Page 61 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Olive

Fifteen months later

I t’s a Saturday night, four days before Halloween, and we are having a big party at Whiskey Jane’s. I decided to do a Halloween Mask or Task theme for fun. I’ve kept most of Jane’s traditions around; it’s part of the charm that makes everyone love Whiskey’s.

The bar crowd is decked out in masks and Halloween costumes and there has been a huge turnout for the event.

Whiskey’s is packed, and every single person I’m close to is here for the party.

Ivy even flew in for the week, saying she couldn’t turn down a good Halloween party.

She walks by me dressed as a cat, with a mask covering the top half of her face, her eyes shining through, mysterious.

She has on a black spandex bodysuit, and I’ve seen her get hit on about ten times already in the past hour.

Ivy walks backwards, noticing me. “Nice boobs. Where’s Hunter?”

I look down at my ample cleavage, which usually doesn’t exist, and smooth down my costume.

I am dressed as Christine from The Phantom of the Opera , with a masquerade mask.

The pink gown has a corset that has sucked in and pushed up my chest. Not the best choice for a long night, I’m now realizing in hindsight.

I thought it would be a cute couple’s costume, because I made Hunter dress up as the Phantom. Everyone knows he’s better than Raoul.

“He should be here soon; he told me he had to stop by our house and grab something he forgot.” I shrug.

“Our house .” Ivy smiles at me, her eyebrows raised as she flutters her eyelashes dramatically. “How cute.”

“Oh, shut up.” I push her playfully, but I also love the way it sounds: our house.

Together. I moved into Hunter’s house a few months after we started seriously dating and we haven't looked back since. He told me I could change anything I wanted, so it felt like my space, too, not just his. I liked it just the way it was, though. I only added a few cool pieces of furniture that I found from local art markets and the framed photo of Jane and I singing Abba. It now rests on the wall right above Hunter’s record player.

“He’s kind of cute,” Ivy whispers into my ear, motioning to Wes playing lead guitar up on the small stage.

I hired his band, Rinse and Repeat, to play the party tonight.

They have mostly done covers and taken requests from the crowd.

Everyone seems to love them. I glare at Wes, who is wearing a TMNT mask—the whole band is dressed as the Ninja Turtles—and turn back to Ivy.

“You can’t even see his face…” I snort.

“Yeah, but I just know he’s hot. Look at that golden hair coming out from under his mask, look at his toned body, dripping with sweat as he sings.

Woooo.” She fans her face with her hand.

“I can tell he’s hot. And if for some reason he’s not, I can just make him keep the mask on when I sleep with him tonight. ”

“Ivy!” I command. “That’s Hunter’s best friend. You’re not going to take advantage of him.”

“Why!” She pouts at me.

At that exact moment, Wes tells the crowd the band is going to take a five-minute break and lifts his mask to take a sip of his water. I can practically see Ivy’s eyes bulge out of her head. “Your opinion is vetoed,” she tells me and walks off.

I watch as she does a circle of the crowd and then makes her way over to him. She’s like a lioness, stalking her prey.

I roll my eyes and laugh to myself.

A minute later, Sonjia, wearing a cute mask in a shape of a strawberry, comes towards me. When she gets to the bar counter, she gives me a smile.

“It’s nice to see you girls together again,” she says, knowingly.

“Yeah, I really miss her being local,” I agree.

Rick chimes in from the bar, “Tell her to open a bridal salon here.”

“I’m trying.” I laugh.

“Tell her I’ll buy the first dress from her,” Johnny playfully adds.

I glance at him and chuckle. He’s made a lot of changes in the past year, too; I’m not the only one.

Johnny is now a grandfather to two little ones and no longer wears his iconic top hat.

He stopped wearing it after his first grandson was born because he was terrified of it.

Every time he saw it, he would burst into tears.

So, it turns out that the “what” under Johnny’s hat is: nothing .

Literally, he’s bald. I told him it was an anticlimactic reveal after he made us all have a sit-down dinner at the bar, just for him to take off his top hat.

He has always had a flare for the dramatic, though, and loves a good story.

Johnny then told me that he had bright orange hair as a kid and it was a huge insecurity of his because everyone called him “ginger Johnny.” One day he decided he would rather have people stare at a ridiculous hat instead of his hair.

Over the years he lost his hair but said he kept the top hat on because it was just something he was used to wearing.

His security blanket of sorts. Johnny keeps the hat off now, even when he’s not around his grandson.

He said once he felt the breeze on his head, there was no going back.

One thing that hasn’t changed is that he still refers to Hunter as bar stool boy, even though the night happened over two years ago. It always makes me laugh, but I can tell the nickname still makes Hunter cringe because it reminds him of my injury each time it’s said.

As if he has been summoned by my thoughts, I see the entrance door open, and Hunter steps through.

He looks gorgeous as ever, his dark hair cascading around his face in waves, his muscular body causing the white shirt he has on to pull taut.

I love this man. Realizing his outfit is missing something, I make a disappointed expression and put my hands on my hips when I see he doesn’t have his Phantom mask on.

“Don't tell me you forgot your mask,” I loudly say and half the bar turns.

Oh shit.

I see the crowd give each other knowing looks before exclaiming, “Task! Task! Task!” in a chant. Hunter has no one to blame but himself. He knows we take themes seriously at Whiskey Jane’s.

Hunter laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! My fate is sealed.”

He’s a good sport, just like the first night we met. Everyone quiets as he walks over to the bucket and pulls out a slip of paper. He looks down at it and smiles.

“Come up on stage, buddy, and read us your task,” Wes calls out from the mic. “Just like old times. But no one give this man a bar stool!” he jokes.

The crowd laughs at the comment. Everyone that wasn’t here the night we met knows our story by now.

Hunter steps up on the stage and clears his throat as he looks down at the small, crumpled sheet of paper again.

“Oh my. It looks like I’m going to need Olive’s help for this one,” he says into the microphone, gesturing for me to come over to him.

My eyes grow large. “No, no, no! I’m not a part of this. I wore my costume!” I point to my face.

“Come on, baby.” Hunter smiles, his eyes crinkling with delight. “Get up here.” He looks so sexy up on the stage, I want to lick the grin off his face.

The crowd begins to chant my name repeatedly next. I groan, but I finally start to walk forward after some coaxing from Sonjia and a very pregnant Missy. I can’t deny a pregnant woman’s wishes.

I weave through people and end up making eye contact with Mr. Purngast as I walk past him to the stage.

He winks at me, and I give him a big smile in response.

I’m surrounded by people I love in a bar that I’ve always dreamed of owning.

My life is everything that I dreamed of, and in this moment, I’m so grateful.

Hunter reaches out his hand from the stage and pulls me up to him.

I notice he’s shaking a little and feel bad because I know he gets anxious when a lot of eyes are on him.

I reach out and touch his cheek to soothe him, and he leans into my touch in response.

Then he takes both of my hands in his; we are standing connected on stage now.

He's smiling down at me, and I feel the warmth of his affection engulf me, like it always does. Suddenly, Wes’s band begins to play “Sleepwalk” by Santo & Johnny behind us, and I look at Hunter quickly.

“This is my favorite song, my comfort song,” I say in a faint voice, shocked.

“I know,” he says and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

The bar is completely still other than the music. The energy in the room feels different right now and I turn to look out at the crowd. They are all just smiling and staring at us.

I turn back to Hunter, confused. “So, what’s your task?” I nervously laugh.

Hunter reaches into his pocket and then holds the piece of paper out towards me without breaking our eye contact. I take the small sheet in my hand and look down to read it.

Ask the girl of your dreams to marry you.

I gasp and look back up as Hunter gets down on one knee.