19. Sutton #2
Greer releases a breath so loud her lips make a vibrating noise. She wipes green goop off her cheek and inspects it on her fingers. “Let’s just say, having to teach second graders the week of Halloween should be illegal. Now, stop asking about me and show me the room.”
Navy snatches the phone out of my hand and takes Greer on a virtual tour of the master suite.
I sit on one of two navy lounge chairs I placed in front of the picturesque window.
It’s one of my favorite places in the house because there’s a perfect view of the property.
The fields of wildflowers have since turned to shades of orange and yellow, but even the expanse of gray landscape, mountains in the distance, still takes my breath away.
From the corner of my eye, I see a car coming down the road, creating a small dust cloud. My heart skips a beat. Is Hunter home early from work? I had hoped to get the room done and disappear before he got here. I watch the cloud get closer and closer, and, to my relief, it’s Easton.
“I’ll be right back,” I call out to Navy, who’s not paying an ounce of attention to me.
I step onto the porch as he approaches. “Hey, Easton.”
“Just wanted to check in one last time before I head out,” he says. “How’s it going?”
For the next few minutes, we talk shop. Easton’s been an amazing mentor during this process.
I wish he’d stay on until we complete the house, but I know he’s got other jobs to get back to.
I couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like him in my corner as I tackle this new dream of mine.
Who knew getting turned down for the police department gig would actually turn into something good?
“Not going to lie, Easton,” I say, “it’s been nice having an expert walk me through this remodel. Wish you could stick around longer.”
Easton glances down at his feet. “Turns out, I might not be gone for too long.”
My eyes widen. “Are you thinking of moving to Suncrest?”
He nods and shoves his hand in his pocket. “There’s a high possibility that I’ll be back next year. And not just for the department gig.”
“Well, don’t be a stranger when you get back. You know you’re always welcome with us.”
“That means a lot, Sutton.”
Easton’s driving down the road when Navy peaks out the front door. “Who was that?”
“My contractor, Easton.”
“Huh, his voice sounded familiar. Have I met him?”
“How would I know?” I shrug. “He was supposed to come to the Halloween party but never showed up. I’m sure he’s probably been to Ground Up a handful of times.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Her voice is soft, contemplative. “You need anything else or can I head out? I’ve got a date later.”
I push past her and step into the foyer. “What is up with you not telling us about these dates?”
She snatches her purse and escapes out the front door. “I’ll tell you girls when there’s something to tell. Right now, it’s been pretty abysmal. In fact, I’m certain dating as a grown-ass woman, with a kid to boot, is like trying to vacation in the seventh circle of hell.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. A strong wind whips along the porch, trees bending and swaying.
“Trust me,” she hollers. “It is. Be glad you’ve already found your man.”
Heat crawls up my spine. Once Navy’s car disappears out of sight, I return to the master suite to check my phone. I haven’t heard from Hunter since his earlier text. Sure enough, there’s nothing new, so I shoot off a quick message.
Me: Master bedroom is all done.
Me: I’m going to head out.
Now that the master suite is done, I’m not sure what Hunter’s plans are. Will he still want to sleep with me every night? Or will he be ready for space now that his home is available? But I don’t have the energy to take this on right now. Instead, I send a passive-aggressive text.
Me: See you when I see you.
There’s really no use making him moving back home any more awkward. I’ll give him time to figure it out. I’m sliding my phone into my back pocket when it vibrates.
Hunter: I’ll see you in about ten minutes.
All of a sudden, I feel nervous. What if Hunter has already made up his mind? And what if it’s not what I want to hear? I shouldn’t be here when he gets here.
Me: No worries.
Me: I’m going to head back to my place.
Me: Let you settle into yours.
My phone rings, and his face flashes across my screen.
Nervous energy washes over me. I know I’m being silly, but I feel so out of my element.
How do we go from best friends to whatever we are now?
The first I know how to do, but this new phase of our relationship?
I need a guidebook or a floaty or a guru. I answer and press the phone to my ear.
“Babe,” Hunter says, “I’m not sure what’s going through that head of yours, but don’t you dare leave.”
“Hi to you too.” I smile to myself as I lean against the edge of his dresser.
“I’m just about home. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to text earlier. Work was stupid busy today.”
“It’s alright. I was busy today too.”
There’s a lightness in his voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see our room. Be there soon.”
He ends the call, not waiting for my reply. Not that I’d have known what to say.
Our room.
Those words have sent my mind into an even further tailspin.
He tosses our around so casually, as if he knows we’re a sure thing. In one part of my mind, I feel it too. The idea that we’re meant to be together. But after our emotional conversation at the Halloween party, there’s a small part of me waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I slip my boots on, gather my bags, and head to my vehicle.
I’m starting to shut the driver side door when Hunter comes tearing down the driveway.
He doesn’t bother turning his truck off or shutting his truck door before he’s out and stomping across the yard in my direction.
“I could have sworn,” his voice booms, “I told you not to leave.”
“Who says I have to do what you tell me?” My voice is laced in sarcasm.
He’s had his moments of being dominant in a way that set my body on fire, but just because my body wants to cave to his every whim doesn’t mean I have to listen all the time.
“Get out of your car and into the truck,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder to his idling Ford.
I narrow my eyes at him. He narrows his at me.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, the storm the meteorologist promised rolling into the valley. Looks like trick-or-treating is going to be a wet one this year.
“Babe,” he says, shoulders dropping on an exhale, “it’s been a long day. All I want to do is see you and spend time with you. Please, get in the truck.”
I crack my car door a little, and he opens it the rest of the way.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“A drive.” He walks backward, never taking his eyes off me, and opens the passenger door of his truck.
The temperature has dropped, and a cold breeze sweeps past me, rustling my hair from its chignon.
Storm clouds pile in the distance, but I’m not sure where the storm will break—out there or right here.
I take a few steps in his direction, and he breathes a sigh of relief.
When I reach him, he holds out his hand and helps me into the truck.
When I’m seated in the cab, he palms my thigh, squeezing gently, and makes his way to the driver’s side. I crank the heater and settle back into my seat.
As soon as Hunter’s in the truck, he nods his head to the open bench seat between us. “Get over here,” he says.
I scoot over.
“That’s better.” He places his right arm around the back of the seat, hand resting on my shoulder. I’m convinced he can see my pulse beating rapidly on my neck.
We turn off his property, and rain spatters the windshield. Neither of us says anything as he traverses the backroads, eventually turning down the one we know well, the one that leads to the lake.
Our lake.