Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
HUNTER
Song- God Needs The Devil, Jonah Kagen
My son doesn't open up to strangers. In fact, most adults outside of my family struggle to get a single word out of him.
Yet here is my red-haired firefly, in my house, sitting cross-legged on the playroom floor, helping my little boy get through his feelings like she was put on this earth to do it.
I lean against the doorframe, and I listen.
I listen to her voice go soft for him. I listen to her tell him that adults are strange, that people do things no one understands, and I watch my boy look at her like she's the first person who's ever made that make sense.
I listen to enough. Enough to make my chest crack open in a way I wasn't prepared for. Enough to make my heart race like never before. Not the way it races when I want her. Not the way it raced in that bar, or in my truck, or every night since, when I can still feel her lips on mine.
This is different.
This is worse.
She slowly turns to face me, and Wyatt runs towards me.
I ruffle his hair with a smile, pulling him into my side. But my eyes don't leave her. Can't. She's standing there in that white uniform with her red hair falling out of its tie and her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.
I need to call Ashley. I can't have him crying on his damn birthday because he thinks his mom doesn't love him. "Your friends from school are outside. Uncle Ace is about to open the bounce house, but we need the birthday boy to do the first big bounce. Want to go do that?" I ask him.
He nods but doesn't move. "I want to show my friend Gary."
Fuck.
My friend. He's known her for five minutes, and she's already his friend. That does something to me I'm not ready to name.
"Alright. We can show Lola the goat after you've played with your friends. Deal?" I say.
“Lola. Do you know her? Is she your friend already, Daddy?” Wyatt asks innocently.
I smile at him. “She is.”
He grins, turning back to Lola, giving her the thumbs up. And then he's off. Running out of the room and back outside, his little boots slapping the hardwood.
Leaving me and my city girl in the same room.
And this time, I ain't letting her leave here without a fight.
The door is still open. The noise from outside filters in, kids screaming, Ace's laugh carrying over the music, the distant hum of the party I should be at. My son's sixth birthday is happening without me, right now, because I can't make my legs move.
Because she's here.
She's here, and she didn't leave town, and she's standing in my son's playroom looking at me like she's terrified, and all I can think is… She's special.
I think she's mine.
I used to listen to my dad tell me stories about how he knew the day he met our mom that she was the woman to change him. I'd roll my eyes. Tell him he was full of shit. That love like that didn't exist outside of the fairy tales Mom used to read us before bed.
And he loved that woman until the day he died. Even when she passed, his love kept her alive for us. In every story he told, in every time he said her name and his voice cracked just a little, even years later.
I get it now.
Standing in this room, looking at this woman—I fucking get it.
"You lost for words, firefly?" I ask, pushing myself off the doorframe and stepping inside.
She chews on her lip, watching my every move like I'm something dangerous. Smart girl.
I close the door behind me. The click of the latch is the loudest sound in the room.
"I shouldn't have been in here. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I heard him crying," she says quietly, hugging her arms around herself.
A grin twitches on my lips. I take another step toward her. There goes another kick of my heart. “Don’t apologize for looking out for my son, firefly,” I mutter.
"I-I need to borrow a mop," she blurts out.
I chuckle, stopping right in front of her. Close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. I nod slowly as she looks up at me.
"Did you know this was my ranch?" I ask her out of pure curiosity. Has she been avoiding me? Has she been walking around this town for days, knowing exactly where I am and staying the hell away?
I've actually been going into town a lot more since our night in the truck. Doing school drop-offs and pick-ups. Not that I don't like to pick up Waytt, it's just that I'm normally too busy and he has his nanny, Matilda. But I've been making the time to look for her.
I could have done more digging and found her, but I wanted her to come to me.
"No. I didn't," she tells me, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Thank you for making sure my boy was okay," I say. And I mean it. Every word. More than she knows.
She nods. "He's really sweet, Hunter."
Jesus.
I suck in a breath. The way she says my name in that accent, that sharp, beautiful New York bite wrapping around the words. Like she has no idea what it does to me. What she does to me.
"He's a good kid."
She gives me a small smile, and I see the exact second she decides to run. Her body shifts. Her eyes dart to the left. And as she tries to walk around me, my arm moves before my brain gives it permission.
I grab her waist. Pull her in. And then I push her up against the wall.
A little gasp rushes out of her, and the sound goes straight through me like it just lit a fuse.
I tip her chin up with my finger, tilting her face to mine, those green eyes staring up at me, wide and burning for me, just like a firefly.
"Are you avoiding me, city girl?" I rasp.
She shakes her head.
I arch a brow. "Lies. You ain't just passing through here, are you?"
"No. I'm living here. Well. Sort of. I'm in the middle of trying to secure another lease."
Living here. The words hit me square in the chest and explode. Because it clicks together, she lied to me because she’s scared of what this is between us, too.
I gently brush a stray strand of red hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. My fingers linger. Trace the line of her jaw. Like I've got every right to touch her. Like she's already mine and her mouth just hasn't caught up yet.
"Living here," I repeat. More to myself than to her.
Her breathing hitches, and I feel it against my chest, the shallow, shaky rise of it. Her hands are flat against the wall behind her, fingers splayed, like she doesn't trust herself to touch me.
Good. Because if she puts her hands on me right now, I'll take her in my son's playroom, and I am not that man.
Not today.
"You should have told me," I murmur, my thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "I would have come lookin’ for you sooner."
It was always part of my plan. Once I’d had my meeting with the Greeks and hosted this party. My sights were firmly set on Lola.
"Hunter—"
"I meant what I said, Lola. I’ll chase you."
Her breath catches. Something in her eyes shifts. The same thing I've been carrying around for days. She feels it too. That night wasn't nothing. It wasn't just a stranger in a bar. It wasn't just skin on skin and a goodbye in the dark.
It was the start of something neither of us asked for.
“You didn’t chase me, though, did you?” she counters, glancing away from me.
"I can't stop thinking about you," I tell her. No games. No charm. Just the raw, aching truth of it. "I've tried. Believe me, I've tried."
Her eyes glass over and her lips part.
“I can’t stop either,” she breathes out.
And I'm done.
I close the last inch between us and press my mouth to hers.
She tastes the same. Sweet and warm and just a little bit reckless, and the second our lips meet, her hands come off that wall and fist into the front of my shirt like she's been drowning and I'm the only thing keeping her above water.
I kiss her slow. Both hands pressed flat against the wall beside her head.
I kiss her like I've been starving for it, because I have.
I kiss her like I'm telling her something I don't have the words for yet. I keep my hands planted on that damn wall because I don’t have the restraint not to fuck her here.
Even I have my limits, and in my son's playroom on his birthday is one of them.
She makes a raspy sound against my mouth, and it almost takes my knees out from under me.
I deepen the kiss, and she lets me. Melts into me. Her fingers slide up my chest, curl around the back of my neck, and pull me closer, and I swear to God, every wall I've ever built starts to come down.
Every bit of willpower I have to keep my hands on the wall starts to fizzle.
The door flies open.
"Dad! Gary escaped again! He's eating the—"
We break apart. Fast. But, not fast enough.
Wyatt stands in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Behind him, I can hear Ace yelling something about a goat and the birthday cake.
My son blinks at me. Then at Lola. Then back at me. And then he grins. "Are you kissing my friend?"
Lola makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a groan, her hand flying to cover her mouth, her face almost the same color of her hair.
I clear my throat. Straighten up and adjust my hat. "Go catch your goat, son."
He giggles and then erupts into full-blown hysterical giggles and takes off down the hall screaming, "UNCLE ACE! DADDY WAS KISSING THE FOOD LADY!"
Lola drops her head against the wall and closes her eyes. "Oh my God."
I look at her. Completely flushed and her lips swollen from my kiss. Her hand is still gripping the front of my shirt like she forgot to let go.
I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. "You and me ain't done, firefly. Not even close."
I kiss her again, and she moans into my mouth. Holy fuck. I need her. I need her more than the air I breathe. I pull back, searching her eyes.
This time, I’m going to do it properly. Like she deserves. And I don’t think I can let her go.
“I seem to make very questionable decisions when you’re around, cowboy,” she whispers.
I chuckle, watching as she bites down on her lip. “Ditto, city girl. Ditto.”
And then I tip my hat and walk out of that room before I do something I can't take back. But I'm smiling.
For the first time in a long time, I'm really fucking smiling.