Page 16 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Olive

I look up to see Hunter, the guy from last night, in front of me.

You have got to be kidding me . I hold back my tears and reach my hand towards his, taking the clothes that he picked up for me.

He then runs around the parking lot and retrieves my other items that have blown across the street before I can compose myself more to help.

Hunter sets the last few things in my laundry basket and looks at me.

“Thank you,” I murmur, giving him a quick glance. A leftover tear falls down my cheek and I quickly swipe it away, hoping that he doesn’t notice.

“No problem.” He gives me a soft smile and tilts his head down towards me.

“How are you always here to witness me at my worst?” I groan and look away. “Well, my worst twenty-four hours,” I add. Then I realize how insane it is that he’s here right now and turn back to face him. “Also, what are you doing here…where I live?”

“To be fair, I caused what happened to you yesterday. If I wasn’t at the bar, that never would have happened to you.

” He pulls at the hem of his white shirt that sticks to his torso with sweat.

“Also, I promise I’m not a stalker.” He laughs.

“I just came here to pick up some stuff for a family member.”

“Cool, cool,” I respond, trying to appear nonchalant as I grab my basket. I want to get out of this conversation quickly, so I muster up as much enthusiasm as possible before saying. “Well, thanks! Bye!”

I can feel him staring at my bruises as I walk past, and I ignore the urge to meet his eyes. The universe has to be laughing at me right now. Putting this man in my presence again after last night is basically comical. I’m just waiting for a sinkhole to open and swallow me up at this point.

“Wait,” he calls out from behind me. I keep walking but he jogs to meet up with me on the sidewalk anyway. Once he is next to me, I stop and turn to him.

He bites his lip lightly, and I can tell he wants to say something.

“Yes?” I ask him, while struggling to keep my tone from sounding impatient. I glance at the sky behind Hunter and see heat lightning dash across it. Great .

He pushes his hair back from his eyes and I can tell he seems nervous. “I am so sorry about the bar stool. I feel like the biggest asshole in the world.” I stare at him as he continues to speak. “Is your nose okay?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you want me to take you to the doctor?”

“No,” I quietly respond and sit my laundry basket down.

Feeling suddenly exhausted and defeated from the day, I slump down and sit on the pavement.

“I think it’s fine, honestly. It seriously doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.

Don’t even worry about it.” I look up at him and huff out a laugh.

“You accidentally smacking me in the face with a bar stool is actually only the third worst thing that's happened to me in the past day.”

I’m unsure why I even said that to him; like a stranger needs to know about my day.

He looks at me for a moment and then sits down next to me on the ground. I can feel his body heat close to mine on the sidewalk and it feels oddly intimate. I twirl a strand of my hair with my finger to distract myself as he turns towards me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

“That’s okay. If you do want to, though, just know I’m a vault. Whatever you tell me will stay with only me.”

Strangely enough, I believe him when he says this. I stare at my shoes for a moment before deciding, what the hell, sure .

“You really want me to tell you my problems?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I do.” He looks at me earnestly. “The least I can do is try to be a friend after the physical pain I’ve caused you.” He looks at my bruises and winces at the thought.

“Alright. Fine,” I tell him and stretch out my legs. I unclip my fake bow tie from my uniform and toss it in the laundry basket. I feel like I’m suffocating in my work uniform after what I found out earlier.

“Well, for starters, I found out that the place I love more than anywhere in the world is going to get sold by an evil dictator.”

Hunter looks at me, concerned, “And the place you love is?”

“The bar. Whiskey Jane’s.” I point to my uniform.

“The place we were at last night…where you work?” He looks surprised and continues, “I didn’t see a for-sale sign. Why are they selling?”

“They, as in the owners, would never want to sell, but their son, Tripp, is currently in control of the bar and hates it.” The thought of him getting rid of the place that I hold so dearly in my heart causes a wave of nausea to churn in my stomach.

“How would he be able to sell it if he doesn’t own it?”

“Because his father, Seymour, the man who built it from the ground up, passed away years ago. And Jane…” I stop and take a breath.

I hate having to explain her condition to people.

It makes it real. “Jane, his mother, has been running the bar alone ever since his dad died. She has Alzheimer’s now and isn’t doing well. ”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hunter responds. “Watching someone you love suffer is the worst feeling in the world.” He goes quiet and I can tell by the sincerity in his eyes that he means it. I momentarily wonder who he has lost in his life.

I nod my head. “Yes, it is.”

“So, their son works at the bar?”

“Kind of. He has never cared about the bar before a day in his life, but now suddenly he has interest in it because he wants to sell it.”

“That’s messed up,” Hunter says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I agree. He’s their only child, though, so there’s no one to override him.”

“But I don’t think he has the right to sell it. It’s not his business and if his name isn’t on the deed, I doubt he can legally do that,” Hunter tells me, his voice trying to sound reassuring.

I shrug. “I’m not sure, I don’t know any of the details yet. I just found out a few hours ago…after I left from visiting Jane at the memory care home.”

“Oh,” Hunter says, “I’m sorry. I’m guessing that was another hard part of your day.”

I nod and watch an ant crawl onto my leg from the pavement. I gently move it back to the ground as I say, “It’s bittersweet every time I see her. I love being with her, but I also know our time left is limited. On the days she doesn’t remember me, it's extremely difficult.”

I feel his eyes on me again. “How was she doing today?”

“She was okay. She remembered me, which was great, but she tires easily now. Her mind and body aren’t reliable anymore.”

“That must be tough,” he says, and picks a small yellow flower from the grass. “I’m sure she loves your visits, though, even when she might not recognize you.”

“Yeah. She does,” I agree.

Hunter twirls the little flower between his thumb and index finger. Then he begins to reach it out in my direction, like he's going to offer it to me.

At that moment, rain starts to drop on us rapidly and I glance at my pile of clothes.

“Shit! I just washed all of this,” I tell him and jump up to grab my laundry basket.

“Let me get that for you.” He drops the flower and jumps up, reaching forward and taking the basket from my hands. “Point the way and I’ll take this to your place for you.” He motions to my clothes.

I look at him playfully as rain pelts down my back. “I’m not telling a stranger where I live.”

“If you have Amazon Prime or Uber Eats, you literally tell a stranger exactly where you live every time you order something.” He laughs.

We are both soaked now from the drops.

“Wow, I’ve never thought about that. You’ve really opened my eyes.” He smiles as I shrug. “Well in that case, follow me, stranger.” I take off running to lead him in the direction of my apartment.

He laughs from behind me and jogs to catch up, stepping in front of my path. “Am I still considered a stranger if we are on a first name basis?” he asks while looking down at me.

“I don’t remember your name,” I tease, as I go around him and walk ahead again. “I have amnesia from yesterday.”

Rain falls on us in buckets now. I pick up my pace.

I hear him groan. “I am so sorry. I will apologize indefinitely about that, Olive.”

I stop when I hear him say my name. It’s like he’s letting it escape his lips, finally, breathlessly. I turn and look back at him. “I accept your apology, Hunter. ” I really put emphasis on his name in return.

He stops next to me and responds with a dazzling smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners. I find myself staring at his mouth and can't seem to look away.

“That’s more like it,” he says, leaning in closer, and I smell man . Literally, just an all-encompassing man smell. Woodsy and powerful, but also something soft and sweet, like jasmine. Hunter smells like he could carry me on his back through the snow and then make me a cup of tea after.

God, he’s hot. I hate this.

We quickly climb up the steps together trying to get out of the storm. When I get to my apartment, I stop at my front door. “Thanks for the help.”

Hunter looks down at my laundry and grabs a dish towel. He rings it out over the ground and looks at me, sympathetic.

“I think you will have to dry this stuff again.”

“Yup.” I exhale and continue, “Thank you for carrying my basket for me, though. Looks like we are even now. I got hurt yesterday, but you helped me today.”

“Not even close.” Hunter pushes back a stray damp curl. “I owe you once again. I struck up a conversation with you while you were just trying to do your laundry. You were obviously busy. My mouth ruined your clean clothes and got you all wet, too.”

My eyes almost pop out of my head at the comment, and he instantly turns red, realizing what he said.

Stammering, Hunter quickly adds, “The rain,” pointing towards the sky.

I let out a little laugh and cover my mouth with my hand. “Yes. I know.”

My thoughts do wander for a second. His shirt looks like it was painted onto his body after being in the storm. I can see his abdominal muscles peeking through the cotton fabric.

“Anyway,” he continues, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I still owe you one. So I’m going to find a way to make it up to you.” He bites his lip. “And you can hold me to that. I’m a man of my word.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Okay, Mr. Man. ”

I try to be funny and reach out to squeeze his muscle in a teasing way, but I get momentarily stunned when I make contact with his skin.

His arm is toned and warm, with cool drops of rain stuck to it.

The skin-to-skin contact causes a shiver to go through me.

Hunter looks at my hand touching his arm, so I quickly pull it back before he can say anything else.

“Well, thanks for the help. Bye, Hunter,” I say, abruptly cutting him off before he can continue our conversation.

He looks confused but gives me a nod. “Sure, no problem. It was nice talking to you.” Then he recovers quickly with a smile. “Bye, Olive. I’m going to come visit you at the bar soon.”

I give him a tentative smile back and unlock my apartment. I step through my doorway and suddenly decide to do a goodbye curtsy. I bend down awkwardly and then realize wtf am I doing so I quickly get back up and close the door before I can embarrass myself more.

Did I seriously just curtsy goodbye? Did I have a stroke for the past five minutes? I do not know that woman.

Now I’m praying that he doesn’t come visit me at the bar. Hunter makes me feel so flustered and not my usual composed self. The last thing I need on top of the chaos in my life right now is to be distracted by a guy with a great head of hair. Better yet, I refuse to let it happen.

I silently vow to myself that I won't see him again. Then I throw the wet laundry basket aside and I walk into my bedroom. For the next thirty minutes, I stand under the fan until the heat from touching him has finally left me.