset it's empty and full of potential. Skye stands in the center, looking out at the mountain view with peace softening her expression.
Coming up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back against my chest. "What do you think?"
"I think this might actually work for now." She leans into me, head tipping back to rest on my shoulder. "I think I might actually get used to this."
"You’ll get used to it." Pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then the curve of her neck, I tighten my hold. "You get me, and this space, and a life that doesn't require you to hold everything on your own. All you have to do is choose it."
She turns in my arms and pulls me down into a kiss, and when we break apart, her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
"I choose it," she says. "I choose you."
I seal the promise between us with another kiss before cradling her in my arms and whispering in her ear about how gorgeous the forest looks through these windows after the first snow of the season.
"Thank you," she says into the quiet.
"For what?"
"For seeing me. For not letting me drown. For building me a place to stay." Her voice cracks on the last word, and I tighten my arms around her.
"You don't have to thank me for choosing you back." Kissing the top of her head, I breathe in the scent of her shampoo and the faint smoke from the woodstove that clings to everything in the cabin. "This is what it looks like when someone decides you're worth keeping. Get used to it."
She makes a sound that's half laugh and half sob, and we lean into each other’s embrace.
Three days ago, she stumbled into my cabin carrying chaos and a deadline that should have broken her. Now she's choosing to stay.
This woman relaxing in my arms is the first thing I've come across that feels like home.
And I'm never letting her go. Outside, the storm has finally cleared, and through the window, the mountains stand sharp against a sky scrubbed clean. We built this. Now we get to keep it.