Page 32 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Olive

T he next morning, I look out my window anxiously waiting for Hunter’s arrival.

I was taken by surprise when he texted me yesterday, inviting me to come with him and some friends to the lake today.

I’ve never been before; Onilley Lake is out of town and Ivy has a huge fear of water, so there was no point in me going alone.

I see Hunter’s truck pulling in and notice he’s a few minutes earlier than our agreed time.

I continue to spy on him as he sits in his truck for a moment, pops something in his mouth, and then gets out.

Jumping back from my window so he doesn’t see me watching him, I stand behind the door, waiting for the knock.

Not even thirty seconds later, I hear three thuds against the door.

I take a deep breath to shake out the nerves before releasing it as I pull the door open.

Just like that, the breath is swept out of me again.

Hunter is wearing a blue tank top, black board shorts, and a light blue snapback. His exposed arms are tan and toned.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling in greeting. “Hey, stranger,” he says warmly. “I love your outfit, very Wendy Peffercorn!”

I look down at my outfit and laugh. “I guess you’re right!”

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“So ready.”

He reaches out and takes my bag from my hand. “I’ll carry this for you.”

I thank him and lock my front door before we head down to his truck.

Hunter opens the passenger door for me again, and I murmur my thanks.

I’m not used to chivalry, and I don’t know what to think of it.

Is he always like this with women or is he trying to hit on me?

I don’t want to give him the wrong impression or hurt his feelings.

I might get butterflies in my stomach when I’m around him, but I refuse to think of it as anything other than nerves. I can admit to myself that he’s gorgeous, but won’t allow myself any other possibilities.

When I slide into the seat, he jogs around to the driver’s side and sits down next to me. After he turns on the truck, he smiles at me. That vibrant twinkle is always in his deep brown eyes.

“I got you something,” he tells me.

“Oh god, is it another knife?” I tease him.

Hunter chuckles. “Hey! You told me you liked it, but no, it’s not a knife. Close your eyes.”

I shut my eyes and hear him reach into the back seat of the truck, then something heavy is plopped onto my lap.

“Open!” he exclaims.

I comply, and when I see what’s in my lap I can’t hold back my laughter. It’s a basket with the biggest bag of beef jerky I’ve ever seen, a liter of Dr. Pepper, and four tubs of cashews.

“I didn’t want you to starve while we are at the lake,” he jokes, shrugging his shoulders.

“You really are something . Always bearing gifts,” I tell him. At the comment his cheeks flush. “Thank you,” I continue, and place the basket between my legs on the truck floor.

He connects his phone and turns on the song “Baby It’s You” by Smith.

“Love this one,” I gush. “I think we like the same kind of music!”

His gaze lingers on me. “Yeah, I think so, too. That’s so important.”

I laugh. “Is it?”

Hunter clears his throat. “Yeah, for road trips, I mean. Imagine having to ride in the car with someone for a long time and you hated their music.”

“True,” I agree with him. “Imagine if I only wanted to listen to ‘Baby Shark’ on repeat.”

Hunter pretends to shiver and glances at me. “Nightmare fuel.”

I laugh. Before long, I’m singing along to the lyrics of the song and he surprisingly joins in.

His voice is deep and rough, but we are having so much fun in this moment together.

I belt out the chorus and he smacks his hands against his steering wheel to the beat.

Once the song ends, we chuckle together and fall into comfortable silence.

After heading down a few roads, Hunter suddenly grabs at his pockets, searching for something. “Shit.”

“What?” I ask him.

“I think I forgot my wallet at home. Do you mind if we go grab it?”

“Of course not. Let's go. I want to see where the genius works on his videos…in his evil lair?” I joke.

“Get ready to be disappointed, then. It’s just in my bedroom.”

As if any woman would be disappointed going to his bedroom, I think to myself, and then shove the intrusive thought away like the horny mosquito it is.

“I live on the other side of Clairesville, so I apologize in advance. It’s going to take us even longer to get to Onilley now,” he tells me.

“No problem.” I shrug. “I’m just happy to have a day off work and away from Tripp.”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you, what happened yesterday?” He pushes a curl out of his eyes.

I tell him the story about Tripp and the pictures, having to go through the full dumpster.

Then to top it off, the fact that he was messing with me, having kept half the photos in the attic.

When I finally got back to the bar, I found out the reason that he called me to the office in the first place.

Tripp had me sign a form for being late to work last week and told me if I’m tardy two more times, he’s going to fire me.

By the end of the recap, Hunter’s face is full of anger and shock.

“What the hell is wrong with that guy?”

“I have no idea,” I respond. “I wish he would just get some karma. Even if I raise the money, he could still be a dick and decide to sell it to someone else instead, just to spite me. Which is why I must act like nothing he does bothers me, even though it eats me alive inside.”

“I know how much Whiskey Jane’s and Jane mean to you. Everything will work out. Don’t worry,” he responds, his voice sure and strong.

“What makes you so sure of that?” I ask him, not feeling the same confidence in the current situation.

He bites his bottom lip for a second and shakes his head. “Honestly, I’m not sure why but I just know it will work out. I know that you will get the bar.” He meets my eyes. “I’m positive.”

The sincerity in his expression fills me with a peace that I haven't experienced in a long time. The last person to make me feel this safe was Jane. I reach for his hand, overcome by the moment and squeeze it. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I needed that.”

He nods and when I pull my hand away, we sit listening to music for the rest of the ride.

After a while, he turns the truck onto a winding road with trees that create a canopy above our heads.

I love when trees connect like a bridge, it’s one of my favorite things.

I start to notice the cottage-style houses on the street, and I lean a little closer to the window for a better view.

“Almost there,” Hunter tells me, and we pass two more houses before pulling in a driveway. I stare at the coolest A-frame house I’ve ever seen. It has a large, vibrant garden wrapping around the front of it.

“This is your house ?” I ask, in awe.

“Yes, it is,” he says, putting the truck in park. “Do you like it?”

“ Like it?” I sound shrill. “This place is the coolest house I've ever seen!”

Hunter chuckles. “You haven’t even seen the inside.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s a real dump inside,” I say sarcastically.

We both get out of the truck, and he leads the way to his front door. I walk slowly behind him, taking in the flowers, searching for petunias, Jane’s favorite. It’s become a habit of mine over the years. Whenever I see plants, I search for them, like it’s a little token of her.

Hunter notices me lingering and glances back at me from the door. “Do you want to pick some?”

“No, thanks. I was just looking to see if you had any petunias.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I do actually.” He walks over, showing me two bushes of bright pink and purple ones hidden behind a few other plants.

I grin. “Cool, thank you for showing me.”

“Are they your favorite flower?” he asks.

“Jane’s,” I respond. “I just have this silly thing I do where I look for them wherever I go, for her.”

“That’s really nice,” he says in a deep voice. “It’s important to remember the things about people we love. To keep their favorite things around, even when they no longer are.”

I can tell he’s thinking of his dad at this moment, not just Jane.

I nod my head in agreement as he continues to talk in a low, calming voice. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of my house.”

We walk back towards the front door, this time keeping the same pace next to each other. His front door has a wooden frame with stained glass in the center. Just when I thought this place couldn’t be any cooler, it has details like this to make it even more unique. I run my hand over the door.

“Hunter, you’ve got some good taste.”

He grins. “Well, I can’t take the credit for this place, it was already incredible. Which is why I had to buy it when I saw it was for sale. I didn’t want to change a single thing; I wanted to keep all the charm.”

“Thank god,” I tell him. “I’m so over people buying beautiful old houses just to change everything about them. It’s a huge pet peeve of mine.”

“Right!” Hunter exclaims. “If you want a simple, modern house, find a simple modern house. Don’t change the old, cool ones.”

“Let people like us appreciate them,” I add.

“Exactly.” He pushes the front door open.

I’m not prepared for what I see when I walk inside the doorway. The interior opens straight to a front room with a large, vaulted ceiling. A unique ’70s style prism glass chandelier dangles down and the opposite side has a giant window overlooking trees in the backyard.

“I like how you acted amazed when you went to the Rays’ house, when you come back to this place every day. It’s equally, if not more, incredible.”

Hunter chuckles. “Their place is amazing. Of course, I like my house, too. I even dreamed of living here as a child.”

“I would have, too, if I knew this place existed,” I agree.

“I actually grew up down the street, so driving by it a few times a day really cemented it into my brain. I had a goal to work towards.”

“Does your family still live down the street?”

“Just my mom,” he says. “I was an only child.”

“Me, too.”

“Did you like it?” he asks me.

“Heck no,” I respond. “I was so lonely growing up, all I wanted was a sibling. I used to pray at night for one. But now as an adult, I’m glad I never had one. I wouldn’t want another child subjected to the stuff that I was growing up.”

Hunter looks concerned by what I said, and I try to quickly brush off what I just shared with him. “So, give me this tour!”

He breaks our eye contact and begins to lead me through the house. Every room is clean and simplistically decorated. There isn’t an item out of place.

We get to the kitchen and there’s all blue cabinetry and a small wooden dinner table. I walk along the side of the table and rub my hands over the wood. Then I notice a room off to the right of the kitchen. “What’s that?” I ask him.

“That’s the guest room; my cousin is staying there. He’s been gone for a little while, though, so I’m basically just holding his stuff.”

I shake my head. “Cool, cool.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he murmurs, as I hear a little jingle noise. “That’s Dog.”

“Dog?” I ask, confused. “Does your dog not have a name?”

“Dog is a cat named Dog.” He beams as a small black cat comes around the corner.

“Oh my god.” I drop to my knees when I see it and the cat comes towards me. “Dog.” I laugh. “Okay, how did that name come about?”

“After my dad passed, I went to the shelter to get a dog and instead I came back with this little lady. She wouldn’t stop meowing when I walked past, so I asked if I could hold her and as soon as she was in my arms, it was over for me.

I had to adopt her. Later that day, my mom stopped by with a dog collar, a bed, and dog toys she had bought prematurely when I told her I was adopting one.

I felt so bad when she showed up with everything because she made the effort, which she hadn't been doing much at that time, after my dad passed. I saw her face fall when she realized I didn’t have a dog, so in the moment I quickly said, ‘It’s fine, Mom!

It’s Dog!’ And that was it, the name just stuck. ”

“I love that,” I tell him. “Dog is a perfect name for this cutie.”

I coo at the cat as I stroke her back. She gives me one last second of her time and then saunters off to another room.

I start to get up off the floor as Hunter reaches out his hand to help me.

Déjà vu from when this happened before flashes through my mind and I internally cringe.

I can tell Hunter is recalling the moment, too, as he helps me up.

“Sorry about brushing you off before when you tried to help me up that night at the bar. I was so embarrassed,” I say, my words drifting off into the space between us.

“Are you kidding me?” he responds. “You had nothing to be ashamed of. I made an ass out of myself and hurt you at the same time. I still think about it every night before I fall asleep.”

I laugh. “So, you think about me in bed?”

Oh my god. Why did I even just say that? A manhole can swallow me up now. Beam me up, aliens.

Hunter bites at his bottom lip, seeming unsure how to respond. His familiar shy blush blooms across his cheeks.

I quickly say, “Kidding!”

He tucks his hands into his pockets. “On that note, follow me to my room.” He raises an eyebrow playfully and we head upstairs. At least he didn’t make it awkward. I’m getting way too comfortable with him.