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“So what if he wants to fuck me? You think just because you took my virginity that you’re the only one entitled to sleep with me? It’smyfucking body.” I can see the sting my words cause on his face, but his body registers it first.
He stalks toward me, pressing his hard, whiskey smelling chest to mine as he bends down to speak to me, his nose brushing against mine as he growls.
“I’ve told you countless times that you and your body aremineand I will have no problem killing whoever tries to take you from me, so don’t fucking test me, Alison,” he snarls, causing me to shiver when he uses my full name.
“You keep saying that, but what if it’s me that tries to take it from you? What will you do then? Will you kill me?” I whisper, eyes locked with his as he stands in silence.
“No, but it would kill me if you did,” he admits after a while, stunning me into silence with his honest, drunken words.
“This week has been hell without you, flower,” he whispers, his nose pressed to mine as his hand caresses my jaw.
“Why did you have to act like an animal just then? He’s just a friend, Hunter, and I don’t owe you anything,” I say, his hand still caressing my face when I speak.
“You’re right, you don’t, but I owe you everything and I’m trying to make it right. Things are just fucked up right now, but I want this. I wantyou,” he says, his words slurred, but genuine.
“I don’t know if I can let you have me, Hunter,” I rasp, my eyes searching his as his hand freezes on my jaw.
“You smiled at him,” is all he says, his eyes hurt.
“And now you know how it feels,” I rasp, backing away from him and his warm hold.
“Look, I’m tired and I want to go to bed. You’re drunk and I won’t let you drive home, so just get in my truck and I’ll drop you off,” I say, turning and opening the door for him as he stares at me.
Finally, he slumps and walks to the truck, getting in and rubbing his beautiful face as I shut the door. When I hop in and start the engine, the silence stretches and weighs heavy on me. It only grows during the entire way back to his ranch.
37
By the timeI arrive at Brooks Ranch, the sun has set and Hunter is passed out. I sigh, slumping back in my seat and staring at the ceiling of my truck as I wonder why God or whoever is trying to punish me. I look over at Hunter, his deep snores echoing through the small space of the truck, making me smile slightly. I nudged him a few times, but he didn’t budge, so I decided to take out some of my anger on him and slap him over the head with my wallet.
He jolts awake immediately, cursing and hissing as he rubs his head and stares at me with narrowed eyes.
“Sorry, you wouldn’t wake up and I doubt your dad would like to see me carrying you inside,” I shrug, and he rubs his eyes before looking around.
“I don’t live with my dad,” he says, staring at the house before us.
“Then where do you sleep? With the cattle?” I tease and he glares at me.
“Funny. Follow this path down for about half a mile and you’ll see my cabin. Please,” he grumbles, and I follow his instructions.
The gravel path that leads into most of his ranch is long and narrow, both stables and barns on either side of us as well as several pens and fields. After about five minutes, a small, wood cabin appears in the back of the ranch. It’s lit only with a few solar lights lining the path up to the door. The porch is small, but quaint with a couple of rocking chairs. I stop the truck and stare at the charming little cabin ahead of me, wondering how this grizzly bear of a man can live in some cute little place like this.
“What are those weird slabs on the roof?” I ask, squinting to try and see what they are in the dark.
“Solar panels. Electricity doesn’t stretch this far, and I only need power for heat and lighting. Everything else is gas and I refill my water tank with water from the well over there,” he says, pointing to a well to the right of the house.
He surprised me, I must say. I knew Hunter was smart, but not so creative and efficient. I definitely didn’t think he lived in a tiny little cabin either, judging by his size and appearance.
“Thanks for dropping me off,” he says, his door on the handle as he stares at his boots.
“Want me to walk you in?” I ask after a while, sort of curious to see what it looks like inside of his cabin.
“I’m not that drunk, Ali. I’ll be okay,” he grumbles, and I nod silently, not sure of what else to say.
The silence stretches for a while, until finally he turns and locks eyes with me, his sapphire blues nearly black in the moonlit night.
“But if you’d like to come in for a glass of wine..” he starts, searching my eyes as I swallow.
A glass of wine is more than just drinking a glass of wine when it comes to Hunter, but I am interested to see his living space. See what he does when he’s not running a ranch or raising hell with me.
