by Devney Perry
“Aww. Did you miss me, boy?” As I carried him down the stairs, he licked my chin like a typical overexcited puppy. “I missed you too. Here you go.” When I hit the bottom step, I set him down and clipped on the red leash that matched his collar.
At the base of the staircase that led to my loft was a small gravel area where I parked my black Toyota 4Runner. Behind the stairs was a narrow swath of grass that bordered the entire backside of the motel. Stepping off the gravel and onto the grass, I let Pickle pull me around by his leash, his black nose pressed to the ground as he searched for the perfect place to do his business.
“Come on, Pickle. Come.” I tugged on his leash after he’d peed. “Let’s get inside.”
We had already walked nearly the entire length of the motel and rather than turn and go back the way we came, I led Pickle along the grass so we could cut across the parking lot. The evening air was chilly and I hadn’t thought to bring out a coat. I was only wearing jeans, tan flats and an off-the-shoulder drapey white shirt that was too thin for more than five minutes outside.
I was just rounding the corner behind the building when a dark figure stepped right into my path, grabbing the sides of my arms as we collided. I gasped, too stunned and terrified to scream, so I reacted purely on instinct. Bringing my knee up as hard and as high as I could, I crushed it into the dark figure’s groin.
Direct hit.
The man let go of my arms as he doubled in half, holding his crotch while he groaned and fell backward onto the ground. “Oh, fuck,” he panted, trying to suck in a full breath.
Oh, fuck?
Oh, fuck.
I knew that voice and I knew that dimly lit man bun.
Reality dawned and my hand flew up to my mouth as I gasped. “Hunter?”
He didn’t respond. He just rolled over and faced the ground, rocking his body back and forth as sounds of pain and agony filled the air.
“Oh, no.” Fear turned to guilt. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I got scared and just reacted. My brother, he taught me some self-defense, and we’ve been practicing lately and I didn’t think. It just happened automatically. I thought you were a bad guy. Oh my god! I’m so sorry.”
My mouth would not stop moving. The words came pouring out faster than water over Niagara Falls.
Shut up, Maisy!
My mouth didn’t listen. The rambling apologies kept on coming.
“I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry. What can I do? Can I get you something? An ice pack? Ooh! I think I have a bag of peas in the freezer. I’ll go get them. You stay right there, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” I carefully sidestepped Hunter, ready to sprint to the loft for my peas, when he spoke.
“Maisy, stop,” he grunted. “Just give me a sec.”
“Okay.” My feet immediately stopped.
I stood over Hunter, nervously swaying back and forth, as he stayed in the fetal position on the ground. When Pickle lunged for a chance to lick Hunter’s face, I yanked back on his leash and held him close.
What a disaster! How was I ever going to recover from this? My second impression was worse than my first.
I desperately wanted to keep apologizing but I managed to seal my lips together. The wine buzz I’d had minutes ago was fading fast and the heat from my embarrassment had chased away the cold. So much for remodeling Coby’s room. So much for getting Hunter Faraday to like me. I expected to see his room key in the drop box when I woke up tomorrow.
Pushing up off the ground, Hunter slowly stood up and faced me.
“I’m sorry.” My hand came up to my mouth again, holding back another fit of word vomit.
“Don’t worry about it,” he panted. “I’ll live, but I think I’ll take those peas.”
I nodded and burst into action, scooping up Pickle and running across the parking lot, then leaping up the stairs to my loft. With the puppy back in his crate and a bag of frozen corn in my hand, I slammed the door behind me and rushed back toward Hunter. I rounded the corner of the lobby and jogged across the parking lot toward his open door, light from his room spilling out into the walkway.
I burst right into his room. Hunter was slouched in the leather club chair by the door. His head was tipped back and his eyes were closed.
“Here you go.” I was out of breath and the words came out too loud.
Hunter’s eyes opened and he held out a hand so I could drop the corn into his large palm. “Thanks.”
“It’s corn. Peas are Coby’s favorite and I never seem to buy enough. He hates corn but it should work for your . . . um, well, you know.”
Shit! I was rambling again. Like he cared about my son’s vegetable of choice.
Hunter pressed the frozen corn to his groin, sighing with relief.
And I just stood there, bouncing from one foot to the other as the reality of this nightmare sank in. I’d just kneed the man I’d been crushing on in the balls. Mortification wasn’t a strong enough word for how I felt right now. I didn’t know what else to do, so I apologized. Again.
“Like I said before, I’ll live.” He tipped his head back again and shut his eyes. “Is your kid okay by himself? I’ll be fine if you need to get back.”
“Oh, he’s spending the night at a friend’s house tonight.”
“Hmm.” His Adam’s apple bobbed gently as he swallowed.
I really wanted to run my tongue up and down Hunter’s throat.
Really? You just assaulted the man!
Clearly, I was still drunk because that was not an appropriate impulse at this moment. I shook my head, pushing all licking thoughts aside and remembering why I was in his hotel room.
“Can I get you anything else? I have Advil or Tylenol. If you need something specific, I could walk to the grocery store and—”
“Maisy.”
“Yeah?” I braced, ready for him to tell me to get the hell out of his room.
“Sit down.”
“Right.” His request surprised me and I immediately obeyed, sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed. We both stayed quiet—a personal miracle—and I did my best to relax. Once my heart rate finally moved out of the red zone, the nervous sweating began. My forehead was damp and a drop of sweat slid down my side.
I really needed to get out of here. Why Hunter had asked me to sit was a mystery, one I didn’t really care to solve. All I wanted was to scurry back home and hide. This was worse than the time in eighth grade when I’d accidentally touched Joey Marcus’s crotch in the lunch line.
“Self-defense, huh?”
Hunter’s question caught me off guard and I jerked, making the bed bounce. “Um, yes. Beau, that’s my brother, he’s been into karate since college. He’s been teaching me some basics for a few years now.” I clamped my lips together before I could blurt my life’s story and the reason why I’d asked Beau to teach me self-defense in the first place.
“Well,” Hunter said, “the next time you see him, tell him he’s one hell of a teacher.”
I winced, my shoulders lifting to my ears. “Sorry.”
“You’ve apologized enough.” He removed the corn from between his legs. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“It’s fine. I just didn’t expect to see anyone out this late. What were you doing out there anyway?”
“I was going for a run and thought I’d go out back to stretch in the grass.”
Now his clothing made sense. He wore a tight green T-shirt that fit his chiseled arms like a second skin. The charcoal compression pants did the same to his muscled calves. The black shorts he wore over the pants covered his bulky thighs. He wore it all well, too well, and I bet it looked even better when he was sticky with sweat.
I swallowed hard, ignoring another onslaught of sexy-Hunter thoughts and went for simple conversation. “It’s pretty late for running.”
He nodded. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I thought a run might wipe me out so I could get some rest.”
“Is it the bed? Is it uncomfortable?” My voice was laced with panic.
“It’s not the bed,” Hunter said.
My shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank god. I was point five seconds from a full-on freak-out.”
He grinned, sending a shiver down my spine, and stood from his chair.
I took it as my cue to leave and stood too. “I’ll get out of your room. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to make this up to you? Added cleaning? Extra towels? I know my way around an iron if you need a shirt starched.”
His eyes softened as he shook his head. “I’m good. I feel better already.”
I really hoped that was true and he’d still be here tomorrow. More than I wanted his reservation, I wanted the chance to show him I wasn’t a crazy person. Maybe my third impression would be the winner. I hadn’t really cared what a man thought of me since Coby’s father. But Hunter? I really wanted him to like me. My desire for his affection was slightly unsettling.
“One last time,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
He walked to the open door and leaned against its frame. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you.” I crossed the room and stepped past him through the door. We were so close to touching, but I didn’t dare brush against him. With the way I was feeling—drunk on wine, adrenaline and Hunter’s presence—I wouldn’t put it past myself to do something foolish. What I needed was to get home and pretend the last thirty minutes hadn’t happened.
“Maisy?” he called before I could walk too far into the parking lot.
I stopped and turned. “Yeah?”
He stepped into the middle of the doorway, his large body filling its open space. “Actually, I do have one request.”
“Okay.”
“The next time you make peas for your son, maybe you could bring me some. I’m not much of a cook and they’re my favorite too.” He tossed me the frozen bag of corn.
“Peas. You want peas?”
He nodded. “I want peas.”
I had a hard time believing he couldn’t reheat frozen vegetables, but if that’s what he wanted, then I’d make him peas. “Okay. Good night, Hunter.”
“Good night, Maisy.”
I crossed the parking lot with a smile on my face, not because I’d had a nice dinner with friends or because I had an upcoming date with Warren Adams, but because I needed to start a new grocery list.
A list with Frozen peas x 10 at the top.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.” I smiled at the midforties couple checking out of the inn.
“We just love your inn and this little town,” the woman said. “We’re already planning to come back next year.”
“Wonderful! I’d love to have you back, but I’ll warn you, I fill up quickly in the summers. So as soon as your travel dates are finalized, give me a call so I can block a room for you.”
“Thank you.” The man nodded. “We’ll call you next week.”
As I handed them their receipt, the lobby door opened and Hunter stepped inside. He held the door open for my departing guests, smiling as they brushed by, then closed the door behind them.
I took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly when he wasn’t looking, willing myself to act normally. Be cool. Just be yourself.
It had been four days since the knee-to-the-balls incident and I hadn’t spoken to Hunter. By the time I’d shuffled Coby out the door each morning, Hunter’s expensive white truck had already been gone to—where I assumed—was work. In the evenings, he wouldn’t return until well after Coby’s bedtime. Spying from my loft like a ridiculous teenage girl, I had been living for the moments when I’d catch a glimpse of him walking from his vehicle to room eight.
But now he was here, at six thirty on a Wednesday evening, holding two empty Tupperware containers.
“Hey.” He waved the plastic boxes in the air.
That sexy voice was flustering me already. Maisy. Be. Cool. I took another breath and smiled. “Hi.”
“I saw you in here and wanted to drop these off and say thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I know you only asked for peas the other night, but the mom in me didn’t feel right leaving you dinner without properly representing all of the food groups.”
He chuckled and stepped closer. “I appreciate it.”
Two nights ago, I had made a chicken and rice casserole for dinner, then set some leftovers aside with Hunter’s peas. I had abandoned my previous plan to have my housekeeper attend to his room and instead gave it my personal attention. After I’d cleaned yesterday morning, I’d left behind some leftovers in his fridge.
“Your food was great.” Hunter set the containers on the lobby counter. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in longer than I can remember. It hit the spot.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed it. If you’re ever in search of a meal, my door is always open and I always have plenty of food. I’m not very good at making meals for one. All of my recipes come from my mom and she cooks for my dad and brothers, three of the biggest humans on the planet. So, um, you’re welcome anytime.”
Out came the words before I could really think them through and I immediately started to panic. Was a dinner invitation too weird? I had just assaulted the man, then used my key to leave a casserole in his room. Now I was asking him into my home? Did that sound desperate?
Dope!
I tensed, waiting for him to sprint out the door.
He surprised me by smiling and leaning closer. “I’d really like that. Thanks.”
As he spoke, my eyes drifted to his soft lips and I got lost in their movement. Their color was a pale blend of peach and pink, the bottom one fuller than the top. They looked like the perfect lips for a hot, wet kiss. A rush of heat pooled between my legs and I yanked my eyes away from Hunter’s mouth when I realized I’d been staring.
His eyes weren’t waiting for mine as I’d expected. They were locked on my mouth, doing some lip inspection of their own.
Did he want to kiss me too? At the thought, my tongue darted out automatically and wet my bottom lip. Hunter’s eyes flared and snapped to mine. He held my gaze for a moment, then another, before finally clearing his throat and leaning back.
Grateful that he’d broken the tension, I sucked in some heavy air and searched for a safe topic of conversation. One that had nothing to do with his lips. Or kissing. Or me still wondering if he slept naked.
“That’s a nice camera.” Slung across his broad chest was a nylon strap carrying an expensive Canon camera.
“Thanks.” He patted the lens. “I got it a couple of weeks ago and haven’t had a chance to use it yet. I was going to head up into the mountains tonight and see if I could get a couple good shots of the sunset.”
“Is that what you do? Are you a photographer?”
He shook his head. “No, this is just a hobby. I got into it a few years back but rarely have time to practice.”
I nodded in agreement. “I know how that goes. I used to have hobbies, but with this place, I barely have time to think these days. Not that I’m complaining. I love my job.” I caught the beginnings of a ramble and stopped myself before I got on a roll. “So if you’re not a photographer, what do you do here in town?”
I was being nosy but couldn’t help it. Normally when someone new moved to Prescott, I’d get the scoop about them from the gossip mill. I hadn’t heard a lick of news about Hunter’s background but I wanted it to stay that way. I wanted to hear all about him firsthand, starting with what he did for a living.
“I work at the—”
“Maze!” Michael burst into the lobby with a loud and exuberant shout. I’d been so caught up in listening to Hunter’s deep voice I hadn’t even heard Michael’s truck pull up. But my brother’s timing couldn’t have been worse. I was finally getting over my Hunter jitt
ers and proving that I could carry on a normal conversation, but now I’d just have to hope for the chance to try again another day.
Damn it.
“Hi, Michael,” I sighed. “What’s up?”
“I’m getting married!”
My jaw dropped. “What? What are you talking about?”
“I’m getting married.” He came behind the counter and picked me up for a swirly hug. “I’m going to marry Alana Kelly.” He set me down and started shaking my shoulders as he smiled.
I stepped out of his grip and took a step back before he accidentally hurt me in his excitement. “You asked her to marry you? You just started dating! You’re going to scare her right out of Jamison County!”
Michael had called me after his and Alana’s dinner at The Black Bull and told me how great it had gone, but that had been just days ago.
He rolled his eyes. “No, of course I didn’t ask her to marry me, but I’m going to. Maybe in a year or something. Or six months. Or four. I don’t know, but she’s the one.”
“Thank goodness.” I relaxed and smiled up at my younger brother, happy he’d found someone special. “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me too.” Michael finally looked around the lobby and noticed Hunter staring at us. “Oh, hey.” He held out a hand. “Sorry to interrupt. Michael Holt. I’m Maisy’s brother.”
“No problem,” Hunter said, shaking his hand. “We were just visiting.”
“Cool.” Michael nodded and helped himself to a seat at the counter. “Welcome to Prescott. How long are you visiting?”
“I’m actually moving here,” Hunter said. “I’m having a place built but the construction crew isn’t done yet, so I’m staying here for a few weeks while they finish it up.”
“Nice,” Michael said. “Where are you moving from?”
“Chicago.”
“Great city.” Michael started in on a story about his vacation to Chicago a few years ago while I racked my brain, mentally touring through all of the new construction in the area. I really wanted to ask Hunter about his house but I was trying to tone down the stalker-ish questions. So instead of prodding for an address, I sat quietly, half listening to the conversation, half thinking about where he could be living.