Page 13 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)
Chapter Thirteen
Brenna
My knife sliced through the bell pepper with a satisfying crunch, and I forced myself to focus on the rhythm of chopping vegetables—anything to keep my mind from spiraling back to that kiss. My hands moved mechanically, dicing carrots next while the baked ziti bubbled in the oven and filled Hunter’s kitchen with a rich, comforting aroma.
I hadn’t heard from him all day. Since this morning, when everything between us had shifted in one electrifying, shattering moment that had left me breathless and vulnerable.
And confused.
After pulling myself off the floor, I’d managed to dress for work—a miracle considering my knees could well have been replaced with jelly. A glance in the mirror confirmed that my lips were swollen and sore. It was the best kiss I’d ever had. Garrett was downstairs as usual, and he spent the day watching from afar .
The sign above the shop read Bookstore in Paradise, and never had the name felt more ironic. Paradise was far from where my head spun. Customers came and went, their voices muffled as if underwater, while I moved between shelves and counters. I restocked books I didn’t see, spoke words I hardly heard, all while my skin thrummed with the memory of how Hunter’s granite shoulders had felt under my touch.
The only thing that pierced the fog of my desire was a phone call to Eli, asking to borrow some dive gear. All while trying to sound casual, to deny that I was grasping at a way to keep Hunter in my life. And the idea of diving, of submerging in the clear depths of the ocean with him, seemed appealing—therapeutic, even. And of course, Eli was happy to loan me the equipment. Now all I had to do was put my plan together.
The oven timer’s shrill ring yanked me back into the moment. I blinked a few times, grounding myself in Hunter’s kitchen with its warm, herb-scented air. My fingers absentmindedly traced the tender spot on my bottom lip where it had bruised against my teeth, the evidence left from a kiss I still couldn’t believe the intensity of.
Making dinner helped distract me from wondering which Hunter would walk through the front door. Would it be the bookish friend, the man who had sent my world reeling with one kiss, or the unreadable, walled creature who warned me not to get involved with him?
Pulling oven mitts over my hands, I shook off the thoughts and removed the pasta. The baked ziti sat bubbling on the stovetop when I heard the front door open. Tensing, I turned toward the sound as my heart took off at a dead run.
Hunter stood there, still as a statue framed by the doorway. His eyes found mine immediately, holding my gaze with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. “Hey.” His voice was tight, betraying the casualness of the greeting.
“Hi.” The room became charged, every nerve ending in my body attuned to his presence. He looked different—a rigidity that seemed to keep him rooted to the spot replacing his usually casual, graceful demeanor.
We stood there for a moment that stretched too long. Awkwardness hung in the air like humidity before a storm. His gaze never wavered from mine, and the memory of our kiss lingered between us, unspoken but omnipresent.
“Smells good,” he finally managed, a forced attempt to bridge the distance. But even as he spoke, his guarded posture screamed of mile-high walls firmly in place. And I knew the answer to my unasked question. This was the third, guarded Hunter and part of my heart cried out.
I placed the steaming dish of pasta on the table, and its comforting aroma wrapped around us like a warm embrace I hoped could thaw the chilly tension in the air. “I made dinner,” I said, attempting to slice through the tension with a cheerfulness I didn’t quite feel. “Baked ziti and a salad.”
“Thanks.” After closing the door, he moved stiffly, almost robotically, to join me at the table. We sat across from each other, initiating a silent ritual of passing plates and utensils. The clinking sounds seemed disproportionately loud in the silence that hung over us.
“Did you hear anything about Knox?” My voice sounded too eager in my ears, but I needed something, anything, to break the ice.
Hunter exhaled a long breath of frustration as he stared at his plate. “No sign of him. Looks like he’s skipped town.”
“Ah.” I nodded, pushing food around my plate, not really tasting anything. If Knox had left Dove Key, I had no reason to stay here. More pressingly, why wouldn’t Hunter look at me?
“How was your day?” he asked, his tone polite but distant.
“Fine,” I replied tersely, the word feeling like a pebble in my mouth. It was clear he wasn’t going to mention the kiss that had branded itself onto every corner of my mind.
After a few more moments of chewing in silence, I let out a frustrated breath. “Are we going to talk about what happened this morning?”
Hunter dropped his fork, and the metal clattered against the plate. He met my gaze, his eyes clouded with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” His voice was rough and ragged. “I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”
His admission stung, leaving a bitter taste that the savory layers of pasta couldn’t mask. I’d replayed that moment all day. The heat, the urgency. To hear him speak of it with such remorse—had the passion all been on my side?
“Oh. Okay.” My heart sank like a stone in still water.
“I’m sorry,” he added, his eyes dancing over my face as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
“Maybe we’re better off being only friends,” I lied. A part of me wanted to reach across the table and bridge the gap his apology had widened. And I knew Hunter couldn’t be pushed. So friends it was.
“I think that would be best.”
After a few more bites, I pushed my half-eaten plate of ziti away. If this was how he wanted it, fine. I’d adjust, but no way would I do it on his turf. “I should go home. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but with Knox out of the picture, there’s no need to stay here.”
Without looking at me, Hunter nodded. His jaw tightened. “You can spend one last night in the guest room, then I’ll set up a security system at your place tomorrow morning. That will alert you in case he decides to come back.”
“Thanks. How much will the system cost?” I wasn’t about to let him think I needed charity, not after everything else that had happened.
He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Hunter, I want to pay for the security system. In fact, I insist on it. You haven’t said a word about billing me for any of this, and I’m not a freeloader.”
He paused, then at last allowed a smile to crack through his stoic fa?ade—a smile that sent a familiar warmth flooding through me. “Brenna, you’re the last person I’d ever think of as a freeloader.”
“Still, I want to pay.”
“All right.” He relented with a slight shake of his head. “Three hundred for a basic system. I’ve got one downstairs. I’ll bill you.”
“That’s more like it.” I matched his smile, relieved as some small measure of normalcy returned to our dynamic. If we weren’t going to be more than friends, we needed to figure out our new dynamic. The tension eased, leaving a fragile peace in its wake. We finished dinner with light conversation that skirted around anything too deep or dangerous. Like the tide retreating from the shore, leaving behind only shades of what could have been.
After dinner, I stood at the sink, rinsing plates as Hunter placed plastic wrap over the casserole dish. “Need a hand?” he asked, his voice casual as if we were just two friends sharing domestic chores instead of two people who had shared a kiss that had shaken me to my core. And then went back to being friends. Or whatever we were.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” I forced a nonchalant smile. “Why don’t you relax? You look like you could use it.”
He leaned back against the counter, arms folded, and watched me for a moment. I tried not to linger on how the pose made his biceps bulge. His gaze was no longer clouded with the tension that had filled the space between us earlier. Instead, it was softer, as if he was allowing himself to remember that we were once the best of friends—before everything got complicated.
“I talked to Eli today about borrowing some dive gear,” I said, changing the subject. I felt miles away from the emotions that swirled inside me when I’d talked with my brother just hours earlier. But I wanted to reach out across this abyss between us.
“Yeah?” Hunter tilted his head slightly, interest piqued.
“I thought it might be fun to get back in the water again. You and me, for old times’ sake.”
He paused, considering it before letting out a slow breath. “I’ve been meaning to dive since I got back. Just haven’t found the time yet.”
“Maybe you need to make the time.” My heart sank a bit at his noncommittal response, but I masked it with a teasing lilt.
“I’ll check my schedule tomorrow.” His small smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
With a fleeting twitch of my lips in reply, my belly gave a wrenching twist. Maybe it was better this way. I wanted him in my life, even as a friend, so we’d need to figure out what that looked like. I dried my hands on a dish towel and turned off the kitchen light, leaving us in the soft glow of the living room lamps. The urge to reach out, to bridge the gap with more than words or shared laughter, tugged at me. But I held back, afraid to shatter the fragile truce we’d built.
Once again, we settled in his living room. The pages of my book were mere blurs as I flipped through them, not really taking in the words. Pedro hopped onto the couch and curled up in the space between us, his black fur a stark contrast against the light gray fabric. The kitten turned his head from Hunter to me and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decipher the shift in our dynamic.
That makes two of us, little guy.
I cast a glance at Hunter, whose attention seemed genuine on his book. But I knew him well enough by now—or at least, I thought I did—to see the tension in his jaw that belied a focused calm. The clock ticked away in the background, and each second felt like a missed opportunity to speak, to touch. But we both remained silent.
When the hour grew late, we closed our books almost simultaneously, as though some unseen director choreographed our movements even in this . “I should get some sleep,” I said, more to fill the silence than out of any real need for rest.
In Hunter’s guest room, I stood at the edge of the bed and ran a hand over the smooth comforter. This bed, with its neatly tucked corners and unfamiliar pillows, wasn’t where I yearned to be. My eyes wandered to the shut door. This was my last night in Hunter’s apartment, but I wasn’t about to knock on his door. When I climbed into my bed, the mattress was cool beneath me, unlike the warmth and strength I had clung to in those moments pressed against Hunter.
His sudden shift from barely restrained lust to a careful, deliberate distance left me more confused than ever. What had changed in the hours between? Lying there in the dark, I tried to reconcile the man who had kissed me senseless with the one who now guarded his heart as fiercely as he did mine. My thoughts spun.
I needed to know which Hunter was real. The one whose touch set me aflame, or the stoic, unknowable guardian angel who watched over me. And I had a suspicion that spending several hours diving together would tell me.