3. Sutton
Sutton
It’s early when I come to, Hunter curled on his side and nuzzled into my neck. My body’s slung over his, leg wrapped up and over his hip. I smile.
His breath is steady and warm against my skin.
I want to sink further into his embrace, give into this overwhelming feeling of rightness.
What unsettles me most is that this wasn’t an accident.
Last night, I chose this. Chose to roll into him.
Chose to let myself sleep tangled up in him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But I know as much as I want that—want him—I’m not ready to risk what we have.
I slip my leg from his body, hoping I don’t wake him.
“Where you goin’?” His mumble stops my retreat. He slides his hand under my arm and rests it on my shoulder.
“Nowhere.” I run my fingers over his exposed shoulder and he begrudgingly releases me.
He rolls onto his back, exposing his trim torso.
My fingers long to run through the hairs.
I stifle a small giggle, remembering the time I waxed his chest. It only took one strip for him to realize he didn’t care if women preferred less hairy men because he was never “doing this shit again.”
The large picturesque window at the foot of his bed allows the sun, just starting to rise beyond the mountains, to fill his room with a golden glow.
Scooting myself up onto the headboard, I cuddle in under the covers at the same moment Hunter wraps his arms around my thighs and rests his head in my lap.
This is my favorite time of the day. When most of the world is still sleeping, and no one expects anything from you.
Watching the sun come over the horizon, bathing the landscape in its warmth, I pull the covers up over his shoulders, guarding from the slight chill in the air.
We don’t have much longer before fall will truly be in effect and we’ll need to turn the heater on.
Well, Hunter will seeing as this isn’t actually my house.
It has been almost two years since Hunter begged me to help him find this house. He was ready to move out of his bachelor pad apartment but was absolutely no help at all in finding a new place. He just kept telling me, “You’ll know the house when you see it.”
And he was right. Between the small horse arena, barn, and sweeping vistas, this house fits Hunter to a T, even if it was more than outdated. He moved in almost immediately after closing and has proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. No paint. No new carpet. Not even a horse.
My fingers drift through his wavy, brown locks like a waterfall. His breathing gets deeper. Has he fallen back asleep?
The wildflowers that normally create an ocean of color in his backyard are slowly browning and withering as September ends and fall creeps in.
“That feels so good.” He wraps his arm around my hip, pulling himself closer to me. I love that he reminds me of this every time I play with his hair. As if we don’t already know almost everything about each other.
“You should see this,” I whisper, nudging him to sit up.
He slowly releases me and slithers his way up my body. My lungs stop working when his stubbled cheek rubs along mine. Based on the smile on his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Hurry.” I nudge him with my elbow and gesture toward the window.
He settles himself back against the headboard. The sun fully emerges behind the mountains, shooting rays in every direction. The room heats a fraction of a degree as light washes over us, my sun-kissed skinned preening for more.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say.
“I know.” Hunter’s deep voice fills the spacious room.
I turn my head to the side. He’s looking directly at me.
“Hunter.”
My stomach somersaults. My hair must look like a rat’s nest, and I’m sure the tequila I consumed last night has made my face swollen, but this man looks at me like he wants to devour me.
“I know, babe.”
His forced smile cracks me wide open because this is what we do best, tiptoe around each other. Moments like this have always been our undoing—soft, quiet almosts that disappear the second daylight creeps in.
The tension between us is thick as he sits on the edge of the bed and the sheets pool around his hips.
His broad, muscular back, honed from hours training at the department and working his land, begs for me to touch, to kiss.
My hand slides along the white sheets, set on doing just that, when my brain catches up with my heart.
I pull back, tucking my hands between my thighs.
Seconds later, Hunter looks over his right shoulder, smiling in that way he does. One that says he knows exactly what my body wants and what he’d be much obliged to provide.
But neither of us says anything.
We never do.
“Want to tell me what last night was about?”
Chill bumps cover my body as butterflies take flight in my stomach under his astute gaze. He’s always had the ability to see the real me. He’s been my anchor during the worst moments of my life, putting the pieces of me back together. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have him in my life.
“Not particularly, no.” I crisscross my legs and sit up from the headboard.
His eyes trace the motion, zoning in on where the shirt I stole last night pools in the crease of my thighs and hip. I clear my throat, hoping to get him back to the real world. Back to where we both play our roles of pretending there isn’t anything between us.
He smiles, not giving a damn he’s been caught. “You know that answer is not going to fly with me, right?”
I roll my eyes and crawl to the edge of the bed, swinging my legs off the side. Where his feet reach the floor, mine dangle at least eight inches higher. It’s always been my favorite thing about Hunter and I. He’s the exact opposite of everything I am.
He softly elbows me in the stomach, and I grunt.
“Can you at least make me coffee and food first?” I say.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side. “You know I’ll always take care of you. What do you say about hopping in the ATV and taking breakfast to our spot?”
No one else in the world knows exactly what I need at the moment I need it except him. “That sounds perfect. But I’m going to shower first, okay?”
“Of course.” Hunter squeezes my thigh. “And Sutton? Whenever you want to sleep in my bed with me, I’m more than happy to make room.”
I take in a sharp inhale as my cheeks warm.
Hunter breaks into a grin. “I refilled your shower stuff under your sink. Be ready in twenty.” He stands and pulls on his Wranglers.
“You know I need more than twenty minutes, Hunt.”
“Twenty minutes. After that, I’m leaving without you.” He grabs a worn maroon T-shirt and pulls it over his head.
“You’re lucky you’re you!” I holler at him as he saunters down the hallway.
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t like being bossed around, mister.”
I jump out of bed and disappear into the guest bathroom across the hall.
It’s a builders-grade bathroom with white walls and a plain shower.
It could really use an update. I strip out of Hunter’s shirt and turn on the water.
Rummaging under the sink, I locate my shower basket and hop into the warm water.
I started staying over at Hunter’s place a few years ago, at a time I needed him most. But for reasons I can’t explain myself, I stayed over more and more these past few months.
Sometimes I blamed it on being too tired after a day on the lake, sometimes I blamed it on overindulging.
But mostly, I found I wanted to be near him.
I’d always slept in the room down the hall. I couldn’t bring myself to curl up in bed next to him. If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep pretending he was just my best friend.
But something about last night felt different. The rules I’d been living by suddenly felt less important. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was everything that happened in Colorado. Or maybe I’m just tired of fighting the pull between us.
After the fourth or fifth time I slept over, Hunter surprised me with my own hoard of shower and skin care essentials to keep at his house. He claims he was tired of listening to me complain about having only a bar of soap, but I know better. He just likes to take care of me.
I run my fingers through the curls cascading down my back and comb out several knots. I know I don’t have time to wash it, so I throw it up in a claw clip. That’s the thing about Hunter. He isn’t lying when he says he’ll leave me if I’m not out in twenty minutes.
I’m running soap over my body when I hear him yell from the kitchen, “Twelve minutes. Get your ass in gear, woman.”
It takes me less than three. Wrapped in a plush white towel, I pad across the hall to his bedroom and rummage through his dresser for a pair of leggings I shoved in there a while ago, just in case, and one of his hoodies.
“I’ll meet you outside. Better hurry!”
“Goddamn it, Hunter! I’m hurrying. I can’t find any socks.”
“You try looking in your drawer?”
The front door slams closed and the garage door opening sounds through the wall.
My drawer? I don’t have a drawer. I open several, but they’re full of his shirts, briefs, and sweats. My breath catches when I open the bottom right.
“What in the world?”
Tucked inside are several pairs of socks, underwear, leggings, and even a few bralettes I like. Most still have the tags on.
My heart flutters. This is what Hunter does. He builds spaces for us like they already exist. Yet I’m still standing in doorways pretending they don’t.
I glance out the window and see he’s already pulled the ATV out, and it’s idling at the end of the drive. I pull on a pair of new leggings, a bralette, and one of my favorite hoodies. I grab my sneakers and a pair of fluffy white socks and run down the hallway and out the door.
I’ve got plenty of time to overthink this new drawer later.
“I’m here!” I shout. “I just gotta put my shoes on.”