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“Obviously Beauty,” I mutter.
“Obviously,” Jolene agrees. “See you two next time.”
Glancing nervously at Hunter as we both grab our things and head out the door, I can’t stop the grin spreading across my face even if I tried.
But at the same time, things keep shifting between us. Little by little, inch by inch. And I’m not sure how far to let it go before I put my guard up and stop it from escalating. After all, he’s a Thompson. And his life is always going to be anything but ordinary.
I kind of like the thought of just ordinary.
Hunter
I jog to the passenger side of the truck and open the door. Finally, Sutton has learned to just let me open the damn door. It’s just something that my grandfather taught me as a young kid. He might have been a workaholic as a surgeon himself, but the man knew how to treat my grandmother.
He always said, “Keep your woman well fed, open the door, and when in doubt…just bring home flowers or treats.”
She steps down, and we walk toward the house.
“I’ll wait out here while you get your things,” I tell her, nodding toward the porch swing.
“Okay.” She smiles, walking into the house, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.”
I sit on the swing, looking out toward the road.
After I had hockey practice this morning—and chugged a Red Bull—we had to show Jolene our routine. She was impressed. And that made me feel much fucking better about the whole thing. Because honestly, I’m not used to sucking at something. Even if it is dancing.
The door creaks open, and I’m just about to stand and tell Sutton how fast she was at getting her shit together. But when Poppy steps out, full resting bitch face and all…I give her a tight nod.
“Poppy.”
“Hunter,” she says, sounding grouchier than ever. “I heard Ryann and Sutton talking. Going away for the night, I take it?”
“Yep,” is all I give her. Because honestly, it’s not her business.
“You know, you’re more of an idiot than I thought for being withSuttonwhen you could be with someone like Paige.” She checks her nails over, frowning. “Paige is kind. Smart. Going into one of the most compassionate fields of work one can choose—nursing.” She points toward the house. “And you’re throwing all of that away to be with someone like Sutton Savage, who only cares about her own hopes and dreams. That girl doesn’t have a sweet bone in her body.”
“Oh, Poppy. Poppy, Poppy, Poppy.” I shake my head, smirking. “First off, your friend is the one who dragged me along for nearly two fucking years. Claiming my parents scared her away when we all know that’s bullshit. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too. And I can’t blame her.” I wave my hand at myself. “I’m pretty good fucking cake.” I stand. “Second, you don’t know jack shit about Sutton. So, don’t act like you do and kindly piss off.”
“Sutton’s going nowhere, Hunter. Her lungs are shot. Last I checked, professional dancers don’t need to have an inhaler in their hand twenty-four/seven.” She shrugs. “And if you think she’ll stick by you when you go pro…think again. She’ll be long gone.” Holding her hand up, she wiggles her fingers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner date with arealwoman. Named Paige. Later.”
I watch her strut away, getting into her car. I don’t know how the other women in this house stand to live here with her. Maybe she’s only mean to Sutton. Who the hell knows? And everyone knows what her problem is with Sutton. Sutton has more talent. Before she arrived here, Poppy was at the top. Now, that’s been taken from her. Crappy lungs or not, Sutton was made to dance. And if she really wants it for her future, I know she’ll figure it out.
“I’m ready!” Sutton chimes in, stepping onto the porch. “Let’s do this.”
I take her bag from her, and she follows me to my truck and climbs in.
Grinning up at her, I narrow one eye. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how much are you dreading this dinner tonight?”
“Honestly…I’m not dreading it at all. Everyone knows shit like this hasthebest food at it.” She shrugs her slender shoulders. “I’ve been on a budget since my parents gave me the ol’ boot. Which means…no high-end food.” Holding both hands up, she moves her head up and down. “I say bring. It. On.”
I laugh before closing the door.I guess that’s one way to look at it. Shitty company, but damn good food.
Besides, I’ll have her at my side. How bad could it be?
Sutton
I watch the slide show, trying to hold in my yawn. It’s nearly nine o’clock at night, and for the past hour and a half, Dr. Thompson has been talking nonstop about the future plans for the newest foundation he and his wife started.
