Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HUNTER
Song — Twisting The Knife, Ice Nine Kills ft Mckenna Grace
I’m frozen. Rooted to the dirt like the soles of my boots have fused with the earth. Watching my best friend’s arm wrap around Lola’s waist like he has any goddamn right to touch her.
Reese is notoriously single. He’s fucked his way through most of the town. Wined them, dined them, dangled the lavish life in front of them like a carrot on a string. The apartments and the suits and the promises he never intends to keep.
They never stick around long. Never long enough for him to introduce them to me. But this has me fucked up. Because Lola isn’t his. She has this fire behind her eyes, this razor-sharp edge that tells me she’d see through a man like Reese in a heartbeat.
Mine. She feels like she’s mine.
Anger surges through me, dragging old ghosts out of the dark. Feelings I’ve buried so deep I thought they’d rotted by now. That I’m not enough. That I’ll never be enough for a woman to stay.
Ashley couldn’t even stick by my side.
But if Reese wants to stake his claim—if he already has—then fine. I’ll walk away. Let them have whatever this is. She can come crying to me later when she realizes he can’t deliver on a single thing he’s promised.
I could, though. I’d want to give her everything.
My feet are moving before my brain can catch up. And then I’m there, standing in front of them, clearing my throat like it isn’t full of broken glass.
Reese looks at me with that shit-eating grin. Fuck, he’s such a lawyer.
I shake his hand tight enough to mean something and don’t look at Lola. Can’t. Because if I do, she’ll see everything, the hurt and the rage and the way something inside my chest is cracking down the middle.
My momma raised me better than to be rude to a woman. Even one who’s gutted me without knowing it.
It was a fuck. That’s all. Nothing else was real. I was merely an experiment to her. Reese is more her type. The kind of man who would fit right in in New York. I keep telling myself that.
“Where is the birthday boy?” Reese asks with easy charm.
I clear my throat and lock my jaw. “With Ace.”
He nods, then looks down at Lola. My eyes follow his. And my heart slams. She looks like she wants the earth to crack open and drag her under. Her face is pale. Her fingers are white-knuckling the edge of that silver tray.
I keep my expression carefully empty.
“Have you had the pleasure of meeting my girl, Lola?” Reese asks.
My girl.
Two words. That’s all it takes. Two words, and they slice through me like a blade through a dark, already-bleeding heart.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “Briefly.”
Lola tries to push herself out of his hold, and I pause and watch. Because something isn’t right.
They have absolutely zero chemistry. Not even a spark.
And then Reese does the one thing that makes my blood run cold. He takes off his play pretend cowboy hat and places it on her head. His friends erupt—whooping, clapping, cheering him on like he’s just lassoed himself a prize mare at auction. He might as well have cocked his leg and pissed on her.
Lola blinks and frowns. She clearly has no idea what he’s just done, what that hat on her head means in a town like this. But then her eyes scan the group, searching for something. And they land on mine. All I see in them is remorse. The desperate, bone-deep kind that can’t be faked.
She gets it.
She rips the hat off her head and hurls it to the ground. It lands crown-down in the dirt. She tears herself out of his grip, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, something wild and furious rolling off her in waves as she holds the tray up like a shield.
I cross my arms and wait. Let the silence do its work. Because Reese has made a statement by putting that hat on her.
And Lola? She’s just made an even bigger one.
“Reese.” Her voice is dangerously controlled. “I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not your girl. You are my landlord, and anything else is inappropriate. Especially in front of my boss for the day.”
Reese’s jaw twitches. He wipes his hand across his mouth, a tell I’ve seen a thousand times in court. He’s rattled. “We’ve been on two dates. No need to be shy in front of my friends.” His tone drops into something patronizing, talking down to her like she’s a child throwing a tantrum.
My fists clench at my sides. He’s my best friend. But this side of him? I don’t recognize it.
“No.” Lola’s chin lifts. “You tricked me into two dates. Keep pushing me, I’ll embarrass you in front of everyone.
You might think you can control me. That you can convince me to date you.
I don’t know if you’ve met women like me before.
But we don’t let men like you walk all over us.
I’ve spent my entire life being surrounded by guys like you.
And I won’t be bullied by a fake cowboy in a cheap suit. ”
Fuck. The way she’s gripping that tray, I’m half convinced she’s about to cave his skull in with it. The other half of me is turned on that she just stood up to him with every bit of fire I expected from her.
But it leaves me with more questions than answers. Because Reese doesn’t fight for women. He doesn’t like public displays of affection. This whole thing is weird.
“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” He reaches for her, voice dropping to that slick, practiced whisper he uses to calm things down.
Her eyes go nuclear. “Call me baby one more time and see what happens, Reese,” she spits.
This is about to get ugly. The kind of scene that ends up being retold at every barbecue for the next five years. And might ruin Violet's business, which then means Lola and her will leave town. Nope.
Dammit.
I move before I can talk myself out of it. Wrap my arm around Reese’s shoulders and haul him backward, away from her, away from the group, away from the mess he’s made.
“Get the fuck off me, Hunter!” he shouts, thrashing against my grip.
“No.” I tighten my hold. “You need to calm the fuck down.”
I drag him across the yard, through the back door, and into the ranch kitchen. The screen door slams behind us hard enough to rattle the glasses on the shelf.
I drop him and step back. “What the fuck was that?”
He opens his mouth. I don’t have time for his excuses; he can talk himself out of anything, it’s his damn job. But I know him better than that.
“This is my son’s birthday,” I cut him off, voice shaking with the effort of not putting my fist through his jaw. “Not a place for you to have a fight with your girlfriend of the week.”
He blows out a breath and drags both hands down his face. When he looks at me again, the arrogance is gone. Something raw sits in its place. “I’m so sorry. I—I just really like her. She’s different.”
I nearly choke on the irony of it. “She doesn’t want you, Reese.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him just how well I know her. How I had my hands on her waist minutes before he did. How I can still taste her on my tongue if I close my eyes long enough.
“She does. I know she does. I feel that spark between us. I just need to make her see it.”
My blood boils. “And you think speaking to her like she’s a dog is going to win her over?” I keep my voice level. Barely. “What the hell was that? Get some respect, Reese. Your parents brought you up better than that. And I’ll happily remind you how we treat women if you do that again.”
I don’t care if I’ve gotten it wrong, if I’ve read something into a night that was nothing more than skin and sweat and bad decisions. No one speaks to her like that. Not him. Not anyone.
“I know.” He swallows hard. “I know. It won’t happen again.”
I nod once, then turn my back on him, brace both hands against the kitchen counter, and stare out the window. Wyatt is running in circles on the grass, arms outstretched, grinning so wide it splits his whole face open. Joy in its purest, most uncomplicated form.
That’s all that matters, I tell myself. He’s all that matters.
And then sunlight catches red hair across the yard, and it blazes like fire. I close my eyes. It wasn’t meant to be.