66. CHARLOTTE
66
I must’ve fallen asleep, because an hour later, I blink, needing a moment to readjust to my surroundings. Yawning, I stretch my arms above my head, then rapidly drop them when I hear something fall on the front porch. I get up with a little reluctance, moving to the front of the house. The sounds of metal twisting over metal create a frown on my forehead, until I glance through the peephole of the front door.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
Hunter is standing on some utility steps, looking mighty fine in his jeans that ride low, and a white shirt that shows off his tattoos. His hair is covered with his signature snapback, but it’s the muscles in his back that are begging to be touched as he lifts his arms to change the lightbulb of my built-in lantern lamp hanging above the porch steps.
“What are you doing?” I ask when I open the door.
That boyish grin flashes over his shoulder, making something flutter inside me. “Fixing your lamp. I saw it flickering yesterday.”
“Why?” My lashes lower in suspicion.
“Because it needed to be fixed?” he says with a know-it-all voice before he continues with his task on hand, since apparently, he’s now adding handyman to his resume. “And I wanted to see you,” he states, as if it’s the most normal thing to say.
“I thought we agreed you’d call first?” I scowl.
“I did. ”
I fish my phone from my back pocket.
Missed call : Hunter.
Shit.
“I thought you were ignoring me.”
“I did say I wanted to be left alone.” Is it possible to love and hate someone's annoying traits at the same time? I want to strangle him for not listening, but I would be lying if I didn’t appreciate his stubbornness a teeny tiny little bit.
“True,” he agrees, closing the lantern again before screwing it shut, “but I also know you’re not the girl who likes to be alone when she’s sad. Even though I’m the one who’s responsible for it in the first place.”
“So, you came and forced me to talk to you?” I cock my eyebrow, doing my best to keep a straight face when the corner of my mouth wants to curl up.
Stubborn fucking asshole.
“Of course. But turns out, you weren’t ignoring me after all.”
“No, I wasn’t.” I take the few steps to my swinging bench, letting out another yawn.
“Were you sleeping?” I don’t miss the apprehensive twitch of his brow while he throws his screwdriver back into his toolbox.
“Didn’t really expect you to own a toolbox,” I tell him, rocking the bench up and down with one foot on the ground.
“Found it in the shed. I guess it’s my dad’s.”
I study him intently, my arms crossed in front of my chest with my lips pressed together to hold back the smile that’s lingering like a balloon that’s waiting to pop .
How is it that I send my boyfriend away, wanting to be alone, yet my heart is dancing for joy when Hunter is crossing every boundary there is? Showing up unannounced for the third time in forty-eight hours, doing sweet things like fixing my porch light, relentlessly letting me relive old memories I assumed were tucked safely in a vault, never to be opened again.
“Thank you.” I gesture above his head. “For fixing the light.”
“Anytime, babe.” Slowly, but with deliberate steps, that for some fucked-up reason take my breath away, he closes the distance before lowering himself next to me. There’s at least a foot between us, but he’s still close enough to let his scent level in my nose, and like a junkie, I breathe in deeply.
“Where’s the dog?”
My lips frown. “What dog?”
“The dog you picked up from the animal shelter?” I pull my lip between my teeth when he pauses. “I figured for a fifty-grand donation, you at least got yourself that dog you finally wanted.”
I notice him grinning from the corner of my eye, but I keep a straight face for as long as I can. “Couldn’t find one that clicked with me.”
“Hmm, shame.”
“I know.” I swallow back the giggle, then amusement slips through my teeth. “You want it back?” Putting words into action, I pull the black plastic out of my jeans, then hold it out to him.
“Nah, keep it.” I’m sorry, what? “Spend it all, for all I care. It’s all yours once we get married anyway.”
“We’re not getting married,” I huff, even though my stomach flutters, working against me.
He ignores my reply and instead pulls a velvet bag from the front of his jeans. It’s turquoise, with black letters embedded that say Tiffany & Co. Oh, boy.
My eyes grow big, my lips parting in shock. “You’re not fucking proposing, Hunter Hansen!”
He hoots out a laugh, clearly aiming for that response. “Don’t worry, I’m saving that for when you’re not mad at me.”
“That might take a while,” I mutter, as I watch how he drops a small necklace in my hand. I stare at the silver pendant in awe, my throat closing a little. It’s a small heart, with stitches cut through the middle, the edges rough, reminding me of my own. “Oh my god,” I whisper.
“I bought it with my first paycheck.”
I collide my gaze with his. “But that was years ago.”
He nods, rolling his lips together. “I wanted you to know my heart was yours, beat up and crushed. But I never found the right time to give it to you.”
I drop my gaze back to the metal in my hand, wondering what changed.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, as if he can read my mind. “I just want to be part of your life. And if that means I have to be the best friend, I will be the best friend. If you’re happy with Ben, I’m fine with that.”
I pull a face. “No, you’re not.”
“Not one fucking bit.” He adamantly shakes his head, and I laugh. “But you’re in charge.”
My chest rises up as I inhale deeply, then toss him a small smile.
“Thank you. It's beautiful.” I put it on my neck, then fumble with the pendant between my fingers.
I’m not sure how to feel about his explanation, but having a piece of him hang around my neck swells my heart more than it should.
“What has you sleeping in the middle of the day, Charls?” The look on his face is genuine, with a glint of worry in his eyes as he drops his calloused hand on my thigh. “You okay?” The heat of his palm burns through the fabric, sirening me to tell the truth. My cheeks curl, loving how he shows me he cares, before my face falls when I realize Ben did the same thing an hour ago. You know? The man who’s supposed to be my boyfriend?
“Hey.” He squeezes my knee, narrowing his eyes at me. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just tired.”
He gives me a knowing look, telling me he doesn’t buy my bullshit, then gives me a smile, indicating he’ll let it slide for now, and I give him a thankful look. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Go where?”
“The bowling alley.” He smirks.
“It’s two p.m. on a Tuesday?”
“So? Who says you can’t go bowling on a Tuesday? Let’s go.”
When he first said he wanted to go to the bowling alley, I rolled my eyes at him, knowing he’s using this strategic trip down memory lane to get back in my good graces. But as much as his tactics annoy me a little, they’re also working.
They remind me of the fact that my happiest days were with him, and I’m in desperate need of some happy days with last week’s event still hanging above my head like a thundercloud.
We walk into an almost empty bowling center, with only a kids’ party on one of the first lanes, and I glance around, following Hunter toward the counter.
“Hi.” He volleys the blonde girl behind the front desk one of those panty-dropping grins, and her jaw falls to the surface, looking at him with wide eyes. “Can I get a lane for two?”
“Oh my god. You’re Hunter Hansen. I heard you’re the new boss.”
Wait, what ?
“Yeah.” He carefully glances at me while I stare at the situation unfolding in front of me. “But can we keep that quiet?” He winks at her, and instantly my eyes roll to the back of my head.
She lets out a muffled shriek, placing her hand in front of her mouth.
“Of course, I understand,” she says, as she taps stuff on the register. “That will be twenty bucks for an hour.”
Hunter grabs a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket, leaning in as he hands it to her.
“Thank you for your silence.” He looks at her name tag. “ Kirsty .”
She blushes, letting out a giggle.
“You’re welcome. You’ve got lane ten, away from the kids’ party.”
“You’re the best, Kirsty.” Hunter taps the counter, then makes his way over to lane ten on the other side of the bowling center. I give the star-struck girl a knowing smile before I follow Hunter, who lowers the snapback on his head to hide his face a little.
“What’s that about you being the new boss?” I frown, trotting behind him.
“Nothing. I made some investments. This was one of them.”
“Wait, so did you invest in this place, or did you buy it?”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” he bellows over his shoulder.
“That depends entirely on the amount of money you invested .” His silence is answer enough. “Oh my god, Hunter! Did you buy this place?”
“Maybe?”
“Why?”
“The owner wanted to sell. I bought it.” He shrugs, as if he just bought a loaf of bread instead of a bowling alley. One that is part of half the youth in Braeden. If not more .
“So that’s what I’ll be dealing with when I take you back?” I joke. “Bowling night with the boss? Women dying for your attention?”
He abruptly turns around, making me crash into his chest, and I look up at him with wide eyes.
His eyes darken as I realize my mistake, and he grabs the side of my belly in a possessive way, his gaze moving back and forth over my face.
“ When you take me back, Charls?” Poor choice of words, Charlotte.
“As friends!” I blurt, almost choking over my own words. “As friends!” I push him out of my space, walking past him as my heart pounds in my chest like a sledgehammer.
Shit.
Pretending I didn’t just make the stupidest comment ever, I change my shoes, ignoring the smug grin on his face before getting up to set up the lane.
When I’m done, I turn around, our gazes instantly locking.
“You’re up, famous boy.”
He stands with a troubled look on his face, closing the distance between us once more. He crowds my space again, but this time, it’s not in an intimidating way, as the features in his face soften when he’s right in front of me.
“No,” he says from under the rim of his hat, “I’ll make sure you won’t have to deal with that when you take me back.”
I clear my throat, no clue how to react to that.
But he doesn’t wait as he moves past me, grabbing a bowling ball out of the ball rack, then he gives me a smug grin before throwing it down the lane.
Strike.
He quietly dances, moonwalking down the lane, and I let out a laugh. He wiggles his eyebrows as he walks back while I move to the ball rack to choose a ball for myself .
“You want to make this more interesting?”
“What? You gonna give me a date so you can bully him away?” I give him a sweet smile, fluttering my lashes at him.
“You wanna call your boyfriend?” he challenges, and my face turns sour.
“No,” I reply, taking a step forward to throw the ball down the lane in a perfect line.
Strike.
“Yes!” I jump up, clapping like a seal, then dance back to the bench, as Hunter starts a slow clap.
“Well done, Charls. Have you been practicing without me?”
“Maybe.”
I try to walk past him, but he snatches my wrist, quickly tugging me onto his lap.
“Tell me about your boyfriend.”
My first reaction should be to get off, telling him he needs to stop blurring the lines. But the scent of his cologne intoxicates me, keeping me in place as he starts to brush my back with the tips of his fingers, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“What do you wanna know?” I frown, as my wrist is still wrapped in his warm palm, burning me with the scorching feeling it leaves.
“Everything.”
I sigh, enjoying his hands on my body, cataloging every inch he touches. “His name is Ben. He’s twenty-six years old, and a baseball coach in Kallhaven. We met at the Nomad. He has black hair and blue eyes.”
“Not that. Fuck that shit. I want to know why you love him.”
Surprised, I look at him, keeping quiet because I don’t know what to say.
“I-I-I don’t know,” I finally confess when his hand reaches up, taking a hold of my chin .
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, as if he’s swallowing his desires away, and we keep our eyes locked for God knows how long until my buzzing phone snaps us out of it.
Clearing my throat, I grab my phone out of my back pocket, closing my eyes for a second when I read the name on the screen before I answer it, covering Hunter’s mouth with my hand.
Great timing.
“Hey, Ben,” I say, keeping my eyes locked with Hunter, softly growling.
“I know you wanted space, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay?” Ben’s friendly voice asks.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You’re going to call it an early night?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m just going to watch some movies for the rest of the day, order some takeout, and go to bed early.” Hunter’s eyebrows raise at my lies, and I’m scolding myself for letting them leave my mouth so easily.
The line goes silent until Ben lets out a troubled sigh.
“You don’t have to do this alone, you know? We’re in this together.”
His tone is annoyed, and I clench my jaw.
“I know,” I say through gritted teeth, “but I want to be alone.”
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll call you tomorrow then.”
“Alright, bye.” I hang up, pushing it back into my pocket, then lock my eyes with Hunter’s again. “Don’t judge.”
He stares up at me, brushing his nose against mine.
“I won’t. You want me to take you home, though?”
I think about it. Going home is the safe choice. It’s what I should do and what I told Ben I’d be doing. But the longer I’m in Hunter’s presence, the more vocal my heart seems to be.
“No. I want to stay here.”