On The Rocks

Savannah looks at me in question briefly, and then turns back to Hunter to shake his hand. She’s never met Hunter in the times that he’s been back home to visit, but she’s heard Casey and me talk about him, of course. “Savannah Shepherd. And I’m running late, so I’ll catch you guys later.”


With that, Savannah shoots out the door and leaves me standing there alone with six-foot-three of golden surfer dude, who is looking incredibly gorgeous in a pair of board shorts and a Ron Jon t-shirt. His hair is sticking up in a hundred different directions, and it’s clear he just rolled out of bed.

“Again,” I ask with not even the slightest bit of patience. “What are you doing here?”

Hunter crosses his arms over his broad chest and leans up against the doorjamb. Giving me an easy smile, he says, “I was just on my way to the beach to catch some waves, and thought I’d stop by.”

“You thought you’d stop by?” I ask, confused, because there is no reason he should be here.

“Yup. And I can’t say I’m sorry to have you greet me this way. Maybe I’ll come by in the morning more often.” He punctuates the statement by letting his eyes fall to the top swells of my breasts, which are plumping up over the edge of my tank top. It’s the same exact move that I cursed Kevin Zulekis for making last night, but for some reason, it doesn’t gross me out when Hunter looks at me this way. In fact, it makes me a bit tingly, and my freakin’ nipples tighten in response.

Just great.

Mentally kicking myself in the ass for even allowing those feelings to creep up, I put on my most ferocious glare. “Don’t bother. You’re not welcome here.”

To make sure he clearly understands that sentiment, I grab the edge of the door and start to close it in his face. He sticks out a flip-flopped foot and stops it from shutting though.

“Not so fast,” he says. “I have business to discuss with you.”

My eyebrows rise up in skepticism. “Business?”

“Yes,” he says, like he’s talking to a five year old. “Your bid? The one you handed me less than twenty-four hours ago?”

I can’t stop myself. I know I should just shut my mouth, but there’s something about his smug confidence that just rubs me the wrong way.

“And I believe I told you what you could do with that bid,” I point out.

Hunter just stares at me for a few moments, his face impassive, and I have no clue what he’s thinking. His voice is soft when he says, “Come on, Gabs. Don’t let your anger at me ruin the chance for you to get this project. I know it’s important to you.”

The chastening nature of his statement gets my hackles up, but I do heed what he’s saying. I assumed any chance of me getting that bid was ruined the minute I told him to “Fuck off,” but here he is implying that it might still be open for consideration.

So I bite my tongue, smooth out my features so he doesn’t see the derision I feel, and push back from the door. “Come on in. Let me get dressed, and I’ll make some coffee.”

He walks in, looking around in interest at our living room. It’s not much, but we have it decorated with some of Savannah’s photographs she took of the wild horses on Corolla, which I framed in whitewashed driftwood.

“Don’t feel like you have to get dressed,” Hunter says with a grin as he flashes me another appreciative look. “I’m perfectly okay with conducting business as is.”

I merely snort in response and turn my back on him, walking back to my bedroom while feeling his heated stare on my ass, which I know is barely covered by my panties.

Oh, well… let him look and suffer knowing what he missed out on.

I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt over my tank, and by the time I make it back out into the kitchen, I see Hunter working the coffee pot. I take a seat at the table and when he gets the brew going, he turns around and leans back against the counter, resting his hands on the edge.