He pressed his ear against the cedarwood door, stilling his own breath as Avery asked Donavan had he kept anything from her.
“Tell the truth, you piece of shit,” he gritted out quietly.
“No.” The muffled response didn’t shock Hunter in the least. He unwound his tight fists, surprised to find that his palms were moist. Tiny pools of blood were on his hands, he’d unknowingly allowed his nails to chew into the skin. Hunter wiped his palms over his jeans and waited for Avery to be the strong, courageous woman she needed to be.
She needed to kick Donavan Hardy to the curb.
A few minutes passed, and he didn’t hear a sound. Coughing from a guest bedroom startled him, Hunter started back down the hall. His bedroom was the last, at the head of the landing, which made it plausible for him to have walked over to use the restroom if whoever was making such a ruckus decided to step out of their room.
After a few moments, the coughing died down, and whoever it was, rolled over in bed. He stopped at the door for Donavan Junior’s room, clasped the cold knob, then jiggled. It was locked.
He cocked a smile.
If he wanted to get in . . .
He didn’t.
The rules had changed. Avery Castle and her son were both deaf, so they’d both be spared. Moreover, Hunter McIntosh had determined that he’d make a better father than his own dad.
Back in his bedroom, Hunter closed the door. He went to the closet, pushed his few clothes out of the way and looked at the mural he’d made on the wall. There in the center was a stolen photo that he’d taken from one of the many picture frames in the sitting room. Avery Castle was all smiles, her arms wrapped around him. Well it would be Hunter, once he got a photo of himself printed. For now, Donavan’s face was scratched out.
* * *
As a light sleeper, he’d awoken the moment Donavan’s Kawasaki charged to life. Hunter took a shower, dressed in jeans and a thermal.
“I made chocolate donuts.” A familiar, sickly sweet voice called after him as he headed toward the door.
Hunter frowned, before turning around and mirroring Carly’s smile.
“Your favorite, right?”
“Yes.”
She held up a picnic basket, lined with red and white checkered napkins. On top were fresh donuts. “Hunter, Hayden, um, Mr. Flint . . .”
“Yes, Mr. Flint.” He agreed with her correction. Yesterday, when checking in, he had chosen to give her his given name, not wishing to be caught off guard if she called out to him, and he didn’t respond due to forgetfulness.
“You’re a bit of a loner.”
“Is that a question?”
Carly moved like a honeybee buzzing toward the counter. “I know you’re interested in hunting—can I call you Hunter?”
“If you must.” This time his retort didn’t sound so awful.
“Hunter—that’s a cool name. It really suits you.” She plucked a brochure. “Here. As you know, Franny’s B&B is new, but we aim to cater our experience to each guest. So I took the liberty of finding all of the gaming areas in the general vicinity.”
Lips twitching into a smile, Hunter thanked her.
“Your donuts.”
“Oh, Hunter.” Avery bounded down the stairs. “How was your first night?”
His gaze instantly lit up. “Good.”
“I think he really likes it here, AC. Hunter here isn’t much for talking,” Carly said
“Oh, you’re looking cute today.” Avery winked at Hunter but signed to Carly, who patted her straightened hair.
He glanced at Carly again. There’d been a bunch of golden wiggles in her hair yesterday, now he noticed her blue eyes. Her gaze sparkled. He offered somewhat of a smile.
“Headed into town, Mr. Flint?”
“Yes.”
“How about I walk you out.” She told him.
As they walked, he could feel her turning around to Carly, giving a smile of apology.
“I’m sorry.” She began when they were outside. “But this is what happens when you employ family. Literally, I received the same line a little over a month ago at another establishment.”
“Who? Her? She’s your family?”
Avery smiled. “Yes. My fiancé’s sister. The helpful cute blonde you met yesterday.”
“She’s . . .beautiful.” He mustered the words with just enough enthusiasm. His eyes lit up with a new idea. Incapable of killing the closest woman to Donavan, Carly Hardy made a great substitute.
Avery’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, I thought she was getting on your nerves. Listen, we’re not one of those B&Bs that aspire to be all up in your bidness. I must’ve misread you yesterday, when I thought I was saving you from enjoying a quiet vacation. But I did want to say something to you now, it is going to probably be contradictory to my statement about being a nosy B&B . . .”
He stared at her, unable to keep his composure. It was on the tip of Hunter’s tongue to ask Avery if she wanted to pull a Bonnie and Clyde, kill these people already, and start their lives. After so many years of just existing, she had to be his reason. After all, she’d made him stay here longer than he anticipated.
“So, are you interested?” Avery chewed her bottom lip.
He stepped closer to her. His hand ready to graze over her cheek. She flinched. He startled. “Oh, I—there was a spiderweb, coming down from that tree.”
She stepped over a few paces, rubbed a hand over her face. “Ha, I’ll probably survive. I was bitten by a black widow as a kid.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Hey, I fought to keep a lot of historic land and wild life safe, me and Donavan.” Her eyes lit up when she said his name. “But anyway, like I was saying, you should definitely come to dinner tonight. The rest of the guests will be in attendance. It’ll be our first, and we’re considering implementing a once a week dinner theme. So you could go down in history for being among the first guests to attend. Carly would enjoy it.” She winked and in another instant was signing while glaring at the front door. “Junior, hey, I’m taking you to school today.”
“But where’s Dad?” The kid whined.
“Out.”
Hunter considered his options. Where had Donavan gone? It was too late to follow him. And Carly, she was the weakest link after all.
He headed back into the house where Carly was fiddling with a baby monitor. Her baby blues met his, and she pushed a few tresses behind her ear. She’d straightened that crap on her head for him.
“Wow, I didn’t notice how beautiful your eyes were without all that pretty golden hair in your face. Not sure which I prefer, the blue sky that’s your gaze or those curly locks.” He paused, unsure if the words were too contrite. The last date he’d went on was prom, and the chick had been interested in Hawk, which she’d made evident while Hunter had put a corsage on her. All she had done was talk about his brother.
“Thanks,” Carly murmured.
“What time do you get off work?”
She grinned. “I stay until 2 p.m., to help with late check out . . .” Carly placed a hand over her face. It didn’t stop the ultra-bright beamed ray of a smile she was sporting, and he told himself to give a fuck enough to get more information out of her.
Like when was a good time to have her around so that he could kill her, and then Donavan, without any interference from other outside forces?
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head.
“Sorry?” He arched an eyebrow, cocking his mouth into a half smile like Hawk always did with the girls. “What would you possibly have to be sorry about.”
“I’m not some ditzy blond. I just imagined that since you were here alone. I know you said you love hunting—and I was like your number one fan, saying, ‘Wow, Hunter is a cool nickname.’ Am I being too much?”
“I don’t recall you laying the charm on too thick. Did you really say Hunter is a cool nickname?”
She grinned. “Ha. You’re being nice to me. You just remind me of an old soul. Someone who’d l
isten to what I had to say. Someone who only spoke when you had something really, really important to say.”
Wow. Where was she when he needed a muse to read his poetry. It didn’t matter now. He’d already imprinted on Avery Castle. And Carly Hardy was disgustingly gullible.
“See, you’re doing it now.” Her pink tongue dipped out and over her bottom lip. “Listening, and I believe I’ve spent an entire lifetime having conversations and never felt like I was really listened to. Then you appear. Those beautiful gray eyes piercing through my soul, and I can’t stop myself from speaking. Sorry.”
Seriously, bitch?
He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth, laughing inwardly at how her gaze was drawn to him so readily. She was hypnotized by every minute move he made. “Carly, how about we have us a drink when you get off work?”
“Um . . .”
“Hot damn, don’t shoot me down, sweetheart.”
She sighed. “You have the dreamiest voice. Where are you from?”
“Alabama. Just a drink. You can tell me anything you’d like.” He stole her gaze from his lips, and they stared at each other for a few hot moments more, enough to make the blood brighten beneath her cheeks.
“I have a son.”
“Is he a Charger’s fan? And I mean Huntsville, Alabama hockey, not those other guys.”
She cackled. Her laugh was awful, unlike Avery Castle’s. But that didn’t matter. He’d keep Carly out all night. Have her call her brother, so he’d come for drinks. Kill two birds with one stone—literally.
24
Avery
Do not go to bed angry. Out of all the morsels of advice that her mom had given her, this was one caveat regarding romance that she’d never in a million years forget. And last night, the golden nugget of advice roamed through her mind as she lay on her side of the bed, facing the wall, and Donavan laid on his side facing the other.
She’d dropped off Junior, who had become spoiled by having his dad transport him to school. When she’d let him out and threatened to scream how much she loved him, Donavan Junior had broke and told her that sometimes Dad would take the Kawasaki. There was no way in hell she could be the favorite parent when it came to this task.
At the stop sign across the street from the elementary school, Avery checked her phone. Donavan hadn’t responded to her text as to where the heck he’d gone so early in the morning. With a sigh, she switched over to the messages between herself and Carly.
AVERY: Do you need me back soon . . .
CARLY: Nope!
Avery did a double take at the text stream of emojis that followed.
AVERY: Okay. Enjoy Room Six. Just because he looks like one of our favorite actors from back in the day, DON’T neglect the other guests pahlezzz.
CARLY: What??
AVERY: Girl, I had Seventeen magazine pinned up on my wall too. Until your brother . . .
CARLY: I still have it (slaps forehead emoji)
* * *
An hour later, Avery found herself at the private hospital where she’d given birth to her children. She was tempted to bribe the receptionist with a few benjamins to speak with Dr. Blaine. Though without an appointment, it felt like that wouldn’t fly in such a posh establishment. But it didn’t matter, Avery didn’t have two nickels to rub together, let alone cold hard cash.
“I’m sorry. Dr. Blaine is booked the entire day.”
“Alright.” Avery held her palms up and backed away. She took out her cell phone and used the TTYD application in order to make the call to Dr. Blaine while sitting in the farthest seat of the lobby. The receptionist gave her an odd look when she chose to stay. Then a half hour later, the lady called her name with a roll of her eyes.
Instead of a nurse at the door, Dr. Blaine stood there. Her pencil thin dreadlocks were in a bun on top of her head with a few strands out at her temple. She removed her prescription glasses. Her kind, wise eyes crinkled at the edges when she saw Avery.
“I am not a shrink, sweetheart.”
Since Dr. Blaine had already offered to provide her a referral, Avery gave a snippy retort. “But you are one of my father’s best friends—if that’s an appropriate term to say about a man who treats most humans like shit.”
Dr. Blaine pursed her lips and stalked down the hall with Avery following suit. Instead of heading into an examination room, Dr. Blaine opened the door to her office. Once they were seated, her doctor’s gaze warmed with sincerity. “Talk to me, Avery.”
“I think I might have bitten of more than I can chew. We have the bed and breakfast and a six-week-old, and DJ. I keep telling myself that DJ needs godparents. I was going to ask you to be Anya’s godmother, but I forgot that DJ needs—”
“Avery.”
“Okay, just give me a second.” Sucking in a lungful of oxygen, Avery sat back. “All you do is tell me like it is. Tell me I can do this—this living and having so many goals.”
“Oh, so you’re not interested in using that hundred-thousand-dollar toolbox of tips and coping mechanism ideas that you learned while in Sunnymead? But you just want me to—”
“Give it to me straight. Tell me I can do this. That Donavan will stay by my side as we complete all these ventures that we have going on.”
Dr. Blaine smiled. “Alright, so you just want some tough love . . . that type of talk. Like I had to do with Verdie once she stopped confusing me for one of your father’s mistresses—not that I’m aware of such a thing.”
They both laughed for a moment. Throughout the years, Dr. Blaine had been very close with her family. Avery didn’t have much to do with her until she became her ob/gyn as a depressed, pregnant teen.
“Mary,” she tried. “Talk to me.”
“Humph, thank you for finally using my first name.”
Avery grimaced. “Look, you’ve been a friend of my family since the beginning of time. I’m glad you were there for the birth of both of my children, and I know I haven’t always allowed you to be close even when you took those trips to Sunnymead to visit me. Can we work on that now?”
Dr. Blaine nodded. “I appreciate that, Avery. Do you miss your mom?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“You’re here, Avery, because you don’t want to talk with your mom. While on the one hand, I’m honored that you’d come to me for wisdom, I feel like you want some motherly advice.”
“I—”
“Also, you were correct when saying I’ve been there for you a long time. We connected when you were pregnant with Junior. You pushed me away when you went to Sunnymead, and our relationship hasn’t really recovered. Although, I would have to say, if we were really close, I don’t think it would’ve been right for me to be your OB.”
“Did my mom talk to you? And don’t write me off as being paranoid, Mary.”
Dr. Blaine chuckled, holding up a hand in apology. “You’re getting rather comfortable. I like that. And of course, Verdrena has asked me for advice for months. She’s interested in restructuring the relationship you guys have—”
“We don’t.”
“You do. It’s dysfunctional. I’ll be both Donavan Junior and Anya’s godmother. Knowing you’ve considered me is awesome. But, Avery, I’d like to give you some advice after you and your mom speak.”
Avery smirked, choosing to change the subject. “Thanks, it will be you and Carly.”
Dr. Blaine shrugged. “This is the millennium. They can watch The Godfather when they’re older if needed.”
“Ha,” Avery said. “Tell that to Antonio. I hope it doesn’t hurt his feelings that I haven’t considered him. He’s just young and busy too.”
“Hey, Antonio will be just fine. Sort of hurts my feelings that you didn’t laugh. I was really funny! You’ve delayed my appointments today, so this is considered a break. I deserve to make myself happy. That means laughing. Now listen, Avery, you are a strong, black female.”
“You are.”
“No, listen to me, seriously.” Dr. Blaine
cocked her head to the side. “You’ve accomplished more than people even dream of. Award winning child protégé pianist—no matter how much you try to forget about it, you were. Now, you’re making Francis Baudelaire—”
Avery’s eyes brightened. “Franny Downs—”
“Was a Baudelaire. Any historian worth his or her salt knows that. But you sure as heck do not know when to calm down and celebrate your successes. There isn’t a moment’s break with you. But can we raincheck this chat? You know the moment a professional black woman is late to an appointment, she’s typecast in a bad light.” Dr. Blaine smirked.
Avery laughed and stood up. “Understood. So, I truly, truly appreciate you squeezing me in.”
“Ha, I doubt I’m half as in demand as you are at the current moment. You have the business, a new child, and a wedding to plan. Please take my referral to speak with a therapist, or at the very least hear your mother out.”
“Maybe,” Avery sighed.
“Really? That sounds promising,” Dr. Blaine responded sarcastically. “Must I remind you that Ms. Verdie attended every ob/gyn visit you had. I will always honor your decision to come to me for advice because that means you hold me in a high regard. But that’s the best seed of guidance I can provide for now. Talk it out with her then determine where you’re at as far as forgiveness.”
“Yeah,” Avery scoffed. “But she didn’t come to Sunnymead to visit me. Must have been too guilty.”
Dr. Blaine reached over and grabbed her shoulders. “Girl, you are about to make me lose my job. You were raised Baptist. Act like it.”
* * *
Avery found herself sitting outside the mansion where she grew up. The luxury imports that her mother loved were in the front driveway. Her cell phone vibrated in her pants.
ANTONIO: Are you getting out the car?
She glanced across the way and saw the front door open. Antonio came out. She breathed a sigh of relief to see that he hadn’t brought any unwelcome company with him.
Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance Page 13