2. Hunter
CHAPTER TWO
hunter
Out of all the people I’d met in my life, no one had ever managed to make me feel the way Emma did.
Everyone was under the impression that I hated her.
Even Emma believed it.
But I didn’t hate her.
I was fucking obsessed with her.
I sucked in a deep breath, her scent still clinging to me. God, she smelled so fucking good. She rotated through three different perfumes, but the black violet and saffron one was my favorite.
Seeing her sitting there in a sundress, her deep chestnut-brown hair curling down her petite shoulders, lips painted crimson—a weaker man wouldn’t have been able to even speak in her presence.
Emma had tased her way straight to my heart. Since that night almost three years ago, she’d become the center of my every waking thought. She was often in my dreams too. I couldn’t fucking escape her.
I knew more about her than anyone. I knew about her family, her history, the men she dated. I also knew the reason why she’d never managed to keep a boyfriend longer than three months.
Well, that part was maybe my fault.
I’d threatened every single man who dared to date her. Most of the time, they lasted a week. A couple of them I’d intercepted on the first date. Then there was Kyle , who’d held out for three months before caving around the holidays.
My bad. Maybe I should have felt guilty about sabotaging her love life.
But I didn’t care.
It wasn’t like any of them were good enough for her anyways.
I stayed far, far away from Emma Madden for two reasons.
One, she brought out a part of me that I didn’t like. A twisted, possessive part of me I always kept hidden.
Two, she drove me absolutely crazy with that smart mouth. Every time she was sarcastic, I wanted to haul her over my shoulder, carry her to my bed, and fuck the sass right out of her.
She made me act like a caveman.
I thought I was more evolved than that. Really, I did.
But when Emma was in my presence, all civilized thoughts turned primal .
I slammed my hand on the steering wheel as I sped down the gravel road that stretched around to the back of the farm. Sunshine splashed over me across the front seat. A perfect breeze ruffled my hair through the rolled down windows. Summer would be here before long, but for now, I was enjoying the mild weather.
If I looked to the left, I could see the Harlow tree up on the hill, a place that had been in our family since we settled here. Bluebonnets sprung up in the distance, the scenery cradling our home.
There was nowhere else quite like the Hill Country. It was home to me. The rolling hills, the countless oak trees that twisted up towards the clear blue skies, the wildflowers a colorful patchwork quilt. This was where I’d lived my entire life and it was where I planned to stay forever.
The Harlow house was on the other side of that hill. I glanced over before refocusing on the gravel road. I’d taken the back route because I couldn’t deal with Pops right now.
Without fail, if I were irritated or annoyed, he always found me and made it worse. It was a goddamn talent.
I couldn’t avoid him forever, but I could manage until this evening, at least. I needed to stop by and fix one of the leaking faucets Mom had texted me about.
Add it to the list.
My to-do list was already a mile long without throwing Emma and this damn festival into the mix. It had to be some sort of joke that Colt had looked at me and thought ‘Yep, Hunter should be the face of the festival.’
Maybe it was payback for something I’d forgotten about. Then again, probably not. That wasn’t really Colt’s style. If he had a bone to pick with me, he’d solve it with a good punch to the jaw and cracking a beer together afterward.
But still—why me? Why Emma?
Well, I could understand why her. She was good at planning—but so was I. When we’d agreed to help out with the Wildflower Festival, something I’d been dragged into, it was no secret to everyone in the family that we didn’t want to work together. It was the silent, unspoken rule that if they put us in a room together, we’d drive each other up the wall.
They all knew how busy I was, and yet no one stopped to consider that maybe asking me to do more might not be okay.
In addition to the upcoming festival and my duties on the farm, I was always the go-to for anyone who needed a favor or some help. It came in handy, especially since it meant I’d made a lot of friends over the years. At first, I’d gone out of my way to make connections to prove a point to Pops that I could do things without his name. But the good folks of Citrus Cove appreciated the little tasks I’d done for them, and they would jump at the chance to pay it forward. I’d help a neighbor fix their car, and suddenly they’d put me in touch with a friend of a friend.
Over a decade of those types of friendships meant that whenever there was trouble, I knew someone who could help.
Too bad not a single one of them could help me purge Emma from my thoughts.
I needed a damn vacation. Or a hot, kinky fuck. I thought about the rope I had in my closet, along with the blindfolds, and bondage tape. I loved spanking a good ass too, but preferred to do it bare-handed. As much as I appreciated paddles and other implements, there was nothing quite like my rough palms on smooth cheeks, turning them crimson with each smack.
My cock jerked at the thought of Emma tied up and helpless over my knees, and I quickly shoved that image out of my mind. I didn’t have time to think about a vacation or kinky sex—I had work to do.
Plus, that could never happen with her. Even though she made me feel things, getting into a relationship would be too sticky. At this point, she was as much a part of the Harlow family as I was, and I’d done a thorough job at making her dislike me.
The tires kicked up gravel as I rolled to a stop, parking behind another truck. What our farm lacked in acreage, we made up for in efficiency. Keeping up with everything had me working longer hours than a regular job ever would. Apples, grapes, and a patch of veggies we shared with neighbors and the guys who worked here.
We had three part-time employees; Ezra, Aaron, and José. I’d hired them a while back to alleviate some stress. Eventually, I wanted to have Ezra and José on full-time so I could maybe have time for a hobby. Like macraméing more plant holders for my house.
The good news was that this year’s grape crop was promising. We’d have pinot grigio and malbec grapes ready to harvest in August. The orchard was mostly in good shape, too. I was glad I’d pushed for us to trellis some of the apple trees a few years back, because some of the older trees were having production issues. I worried about a potential soil infection, but so far it seemed like we were in the clear.
Then there was a concern about the demand we’d have once Cowboy Ciders was up and running, but the money that would bring in meant we could hire more people. I knew eventually they’d outgrow our current apple crop, so I was already putting out feelers to other growers.
I liked the rebrand. I had to give it to Emma, she was really good at marketing, and now Cam and Colt had a fresh logo that would stand out on grocery store shelves. We’d already made hats, shirts, and coozies and I proudly owned one of each so far.
I was proud of them—all of us, really, since we were all involved in one way or another.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I drew it out and sighed. Pops.
I answered begrudgingly. “Yep?”
“That’s how you answer the phone?” Pops grumbled.
“It is when I’m busy. What do you need?”
“I was just checking in.”
“Okay. Well, Ezra is here. I’m about to get to work. Holler if you need anything.”
“Alright.”
And that was that. I hung up and slumped against the seat, sighing as I gathered the willpower to start my day.
The truth was, Pops wasn’t going to be able to do this for much longer. The other issue was that the bastard was too stubborn to hand me the reins just yet.
Did I even want them? I wasn’t sure.
My whole life, I’d always been told I’d take over the farm one day, and that this part of the Harlow legacy would be mine to have and to hold. As I’d gotten older, I’d started to resent how much rested on my shoulders.
Those expectations hurt my relationship with Pops in a way that probably would never recover. Ever since our blow-out fight three years ago, right before Haley came back to Citrus Cove, nothing had been the same.
What if I didn’t want this? What if I wanted to do something else? Cameron had always loved this place. Sammy—well, he didn’t really care about it. I was stuck somewhere between the two of them, but I was the oldest so I’d always been expected to pick up the slack.
I knew a lot about a lot of things, and if I didn’t have a solution for it, I knew someone who did.
Now, if I could only find someone who knew how to make me forget about Emma, that would be great.
She was nothing like me. I’d been so certain she wouldn’t last long in Citrus Cove, but I’d been wrong. I’d underestimated her based on her love for all things pink and glitter, but she was a force to be reckoned with.
I got out and waved to Ezra. He wore a green ball cap, sunglasses, and a shirt streaked with dirt. Like me, his skin was tanned from being out in the sun. Unlike me, the bastard never wore sunscreen, which made him look older than he was. I could see the burn from this morning’s rays already creeping up the back of his neck.
“Brother, you need some SPF,” I called.
“We’re out,” he rebutted.
Sunscreen. Note to self, stop by the store and buy more soon.
He walked over as I pulled down the tailgate at the back of my truck. “I’ll pick some up this week,” I told him. “How’s everything looking today?”
“Good, but we need to do some pruning.”
I nodded. “Yep. We can split the vineyard.”
“Sounds good, boss. Oh, also… Well, your dad came by earlier.”
Of course he did. I’d been doing this since I could walk, but he still didn’t trust me to get things done. “Oh boy. Did he try and tell you how to do your job?”
“Yeah,” Ezra chuckled. “I don’t really mind him. He’s been doing this for his whole life, you know.”
“Oh, I’m fully aware.” He liked to remind me all the fucking time. “Let’s knock out some work and I’ll order us lunch.”
“Aw, such a sweetheart. How are you single, huh?”
Because I’m obsessed with a woman who hates me. “Just too busy to date.”
“Sure. You know all the single women in this town eye you like vultures.”
“I know. My mother has tried to set me up with almost all of them at some point.”
He chuckled. “My wife even asks. ‘What’s the last Harlow doing? Is he dating?’”
“Well, tell Rachel I said hi. And that’s my business and my business alone.”
Ezra snickered as he helped me unload the fertilizer out of the back of my truck. By the time we were done taking everything to the barn, the two of us were covered in a sheen of sweat.
One of the better updates with all of the rebuilds over the last year was moving the wine and cider processing to a warehouse we’d added behind the barn. I no longer had to haul goods all the way over to the old barn that burned down, which used to be located at the very front of our property.
It’d been a crazy three years, but I was thankful for it in a weird way. Well, thankful everyone I loved was safe, but also happy we’d had the chance to make some positive changes that helped the farm.
Lemons into lemonade, as Mom liked to say. In this case, they were murder lemons, but things had still worked out for the better.
Where the old Harlow barn used to stand was now a new one built to serve our community. It was a place where we had live music, a variety of ciders and wine, and space for food trucks. Cam had finally hired some people to work at the bar, although I sometimes liked to jump in to help.
It might have officially been Cam and Colt’s business, but we all had a hand in it. And at the end of the day, I was a people person. Even if Emma didn’t believe so.
I rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck, and retrieved my canteen of water from the truck. I took a few swigs, raising a brow at Ezra. “You better be drinking water, man. I’m not dragging your dehydrated ass back to your wife this summer. She’ll kill me.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I have gatorade. Stop being a mother hen.”
I couldn’t help it. Perks of being the eldest child, I always worried about others before myself.
I carried my canteen with me over to the vine trimmer. It was a large— expensive —piece of equipment that helped keep the rows of grapes neat and in line.
Concern sat heavy on my chest over the apple crop, but I tried to push that out of my mind. Instead, I thought about Emma and how often I’d have to be in her presence over the next few weeks.
Only until the festival, at least. Then we could go back to normal.
One month.
Would it really be so bad? I couldn’t decide.
I wanted to spend every moment with her.
I also wanted to never see her again.
The Wildflower Festival would be good for all of us, in theory. Good for Citrus Cove, for local businesses, for our family and friends. So long as Emma and I managed not to burn it all down with our arguments.
I sighed as I cranked the vine trimmer on. It was mindless work, which was nice considering Emma was once again plaguing my thoughts. I rolled out of the barn and steered my way towards one of the first red grape rows. I looked out over the fields, spotting José and Aaron in the distance.
Sometimes I wished Cam and Sammy were interested in this part of our family business, but I was glad they’d found their own passions. Cam loved running a bar and vineyard, Sammy loved… food. Or whatever the hell he did. I occasionally wondered if I would have picked up something else if I wasn’t the oldest, but at the end of the day, I did love the farm. Regardless, I would have ended up working with the earth somehow. I loved the dirt, the plants, and seeing something grow because of my care.
My phone chimed in my pocket. If it was Pops again, I was going to lose my shit. I pulled it out to check my messages and sighed.
Emma : Be here tomorrow at ten. Not earlier or later. K, bye.
So bossy. My fingers hovered over the letters but instead of typing what I wanted to say— why don’t you clear the whole day for me, princess?— I sent a thumbs-up.
I slid my phone back in my pocket, pulled my gloves on, and focused my attention on anything but Emma.