2. Hunter
Hunter
It’s Friday night, and I’m spending it with a woman. Not the woman I want, but I’m not sure she will ever let me love her like I wish I could.
Instead, I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain after losing a bet with our newest officer, Rachel. Turns out, she’s better at memorizing penal codes than I am, and now I owe her dinner.
As I pull into the parking lot at Big Joes, I’m lucky to find a spot up close.
When Rachel opens the bar door and gestures for me to go in first, I almost turn around, climb back in my truck, and call it a night. Then my eyes adjust to the bar’s low lighting, and I spot her sitting at the bar.
She isn’t alone.
Every instinct in me wants to go straight to her, but abandoning Rachel at the door would make me an ass.
There have been a hundred nights I’ve walked into this place with Sutton at my side, but never in the way I want it to be. I’ve imagined a hundred versions of us where I asked sooner, where she said yes, where staring at her across the bar didn’t feel like standing outside my own life looking in.
Sutton’s back is to the door, but based on the way she quickly ducks behind a menu, I know she’s seen me. Her hair is a little messy tonight, with a few loose curls hanging from her signature sleek bun. I bury my laughter as she scoots even lower in her barstool.
She’s never been able to hide from me.
“Ready to buy me half the menu?” Rachel says, sliding into a booth. The next time I try to bet against Rachel, someone needs to set me straight.
I take the bench opposite her, in perfect line of sight of Sutton.
I pull my cowboy hat off and rub the side of my neck from the crick forming.
Rachel tells me about some kind of trouble with the refiling project they’ve got her on at the station, but I’m only half listening. My gaze locks on Sutton.
She’s a fucking vision in her signature black pencil skirt and white blouse. The blazer she normally wears is haphazardly tossed over the barstool to her left. The guy on her right taps his glass against hers and they both sling back their drinks.
I’d bet my life her drink’s Don Julio Tequila. Sutton’s always been a tequila girl.
The man laughs. I’m dying to know who he is. She hasn’t dated in six years, so I can’t help being a little hurt that she’s conversing this easily with someone. I’m the one person in this world she tells everything to. Is there something she’s telling him that she wouldn’t tell me?
Rachel flips through a menu. “How are you doing with your promotion?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat and peel my gaze from Sutton. “It’s been a change of pace for sure, but so far, it’s going well.” I don’t bother filling her in on the details of how well it’s not going.
After twelve years at the department, I’ve recently been promoted to detective. That in itself is tough to accomplish, but in a town like Suncrest Valley, where vertical movement is hard to come by—it felt like winning the lottery.
Little did I know, I’d be thrown into the deep end of a high-profile narcotics case.
One that I haven’t been able to get a handle on.
One that makes me question if I was ever a good police officer to begin with.
When our waitress arrives at our table, Rachel rattles off a long order of several meals. This is going to hurt my wallet. I order a double-bacon cheeseburger and fries.
“So,” Rachel says, leaning across the table, “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”
“A bet is a bet.” I slump back against the booth. “And I’m a man of my word.”
I hope Sutton doesn’t think this dinner with Rachel is a date.
It is nowhere in the vicinity of being a date.
Maybe old me would have taken it as an opportunity to see if there was a spark there, but I’ve only ever found sparks with one woman.
And I’ve had enough searching for sparks with other women to last a lifetime.
My spark is five and a half feet tall with red hair, a sassy attitude, and a seat at the bar across the room.
The waitress returns with our drinks. I sip my Paloma.
“I heard about the call yesterday out at Magnolia Road,” Rachel says. “Did you find anything?”
“Not a damn thing,” I mumble.
I glance across the bar, and my gaze lands on Sutton. She’s closer to the man now, their thighs practically touching. Jealousy clouds my vision at this man spending the evening with the only woman in this world I wish were mine.
“You were a great officer, Hunter,” Rachel says. “I’m sure it’ll take time to find your footing in the world of detectives.” Rachel’s words tamper the raging inferno in my chest.
I give her a practiced smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
She’s right. I was a good officer. I doubt Chief Rhodes would have promoted me if he didn’t think I had the skill set. But I wasn’t quite prepared for the shift of actively helping people on a daily basis to working behind the scenes—and questioning myself almost daily.
And this isn’t the first time Life has thrown me a curveball in my career plans. I studied business at college, but when Dad was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, and Mom was struggling to work full-time and care for him, I dropped out early and moved home. They needed me.
I worked a few odd jobs while getting Dad to his appointments and helping Mom take care of the house and bills.
When things got a bit better, I saw a recruitment ad for the Suncrest Valley Police Department.
It was a great way to stay close to home while starting a career.
I gladly took the opportunity and have excelled at it over the last decade.
“Hey, um, I’ll be right back,” Rachel says, leaving the booth.
“Oh, sure, no problem.”
I’m sure even to Rachel it’s clear as day something is off with me tonight. What Rachel probably doesn’t realize is it’s the woman across the bar that puts me off-kilter every time she’s in my vicinity.
When Sutton and the man she’s with burst into a fit of raucous laughter, I can’t take it anymore. I slide out of the booth, determined to figure out who is making her laugh like that.
I approach slowly, not wanting to frighten her. Or piss her off, which happens more often than not lately. “Hey, Sutton.”
“Oh, hi. Didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”
“Yeah, I lost a bet with Rachel, so I owe her dinner,” I say. “If I would’ve known you were here, I would’ve gotten food for you too and had you join us.”
“I’m good. Just ordered.”
“Who’s this?” I turn to face . . . “Easton Rhodes? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hey, Hunter,” Easton says, pushing his barstool back. “It’s been a long time.” He gives me a high-five and pulls me into a one-armed hug.
“It really has, man. What brings you back to town?”
I let go of Easton and rest my hand on Sutton’s lower neck.
She leans back into my touch, her skin smooth as silk beneath my rough callouses.
I’ve touched her like this a thousand times—guiding her through crowds, steadying her on slick river rocks, pulling her into side hugs that lasted a second too long.
Every time felt normal. Every time felt like standing on the edge of something we never quite stepped into.
I don’t miss the look Easton gives us. I’m sure he has all sorts of questions about Sutton and me—he and half the town. But I’m as lost as he is, wishing I knew where we stood.
“Well,” Easton says, “Dad wanted me to lead the remodel project at the police station.”
Sutton groans and her folded hands fall into her lap. “Hey, Joe,” she calls out. “I’m going to need that next round now.”
Joe gives her a cold, hard stare from his position behind the bar and shakes his head.
“Seriously?” Sutton snaps, crossing her arms on the bar and resting her head on her forearms.
Something’s not okay with her tonight. She never drinks like this unless she’s really upset about something. I squeeze her neck gently, reassuring her that I’m here if she needs to talk. Her answering groan is all the confirmation I need.
“So,” I say, turning back to Easton, “How did you and Sutton meet?”
His chest rumbles with a silent laugh. “Actually, we met about . . . twenty minutes ago. Turns out, dating is a real pain these days.”
My body stiffens. “You two are on a date?”
Sutton groans. “No, Hunter. He was stood up and was wallowing. Just so happens I was wallowing too.” Her words are muffled, her head still buried in the crook of her arm. How much tequila has she had?
“That sucks,” I tell Easton. “Dating is a pain in the ass.”
“HA!” Sutton barks. “Says the man who’s got a different girl for every day of the week.”
Easton eyes me, trying to contain his laughter.
Sutton’s comment stings. She and I both know that I haven’t been out with anyone since what happened between us in Colorado. But I don’t want to have that conversation in front of Easton.
The waitress arrives at Rachel and my empty booth. Her arms are loaded with dishes, and she scans the room looking for us.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
I reach the booth, and Rachel is right behind me. “Got enough food?” I ask her.
“Not nearly enough,” she says.
My eyes drift back to Sutton.
“Go,” Rachel says.
“What?” I say, tearing my eyes from Sutton.
“Go be with Sutton,” she says. She gives me a knowing smile. “I’ve got two eyes and know you want to be with her.”
I forcefully exhale. I could deny it, but we both know she’s right. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t know she’d be here, and she’s been drinking. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
Rachel waves me off. “I get it, Hunter.” She nudges her elbow into my ribs. “Besides”—she gestures at the dishes filling our table—“I have more than enough food to occupy my time.” She slides into the booth. “You’re a really good man, Hunter.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” I smile.
“You should tell her.” Rachel picks up her fork.
“Tell her what?”
“That you love her.”
How do I explain to Rachel that I’ve almost told Sutton those exact words more times than I can count—on her porch playing cards, fishing at our lake, that night in Colorado when everything between us shifted and neither of us has had the guts to say why.