Page 23

23

FAITH

T hat afternoon, I stab the trowel into the dirt with more force than necessary.

The poor lavender plant I’m trying to repot looks traumatized, half-tilted and flailing like I just pulled it out of a burning building.

Too bad. It’s how I feel.

The sun is hot on my shoulders, and sweat beads along my collarbone. I haven't bothered to shower yet. I needed to do something. Move. Get my hands dirty. Try to bury the wild, tangled mess of emotions clawing inside me.

Betrayal. Embarrassment. Confusion.

And still, somehow, the worst of all: desire.

My thighs still clench when I think about last night. And I hate myself for it.

How could he? How could I ? I trusted him—Thor—because he felt separate from all the crap in my life. But he wasn’t. He was Hunter Holloway . Brooding, smug, too-handsome-for-his-own-good pain in my ass.

And my boss.

“Morning, sugar,” Daddy calls from the back porch.

I freeze, my hand in the potting soil.

“You're up early,” I call back, trying to sound normal.

“Didn’t hear you come in last night.” He steps onto the porch, sipping his coffee. “You sleep at Daphne’s?”

“Yeah,” I say too quickly. “Girls’ night.”

He nods, not quite buying it, but also not prying.

“Beautiful day,” he says, surveying the yard. “You hear Keith is coming back in two weeks?”

My stomach drops.

“Oh really? I haven’t heard much from him.”

“Mmhmm.” He sips his coffee again, eyes on me. “Talked to his dad yesterday. Said Keith’s ready to get serious about things again. Wants to pick back up where y’all left off.”

My lips force a smile I absolutely don’t feel. “Wow. That’s good for him.”

Daddy eyes me curiously. “Anyways. Everything okay at Holloway’s? You picking up on anything interesting for the business?”

“Um. What?”

“Intel,” he says. “Like we talked about. That expansion project. Any whispers? Is it going through? You’ve got a front row seat now, honey.”

Right. That was supposed to be my job—spy on the Holloways, find out what was happening with the land deal. Make sure Keith and I still had a place in the family future.

But now?

Now that’s the furthest thing from my mind, and I just want to scream.

“Honestly? Not really hearing much,” I say. “I mostly roll silverware and serve overpriced cocktails.”

He laughs. “Well, keep your ears open. This next couple weeks could be big. Especially with Keith coming back. We might finally be able to make something happen.”

I force another nod. “Sure, Daddy.”

He walks off, humming something to himself, and I finally let myself collapse onto the garden stool.

Everything is spinning.

Keith is coming back.

Daddy still thinks I’m on the family plan.

And the man who rocked my entire world last night just turned out to be someone I swore I couldn’t stand.

I yank the lavender back out of the pot and start again.

I toss the ruined lavender in the compost, wipe the sweat from my neck, and head inside.

A hot shower doesn’t help. Neither does the softest towel or my favorite lotion or the playlist I put on to distract myself.

By the time I’m standing in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around me, I’m still vibrating.

I dig out my phone and hit call.

“Girl,” April answers after half a ring. “You sound like someone who just committed a felony or had sex with someone who turned out to be related to them. What happened?”

“I slept with Hunter Holloway,” I blurt.

Dead silence passes for a moment.

“Wait. What? What are you talking about? You slept with Hunter Holloway? What happened to Thor?”

“Hunter was Thor . From the club. The mask? The truck? All of it.”

“Wait… wait. Are you telling me the masked truck god you’ve been sexting with for days is your boss? The guy who tried to fistfight your father at church? Not to mention a freaking NFL football player?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m telling you.”

April screams. Like, actually screams. I hold the phone away from my ear.

“ I knew it. I freaking knew it! Was it amazing? No—wait, don’t answer that. Yes, answer it,” she says when she calms down. “NO, sorry. That’s…I’m still processing. So…how mad are you?”

“I don’t know.” I lean against my dresser, towel still clinging. “Like…ninety percent so mad I want to never see him again. But then ten percent of me keeps remembering what he did to my body last night and wants to cry in gratitude.”

“Okay, fair.”

“I just—he lied, April. He knew who I was. And I told him things. Real things. And I thought I could trust him.”

“Did he explain why?”

“He said he ‘tried.’ He said he wanted me to see him without the Holloway name attached.”

April exhales. “That’s…actually kind of deep. But still. I’d want to throw a roll of silverware at him.”

“I work a shift tonight,” I say. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Well, option one: seduce him in the keg closet for closure.”

“Not helping.”

“Okay. Option two: act cool, wear your hottest jeans, and pretend the orgasm he gave you never happened.”

“…what’s option three?”

“Admit you like him and give him a chance. A real one. No masks, no games.”

I go quiet.

“You’re thinking about it,” she says.

“I’m thinking about killing him,” I mutter.

April laughs. “Same thing, sometimes.”

* * *

I stare at my closet like it’s personally responsible for the chaos in my brain.

Sensible jeans? No. T-shirt? God, no. I pull out a silky black tank with lace trim that dips just low enough to make eye contact awkward. Paired with high-waisted dark denim that hugs everything, and my cowboy boots with the tiny gold stitching I never wear because I think they’re “too much.” Tonight, “too much” is exactly the vibe.

I dry my hair with extra attention, leaving it down and tousled. A little eyeliner, a touch of gloss, perfume at the pulse points. And for the final, petty flourish: a dainty gold necklace with a tiny heart charm.

I look like a woman who does not regret last night.

Even if I’m spiraling inside.

Game on, Thor.

Or Hunter.

Whatever.

I roll into Holloway’s Hideout like I’ve never heard the word “modesty” in my life. The evening sun hits my skin as I swing open the back door, and Daphne turns from where she’s stacking menus.

She freezes. Eyes me from head to toe.

“Who are you and what have you done with Pastor Easton’s daughter?”

I smirk. “Faith Easton couldn’t make it tonight. I’m her cooler, hotter, IDGAF twin.”

Daphne whistles. “Damn. You look like you just got laid and won custody.”

I snort. “What does that even mean?”

She tosses me a side apron. “It means you’re glowing and probably unstable.”

We’re still laughing when the kitchen door swings open—and Hunter walks in.

Tall. Tan. Tension in a Henley.

I freeze, mid-laugh. He does too. Just for a second.

His eyes flick down my body so fast I almost don’t catch it. But I do. And so does Daphne.

She slowly turns her head between us. “Mmmkay. What am I missing here?”

“Nothing,” I say brightly, tying on my apron.

Hunter clears his throat. “Nice boots.”

“Thanks,” I reply sweetly. “Nice…shirt. Very gray.”

Daphne narrows her eyes. “This is getting weird.”

“Is it?” I ask innocently, brushing past him just a little too close. “Maybe it’s just tense because someone’s got a secret identity.”

Hunter coughs. Daphne blinks. “What?”

“Nothing,” I chirp. “Just—Thor’s daydreaming again.”

Hunter glares at me, and I smile like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.

Daphne stares between us again and mutters, “Okay I’m gonna need a cigarette and a thesaurus to follow whatever is happening here.”

The rest of the pre-shift blur passes in a daze of silverware, drink trays, and fake smiles. I somehow manage to take drink orders without calling someone “Thor” or spilling a margarita in a patron's lap, which honestly feels like a win.

Around nine, the lull hits. I’m leaning against the bar, refilling my notepad, when I hear that voice.

Low. Smooth. A little cocky.

“How are the tips tonight?”

I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him.

I roll my eyes skyward and plaster on a smile before turning to face him. Hunter leans one forearm on the bar, casual as hell, like he isn’t the man who had me tied up and trembling in a semi-truck last night.

“Not bad,” I say, flipping my notepad closed. “Lots of generous strangers out tonight.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Strangers, huh?”

I lean in just slightly. “You’d be surprised how generous they get when you don’t lie to their face.”

His jaw flexes. “Wasn’t lying. About the big stuff.”

“Oh right,” I nod, voice sweet as syrup. “Just…omitting the fact that you’re not a mysterious trucker named Thor, you’re actually Hunter Holloway, town heartthrob and my literal boss.”

“What my name is doesn’t mean I don’t feel the same way about you. Besides, I never said I wasn’t a man of mystery.”

“Or a man of delusion.”

His eyes spark, and I see the smirk trying to tug at the corner of his mouth. “You gonna write me up, Luna?”

“Only if you’re into workplace discipline.”

His gaze darkens just a touch. “You offering?”

I swallow, pulse ticking in my neck. “Not unless you lie to me again.”

“So that’s a maybe.”

“No, that’s not a maybe. Let me be clear. We’re done. I put up with enough indirect communication from Keith. I’m not about to put up with more B.S. in…whatever this situation is. I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘relationship.’ Budding flirtation. It’s over. I don’t do liars. Hard line.”

Hunter takes a step closer—close enough that I can smell the cedar of his soap and the remnants of his cologne, which of course, has no right smelling that good.

He leans in, voice low, rough velvet. “So we’re just going to pretend I didn’t make you come three times last night?”

My cheeks go up in flames. “That is not workplace appropriate.”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Guess I’ll go tell the owner.” He grins. “Oh wait…that’s me.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “There has to be some HR rep I can report this to.”

“Sure,” he says. “Her name’s Daphne. But she’s usually in the walk-in freezer making out with Sheldon, so best of luck.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah?” he smirks. “Didn’t sound like hate when you were screaming my name.”

“Jesus Christ, ” I mutter, turning away before I combust in front of table five.

“Have a good shift, Luna,” he calls out, all smugness and swagger as he disappears back toward the kitchen.

Daphne walks past a beat later and mutters, “Okay, I really need the full story now.”

I’m going to kill him.

After I survive this shift.