Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
It’s because of him, but I keep that part to myself.
I wrote a scene today—dirty, unhinged, the kind of stuff I’d never admit was inspired by the man sitting next to me. I even thought about writing the truck scene—but it felt wrong. Like I’d be using him. I’ve always avoided putting real people in my books out of respect, even partners. It’s a boundary I’ve never wanted to cross, and his reaction when I joked about using that scene the other day only reaffirmed that rule of mine.
He glances sideways at me. “What’re you smirking about?”
I blink, caught. “Was I smirking?”
“You were.”
I shrug. “Just . . . thinking.”
Hunter looks at me like he’s seeing something rare, something precious. His gaze lingers, substantial and easy all at once, and I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. But I notice. I notice everything.
No one’s ever looked at me the way he does.
My phone buzzes again in my lap.
“You need to get that?” He points.
“Ex-fiancé.” I roll my eyes. “He’s been texting all day.”
Hunter’s face darkens, his jaw tightening. “He bothering you?”
“He’s just—persistent,” I say. “I block him, and he creates new Apple IDs to text me. It’s annoying but harmless.”
“Tell him to call you,” he says.
“What?”
“Right now. Tell him to call you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No way. I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Wren.” His voice is firm but not unkind. “Let him call. You won’t be the one talking to him anyway.”
Another text from Nick pops up—I just want to talk, Wren. Please.
I lock eyes with Hunter before firing back: Fine. Call me. Right now.
The phone rings two seconds later. My heart starts this stupid uneven gallop, but Hunter holds out his hand. I hesitate but place the phone in his palm.
Hunter answers. “Is this the pathetic dumbass who fumbled Wren?”
There’s a beat of silence, then I faintly hear Nick’s voice. “Who . . . who is this?”
Hunter leans forward, elbows on his knees, calm as ever. “Sorry, pal. She’s moved on. She doesn’t want to hear from you again, so stop contacting her or you’ll have bigger problems to deal with than your fragile ego. Consider this your first and final warning.”
Then he ends the call without waiting for a response.
I sit there, stunned. Blinking. My heart hammering in the best way.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I finally say.
“Yes, I did,” he tells me, voice low and sure. “Guys like that? They don’t respect women. But the ironic part is, they’re spineless. He’d never act like that around another man.”
He hands me back my phone. “He’s going to leave you alone now.”
I stare at him, my chest tight, my throat warmer than I’d like to admit, and my lips on fire because I could kiss this man.
No one’s ever stood up for me like that. Not really. Not like that.
God help me. I’m starting to think Hunter McCrae might actually be exactly who he says he is.
35
Hunter
“There you go rescuing me again,” she says, her voice soft and teasing.
I shake my head. “Ignoring him wasn’t working.”
She sighs. “You don’t have to protect me, you know.”
I turn to her, eyes catching hers under the dim porch light. “Of course I do.”
There’s something about her that silently beckons me to keep her safe, to shield her from all the shitty people in this world who want to use her and take advantage of her in all the ways.
The air thickens between us. She’s watching me like she’s waiting for something. I don’t know if it’s an explanation or an excuse, but I give her the truth instead.
“You know, I spent a lot of years convincing myself I didn’t need anyone,” I admit. “And then you rolled into town, all sunshine and big blue eyes, and for the first time, I’m questioning things I’ve never questioned before.”
She tilts her head, that amused half smile playing on her lips. “Such as?”
“Everything.”
She laughs, soft and breathy. “Can you be more specific?”
I rest my arm along the back of the swing, close enough to touch her but still keeping space between us because I don’t trust myself not to cross it. “I’m thinking about the future differently now. Used to be laser focused on growing the farm. More acres, more staff, more everything. That was enough for me.”
I glance at her, watching her watch me.
“But now? Now I get in bed at night, and instead of sleeping, I just lay there, thinking about how it doesn’t have to be like this. I’m working myself to death and for what? I didn’t think there was another option until you showed up.”
She shifts, barely, but her eyes are still locked on mine.
“I know it’s crazy,” I add. “We’ve known each other what—less than a month? But already I know you’re different. You’re not like anyone around here.”