Chapter 40 Hutch
Hutch
The bell above the door to Nat’s place jingles, and I’m immediately hit with the sweet, overpowering scent of sugar and butter, mixed with the signature scent of bacon and coffee that Timber’s Treats is known for.
I make my way toward the counter, where Nat is elbow-deep in the glass pastry case, pulling an order for a customer, setting pastry after pastry into a teal box on the counter at her elbow. Her hair falls from her ponytail when she looks up and nods at me.
It’s Nat and two employees I don’t recognize at the counter with her, and it’s busy at this time of day, the tail end of the lunch rush. From here, I can see Nat’s other employee, Thalia, glazing some kind of scone or something in the back.
I don’t come in often, I’m more of a salty snack kind of guy—sunflower seeds, potato chips, and popcorn being my go-tos, but when I do, the kitchen in the back is always a mix of chaos and comfort, kind of like Mom’s kitchen growing up.
Nat folds the top on the box and hands it to her customer with a smile. I wait until she wipes her hands on her apron and comes over to the other end of the counter.
“Those new?” I ask, eyeing a batch of square something or others covered in powdered sugar cooling on a rack on the counter. I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast this morning, and even if I’m not a big sweets guy, I can always go for something homemade.
“Yeah, hoping to add them to the menu next week.” Nat smirks at me and without missing a beat, stacks a few trays on a tall rack, as she says, “But you’re not Hank, so you don’t get any.”
I raise an eyebrow and groan, leaning on the counter. “Come on, Nat. What’s a guy gotta do around here to get a decent…whatever those are?”
“They’re strawberry pop-overs. And all you gotta do to get one is be my favorite brother,” she shoots back, crossing her arms.
“Okay, cool. So all I gotta do is be a moody bitch in khaki,” I mutter. “I’ll get right on that.”
Nat laughs, her eyes dancing. “Don’t forget to practice that thousand-yard stare and add in some dead-on-the-inside rancher energy and boom—nailed it.”
I chuckle, running a hand down my face. “Guess I’ll take my Nutter Butters and go.”
She picks up a small, teal-colored box off the back counter and places it in front of me, with a skeptical look. “I don’t remember you ever being a fan.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. But I know someone who is,” I say, fishing in my back pocket for my wallet.
Nat pauses, as if she’s letting my comment sink in, then raises her eyebrows. “Might this someone be a certain redhead staying with our little sister?”
I shift uncomfortably; eyes focused on digging through my wallet.
She huffs out a laugh, and when I glance back up at her, her expression is caught somewhere between incredulous and concerned.
“What?” I ask, maybe a little too aggressively.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just you’re not one to buy cookies for yourself, let alone a woman,” she says, picking up a tea towel from the counter and flinging it over her shoulder.
I shrug. “Thought I’d do something nice for her.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums. “So, when we were all at Roxy’s for eighties night Finn said something about you two still hooking up… That a thing now? You graduating from tourists to our sister-in-law’s friends now or is this a seasonal hobby?”
Her words catch me off guard. Had Ginger confided in Finn? I couldn’t see her telling Finn and not Wren. But if they both knew, and Nat knew, then everyone knew.
Was I the only one who wasn’t talking about whatever this was with Ginger?
I’m not upset that she’s been talking about us. Hell, I don’t really care much about who knows and who doesn’t. Still, the way Nat said it, like it was a joke, like I couldn’t possibly be capable of more than a fling grated more than it probably should have.
We’ve only been back in town a week and a half, but we’ve already slipped into this rhythm—talking, laughing, grabbing dinner in town, and bringing it back to my place.
One night she made spaghetti, and we crashed on the couch watching Snapped, which, apparently, is one of her favorite shows.
A fact I teased her about and asked if I should sleep with one eye open. She grinned and gave me a creepy wink.
The muscle in my jaw involuntarily clenches and I look up at her. “I like spending time with her, okay? I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
Nat’s playful expression drops, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ve hurt her feelings. I didn’t mean to. I’m so tired of every question from my siblings being about who I’m screwing around with. Like, I could never be interested in more than just sex with someone. Am I really that shallow to them?
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, pulling out two twenties and holding them out to her. “I gotta go. Just keep the change.”
Her hand on my arm stops me. “You’re perfectly capable of having a real relationship, you know.
But you don’t let yourself. I know I give you crap,” she hesitates.
“We all do…it’s our dynamic. We give you shit about who you sleep with just like we tease Hudson about his hair and Hank about his cargo pants. ”
I chuckle. She’s right. Every single one of us has our thing. Nat’s aways been the prom queen, Norah, the nerd, and Hales is the baby, dad’s favorite—next to Hank.
“If you like her, maybe you should do something about it,” she says.
I snort, shaking my head at the box of Nutter Butters. “I’m just trying not to make a mess of shit while she’s here.”
“If you ask me, calling your little sister after hours, asking her to make some chick a batch of her favorite cookies... well, you’re already in pretty deep. So maybe stop denying the way you’re clearly feeling,” she says, shoving the box of cookies toward me.
“I’m not sure what that looks like,” I mutter, more to myself than to Nat.
“Then figure it out, dumbass,” Nat says, making me chuckle.
“Thanks for the cookies,” I tell her.
She nods, then she does something she’s never done before. She opens up a small paper sack before scooping up one of those little strawberry pastries, before dropping it inside. She folds the top over and holds it out to me.
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
She points a threatening finger at me. “You tell Hank I gave you that first and you’re dead to me, got it?”
I give her a lazy smile. “Got it.”
Nat grinned. “Good, now get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”
I knock on Hales' door a few minutes later, cookies in hand. It takes a couple of minutes, but Ginger answers, looking fucking delicious in leggings and an oversized sweater. She looks tired, but as gorgeous as ever.
I hold up the box. “Brought you something.”
She leans against the doorframe, screen pressed open with a palm, tilting her head at me, a playful smile tugging the corner of her full lips. “If you’re about to tell me you came to wreck my vagina with your gigantic cock, I’m gonna have to pass. I have a lot of work to do.”
I bark out a laugh, completely caught off guard. “I’m not sure, but this might be better than a gigantic cock.”
She lifts a brow at me.
“What?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck and feeling a little embarrassed. What if she thinks it’s weird?
She laughs lightly, and it makes my heart squeeze. “I’m floored that Hutch Hayes thinks there is something better than his own cock.”
A grin splits my face, loving her mouthiness. God, there isn’t much I don’t love about Ginger. The thought hits me out of nowhere.
I wasn’t lying the other night when I told her I wanted this, wanted her for however long she’d be here. And after what I confessed to Nat, well, apparently I’m in deeper than I thought.
“Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I joke. “I said better than a gigantic cock, not mine, per se.”
She tilts her head, her eyes full of laughter before she reaches for the box. “What is it?” she asks as I hand it over.
“You’ll have to open it and see,” I tell her, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I feel a little tug in my gut, anticipation, tension. I find myself hoping she likes them.
She looks up at me. “Are those homemade Nutter Butters?”
I nod, feeling like a fifteen-year-old asking a girl out for the first time.
“Nat, I’m assuming?” she asks.
I scoff at her, playfully. “Rude. I can bake.”
“I’m not trying to be,” she says, her smile turning sultry. “But you and I both know your strengths lie…elsewhere.”
“You flirting with me, California?”
Her smile is a slow spread that has my stomach relaxing. “Did you have your sister make me cookies, Bigfoot?”
I chuckle and glance down at my feet. My cheeks heating. Am I fucking blushing? My God, where is the cocky self-assurance that usually comes so easily to me? Where is my bravado? My ability to say one fucking word without smiling like a goon? What the fuck is this woman doing to me?
“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and when I meet her gaze it’s warm and happy.
“Yeah, well, it only took a little bit of prodding to get her to do it,” I tell her. “Especially after she asked if you and I were hooking up.”
Ginger’s eyes sparkle with laughter, but she rolls her lips together, holding it back. She pulls out a cookie and takes a bite. “Mmm. Worth it.”
I huff a laugh out. She’s not denying it, and I can’t say I’m mad about it. Ginger is amazing and beautiful and if she’s okay with people knowing about us, I guess I am, too.
“Yep. These are fucking amazing,” she says, taking another bite.
Her phone rings behind her on the coffee table.
We both glance toward the sound, but she doesn’t move to get it.
“Got plans for tonight?” I ask.
She casts a quick look over her shoulder at her open laptop, sighing. “Probably work. I have to finish up this project I’m working on by tomorrow morning. Before the boys get here.”
The phone starts ringing again. She bites her lip, then finally turns and walks back to grab it.
“Hold on—it’s probably one of the boys.”
She answers, her face already softening. “Hey, baby. You guys all set?”
She smiles at whatever one of them says. “Make sure you listen to your dad, okay? And try not to argue the whole flight.”
I stay where I am, watching her. The tenderness in her tone. The way her fingers toy with the hem of her hoodie while she listens. She’s got this glow about her when she talks to them—like the sun turns up a notch inside her chest.
“I miss you, too. I’ll be right there when you land,” she says, and her voice dips, warm and thick.
When she hangs up, she turns back toward me, a smile lingering.
“I was about to ask you something,” she says, walking back into the doorway.
“What?”
“Would you…” she hesitates, “I mean, if it’s not too weird for you, would you maybe want to come with me? To get the boys, I mean.”
“Why would it be weird?”
She shrugs, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. “Peter has a layover before his flight out. Said he’d like to get some lunch.”
Lunch with her ex? Not my favorite idea. But if it means getting to see her again, being there when her boys land? I’m in.
I nod. “I’d like that.”
She grins and bites her lip.
Stepping closer, I press my body into hers, wrapping an arm around her waist. I lean down and claim her mouth with a deep, slow kiss—hungry but gentle, like I’m memorizing every inch of her.
She fists both hands in my shirt, a soft whimper escaping her lips.
When I finally pull back, I brush my thumb across her cheek and whisper, “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” she echoes.