by Whitley Cox
“You’re using these reasons and excuses as a crutch. Take the fucking crutch away. Break that bastard. Chuck it in the motherfucking fire. You’re twenty-seven years old and you’ve been using this ‘socially awkward’ label for years. Have you done anything to change it? Asked a girl out? You’re with your peers now. We’re all the same age. You have to have caught up by now. The acne’s gone, your voice is deep, you’ve put on muscle and clearly went and got contacts. You’re twenty-seven on the outside but still sixteen on the inside. Cut the crap, man, and grow the fuck up. You’ve treated Hunter like shit all week.”
“I know.”
“Then do something about it.”
He looked back down at his knotted hands. “Did I . . . Did I do anything to offend you or Juney last night? I—I don’t remember much.”
She made a dismissive noise at the back of her throat, then stood up. “Nope. You were fine. Kept muttering under your breath that you were going to put a hit out on Hank with the money you’ll make from this super-secret project you and Reginald Carruthers are working on. But that’s about it.”
“Oh, good.” He let out a weighted sigh, his shoulder slumping as a few of the invisible dumbbells slipped off.
“Though you did tell anyone at the bar who would listen that your super-secret project is for Audi.”
He could still hear her laughter down the hallway as he sat there staring out the window, his mouth open and his eyes unblinking. He was never drinking again.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Hunter and the rest got back to the chalet, they were all stuffed full of Mrs. Wright’s gingerbread cookies and a wee bit tipsy from Mr. Wright’s hot toddies. Rowan and Juney wandered into the kitchen as if drawn by an invisible magnetic force.
“I’m not even hungry,” Juney said. “And yet for some reason I feel the need to cook.”
“My passion rubbing off on you?” Rowan asked, joining her in the kitchen and pulling out a cutting board and his new knife.
“Must be.” She grinned. “Though with you, I think it’s more of an obsession.”
“Gotta impress the boss with my culinary skills. Whip up some spectacular dishes so she doesn’t take back her offer. I’ve already started working on my Canadian accent. Don’t worry aboot it, eh. I’ll help fix your chesterfield and buy you a new toque, eh. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”
Juney shook her head and smiled. “We do not sound like that.”
“Left my Marrs bar in my caarr and it melted.” His body shook as he struggled to contain his laughter. “Am I fired?”
“Damn straight.” She giggled. “Though I seem to remember a contract of sorts. So, consider this a stern warning.”
He came up behind her and spun her around, his big hands cradling her slender frame. “Do I need to remind you of our binding contract?” he purred, dipping her low. He gripped the back of her neck and angled her head up so she was looking straight at him. But her gaze shifted from his to directly above his head. Rowan looked up, too.
Was that mistletoe new?
Jesus, that shit had been popping up all over the place. Hunter figured it was Juney sprinkling it around when she and Rowan woke up early in the morning. A bubbly elf trying to make everyone else just as happy as she and Rowan were. Fat chance of that. At least for Hunter.
Rowan and Juney smiled at each other. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Juney let out a faint whimper as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Hunter grimaced, followed by a groan.
“Gross,” she said under her breath.
Amber and Will chuckled from their spot on the couch.
“Look, I’m happy for you guys and all,” Hunter said. “But come on.”
Rowan helped Juney to her feet. “Sorry, I just can’t help myself when I’m around this woman.”
Hunter glared at him. “I hate you.” Then she stalked off toward her bedroom, happy that Austin was nowhere to be seen. He was probably out chopping wood. The man seemed to have found his inner lumberjack this holiday and looked for every excuse on the planet to leave the group and go outside to either replenish the firewood or shovel the driveway. Was he doing it to avoid her? Or did he actually enjoy it?
Fuck. It was probably both.
And after the clusterfuck from last night, it was almost definitely avoidance. When he’d turned her down for karaoke, her last-ditch attempt at getting him to give her the time of day, Hunter had gone into full-on mean-girl mode. She’d flirted and danced with other guys, let them buy her drinks and laughed at every stupid thing they said. Meanwhile, deep down all she wanted to do was sit in a corner booth with Austin and chat quietly about their hopes and dreams. Fantasize about a trip to Cambodia or plan a dinner date before the Arkells concert. But no, he’d turned her down, so she got drunk and did her best to make him jealous.
He’d been a mumbling, delirious fool by the time they were all ready to head home. Will and Rowan were forced to carry him down the hill, as Juney, Hunter and Amber led the way through the falling flakes. Rowan and Will had heaved him onto his bed muttering “good riddance” or something equally bitter before grabbing their women by the hand and leading them to bed. Hunter had stood there for a moment and just glared at Austin. How dare he do this to her? She was a CEO, for Christ’s sake. She ran her own company, was the big boss, didn’t take shit from anyone. And yet for some reason she took it from Austin. Let him be a jerk. Why?
Her big heart betrayed her brain, and she peeled off his jacket and boots before tugging a blanket up over his prone, snoring body. He shifted and hugged his pillow.
“I like you, Austin,” she whispered. “And I wished you liked me.” She turned to go but stopped and held her breath when Austin hummed and turned again on the bed.
“Hunter.”
“Yes?” It came out as a squeaky whisper. She swallowed a couple of times to coat her dry throat.
“Hunter, I like you. Fuck.” His words were so garbled she had a hard time making them out. “Jesus. I like you. You’re so pretty. I’m so stupid.”
She swallowed. Was he dreaming? Or was he trying to have a legitimate conversation with her? She couldn’t tell.
“You’re too good for me. I’m not worthy.”
“What? Austin, no.” How could he think that? Of course he was worthy of her.
“Not worthy,” he practically wailed, his face scrunching up as if he were in pain. “You deserve better.”
She still couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not, but she had to ask. “Why are you being so mean to me?”
“Have to.” He bunched his pillow case in his fist and winced.
“Why?”
“Don’t want you to waste your time with me.”
Her throat clogged up, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “It wouldn’t be a waste.”
“Waste your time. Waste of time,” he mumbled again, followed by a ridiculous giggle. “Waste time. Waste. Time. Time.” She was losing him; he was passing out completely. Shit. She wanted to smack his cheek and get to the root of what he’d just been saying, but a soft snore rumbled through the room, and his chest rose and fell in even deep breaths. He was out.
Giving him one last look of longing, she turned off the light and slipped out, letting the door softly click closed behind her.
But that was last night. She wanted to banish all memories of last night out into the blizzard. “Stupid Austin,” she grumbled. She approached her bedroom door with heavy footsteps and an even heavier heart. The sound of happy couples in Christmas bliss, cackling and canoodling in the living room, propelled her forward. What did he mean, she was too good for him? What the hell was wrong with the guy? He had degrees up the wazoo. If anything, he was too good for her.
She gasped as she approached her bedroom door. What if that’s what he meant? What if in his drunken state he got confused, but what he really thought, what he meant to say, was that he was too good for her? He wanted a smarter woman, one with an educatio
n. Her heart hit the pit in her stomach. That had to be it. He’d just been confused last night.
Then just as quickly as the melancholy gripped her, fury replaced it. Fuck him. If he wasn’t interested in her romantically, couldn’t they at least be friends? Friendly? Couldn’t he pretend to be nice to her for a few days just to make the group dynamics a little less uncomfortable? Or did all of his friends have to have a string of letters behind their name, too? Fancy diplomas and degrees. Certificates and awards.
She went to grab the doorknob and stopped. There was a small brown envelope wedged in the doorjamb. She grabbed it, turned the knob and walked inside, shutting the door firmly behind her and plopping down on the bed in a huff. It wasn’t sealed.
Dear Hunter,
I’d like to apologize for my behavior. Though, I’m guessing it’s too late. Understandable. I’ve been a complete and total ass to you—to everyone, and if you stopped reading now and crumpled up my note, I wouldn’t blame you one bit.
Still reading? Thank you. There’s no excuse for my behavior. None. But I just want you to know that I really like you. I find you immensely successful, incredibly beautiful, intimidating, and so far out of my league, I can’t even begin to imagine or believe that someone as wonderful as you could ever be interested in someone like me. And if you were, it would only be fleeting. I wanted to save us both the time and embarrassment of even trying to be your “match,” because in my mind, we’re not. You’d be wasting your time with a guy like me. You deserve so much better. You’re too good for me.
I know it’s probably too late, and again, I’m very sorry. But if you’d like to be friends, I’m willing. I can’t say I’m a very good friend. I don’t have many to use as references. But based on how I’ve treated you these past few days, you at least deserve that. You deserve so much more. You deserve the world.
I’m sorry.
—Austin
Hunter sat there for a moment, reading and re-reading the note. Read it again and again and again, until she memorized it. Burned it into her brain forever. Only then did she get up and fling her door open and fly back down the hallway to the living room.
“Did you know about this?” she asked, stopping directly in front of Amber, waving the note in her face.
“Know about what?” Amber leaned back in the couch. “Get that thing out of my face. I don’t want to get a paper cut on my nose.”
Something inside Hunter snapped back into place, and she pulled the paper away, bringing it down to her side. “Sorry. But did you know about the note Austin wrote me? Did you say something to him while the two of you were alone here?”
Amber nodded slowly. “We talked, yes. But I had no idea he was going to write you a letter. What does it say?”
Hunter handed her the note. Will was cuddled up next to Amber, and the two of them read it. Juney and Rowan wandered over behind the couch and read over their shoulders.
“Short and sweet and to the point,” Will said.
Hunter nodded. Her skin tingled as if she’d jumped into the hot tub after rolling around in the snow. “What did you say to Austin?” she asked, turning back to Amber.
“I told him he’s being an idiot. Behaved like an even bigger idiot last night and that he can’t keep using the whole ‘socially awkward’ label as an excuse not to talk to you. He’s used it as a crutch for so long. He was always the baby in school and work, never able to relate to his peers, so he’s struggled socially. But now he’s twenty-seven, with his peers and needs to start playing catch-up and acting like a decent human being.”
Everyone was nodding.
“Sound advice,” Juney said. “I said a few similar things when we were out on the chairlift. But I think last night’s antics were the tipping point for him. He was a jackass.”
“A huge jackass,” Will said with a grunt. “I’m still not happy about how much fucking tequila he ordered.”
The corner of Hunter’s mouth crooked up. He wouldn’t be nearly as pissed if he hadn’t lost so badly at pool and been left with tab. By the end of the night, the bill had been over a thousand dollars. Not that Dr. Colson couldn’t afford it, but still.
“What should I do?” she asked as her pulse thudded in her ears. He liked her. He didn’t think he was better than her. How could she convince him she wasn’t out of his league? She was a normal girl and wanted a normal relationship with a normal guy.
“Are you willing to forgive him?” Juney asked.
Hunter sucked on her bottom lip for a second. She had always been a very forgiving person. Maybe it was growing up in the system or just a part of her genetic makeup, but she always tried to see the good in people. Give them second, sometimes even third chances. No one was inherently bad, were they?
“I think so,” she said slowly. “I mean, even if nothing romantic happens, I’d like to be his friend. He’s willing to be friends.”
“Then go out there,” Will said with a snort, shaking his head as he wrapped his arm around Amber and pulled her close. She went into his embrace willingly, looking up at his face, beaming.
“And do what?” Hunter asked, fighting an eye roll.
“Go put on a sexy skirt, your ski jacket, and demand that he take you up against the woodshed.” Amber grinned. Her hand fell to Will’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Will’s eyes went wide, as did Rowan’s.
“Yeah! Do that!” Will said finally with a big nod. Rowan nodded as well. “Do that. Go put on a skirt and demand he fuck you.”
“Or at the very least kiss you,” Juney joked.
Will nodded again. “If the guy turns you down after that, then write him off. I mean, I like him well enough, but come on, you’re fucking hot and into him. Unless he’s gay, a eunuch or saving himself for marriage, he’s got to be fucking insane not to want you.”
Amber’s eyes flew back up to Will’s face. But he placated her quickly with an ephemeral kiss to the temple. “Don’t worry, you’re the only woman here who I want to take up against the woodshed.”
“Damn straight,” she muttered.
“He likes you.” Juney smiled. “He just needs a bit of a nudge.”
“Or a big nudge, like you in a short skirt, no panties, and a ski jacket.” Rowan snickered.
Will and Amber both laughed. Juney rolled her eyes. Hunter gave them all a steely glare, followed by a childish foot stomp and a big exasperated huff.
Were they right? Would that push Austin to reveal his true feelings? She’d never put herself out there like that before. Sure she’d had partners and been adventurous over the years, but Hunter hadn’t had to work at getting the attention of a guy, never had to throw herself at a man to get him to notice her. This was uncharted territory.
The other four were still laughing as she stalked off to her room.
Bunch of twitterpated fuckers, having found their match the first night, fucked the first night, and been having holly jolly orgasms for the last four days. They would have someone to kiss on New Year’s Eve and most likely a new budding relationship to start off the new year.
And all Hunter had was the female equivalent of blue balls.
She flung her bedroom door open and started ransacking her suitcase.
Fine!
One last-ditch effort to get Austin to admit he wanted her, then she was throwing in the towel, tossing on some snowshoes, and heading the twenty-one miles back down the mountain to her car. She’d had enough of this Christmas cheer, happy fucking couples, and talk of new beginnings. She wanted her own new beginning, and if Austin wasn’t going to take a stab at their match, then she was done with him. Friendship smendship, she had enough friends. Hunter was lonely. Tired of dating jocks and meat-heads. She wanted brains, she wanted heart, she wanted love — she wanted Austin.
She pulled out her indecently short skirt. It was red and black plaid, with a belt around the waist. She normally reserved it for kinkier nights with whatever man she was currently getting frisky with, but during the holid
ay season, when paired with black tights and a bright red sweater, it actually looked quite nice. She drew her yoga pants down her legs, peeled off her underwear, and slipped into the skirt. An involuntary chill ran up her backside from the sheer thought of going outside with her bare ass hanging out. But she was going to try. When she and Austin talked when they had their moments alone, she was drawn to him; she liked him.
Why is this so hard?
She stuffed a condom into her coat pocket, pulled her black toque on her head, and headed out the door, deciding to go through the garage rather than having to walk back through the kitchen and living room, parading her ass in front of the dopey lovebirds. They were probably having a high school makeout party on the couches, anyway.
Wrapping her arms around her body, she made her way down the cobblestone steps. Austin had been very diligent shoveling several times a day, making a clear path to the hot tub and woodshed, down the driveway. He was no slouch or freeloader, that was for sure. She heard the faint sound of wood being stacked, mixed with the odd male grunt of exertion.
Hunter bit her lip, took a deep breath through her nose, and rounded the corner.
“Fuck!” Austin said with a snarl, grabbing a big piece of wood and slamming it down on the pile in the wheelbarrow. “Fucking fucker!”
Had she read the note yet? Did she think he was an even bigger ass? Probably. He would never be enough for Hunter. He knew that much. But he owed her an apology, and he owed her civility. He’d been ignoring her for days, and she’d done nothing wrong but wind him with her beauty, amaze him with her success and humble him with how down-to-earth she was. Only all those things just made her all the more intimidating. Not more approachable.
Stop hiding behind the label. Listen to Amber. She’s right.
Austin heard the back door close followed by the quiet stomping of booted feet making their way down the cleared path. At least he was pulling his weight around the place. He may not be pulling a girl, but he was pulling his weight. Unlike Will. Was Amber going to talk to him about it?