Page 33

Peyton

I stare at the rideshare pulling up to the curb, standing in the doorway of my townhouse with Hunter in front of me—backpack slung over one shoulder, small rolling bag at his side, and a twinge of disappointment pulling tight in my chest.

I know he has to go—some important meeting for a sponsorship deal—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

It’s only been four days since our so-called hall pass expired, and even though we’ve stuck to our rules since, it’s been...different.

Late-night card games. Ice cream sundaes. That ridiculous night he showed up with bright pink face masks and challenged me to a round of Would You Rather? that revealed more about him than I ever would’ve expected.

Small things.

Easy things.

Things that are starting to slip under my defenses, making this fake thing between us so much more comfortable than any of the real relationships I’ve had before.

"Don't let anyone steal my spot on that couch while I'm gone. Promise?" Hunter says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I roll my eyes, trying—and failing—not to smile.

"I make no such promises, Reed. That couch is fair game."

He laughs, stepping closer, tugging me gently toward him by the belt loop of my jeans.

Then he kisses me.

Soft and tender, nothing like the heated, desperate kisses we’ve shared.

This one is slow. Savoring.

The kind of kiss that makes my heart flutter and my bare toes curl against the cool metal door stoop.

He pulls back just a breath—his eyes locking on mine.

"Shit, sorry," he murmurs, the apology brushing my lips. "I know we said no kissing without warning. You just looked too good standing there."

Heat blooms in my cheeks, my whole body suddenly too aware of how close we are.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I don’t mind.”

Hunter gives me that smile—the slow, devastating one that curls at the edges like he knows exactly what he’s doing—and presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling away.

“I’ll call you later, Passenger Princess,” he says, tossing the nickname over his shoulder like he’s trying it on for size and already knows it fits.

I watch him walk toward the rideshare, my chest tightening a little more with each step he takes.

He pauses with one hand on the door. “Oh—and I left a present in the house for you. Good luck finding it.”

I blink. “You left me a present? Where?”

He grins. “Telling you would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?”

And then he’s gone—climbing into the backseat, the car pulling away with a quiet hum. I stand there a moment longer, hand still on the doorknob, heart thudding in my chest like it’s not quite ready to be alone.

When I close the door, the house settles into a silence that feels bigger than it should. Too still. Too empty. Like maybe the space Hunter’s worried about losing…isn’t just on the couch.

I pad toward the bedroom, peeling off my sweatshirt, preparing for bed and trying to shake the weird flutter still lingering in my chest.

This is an arrangement, I remind myself. A temporary fix. No matter how easy it’s starting to feel—or how much I might wish it wasn’t pretend—I can’t let myself get caught up in the moments between.

I reach for the nightstand drawer to grab my lotion—and freeze.

My trusty vibrator is missing.

In its place, there’s a neon yellow sticky note folded over something. My fingers brush the paper, heart skipping like it already knows I’ve found clue number one.

Written in his sharp, confident scrawl:

Looking for something, Peyton?

You'll have to work for it this time. Follow the clues—if you dare.

I stare at it, half-smiling, half-scowling.

Damn him. The man really left me a sexy scavenger hunt.

And I’m already hooked.

I stare at the note, a mix of confusion and intrigue swirling inside me. Of course Hunter would pull some kind of prank, even when he's not here.

Tucking the note into my pocket, I start searching the room, looking for any other signs of his mischief. It doesn't take long before I spot a pink sticky note, this one taped to the lamp on my dresser.

Warm and cozy, where I like to rest my head. That's where your next clue will be found instead.

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "Typical Hunter," I mutter, already heading for the bed.

Sure enough, there's another note nestled between the pillows, this one slightly crumpled.

Feeling thirsty, are we?

The kitchen is where you'll find the next piece.

Shaking my head, I make my way downstairs, my phone buzzing with an incoming call from Hunter. I debate ignoring it, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

"Where did you put it?" I ask, cutting right to the chase.

I can practically hear the grin in his voice. "Put what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Reed. The sticky note in my nightstand? Where's my vibrator?"

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Oh, that. Couldn’t wait until my flight took off before needing a little help, huh sweetheart? You could have asked me to take care of you before I left.”

“You moved my vibrator. You’re a monster,” I tell him.

“We both know that deep down, you’re excited to find my little present.”

I roll my eyes, already heading for the kitchen. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Ah, ah, ah. No spoilers," he teases. "Follow the clues, Peyton. You're smart, I know you can figure it out."

I sigh, scanning the kitchen for any sign of another note. My eyes land on the fridge, where a bright yellow square is stuck to the door.

"Keeps my drinks nice and cold, where I like to store my snacks. Check inside, that's where your next clue will be stashed."

Pulling open the fridge, I spot another note attached to a bottle of water. "Hydration is key, especially when you're...well, you know."

I groan, cheeks flushing at the implication. "Hunter, I swear to God—"

"Shh, you'll scare Sproutacus. He doesn't like it when mom and dad fight."

I glance over at the Chia Pet sitting on the counter. "You're enjoying this way too much, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little," he admits, a teasing tone to his voice. "But come on, Peyton. Where's your sense of adventure?"

I shake my head, but I can't fight the smile that spreads across my face. "All right, fine. Lead on, you ridiculous man."

I follow the trail of clues, each one more cryptic than the last. The living room, the laundry room, even the guest bathroom—every time I think I've got it figured out, Hunter throws me a curveball.

By the time I make it to the last clue, tucked inside one of the kitchen cabinets, I'm equal parts exasperated and amused.

The final destination is where I like to get all hot and steamy.

Open me up and you'll find your prize.

I stare at the note, brow furrowed. Hot and steamy…the oven? No. The bathroom? My eyes widen as realization dawns.

"The shower?" I ask.

He says nothing. “Hunter, is it the shower?” I ask as I practically sprint to his shower in the hallway, but I don’t find anything besides less of his things on the counter since he packed them with him.

Seeing the bathroom almost bare of his belongings makes me feel—lonely?

Maybe, but wherever these misplaced feelings are coming from, now isn’t the time to unpack them.

“Did you find it?” he asks smugly,

“It’s not in there and you know it,” I say and then run to my room, and then to my bathroom. But again…it’s empty. “It’s not in my bathroom either. Where is it?”

“Keep looking. What got you hot and steamy the last time we were together?”

I think for a second. “The dryer!” I practically shout and race out of my bathroom, bedroom, and then down the hall.

I can hear him muffling back laughter.

“I’m going to get you back for this, by the way.”

“You’d better mean that Peyton. Don’t tease me.”

I grumble at his enjoyment as I push through the half-open laundry door. Nothing is sitting on top, so I yank open the door. He must hear me.

"Well, well, look who figured it out," he teases. "Go on, open it."

Sure enough, there's a neatly wrapped box sitting inside the dryer drum, a bright red bow perched on top.

“You put my vibrator inside?” I ask, like it's the most outrageous thing imaginable.

“Yeah...that’s where it goes. Inside.” His voice drops lower, full of wicked amusement. “I’ll be happy to demonstrate on you when I get home, if you need a proper tutorial.”

I blow out a loud, exaggerated sigh, pretending he’s annoying me—pretending I’m not already grinning like an idiot. My fingers work quickly at the wrapping paper, anticipation buzzing under my skin.

When I finally pull off the lid, my breath catches.

Nestled inside the box is a sleek, glittery turquoise dildo—Hawkeye’s green, no less—and it looks suspiciously like a certain part of Hunter’s anatomy that I’ve become intimately familiar with.

"What the—" I sputter, heat flooding my cheeks. "Hunter, did you...?"

He chuckles, low and rich, clearly enjoying himself.

"Yep. Had it custom-made, just for you. An exact replica of your favorite phallus," he says, completely unbothered. "You know...since I can’t be there to take care of you myself."

I’m torn between mortification and...something else.

Something hot and needy that coils low in my belly and refuses to be ignored.

"You’re unbelievable," I mutter, even as my fingers trace the smooth, glittering silicone.

"Oh, I know," he says. "But admit it, Collins. You love it. I even made it Hawkeye's colors—I thought you’d appreciate the team spirit."

I open my mouth to respond—but he keeps going, tone dropping into a mock-serious deadpan.

"And don’t even think about returning it. I don’t want my cock ending up in some stranger’s hands. Plus...That molding wax got everywhere. I was pulling it out of my ass hairs for a week. And the expedite fee they charged to get it here before I left town? Straight highway robbery."

A choked laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.

God help me, this ridiculous, infuriating man.

I bite my lip, cheeks burning, as my fingers keep skimming the surface of the gift.

Equal parts thoughtful and depraved—and so very him.