Sylvie was pleased that she and Hunter never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Tonight had been no exception.
“Did you always live in New York City?” she asked him when they were lingering over coffee. Several couples were out on the dance floor, but Hunter didn’t seem interested. Sylvie was disappointed, but she knew it was probably better if they didn’t plaster their bodies against one another.
“No. I was born in central New York. A rural area south of Albany.”
“So you weren’t always a city boy?” Sylvie wasn’t sure why that pleased her.
Amusement shone in his eyes. “Country boy through and through. I grew up playing in the fields and creeks with my buddies.” He gazed at her over his cup. “I always thought I’d like to raise my kids in a place like that, you know?”
“Yeah.” Sylvie knew exactly what he meant. “No matter where Matt and I travelled, I never found a place I’d rather settle down than where I grew up in South Carolina.”
Hunter cleared his throat and looked around the room. “Nice music.”
Sylvie nodded. “I like the old standards.” Romantic, although she didn’t say that out loud. She ached to touch him. She slid her hand across the table toward his, almost before she realized it. Before her fingers touched his, Hunter’s coffee cup clattered on its saucer and broke the spell. She yanked her hand back.
But Hunter reached out and took her hand. “Would you like to dance?”
She smiled. “I’d love to.”
The lead singer crooned “Unforgettable” as Hunter folded Sylvie into his arms. She melted against him on the dance floor. She couldn’t help herself. Yeah, it hadn’t been the smartest thing for her to tempt heartbreak this way. They were only friends. Could only be friends.
But right now she was wrapped up in his embrace, following his lead as they moved around the floor. She pressed against his hard, hot body and soaked him in. Sylvie buried her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his now-familiar scent. For how long would she be able to remember what Hunter smelled like?
The band seamlessly slid into “It Had to be You”. Sylvie closed her eyes and tears prickled behind her lids. Her hand tightened on his.
Hunter began to softly hum along with the music. Her heart stumbled along with her feet. He caught her close, steadying her. His lips brushed her ear. She sighed and whispered his name.
He slid his hand up to cup the back of her head. His gaze swept over her as his hand held her in place. They swayed in the center of the floor, no longer dancing.
“Hunter?”
He leaned in, brushed his cheek against hers. “I’ve tried to do the right thing.” His warm breath caressed her ear and made her shiver with her need for him. “But I’m tired of pushing you away when all I want to do is hold you close.”
“I want that too. You know I do.”
“It’s not fair to you. You deserve so much more than a short-term fling.”
“I’m a big girl. I know what I’m getting into.” She ran her hands over his back and pulled him closer. “We’re supposed to be helping each other get over the ghosts of our pasts. Right? We might find another true love someday, but it’s not us. It’s not yet.” She swallowed before her voice could crack, because she thought it could have been Hunter. It could have been now. “But because we can help each other, in bed and out, we can go back to our real lives and not freeze when the right person comes along.”
The music slid to a more upbeat tune, but they continued their slow sway, ignoring the other couples around them. She’d stay on the dance floor all night long if it meant she could keep Hunter’s arms around her.
He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sylvie.”
“I know.” He’d changed so much from the angry man she’d first met. “Don’t worry about me. Like I said, I’m a big girl.”
“I want you naked and in my bed.” His lips brushed her ear as he murmured the erotic words below the beat of the music. “I want to bury myself in your sweetness and forget about everything else.”
Yes. Nothing else mattered but here and now. Sylvie melted against him. “What are we waiting for?”
Hunter lowered his lips to hers, giving her a deep but quick kiss, right there on the dance floor. “Let’s go home.”
The next couple of weeks were like being in paradise. Hunter let himself simply enjoy Sylvie. He knew he couldn’t keep her. Knew their time together was short, and for that reason he somehow was able to embrace her instead of pushing her away.
That would come soon enough.
They walked the beach with Riley at least twice a day. She’d dragged Hunter into some of the touristy shops and he pretended to be bored. But the truth was, he was never bored with Sylvie. They hit a different bar every night to try out new drinks and, she said, to soak up the atmosphere. They spent the days and evenings together, but they slept in their separate beds each night.
After another night of amazing sex with an equally amazing woman, Hunter sprawled on his lonely mattress, staring at the ceiling and trying not to focus on the feel of her in his arms. They only had a few more days, then Sylvie would be driving to her parents’ house in South Carolina, and Hunter would be driving with Riley back to New York.
Maybe he should stop in Virginia and visit Jenny’s parents on the way back. He hadn’t seen them since the funeral, although they’d invited him many times. He hadn’t been able to face them after Jenny died, but he thought maybe now he could.
Hunter rolled over on his side and expected to see Jenny’s long blond curls in his mind’s eye, her head on that pillow as it had been on their honeymoon. Her lips pursed in a pouty smile. Her full breasts tempting him as they had so many times.
Instead he saw Sylvie with her short, wispy brown hair, her head on that pillow as it had been only a short time ago. Her wide mouth flashing him an unguarded smile. Her perfect little breasts tempting him as they had these past few days.
He closed his eyes to again picture Jenny here, but for the first time he couldn’t see her face at all. The face he’d seen every day for almost half his life. The woman he’d loved for all those years. And he couldn’t remember what she looked like. Hunter shot up in bed, his heart racing like a steam engine.
He switched the light on, stumbled to the small closet in the corner and threw open the door. Two duffle bags crammed with miscellaneous stuff sat on the floor. He hadn’t opened either one since he got here, but he knew one of them held a photo album full of pictures of Jenny. One of those photographs was the one he took of her lying on this bed on their honeymoon. He had to find it. Had to embed the image of Jenny in his mind again before he lost her forever.
He pulled the first bag out. It was jam-packed with things he must have thought he’d need but obviously hadn’t missed in the months he’d been there. He opened it and started digging through it. Sweatshirts and DVDs and paperbacks. No photos.
Hunter tossed that bag across the room and grabbed the second duffel. It was packed just as full as the first, so full that at first the zipper wouldn’t budge. He growled and yanked harder. When it burst open, a stack of spiral-bound notebooks spilled out onto the floor. He vaguely remembered shoving them in at the last minute.
His knees hit the floor as he slowly picked up one of the notebooks. It had a black cover and a pen tucked into the coil. He flipped it open and leafed through the empty pages. He brushed his fingers over a blank page, the surface smooth and cool. It gleamed clean and bright, ready to be filled with words. But they hadn’t come to him in almost two years.
He started to shove the notebook back into the bag, but he couldn’t do it. His conversation with Sylvie the other morning came back to him. Her thoughts about his dream. The words inspired by that dream had been working in the back of his mind ever since.
The opening scene of a new mystery.
Before he knew it, the pen was in his hand. He turned it over and over. It was one of his favorite gel pens, the perfect size and weight, the kind that flowed with no effort, almost like the words rolled right out of the pen onto the paper. Hunter leaned back against the closet door and started to write.
He’d covered a couple pages with his scrawling handwriting, already getting into the flow of the scene, when he shifted position on the hard floor and kicked the duffel in front of him. He blinked and realized he was still sitting on the floor when there was a perfectly good table and chair in the other room. He grabbed the handles of the bag to stow it back in the closet when the corner of the bright-red photo album poked through the opening.
Fuck.
Jenny. The picture of Jenny. The reason he’d been down on the floor digging through the bag to begin with. How could he have forgotten? Hunter yanked the photo album out of the bag and dropped it on his lap, shoving the notebook to the floor. The picture he’d been looking for was right there on the first page. He slipped it out of the plastic sleeve and stared at the face that was as familiar as his own.
He couldn’t forget it again. He wouldn’t forget her again.
But the pages beckoned from the floor beside him, the words whispering in his ear. Hunter stood, letting the album fall to the floor with a thud. He brought both the notebook and the photograph to the table in the kitchen and then got back to work.
The sunshine streaming in the bedroom window woke Sylvie. She stretched out on the mattress. Most people might love getting the whole bed to themselves, no one to hog the covers, no one to wake them with snoring, or tossing and turning. She should be used to sleeping alone.
She’d loved nothing more than to sleep in Matt’s arms. And now she wished she could spend a night wrapped in Hunter’s arms. To feel his soft breath on her neck and his heartbeat pulsing in rhythm with hers.
He’d made it clear he didn’t want to spend the night with her, no matter how much time they spent together during the day. It was probably for the best. She was already too used to being with him. Already looked forward too much to seeing him first thing in the morning.
This was only a fling. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. She should be glad they were parting soon, before she fell too far to ever recover.
But right now she was anxious to see Hunter. To see his smile and smell his rich scent. Put her arms around him and not let go. Not yet.
They only had a few more days. What would she do when their time was up? She still hadn’t decided. Didn’t even want to think about it.
She wasn’t ready for reality yet.
Sylvie put the coffee on and then stepped out onto the deck. The sky was a brilliant blue this morning, and she paused a moment to watch the waves breaking on the beach. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of the sight or the sound of the ocean.
Riley softly woofed in greeting and she crossed the deck to pet him. She didn’t see Hunter until she turned. He was slouched down on the chaise in the back corner of the deck. His knees were drawn up and his head was down. It took a moment to realize what he was doing.
He was writing. Scribbling like mad in a notebook propped up on his thighs.
Sylvie covered her mouth to stifle the happy laughter that wanted to spill out. And then it hit her.
Oh, God. It was too late. She was in love with him. She’d fallen hard and fast. Tumbled all the way over the edge.
She’d begun to the see the man he’d been before tragedy had locked him behind a mask. He was funny and kind, when he forgot that he was supposed to be miserable. He was loyal and strong, and she knew he cared about her even when he pretended not to. Even when he didn’t want to.
He made her laugh. And made her believe she could do more than she ever thought she could.
She knew she should be concerned, but the happiness bubbled up anyway. She’d never thought she’d fall in love again. Not really. But she had, and while it meant heartache in the not-too-distant future, she was going to rejoice in the fact that it was possible. She could love again.
Sylvie was going to enjoy the rest of her time with Hunter. And a little voice in the back of her mind, the one with a direct link to her heart, whispered that maybe if she loved him enough, she’d be able to keep him. Maybe he’d want to keep her too.
She didn’t want to disturb him quite yet. Matt had hated to be interrupted when he was writing. She went back inside and poured him a cup of coffee.
Riley met her with his tail wagging when she climbed the steps to the neighboring deck, carrying two cups of coffee. Hunter hadn’t raised his head or acknowledged her in any way. She crossed the deck and stood beside the chair, blocking the sun.
He blinked and looked up. Grinned. “Hey.”
Oh yeah. She was a goner. “Good morning. Coffee?”
“Great.” He set down the notebook, took the mug and then moved his feet to make room for her. He patted the seat, and she dropped down beside him.
She took a sip of coffee and then had to ask. “The words are coming?”
His grin turned into a full-fledged smile. It lit up his face. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“You recognized my crazy dream as the opening scene.”
She waved away that ridiculous comment. “Your subconscious sent you that dream. You already knew it was for your next book.”
“No. I’ve been having dreams like that for months. They were just dreams. I never thought of them as scenes for a book.”
“Maybe you were finally ready to accept them.”
“And maybe I needed you to point it out to me.”
“Oh.” She took another drink of coffee. “Maybe.”
Hunter ran a hand through his hair and yawned. “Man, I needed this coffee.”
“How long have you been writing?”
“All night.”
Sylvie grabbed the notebook off the floor and flipped through the pages. “It’s almost full.”
“Now I wish I’d brought my laptop along.”
She reached for his writing hand. It was curled into a loose fist. She rubbed his palm with her thumbs. “Your poor hand. It must be killing you.”
He groaned as he stretched the fingers. “It’s pretty cramped. I probably won’t even be able to read the last few pages.”
“Sounds like a good time for a break.” She placed a light kiss on the back of his hand. “Have you worked up an appetite?”
“Yes.” Hunter set his mug down on the floor. “I’m starved.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. “For you.”
Sylvie laughed and set her mug down before the coffee spilled onto both of them. With her hands free, she could slide her fingers into his hair and lower his mouth to hers. She would miss his taste, miss the way he nipped her as if he wanted to take a few bites of her to savor.
“Mmm. You taste good,” Hunter murmured against her lips. Then he took the kiss deeper.
She sank against him. The acceptance of the way she felt for him made the kiss even sweeter. But would he ever love her the way she loved him? She knew she should never expect him to, but the realization that he didn’t care about her as much as she cared about him must be what made her chest suddenly feel all hollow. She leaned back, then forced a smile. “I can have breakfast going in a few minutes.”
Hunter grabbed her free hand before she could turn away. Placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you for taking care of this poor country boy.”
She grinned. His lighthearted comment was enough to brighten her mood and
banish that empty feeling. He’d gotten her past Matt’s death. Helped her look forward to the future once more. Only Hunter was never going to be part of that future.
And that was where that hollow feeling came from.
She squeezed his hand and eased away. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
He picked up the notebook from the floor and flipped it to the first empty page. “Take your time.”
That night, Hunter sat on the deck, watching Sylvie and Riley play in the surf. Her laughter rang through the air. The sun was setting. One day closer to the rest of his life. One day less that he would spend with Sylvie.
He slipped the picture of Jenny from the pocket of his shorts. He took a deep breath and realized he could finally look at her and not fall apart. Think of her and smile instead of reaching for a beer to numb the pain.
He had Sylvie to thank for that.
But what would his future be like without Sylvie in it? These past couple of weeks she’d become a major part of his life. He went to bed thinking about her. Woke up looking forward to seeing her first thing.
Could she be a part of his future?
For the first time, Hunter actually considered it. He imagined a life with Sylvie in it every day. Sleeping together. Waking up together. Maybe even having a family together.
For the first time, he liked the sound of that.
Hunter tucked Jenny’s picture between the pages of the notebook on the table beside him. Then he trotted down the steps and was at Sylvie’s side in seconds. He wrapped his arms around her waist and whirled her around in a circle. Riley barked as she laughed.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “You’re crazy.”
“Probably.” He set her down. “I suppose you’ve picked out another bar for us to hit tonight.” The air between them sizzled like steak on a grill, and he could think of something far better to do with their evening.
The Cottage Next Door Page 7