14. Sutton #2
We get drinks and secure a table near the dance floor, taking stock of the crowd tonight.
Hunter and I aren’t professionals by any means, but we’re not half bad at country swing dancing.
Shortly after my dad died and I lost the baby, Hunter invited me to join him at swing dancing one night as a means to get “out and about,” as he put it, and we simply never stopped going.
“Crowd looks good tonight,” Hunter says, sitting on the barstool and pulling me between his legs.
“Thank goodness,” I say. “I really didn’t want to turn into pseudo dance teachers tonight.”
He smiles and turns me to face him. “Why’s that?”
“Because.” My heart gives a soft squeeze as I drape my arms around his shoulders. “I just want it to be me and you.” I run my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair.
He narrows his eyes and pulls me closer, his hand slipping beneath my sweater. “Dance with me, baby girl?”
My pulse stutters at the nickname. “I thought you’d never ask, cowboy.”
Hunter stands, crowding my space, and pushes back his barstool.
He spins me and, with his hand on my spine, leads me to the dance floor.
He twirls me out into a spin and back into the embrace of his frame.
I laugh, knowing he’s purposely putting on a show to notify everyone around us that there’s been a change in our relationship.
I’m sure people are already using their phone trees to alert the town.
The music swirls around us, a slow country song that has our feet moving in sync without thinking.
Hunter’s hand is firm at my back, guiding me through the steps, but his eyes—those molten chocolate eyes—haven’t left mine for the last few minutes.
The floorboards thud beneath us, every movement drawing us closer, the heat between us building with each turn and twirl.
I laugh, a light sound that echoes in the quiet space between us, and my fingers brush against his chest. We’ve danced together a hundred times, yet here I am finally letting my feelings for Hunter take the lead.
I don’t know how I couldn’t. There have been so many moments of wanting him and pulling away, keeping this from myself, from him—afraid to let go, to truly give in. Now, here in his arms with the music wrapping us in its rhythm, it feels like our atoms are finally remembering where they belong.
George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart” plays softly in the background, the lyrics slipping into my mind like they’re meant just for us. The words echo everything I’ve been too scared to admit, everything I’ve buried away in my heart for so long.
Hunter’s voice is a low murmur just for me as he sings the lyrics in my ear.
He pulls away, suddenly quiet, and looks me in the eye.
His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, and he repeats the last line of the chorus.
His voice is a low rumble in his chest that makes every part of my body tingle in anticipation.
My heart skips a beat, the weight of the lyrics settling over me. “I . . .” The word catches in my throat, tangled in the heat of the moment as I hold his gaze.
And then, the sharp realization that I don’t have to hold back anymore hits me.
This is Hunter. The boy I grew up with, the man who has always been there for me.
I reach for him, fingers trembling as they grip the front of his shirt, and pull him closer.
I tiptoe higher, closing the space between us, and press my lips to his.
Our kiss is not slow or tentative. No, it’s fire.
A kiss that steals the breath from my lungs and makes me forget everything.
My worries, my fears, even the ground beneath my feet.
My hands wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer, like I can bury myself in this kiss, in him, and never let go.
Hunter responds just as fiercely, his hands anchoring me to him, pulling me flush against his body.
There’s no hesitation, no more questioning, no more fear. It’s just us, locked in this moment, everything else fading away. His lips are demanding but tender. Hunter deepens the kiss as his hand smooths up my back, caressing the back of my neck in that way that always makes me feel anchored.
Our bodies sway to the rhythm of the music. The want in his every touch ignites something wild inside me.
“Get a room,” someone hollers, and the room erupts into massive applause.
We break apart, each of us panting. I bury my forehead against his chest, my breath mingling with the warm air. The music still plays in the background, but it’s distant now, unimportant in comparison to the fire that simmers between us. I can barely think straight.
“I can’t believe I get to kiss you whenever I want now.” His voice is barely a whisper.
I exhale, breathless, and whisper back, “Me either.”
The moment feels endless until a vibrating buzz breaks the spell.
Hunter’s brows furrow as he pulls his phone from his back pocket and glances at the screen.
“Sorry, babe, it’s Chief. I’ve got to take this.
” He lets out an exasperated sigh and slowly pulls away from me, his eyes still dark with desire.
I follow him outside, the chilly air cooling my heated skin. He dials back, stepping away to talk to his chief. His shoulders drop, frustration evident in the way he rubs his face.
When he hangs up and walks back to me, I ask, “Everything okay?” I wrap my arms around his waist.
“There was another break-in,” he says, voice heavy. “Chief wants me to check it out.”
“Now?” I can’t keep the sharp edge out of my voice. We’ve just had the best first date in the history of first dates. This is not how tonight was supposed to end.
“Yeah.” His jaw tightens, tension settling into his shoulders. “But I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
For a split second, an old instinct needles my chest—See? Nothing stays perfect. But I push it down. “It’s okay,” I say softly.
We leave the bar in a rush, the ache in my chest growing as I slide into the passenger seat of Hunter’s truck. The drive back to my house stretches endlessly, the silence thick and heavy. The headlights carve a narrow path through dark fields, the town already asleep around us.
Hunter’s grip on the wheel tightens, his jaw locked. I know this case has been weighing on him, stealing his sleep and peace of mind. I wish I could make it easier for him.
He says softly, “I really don’t want our night to end like this.”
For a split second, I can see the man I’ve always known, the one who made me feel like the most important person in the room. And now it’s my turn to be that for him.
Hunter pulls into the driveway but doesn’t turn off the truck. He turns toward me, apology written all over his face. “I hate leaving you like this.”
“It’s okay, baby,” I say, shaking my head and placing my hand over his. “You’re doing what you have to do. I know how important this case is to you, so, trust me, I get it. Just be careful, okay?”
The tension in his face eases. He squeezes my hand and gets out of the vehicle. He opens my door, and I grip his hand and step down.
“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” he says.
“Okay.” I lean up, capturing his lips with mine. This kiss is softer, more gentle. “Don’t forget to turn the lights off when you come to bed.”
He smiles and places yet another kiss on the apple of my cheek. “Does this mean I can sleep in bed with you tonight?”
“Tonight”—I walk up to my front door and turn to face him—“and every night.”