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4
Bronte’s cell phone rang as she changed into her pajamas, and the name on the screen had her pacing the floor. Up until that moment, she could pretend the earlier episode with Chris hadn’t happened, but now with the blaring trill of the incoming call, she had to face it.
At first, she had only wanted to comfort the man who looked so miserable, but then he’d tipped his hat back and she’d caught sight of him. His eyes were deep brown, aged, and filled with something she didn’t understand yet desperately wanted to. Beneath all the dark scruff was a mouth that seemed a tad too big for his face, and when he’d smiled, it’d been familiar in a way she hadn’t been able to quite put her finger on. Even after only that short time together, she couldn’t deny the instant and unsettling attraction to him. Bronte wasn’t a romantic; she was a realist, and she certainly didn’t believe in love, or even lust, at first sight. Which was why she was surprised to find herself so unable to ignore Chris.
With his straggly hair and flannel shirt, he was sort of sexy. In the lumberjack kind of way. And she’d wanted to kiss him. Damn, had she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel the rough hair of his beard, know the taste of his lips, and memorize the look in his eyes right before he leaned into her.
She’d been close to kissing him. Too close.
Technically, she hadn’t cheated, but there was a nagging tug deep down as if she’d crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to.
But what was it?
When she’d touched his hand?
When they’d sat close, heads bent together, whispering?
When she’d accidentally-on-purpose brushed her hand against his thigh?
Luckily, she would never see him again, so there was no chance of a repeat performance. Chris was a blip on the radar, a fleeting memory, while Hunter was a reality currently on the other end of the phone call.
She answered with a nervous twitch. “Hi, Hunt.”
“Brontosaurus! How are you?”
She forced a smile even though he couldn’t see it. “Good. How was your weekend?”
“Busy. I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up from the airport. I couldn’t get out there tonight with all this work.”
“I know. I know.” She methodically combed through her hair with her fingers. “Did you make any headway on that bill?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about you. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she said, although she wasn’t one hundred percent sure if she missed her boyfriend or the idea of him.
“When are you going to come visit me?”
She flopped onto her bed. “When are you going to come visit me? If you’d picked me up tonight, you could’ve stayed over.”
“Bronte.” Hunter’s voice went rigid. He only ever used her real name when he was annoyed. “I told you I was sorry. There’s nothing I can do about my schedule. If you’d move in with me, then—”
“I thought you wanted to talk about how much you miss me, not argue about moving.”
“It’s part of the same conversation. I miss you, and I want you to move in with me. I don’t want to argue about it. I want you to say yes.”
“Hunter,” she said with a huff, “you can’t expect me to pick up and move.”
“Why not? It’s not like I’m asking you to move to another state. It’s an hour and a half away.”
“Because I like living here, and I don’t want to leave my job.”
“You can teach anywhere.”
“And what about you?” Bronte swiped her arm through the air, proving a point to the empty room. “You can be a lawyer anywhere.”
He huffed on the other end. “Come on, Bronte. You know that’s not true. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am. I’m not going to give up my position here.”
“And I’m not going to give up my kids.”
