Chapter Twenty

Callie opened the bunkhouse door and found Hunter and Jenna dancing to “Good Feeling” with their arms in the air and big smiles on their faces. They didn’t notice her, so she stood in the doorway to watch them in total joy and abandon. Nothing on their minds but having fun right this minute.

They sang along at the top of their lungs. Jumped up and down. Punched their fists toward the sky. The adorable bond between uncle and niece melted her insides. Safe to say, Hunter had completely recovered from his BW bite. He’d also make a great dad one day.

Her phone pinged once, twice. She pulled it from her pocket and stepped back onto the porch to find a group text.

Brooke: Hey. We’re going to Florida to help there. Not sure when we’ll be home now.

Mom: Good luck with your shop and we’ll see you soon. Love you.

A sudden, sharp pain of disappointment overwhelmed her, and the usual ache in her heart flared to life before she pushed it away. She missed her family. This was the longest stretch she’d gone without seeing them. They’d barely texted since her return from Africa. She rubbed her chest to rid the dull pain of feeling like an afterthought.

Callie: Thanks for letting me know. Be safe. Love you.

She tucked her phone back in her pocket, wishing she could tuck her feelings away as easily as that.

During her parents’ divorces, it had been her mom who fled, claiming to need time alone. Liane Carmichael hated constraints, and she hated talking about her emotions. She hated feeling too much, and Blake Carmichael made her feel all kinds of things. Love. Hate. Resentment. They argued about holding each other back. Made up. Argued some more. They didn’t fight for their marriage. And they couldn’t live without each other for long. Their complicated relationship put Callie on edge more times than she could count. Their lack of harmony had left an indelible mark.

“Hey. Is there a reason you’re standing out here and not inside dancing with us?” Hunter asked in her periphery.

“Hey. I’m not really in a dancing mood.” Anymore.

“What do you mean?” He stepped closer. “Today’s the day you get your own place and leave my good-looking ass behind.” He smiled in that humble way of his that made his smugness cute. “‘Good Feeling’ might be Jenna’s favorite song, but I figured it was perfect for you, too.”

He stood near enough for her to smell his scent and feel the heat radiating off his body. She’d miss both.

“Callie,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”

He’d gotten good at reading her moods, his notice and comfort something she’d grown to appreciate over the past several weeks. And something that enabled her to let down her defenses.

“It’s nothing.” Okay, so she still had one shield up.

His hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing with it a rush of warmth that both soothed and unsettled her. “Talk to me. Just because we won’t be roomies anymore doesn’t mean I’m not here for you.”

The music stopped inside the bunkhouse, and Jenna stepped outside. “Uncle Hunt, I gotta go. Catch you later. Hi, Callie! Bye, Callie!” She skipped away, her ponytail swaying.

Two seconds later, Hunter pulled her into his arms, sending an electric current through her entire body. Affection and strength radiated off him. They’d never touched like this before. “Okay, Miss Nothing. I know it’s something. Talk to me.”

And that was it. She lost the battle with herself and relaxed. He held her tighter, her back to his front. The last day of their cohabitation and he does this—splinters the last remains of her defenses. “It’s my parents and Brooke. They’re not coming home for a while.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“I should be used to it.”

He squeezed her closer and canted his head so his lips brushed her ear. “Whatever you feel, it’s okay. Don’t ever think it’s not. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

She spun around to face him. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She fought the urge to kiss his cheek. Because if her lips got too close to his, she’d want to see how they fit against her own. Which meant she needed to change the subject. And quickly. “Okay, enough about that. It’s moving day!” She stepped beside him.

He slung his arm over her shoulders and walked them through the bunkhouse door. “It is. And as luck would have it, I’m free the rest of the day, so put me to work.”

“I’m not sure that makes me lucky.”

“Such a teaser.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and in all seriousness said, “Thanks for everything.”

They worked together to gather her stuff. There wasn’t much besides her sewing supplies so it didn’t take very long.

“What’s this?” He held up the bag she’d left tucked beside the toaster for him.

“A small gift for letting me stay here.”

“I didn’t let you anything. I should have a gift of thanks for you. You made my recovery a lot easier.” He pulled the glass spider out of the bag. Grinned. His dimples were her thanks. “I love it. Thanks, Triple C.”

“You’re welcome.”

A couple of hours later, they had everything in the cottage, including her stuff from her parents’ house, thanks to his pickup truck. He gloated, proud to be of service and teasing her about being her lucky charm today. He’d also talked nonstop, sharing more stories about himself. She committed each one to memory so when she laid in bed at night alone, she could replay them and pretend he was on the other side of a sliding barn door.

“Then there was Cole’s bachelor party. He was drunk as a skunk, and Maverick put him in bed before going to grab a small bucket to put by him. Mav was bending over to put the bucket on the floor beside the bed when Cole rolled over and threw up on his head.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. So, after Mav cleaned up, he grabbed me, and we shaved one of Cole’s legs while he was passed out.”

“Oh my God. You didn’t.”

“We did.”

“His whole leg?”

“Actually, we made stripes.” He grinned. “He was so pissed.”

“What about Bethany?”

“She thought it was hysterical and just made him shave both legs completely before their honeymoon to Hawaii.”

Callie shook her head. “Brothers.”

“They’re the best and the worst.”

“What’s the worst?” Birdy asked, walking into the cottage with a pizza box in her hands.

“Boys.” Callie took the box from her. “Thank you for picking up lunch.”

Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “All boys?”

“Definitely,” Birdy said. “The male species is excellent at disturbing the peace. My husband, rest his soul, drove me crazy every day.” She took a seat in the cream-colored velvet armchair Callie had bought this week. The rest of the store space looked a mess with moving boxes, fabrics, luggage, and new furniture that needed to be put together.

“And yet you were married for how many years?” Hunter asked.

“Fifty-six,” she said fondly.

Callie sat on the floor, opened the pizza box, and pulled a slice out to eat right away.

“So, what I’m hearing is you couldn’t live without his annoying self?” Hunter sat down beside her, grabbed his own piece.

Birdy laughed. “You got that right. Neither of us was perfect, but we refused to give up on each other, even at our worst.”

Hunter’s eyes connected with Callie’s. Their upbringings were very different. Mary Rose and John were still committed to each other while her parents had set a very different example.

“I need to run.” Birdy got to her feet. “Not literally, of course.” She winked. “Let me know if you need me for anything else.” She put a motherly hand on Callie’s head, then left.

“Everyone should have a Birdy in their life,” Hunter said, reaching for another piece of pizza.

Callie nodded, suddenly overcome with emotions she didn’t want to deal with. The nice words that came out of his mouth were too much sometimes. Birdy meant the world to her, and the fact that he recognized Birdy’s importance added another reason to like Hunter more than she should.

“Hey.” He took her chin gently between his warm fingers and tilted her face toward his. “Did you know it’s illegal to be unhappy while eating pizza?”

She shook her head out of his hold. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s in section two point three of the Life Is Better manual.”

How on Earth was she supposed to think him anything but charming? And when he added that bone-melting smile of his, she once again understood why so many instantly fell for him.

“You’ve got this manual memorized?”

“Most of it.”

“What else should I know?” Finished eating, she reached for the stray pillow that had been separated from her bedding and laid down on her back, her head on the pillow. From this angle, she could comfortably stare up at his handsome face.

His eyes roamed over her body. In her leggings and hoodie, she looked sloppy at best, but appreciation clearly sparkled in his gaze. A little shiver shot through her.

“Section one point seven states that business owners are not allowed to mope on their first day in their new shop. It’s bad for future business.”

“I’m not moping.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Anymore,” she amended. Then she gave him a big smile. “What else?”

“Section three point five states that fake smiles are not allowed and grounds for tickling.” He dropped his third slice of pizza in the box, moved to his knees, and tickled her. She didn’t have time to scurry back or push his arms away before his hands were on her sides making her wiggle and laugh.

She retaliated, his stomach muscles flexing as she tickled him back. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, his lean body hard yet pliant. Unfortunately, he wasn’t nearly as ticklish as she was. Her hoodie rose, and his fingers slipped underneath, making contact with her skin. His hands roamed higher as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

Eyes locked on one another, they laughed and didn’t let up, an unspoken challenge between them to see who begged the other to stop first. He definitely had the advantage, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind his hands on her. Not one bit.

But then his knuckle brushed the underside of her breast, and he froze, as if realizing just now that he’d slipped under her sweatshirt. She stilled her hands on his waist. The air crackled between them. No longer laughing, they were both breathing hard.

Her body ached for him to continue his exploration. To cup her breasts, play with her nipples, rip her clothes off so he could add his mouth to the mix.

Oh no, no, no. Crapola in a crayon box.

She scrambled away at the same time he pulled back. “Sorry,” he said. He didn’t look sorry, though. He looked like he wanted to pounce. She wondered if she looked like that would be okay.

“Don’t be silly.” She waved off his apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It’s just hearing you laugh is a really amazing sound,” he said.

“Shut up.” She nervously looked around the cottage. She needed to get back to work, but she also wanted to stay right where she was and see what else he might say.

“I got carried away, but it won’t happen again.” He stood. “What do you need done next?”

“Umm…” She’d like him to do her. Head to toe. Then repeat. “I should get my room set up first. Would you mind putting together the bed frame?” She rose to her feet with the pillow in her arms.

“You do realize me putting together your bed isn’t helping the situation.”

“The situation?”

He narrowed his eyes. Her feigned innocence wasn’t fooling him, yet he gave her the benefit of the doubt when he said, “Tell me I’m not the only one feeling the gravity between us.”

It wouldn’t be easy, but she could tell him he was. She had to tell him that. Because she couldn’t give him what he was looking for.

And because Hunter Owens had the potential to hurt her more deeply than any other person if she gave him even a sliver of her heart.

“You’re the only one,” she lied.