by K. C. Crowne
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, his tone sharp. “You know I’m only trying to look out for you and Parker. And a man like that isn’t someone you want in your life. There’s a dark side to him – I can feel it.”
Adam was wearing on my last nerve, and though I wanted to let him know about it, Hunter’s big truck trundled onto my property.
“You’d better be on your best damn behavior. Alright?”
“Fine, fine.”
Hunter’s truck came to a stop, the engine turning off and silence returning to the air. It was so freaking weird. Arguing with Adam had gotten me ten different flavors of tense, but the moment I clapped eyes onto Hunter’s truck, I felt calm. Like I didn’t need to worry about anything.
The driver’s door opened and he stepped out. Hunter was in his usual rugged jeans and worn work boots. But the day was a little warmer, so instead of his usual flannel, he wore a gray V-neck T-shirt, the fabric clinging so tightly to his muscles that it nearly looked painted on him.
“Morning,” he said, his boots crunching on the gravel as he walked our way.
“Morning,” I said with a smile.
Adam only grumbled in response.
“Hunter!” Parker’s excited voice was so loud I could hear it through the front door. I watched as Parker tossed down the controller to his video game as if it were the most boring thing in the world compared to Hunter. He rushed out and blew past Adam and me, wrapping his arms around Hunter’s denim-clad legs.
“Whoa, big man!” Hunter said, the faintest hint of a smile visible through his beard.
“We’re going to Lizzie’s for the afternoon,” Parker said, looking up at Hunter with his arms still around him. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Afraid I can’t,” he said, putting his hand on Parker’s back, his hand so big his fingers reached all the way to my boy’s shoulders. “I’m having lunch with your mom and her friend.”
“Where’s my hug?” Adam asked. He was trying to sound blasé, but I could sense frustration in his voice for Hunter so effortlessly having a relationship with Parker that Adam was clearly jealous of.
“Oh, hi Adam,” Parker said, letting go of Hunter and plodding over to Adam, giving him a perfunctory hug.
At that moment it was crystal clear to me why I trusted that Hunter had a good side to him. The way he was with Parker, how the kid was crazy about him and, despite his gruff exterior, I could tell he liked my boy as well. No man who had a true dark side would be that way.
“Anyway,” Adam said. “Let’s get the kiddo dropped off and we can meet at the diner.”
“Can I ride with Hunter?” Parker asked.
“No,” Adam said, his tone sharp. “You’re riding with me.”
“That’s right, Parker.” Part of me wanted to let the kid have what he wanted, to ride with the man he was crazy about. Hell, the man I was finding myself a little crazy about. But as much as Adam annoyed me at times, he was trying to make an effort to connect with my son – as overbearing as he could be about it.
“Go on with Adam,” I said. “I’ll see you when I come pick you up, okay?”
Parker obviously wasn’t happy with this decision. “Okay.”
Adam painted an eager expression over the annoyance I could tell was under the surface. “Come on, dude. You can tell me all about your cowboy game.”
Parker trudged to Adam, and they turned and walked to Adam’s car.
“We’ll meet at the diner, alright?” Adam asked as he opened the door for Parker.
“Sounds good,” I said.
Parker climbed into the car and Adam started the engine, Parker waving to me and Hunter as they drove off.
“Let’s move,” Hunter said in a low voice, not waiting for me to respond before going to his truck.
Seconds later we were in, Hunter’s eyes fixed on the road ahead as he drove down the bumpy path toward town. I wanted to say something, but he wasn’t much for small talk – treated it as an annoyance, really.
“Thanks for being diplomatic back there,” I finally said.
Hunter furrowed his brow in confusion and cocked his head to the side. “What, with Adam?”
“With Adam.”
“Just not a fan of getting involved in business that doesn’t have anything to do with me.” His tone was sharp.
I liked the way he said what he meant with total conviction, like he wasn’t timidly offering up his opinion hoping it would go over well. It was a quality I didn’t see much these days.
“Adam’s trying his best,” I said. “He was my husband’s best friend growing up. And when he found out I was coming back to town, he took it upon himself to watch out for Parker and me. But he can be a little, um, overzealous at times.”
“I can see that,” he said. “But like I said, it’s not my business.”
“It kind of is,” I said.
He was confused, and I had to admit to myself I’d aimed the statement at trying to get Hunter to open up. “What do you mean? You and Parker and Adam – none of that’s got a thing to do with me.”
“But you’re going out to lunch with us. It seems like you want it to be your business at least a little.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m going out to lunch with you for the same reason I went to that barbeque.”
“And what’s that?”
“To get people off my back. Because as much as I want to stay up here and mind my own damn business, other people don’t feel the same way. They want to get involved, and if you don’t play their bullshit games, they start asking questions. Questions I have no interest in or intentions of answering.”
Hunter was a man who could keep his emotions in check – a trait I liked. But there was an edge of anger to his words now.
“That’s all this is about?” I asked, trying not to sound wounded. “Keep me and everyone else off your back?”
“That Adam guy – he’s the type who won’t let shit go. And he views me as competition for whatever he’s got in mind for you and your boy. Whether that’s just being your guardian protector or more, he sees me as getting in the way. So, if I can get him off my back sooner than later, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“More?” I asked.
He took his eyes off the road for the first time since we’d gotten in the truck, flashing me a “come on now” expression. “Mandy, you can’t tell me you don’t know that man’s got a thing for you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I scoffed. “He’s my husband’s friend. And he’s a family friend. He wouldn’t do anything like that.”
Hunter let out a snort, his eyes back on the road. “Like I said, it isn’t my business.”
We drove on, silence returning to the truck. But I didn’t want the conversation to end.
“Well, for what it’s worth, thanks for being there for Parker.”
He shook his head. “I’m not there for anyone. I can’t control how your kid feels about me, but don’t get any ideas about me being some surrogate daddy.”
“Hold on now. That’s not at all what I’m doing. Parker had a father. I’m not looking to replace him,” I said, my own anger bubbling up.
“Glad to hear it,” Hunter responded, either not noticing or not caring about the change in my tone.
I didn’t get Hunter, not one bit. He was a recluse, a loner. But the more time I spent around him the more I began to feel there was something else to him, something he was trying to keep hidden.
The outskirts of town appeared. Hunter pulled the truck into traffic. We continued, pulling into a spot in front of the Red Kettle. The moment we stepped inside, nearly everyone there glanced at Hunter, the women taking extra time. The two hostesses, both cute and in their late teens, quickly and quietly fought amongst themselves on who got to greet Hunter.
“Good afternoon, sir!” the winner, a trim blonde, gushed. “And welcome to the Red Kettle! Our specials today are—”
“There’s gonna be three of us,” Hunter said, cutt
ing her off. “Corner booth if you got it.”
Her face fell, and I got the impression that hadn’t been the reaction she was hoping for. “Um, sure. Right this way.”
A corner booth was open, and Hunter slid his big body into the seat facing the door and looked around. At first, I thought he was taking in the scene, but when I turned, I saw he was giving the stink eye to anyone who might’ve been ogling him.
“How does it feel to be something of a local celebrity?” I asked with a smile.
“Last fucking thing I want,” he grouched. “This place sure does love getting in other people’s business.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “That’s what a small town is all about. People love to gossip, and having some six-and-a-half-foot-tall man, who also happens to be handsome as hell, moving into town is just the thing to get them talking.”
My eyes widened as I realized what I’d said, that I’d just admitted to finding him handsome. But if Hunter noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“They need to find better things to talk about.”
Adam showed up at that moment, saving the day for once. He slid into the booth, frustrated. “That kid,” he said, shaking his head. “He can be a real pill, you know that?”
“What happened?” I asked.
The waitress arrived to take our orders.
Adam sighed again, opening the menu and taking a look. “Uh, club sandwich for me, decaf coffee all around. And she’ll have the same.”
“I think she can order for herself,” Hunter said.
“It’s easier this way,” Adam replied. “She can be very indecisive.”
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes,” I said, giving him a pointed look. “And regular coffee.”
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the faintest hint of a smile on Hunter’s lips. It didn’t stay long.
“Hell, I’ll make it easy – same thing.”
We handed over our menus, and the smile faded from Hunter’s lips as quickly as it began.
“So,” Adam said. “Hunter. Tell me about yourself.”
“Excuse me?” Hunter folded his big arms over his chest.
“Well, take a look around,” Adam motioned. “You’re the talk of the town. Everyone wants to know more about who you are.”
“That’s no one’s business but mine,” Hunter countered. “And I’m not here for some damn interview.”
“How about this?” Adam tried again. “At least tell us where you’re from, what you do for a living.”
Hunter glanced out of the window toward the pines, as if weighing the question. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the pushy sort?” he asked, snapping his eyes back onto Adam.
The waitress returned with the coffee, pouring Adam his decaf along with the regular for Hunter and me.
“I know I’m the pushy sort,” Adam admitted. “You don’t get to where I am in sales by not knowing how to get what you want.”
“Well then this might be a first for you.” Hunter’s voice was stern, and I nearly laughed out loud.
There was definite tension in the air, and I sensed there was more going on than just fact-finding on Adam’s part.
“No matter. I’ve got ways of getting information when I need it.”
“You threatening to spy on me?” Hunter asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Not spying,” Adam answered. “Just looking out for my community. No one likes a mysterious stranger – an unknown element.”
Hunter sipped his coffee, considering Adam’s words. I could sense part of him wanted to clobber Adam in the middle of the cafe.
“I was a cop in LA,” Hunter finally said. “That enough for you, or do you want my blood type too?”
Hmmm, a cop. This was getting interesting.
“What kind of cop?” Adam asked, not letting up. “Beat cop? Detective? Vice? Internal affairs?”
“Detective. And don’t get any big ideas of looking me up or any shit like that. My record’s sealed.”
“And why’s that?” Adam pushed. “There things you don’t want people knowing about?”
Hunter just glared at him.
“What about family?” Adam glanced down at Hunter’s bare ring finger. “A little strange that a man your age wouldn’t be married, have no kids. You’re not some deadbeat dad trying to get out of paying child support, are you?”
“Be very fucking careful,” Hunter warned, his voice low and dangerous.
“Why? If you’ve got history like that, then I’m guessing Mandy would want to know about it. After all, she’s living near you with her boy. I’d say she has a right to know.”
“I’m giving you one last warning,” Hunter growled, his voice threatening. “Tread fucking carefully, asshole.”
“And this temper,” Adam tsked. “Getting this upset at someone trying to get to know you. It raises more questions.”
“Adam,” I warned.
He ignored me. “What happened? You a crooked cop?”
Hunter’s massive hand shot across the table, grabbing Adam by the collar. My blood went cold. At that moment, every single person stopped what they were doing and watched.
“Now,” Adam said, cool and composed beneath his obvious discomfort. “This right here? Very bad way to make a first impression.”
There was rage in Hunter’s eyes, and I could sense he was weighing the pros and cons of breaking Adam’s neck. But he didn’t. With a shove, he let go of Adam, who fell back into his seat.
“Move,” he said to me.
I did, hurrying out of the booth. Hunter rose and blew past me, leaving the Red Kettle without another word. I glared at, scowling.
“You know,” I said to Adam. “You can be a real prick when you want to be.”
Adam only shrugged. I hurried out of the diner, trying to catch Hunter. But I was too late, arriving in time to watch him drive away. But as much as I wanted to admit it, Adam was right. Hunter was hiding something.
And I wanted to find out what it was before my son and I got too close.
Hunter
I went right home from the Red Kettle, fucking furious, though I wasn’t just mad at Adam. I was mad at myself.
I’d lost my cool, letting that little prick get under my skin. As much as I already hated the little twerp, I had to admit he had a way with words, knowing exactly what to say to get the reaction he wanted. And there was no doubt in my mind that making a scene like that was what he’d been aiming for.
The next morning I decided stewing around my cabin wasn’t going to do me any favors. I hopped in my truck to go to one of the coffee shops in town. I brought my laptop to use the wi-fi and go over some finances.
Pulling into the city limits was enough to make my stomach tense. I was sure that after what I’d pulled at the diner, I was the talk of the town. Frustration welled up inside of me. I’d gone to major lengths to not stick out, to not seem like I was a danger to Silver Pines, and with one stupid, heated moment I’d wiped all that away. No doubt people in town were telling their kids about the weird dude who lived up in the mountains and how they needed to stay away from him and his temper.
Fucking hell.
But I had to do a little something to offset the bullshit. Getting coffee wasn’t much, but it was something.
As I pulled into the parking lot, however, I spotted a familiar sight. Even if I didn’t recognize Mandy’s Kia from seeing it parked in front of her place, I recognized it because of the crumpled bumper. Hell, it was worse than that. Because she still hadn’t had it fixed, the damn bumper was one speed bump away from falling off.
The sight of her damaged car was enough to get my blood racing. I didn’t like her driving around in such an unsafe vehicle. More than that, it meant she was at the coffee shop. And in spite of myself, I was glad to see her.
I was fucked six ways from Sunday.
With my performance yesterday, I prepared myself for a not-all-that-happy meeting. For all I knew, she was planning on cutting me out of her life.
&nb
sp; I wasn’t so sure anymore that I wanted her to.
I stepped into the coffee shop and heard jazz music playing on the PA, the warm interior giving the place a cozy feel. Everyone in the building looked up at me, if only for a few moments. It wasn’t like at the Red Kettle yesterday. There, the stares had been from curiosity. Now, the stares were apprehensive, nervous.
I spotted Mandy in line, her eyes on the menu. She didn’t seem to have noticed me. I gave myself a moment to appreciate how damn good she looked, how sexy she looked packed into those skin-tight jeans. Despite everything, it was enough to make me half-hard where I stood.
“Umm…A frap…make it the s’mores kind. Hell, with extra marshmallow.”
I stepped behind her and spoke. “Extra marshmallow?”
She turned on her heels, surprise on her face as she craned her neck up at me. I was happy to see she didn’t look horrified to see me.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, smiling. “What’re you doing here?”
“Same thing as you,” I said. “Getting a s’mores frap with extra marshmallow.”
“Wait, are you?” At first she was confused, but the realization that I was only screwing around set on her face a split-second later. She laughed, pressing her hand on my chest and giving me a light shove.
Two things hit me at that moment – how damn easy it was to joke around with her, and how good it felt to have her touch me.
“I can’t imagine a man like you drinking anything but the blackest of black coffee,” she teased.
“You got me there – that’s exactly what I had in mind.”
Silence fell, as if we both were thinking about what had happened the day before. Someone had to say something, and it was going to be me. I’d screwed up, after all. Apologizing didn’t come easy to me. I was stubborn like that.
“Listen,” I began, frowning. “Sorry about yesterday.”
She shook her head, as if not wanting to hear a word of it. “No apologies. You want to make it up to me, however, get your coffee and come sit with me.”
“I can do that.”
Her s’mores frap got called and she swiped it off the counter, heading to a table near the front windows. I ordered my coffee black, the high school girl behind the counter regarding me with the same wide eyes I’d expect if Bigfoot were to walk in and ask for a latte.