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CHAPTER4
Cl*t Stimulator~Blue
“Blue?”
The rideshare driver leaned out her window to look at me, making sure I matched the picture the app gave her.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said with a smile.
“Heading to Del Mar?”
“Also, yes.”
I climbed in, and the young woman, tan and lean and “California” from head to toe, relayed a warm smile through the rearview mirror. She tried to start a conversation a few times, but I was so distracted I didn’t hear a word she said. Eventually, she gave up and turned on the radio, which I was deeply grateful for. It was an hour from the airport to Hunter’s beach house, and it was a route I knew well, but now, everything felt different. There was the little ice cream shop Ashley and I used to go to on weekends because it was open late. Hunter took us when we were too young to drive, a thought that sent a tingle down my spine.
Ashley’s dad. He was Ashley’s dad, and I dropped everything to fly out to California and see him. I had no illusions about what he felt and what I was scared to explore in my own feelings. Seeing the places where he’d taken me when I was younger made me feel wrong and right all at once. Like I knew I shouldn’t even be entertaining this, but my entire body went electric at just the memory of his touch.
As we made it to the long highway along the ocean, I rolled the window down after asking the driver if it was okay. Feeling the salt air fill my lungs and blow my thick curls free was incredible. This was home. Not with Aston. Ashley and Hunter were my family and had been since Mom died.
We rounded a corner, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. Deep in thought about what I wanted to do about Hunter, I’d forgotten to ask the driver to take an alternate route, and now I was staring at the very traffic light Ashley’s car had been wrapped around when she got t-boned by a trucker that fell asleep at the wheel, where she died.
The rest of the ride passed with me trying to focus on the sound of the waves to clear my mind, but the all-too-vivid memory of what was left of my sister-by-choice car that night stood persistent. At last, the car slowed, and my eyes landed on Hunter’s huge gray pickup truck parked in the middle of the driveway. Damn. I had hoped he would be at work to give me some time to get settled before I had to face him, but I shouldn’t have been surprised he’d taken the day off, especially after his earlier text.
Butterflies assaulted my entire torso from the inside, and I could barely eke out a “Thank you” to my driver before she drove away, leaving me staring at the house. I tried to work up the courage to walk forward, knock, or even go inside like I might have done before things became complicated. But I didn’t get the chance to. The front door opened, and Hunter stepped out, leaning on the doorframe, hands in his pockets.
“Hey,” he said, brushing away a few loose strands of his toffee brown hair that escaped his bun. Then his lips tipped into a smile, casually lighting up his chocolate brown eyes, but only for a second.
“Hey,” I shot back.
Then there was a thick, tense silence before Hunter moved first. He walked over to me, standing only a few inches away, looking down at me. The scent of whiskey still lingered under whatever he’d done to mask it, and it made my head swim. My breath caught in my throat as I realized he was about to kiss me again, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, but he didn’t. He got so close I could feel his breath on my face, but instead of kissing me, he took my suitcase from my hand.
“Come on in,” he said, nodding his head over his shoulder as he turned around.
I followed him inside, ready for the mess I knew had likely been building up in my absence. It wasn’t as bad as I expected, but it would still be about an hour of work to get the place to a livable amount of cleanliness. Standing in the middle of the hallway, I took in the house, and although Ashley’s been gone for over two years, it was still hard to walk through the door, knowing she wouldn’t be running down the stairs to greet me.
“You okay, baby girl?”
His words broke my cloudy daydream, and he inched closer, lingering in front of me as he stroked a thumb down my cheek. Baby girl. He’s said them before, but always in a fatherly way, but the way they dripped off his lips now made goosebumps break out across my body.
I breathed in and twisted my torso from side to side, purposely avoiding his intoxicating gaze. “Yeah,” I said, pointing to the stairs. “I’m just going to head to the bedroom and unpack.”
He raised a brow, “right. I guess that’s a good idea.” He turned on his heels and followed me, stopping once I reached the stairs. “Make sure you come back down, or I’ll come get you.” He winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
I pushed open the door to the guest room, and it was in the exact same state as when I last left it. A small stack of overdue books from the Del Mar library lay on the corner of the bed, along with a few clothing pieces I forgot to grab last time. I sank into the bed and let my body fall into the mattress. With the waves of the ocean, and the low hum of the air conditioner kicking in, it was the perfect recipe for a quick nap, but the sound of bottles falling to the floor made me jump. Trading my tennis shoes for a pair of soft flips flops, I walked toward the door and pulled my phone out of my back pocket.
Aston: I see you landed. You could have sent a text.
I wanted to reply, but instead, I clicked my phone off and shoved it back into my pocket. The sound of broken bottles ceased once I got to the bottom of the stairs, and I found a shirtless Hunter running the vacuum over the hardwood floors in the living room. His shoulder-length smooth hair was no longer contained by a hair tie and fell loosely to the sides of his sculpted face.
It usually took both of us to get the living room back in order, but he seemed to have gotten a handle on it. I spotted a trouble area and grabbed the broom perched against the wall. We cleaned in silence for a bit, with his eyes following mine the entire time. I could feel his gaze boring into me every time I bent over, and he didn’t even have the socially acceptable level of shame to look away when I turned back to face him.
“You haven’t been coming to visit,” he said when the living room was nearly free of empty bottles and construction dust.
I ignored him and stepped to the side to reach for the lighter sitting on the edge of the fireplace. He knew as well as I did that I stopped coming because I stroke his dick and loved every bit of it. Which had me running for the hills.
“Baby girl,” he said, moving in front of me again.
“You’re drunk,” I replied, brushing him off and lighting the wood flannel scented candle.
