Chapter 33
Some time later, I’m lying on my back, gazing up at the heavens.
My body feels wrung out, emptied, echoing like the last note of a song.
The stars twinkle their approval, although the moon is noticeably absent.
An owl calls and is answered by a softer call from across the valley.
I imagine silent wings brushing white across the blackness of the night as he follows her invitation.
Hunter lifts his face from my tummy and places a tender kiss by my navel. “See? It’s not so bad letting someone else do all the work.”
I swallow hard, feeling utterly laid bare.
Hunter is nothing like the only other man I’ve dated, and I can’t help thinking back to all the times I gave Billy honesty and got confusion, annoyance, or indifference in return.
I had gotten so accustomed to pushing my feelings down, to living with my frustrations. What Hunter just did to me—
Billy tried it once when we were eighteen and swore he’d never do it again. But Hunter looks as sated as I feel.“That was incredible,” I say shyly.
Hunter stands and holds out a hand, and I fix my jeans and let him pull me to join him.
It’s a surprise when he picks me up, just swooping my legs out from under me in a cradle carry.
He pecks me on the lips before taking me inside and depositing me carefully on the couch.
I curl up with my legs under me, and he brings over two glasses of ice water.
After handing me both glasses, he sits beside me and pulls my legs over his lap before taking his glass back and drinking in long, slow gulps.
“You’re incredible.” He gives me a lopsided smile, his eyes big and…vulnerable? “Can I tell you a secret? One I think you’ll find particularly interesting.”
“Always.”
He puts down the glass and reaches to hold my hand, turning it over, tracing the lines of my fingers as if memorizing them.
“I…learned that from books.”
I blink a few times.
“Are you sure? Because you, um, definitely seemed to know exactly what you were doing.”
He focuses on my hand, stroking the soft skin of my wrist. “My sister has always loved romance novels—and vampire novels—and especially vampire romance novels. She told me once that there were no guys in Arcadia Falls who were anything like the guys in books, so I decided to read a few of her favorites to see what, exactly, a thinking woman wants out of a man. And I learned a lot.”
“I’d say you did,” I murmur appreciatively.
I see his dimples when he smiles. “I’m glad you think so.”
“But what else did you learn?”
Because I really am curious. I felt the same way as his sister. I read books about gentle Scottish Highland warriors and softhearted rakes and cowboys with hearts of gold, and I looked around my hometown and decided that maybe books were just aspirational. Now I’m beginning to wonder.
“First of all, I learned that she was right—none of the guys at our high school were anything like the dudes in those books. None of them were billionaires or owned Christmas tree farms. But mostly, I learned, or at least studied, what it seemed like women wanted. Confidence. Competence. Kindness. A man who knows how to be firm but gentle. I was also surprised that my sister was reading such racy books so young, but like I said, all the guys I knew were looking at magazines, so I guess what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. ”
“Many would argue that dirty magazines are not great for ganders in regard to understanding geese.”
He chuckles. “Point taken. Still, you rarely read a romance book where the guy is a cowardly, incompetent, passive buffoon. And there’s never one where he’s a pompous, selfish douchebag who ultimately only wants sex.”
“Did you just use the word buffoon?”
“There was a lot of Regency romance on Edie’s shelf.”
I’ve gulped down all my water and rearranged my bra, so I move in to snuggle against him. He lifts his arm to welcome me, then settles me close.
“Your sister sounds pretty cool, if she let you borrow her books.”
I feel his laugh this time, a rumble against my chest. “Oh, she didn’t let me.
I snuck them out one by one without telling her.
When she did finally notice, she pitched a fit.
But I’d learned enough by then to know that defending myself or shouting back would only make things worse, so I apologized and begged forgiveness. ”
“Smart man.”
“We get along great now.”
I realize that although I am fully sated for the first time in my life, I have barely gotten to touch him at all. He’s wearing, as usual, a flannel over a white tee, and I put my hand over his heart, feel the heat of him seeping into my palm.
“So what about the women in romance novels?” I ask shyly. “Were the girls you grew up with anything like them?” We both know what I’m asking, really.
He holds my hand, pressing it into his chest. It’s easy to talk this way, touching at multiple points but without the added anxiety of eye contact.
“I’m not the kind of guy who badmouths the women who’ve been kind enough to date me.
But most of the girls around here want a guy in camo who hunts.
I don’t hunt. Once Bongo started talking to me, I couldn’t imagine taking an animal’s life with my own hands.
Those buffalo steaks at dinner were raised humanely.
I got very picky about meat. Not that Bongo is.
At all. And the magic thing makes it even harder.
I’ve felt torn, these last few years. I love Arcadia Falls, but I wasn’t finding what I needed.
” He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so honest with someone before. It’s nice.”
I take a deep breath.
He deserves the same honesty he gave me.
“I also have a secret….”
He squeezes me against his side. “Oh, no. I read a few of those novels, too. Is it the billionaire cowboy’s secret baby?”
I playfully swat him. “No. I have an IUD. It’s just that…what we just did. I’ve never actually ended with another person, if you get what I’m saying.”
Hunter’s fingers curl protectively around mine.
I want to look at his face, but I feel so shy around this topic.
The more time I spend with Hunter and away from Alabama, the more I’m realizing that I was caught in a horrible, vicious cycle of disappointment, all the while telling myself that it was perfectly normal.
“I’m sorry you never got the attention you deserve,” Hunter finally says. “I can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t spend the time to give you what you need. Watching your face…”
I shy away, tucking my head against him.
“Rhea, you’re so beautiful. You’re beautiful when you let go.”
My cheeks go hot, to think of how open I was to him and the sky and the world. I was so lost in sensation that I didn’t even think about the fact that he could see everything while my eyes were closed.
“Sounds like we both learned something new tonight,” I murmur.
I start buttoning my shirt, and Hunter says, “You know you don’t have to hide from me. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to.”
But I just smile and keep buttoning. “I’m not hiding from you. Hell, you’ve seen things I can’t see without a mirror and really good lighting. But I thought maybe there was some more chocolate mousse, and I didn’t want to scandalize Bongo.”
Once I’m done buttoning up, I disentangle myself from Hunter and stand. I miss being so close to him, but I can sense that the intimacy I feel right now will stick around past the afterglow. And, honestly, girls who don’t want UTIs have to pee after that sort of thing.
“You know a dog’s sense of smell is a hundred thousand times better than that of a human, and they can hear things a quarter of a mile away?”
My eyes fly wide, and I button one more button than usual.
“It’s okay.” Hunter’s eyes crinkle, and I’m treated to both dimples. “He likes you. And he’s happy for me. And he says if you feel weird about it, just give him a chunk of steak and he’ll go farther away next time.”
The words next time ring in my head because I so, so want there to be a next time.
I want to come back to this house, to the beautiful views and immaculate quiet of the mountain.
I want to see Hunter’s bedroom and find out what else he learned from his sister’s books.
I want to give Bongo half a steak, especially when he looks up from his bed, tongue lolling and eyes laughing knowingly, and licks his lips.
There is indeed more chocolate mousse, and Hunter and I take turns eating it out of a mixing bowl with teaspoons while Bongo slurps up the remains of my dinner—or the parts of it that Hunter deems dog-safe.
I turn on the hot water and start doing dishes, and Hunter protests a few times before he understands that I will in fact be helping to clean up and yes, I know not to put soap on his cast iron and to oil it afterward.
It’s pleasantly homey, cleaning up together.
We bump into each other with the friendly softness of pollen-heavy bumblebees colliding among the flowers.
There’s an ease here I didn’t expect—that I didn’t even know was really possible.
And then the kitchen is spotless, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
I’ve had half a bottle of wine, which means I shouldn’t drive home, and to be honest I don’t particularly want to go there, not with a poltergeist stomping and slamming and bumping around.
But I don’t want to be a burden, and even though tonight was absolutely wonderful, I don’t want it to go any further just yet.
I put my hands in my back pockets and lean my hip against the island.
“Sooo…,” I start.
“I have a guest room, if you’d like to stay over,” Hunter offers.
Relief melts in my chest. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be driving. Thanks. Could I maybe borrow a tee and some shorts?”
He grins. “Of course. Come on up.”
Hunter leads me up a set of stairs to the second floor and opens a door to show a room with a puffy white hotel comforter, a pile of white pillows, and a cozy white rug on the gleaming wood floors.
“I don’t know much about decorating, but my sister says all white is easy. You just keep buying white shit, and it will always look like a fancy hotel,” he says a little sheepishly.
“Good thing it’s not that time of the month, or this place would look like a crime scene,” I murmur before realizing what I’ve just said out loud to a man who would know—intimately.
Luckily, he bursts out laughing. “Yeah, well, some of my towels are black, so I’m sure we’d be okay. Back in a minute with some pajamas.”
He leaves, and I turn back the comforter and desperately wish I’d brought a phone charger. Lo and behold, there is one—a couple, all white of course, attached to the white alarm clock.
When Hunter reappears, he puts a few folded items on the bed.
The comforter is so fluffy that even a pile of clothes makes a dent.
“So I went for soft stuff. Short-sleeve tee, long-sleeve tee, shorts, sweats. Take whatever you like. There’s a bathroom down the hall.
I set out a toothbrush and towels, if you want to shower. ”
“Do you have company often?” I ask nosily.
“Nope. Just my sister when her AC went out, and I shop at Costco, so there’s always extra sitting around. My room is at the end of the hall if you need anything. I’m going to take Bongo out and lock up.”
This is all so new for me that I’m waiting for him to waggle his eyebrows or straight-up ask for sex, but the vibe I’m getting is just that he’s happy I’m here.
Once he’s gone, I take a quick shower and put on the tee and shorts, which are huge on me but deliciously soft, brush my teeth, and slide into the bed. It’s cozy as hell, and yet…
It’s not what I actually want. I tiptoe down the hall and softly knock on Hunter’s cracked door.
“Come in.”
The room is dark, but I can see the outlines of a king bed and the glimmer of another huge bank of windows. Hunter is just a shadow under the covers.
“You okay?”
“I…” I don’t know what to say, how to ask for what I want. “I thought I heard a ghost.”
He flips the covers back. “Well, we can’t have that. Come over here, and I’ll keep you safe.”
I pad across the room and slide between the sheets, turning my back to Hunter. He pulls me close and tucks me into his chest, sighing like a happy dog. It’s barely a few breaths before he falls asleep, so I do, too.
I sleep through the night, wake to birdsong and the sunrise, and learn that Hunter makes a mean omelet.
Soon, I’m driving home, and everything is right in the world.
Until I open the unlocked door to my apartment.
Someone, it seems, has broken in.