10. Lottie

Against my better judgment, I'd let him win yet again.

Things took off quickly and silently. Within a matter of twelve hours, photos of us were on the front page of the Boulder Daily Camera, the Denver Post, Colorado Daily, and they even made it far enough to reach a handful of nationwide tabloids. After twenty-four hours, we were the hottest new couple on social media, the most intriguing new couple according to Forbes, and coming soon, the most suspicious new couple when my father eventually found out.

Thankfully, he wasn't really one to look at the news. I had to hold out hope that he wouldn't spot something while he was out and about.

Hank, on the other hand, had definitely found out. When I'd walked into his office the following morning, all I could see were his bushy gray eyebrows over the top of a hard copy of the Denver Post. On the front page was a photo of me and Hunter sitting next to each other in that damned restaurant, his lips against my ear, and probably the fakest smile I'd ever given plastered across my face.

But Hank didn't say anything about it.

If he cared, he didn't let on. Maybe he truly didn't give a damn about his boss or the woman who would be taking over for him in two weeks' time. Or, perhaps more likely, he was too eager to get to retirement that it didn't even phase him.

The other employees, however, seemed to have plenty to say. Just not directly to me.

I'd felt the lingering stares, heard the whispers as glances were exchanged. Irritated scoffs that had been quieter before were now obvious when I requested things from the stable hands. One had gone so far that she just blatantly ignored me.

If they disliked me before, they absolutely fucking hated me now.

Best of all, Hunter hadn't even given me the decency of contacting me to let me know what would be running and when. He'd been a ghost for two days. Rumors and whispers of him being at the ranch made their way through the stables, but if he had been here, he'd been avoiding me. Maybe he'd changed his mind. A girl can only dream.

But the ding of my phone as I walked down the hallway toward my shared office with Hank made me stop in my tracks. I'd assigned Hunter his own ringtone so I'd know when he was messaging me, and suddenly, I wished I hadn't. I could of at least assumed it was another one of the many texts I'd received from an unknown number in the last two days telling me that I was making a mistake. Instead, it was the ding of dread, one that I knew the source of without looking.

Dreams were bullshit.

Meet me in Stable 4.

I guess he couldn't run anymore.

My rain boots squished in the mud for the fifth time that day as I made my way through the field and out to Stable Four. The weather had finally seemed to calm down after two days of thunderous rain, and as the sun peeked its way out from behind a cloud, it only made me feel an inkling better. I was missing the warm sun of Hawaii.

Mud slid from my boots as I kicked them against the side of the stable door. No use tracking in extra for Dana and the others to have to clean up later. But when I made my way inside and found her leaning against a wall, chatting happily with the man who was actively making my life a living hell, I kind of wished I hadn't done her that decency.

Hunter stood tall with a wicker basket in hand. It clashed horribly with his suit, completely at odds with the corporate version of him that simultaneously made me angry beyond belief and dredged up wicked thoughts of him wearing that damn suit while I wore nothing at all.

Get yourself together.

I cleared my throat to get their attention. Dana grinned as she slipped from the wall and headed toward two saddled horses.

"Nice of you to join us," Hunter called over his shoulder, lifting his left hand to check the time. "Only took you, what, twenty minutes? Could have sworn the walk from the office was only five."

"Excuse me for not being a fan of being summoned places," I mumbled. I stepped around a bucket, nearly toppling it over as I approached him.

Dana looked back from where she stood beside the two horses, a clipboard under her arm. The gaze she leveled in my direction said something to the tune of you're going to hate this, and her wiggling brows and little smirk made me want to punch a wall. Before I could even ask what it was about, she had slipped out of the stable door as silently as a mouse.

"We need to talk."

I forced myself to look at Hunter. His face was contorted into harsh lines, a wrinkle between his brows deepening. "You're the one who's been MIA for two days," I snapped. "You could've reached out, could've shown up in the office, could have come to me instead of dragging me out here?—"

As if some spell broke, his rigid form moved one step in my direction before stealing again. "For once in your goddamn life, Lottie, can you not be stubborn and just listen?"

I blinked up at him. I knew he was capable of being demanding, but that was a lot.

"Sorry," he grumbled. Placing the weird basket on the ground, he dragged his fingers through his short black hair, taking deep, calming breaths. I didn't dare say a word. "It's just, you know, you've been a fucking brick wall since Hawaii. And it has to change, Charlotte. I need that to change."

I pressed my lips together. He wasn't wrong, but I wasn't an easy person to get along with in general. I thought he'd picked up on that when he'd shown up at the stables back in Oahu.

"You and I need to find some middle ground. Away from the cameras, away from other people. Alone. We need to find a way to get along."

I nodded. He was right. If this was going to work, we needed to be okay being around one another for more than ten minutes at a time. "Alright but I sense there's more."

"We're going on a picnic."

I snorted. "You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious," he snapped, those dark green eyes snapping to mine before turning apologetic. "There's a nice spot about a mile and a half back into the property."

"Can't we just stay here?"

"Nope. Did you miss the alone part?"

I watched as he slid the basket into the darker horse's saddle bag. Suddenly, the saddled horses made clear sense. "We're riding?"

"Of course we're riding."

"I don't even know these horses," I said, stepping up toward the light brown quarter horse with a dark mane. A female, fairly calm, only letting out a light sigh as I approached her. But I'd never ridden her before, and I had no idea what her temperament was like with someone on her back.

"That's Elizabeth. This one's Darcy. Now you know them." Hunter put one foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up effortlessly. The sight of him in a well-fitting suit on a horse was… nope. Don't go there, Lottie. You don't need new fantasies.

"Pride and Prejudice? Really?"

"Are you complaining about their names?"

————

Considering Hunter was someone who grew up in the house on this land with a wide array of horses and horse-related activities throughout his youth, I don't know why I had assumed he couldn't ride.

But holy shit, could he ever. And it did nothing to help the swirling thoughts in my head.

"Thought you said you grew up on the back of a horse," he shouted over his shoulder, a wicked grin across his cheeks. He was more than ten yards in front of me, his horse following every command he gave. Elizabeth, it seemed, was less cooperative.

I didn't give him the decency of a response. Instead, I squeezed Elizabeth a little tighter with my legs, hoping she'd at least listen to that since she hadn't picked up on my sound cues. She trotted a little faster, but not nearly enough to catch up with him.

"Come on," I muttered to her, squeezing just a little more before releasing. "Please."

Her speed picked up, but still not enough to pass, only enough to catch up to them before she decided she'd rather canter in time with her friend, Darcy, than speed past him.

"She's a bit feisty," Hunter said.

"She barely cooperates."

"I wasn't talking to you." The grin he flashed was all teeth and ego. Asshole.

The journey didn't take long by way of horseback. By the time I'd thought of something witty to say back to him, we'd reached a clearing in the wooded field, a small lake taking up the majority of space between the trees. The reflection of the sun rippled across the top of the water, nearly blinding me as the rays hit my eyes when I slowly dismounted from Elizabeth.

She huffed at me.

"Remind me why I hired you if you're so bad with horses." Hunter pulled the picnic basket from the saddlebag as he glanced at me, along with a stereotypical checkered blanket and a couple of champagne flutes wrapped in a protective layer of… boxers. Christ.

"If you're going to poke and prod, don't expect me to be nice to you," I snapped. Hooking Elizabeth to the old, rotting post, she exhaled roughly, coating my hand in a thin layer of horse snot. I wiped it on the back of my overalls.

"It's called banter, Lottie."

"It's called pissing me off."

Hunter passed me Darcy's reins, a silent request to tie him up as well while he set up whatever the hell this was. I only obliged because I didn't want to fight with him nonstop for the next six months. I needed to pick my battles.

Darcy let out a soft neigh while I tied him next to his friend. I wasn't sure whether it was directed at me or her, but from the slight second of eye contact and nuzzle against my hand, I hoped it was me.

Beyond where Hunter laid out the blanket and set up the champagne flutes, the trees extended for at least another mile before the land sloped upwards sharply, the rocky base of the mountain lending itself to the name of the national park the land sat against. The view was exceptional, and at least ten times better than the one from Dad's porch.

"Is this you trying to be romantic?" I joked, stepping up toward the blanket and plopping myself down ass first. I pulled off my boots one by one, setting them off to the side in the dry dirt so I wouldn't get mud on the leather. This blanket probably cost more than my car, I thought to myself.

"If you want to call it that, you can." Hunter unbuttoned the front of his suit jacket and let it slide from his shoulders. I glared at him. "I'm not undressing, Lottie. Calm down."

"You know, we could've just hung out in my shared office. I doubt Hank would have even noticed." I leaned back on my hands and stretched my legs in front of me. I was grateful for the break from the stables and pounds of research that Hank was making me pour through, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"I should just let him retire now. But he's the only one who knows the job well enough to show you the ropes and pass off the reins." Hunter chuckled lightly as he looked over at me, the sun catching the high points of his face. It made him look even more unreal, more unnaturally attractive. It was a goddamn crime that he existed, like some kind of sick, twisted temptation dangling from a fishing line. "But I thought maybe coming out here, away from everything, could, I don't know… help us get more on the same page, help you to calm down and clear your mind."

"I don't need to calm down."

Hunter snorted. "Okay. Sure you don't."

He flipped the lid of the basket open and plucked out two whole baguettes, a slightly messy cheese platter, and a bottle of champagne.

"You are absolutely trying to be romantic."

He laughed as he broke off a piece of the baguette and loaded it with one of the soft cheeses. The muscles in his hands flexed and tightened as he worked, and my God, they were transfixing to watch. His hands were made to touch skin, to hold, to be held, to push those fingers inside of me?—

"Charlotte?"

I blinked away the images. He held out the slice to me, his brows furrowed, his gaze locked on my face. "Sorry," I mumbled, gently taking the piece of cheese-covered bread without touching him.

I desperately needed to get a hold of myself.

We fell into an uncomfortable silence where he passed me pieces of bread, cheese, and a glass of champagne. I tried to distract myself with the view, with the chirping of the birds, with the soft breaths of the horses behind us. It was enough to calm the stress of the curt glances and whispered gossip of the staff, as well as the worry about my father finding out. But it wasn't enough to take me away from the insistent buzzing of the phone in my pocket.

Every hour on the hour at a minimum, he texted me.

I'd rather it was Hunter.

Each one was a demand or a warning about Hunter, a scare tactic to try to get me to put space between me and him. There was only one person I knew who would do something like this, whether out of spite or just sheer desperation to get me back—my ex. The one that had driven me out of the goddamn contiguous United States because I couldn't bear the harassment. The one that made me feel ten inches tall for deciding that he was too much. The one who could jeopardize everything I would gain by doing this for Hunter.

"When you were a kid," Hunter started, finally drawing my attention away from my spiraling thoughts, "what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Our eyes met as I dug through my mind, past the pool of stress and down further into the recesses, the bits I'd locked away for years. "A plastic surgeon," I chuckled. "Mom wanted me to be a doctor. But I didn't want to go into general medicine so I told her I'd specialize in plastic surgery instead. She thought it was the funniest thing ever. She told me I could do her Botox when she got old." The grin I'd had slowly fell, the realization of why I'd locked that memory away hitting me hard. "Obviously, that wouldn't have worked out."

His lips formed into a fine line, a rare sincerity showing in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged off his apology and downed the rest of my champagne, holding out the empty flute for a refill. "What did you want to be? CEO of the Harris agricultural empire?"

He laughed as he filled my glass. "Surprisingly, no."

"What, then?"

"I wanted to be a chef, actually." He leaned back on his elbows, his body angled toward me. It felt strange sitting up higher than him, as if he was bringing himself below me to prove some kind of point. "My mom was always the cook in the family. I took an interest when I was about seven, maybe? And it spiraled from there. Cooking, baking, broiling, smoking—making interesting flavor combinations was better than playing with any toy."

The thought of a little version of Hunter adorned with a white apron and a chef's hat nearly made me spit out the champagne I'd just sipped. "Sorry," I said, wiping the dribble from my lips and calming the little giggle that had escaped. "Why didn't you go to culinary school then?"

He rolled to his side and cast his eyes out toward the sun as it hovered just above the mountaintop. "I didn't intend to abandon it. My father thought it would be beneficial to work for the company for a while to get some experience. But when I saw how poorly my brother was handling everything, I decided to stay on longer, and longer turned into never leaving." His grip tightened around his champagne glass, and I noticed a ticking in his jaw. "So now I either take on the company for my father or watch my brother run it into the ground."

I didn't know what to think about what he had just shared with me. It made him appear more human, vulnerable, instead of the cocky playboy that I always saw him as. "That doesn't sound like much of a choice."

Slowly, he shifted his body again. He placed his head in the center of my crossed legs, right in my lap, as if it was the most natural thing he could've done. I didn't move away and I couldn't wrap my head around why. I didn't mind the proximity of him, the warmth of him resting against my muck-covered overalls. It was… nice.

"It's not," he sighed. "But I'd rather take on the responsibility now and figure something else out down the line than let my father's life's work end with him."

Before I could even comprehend what I was doing, my hand found itself in the short tufts of his hair at the top of his head. Each black strand was far too enticing, far too soft. Similar to what my exterior was becoming.

The feeling bubbling up inside of me was all too familiar. I knew damn well it was a curse and not a gift. I'd been burned harshly too many times before to let it fully develop again.

I would not allow myself to fall for Hunter Harris. I would not let him under my skin or between my sheets. There was something there, and that ticking clock would only get louder buried in the belly of a crocodile. I would fight it for six months, and then I would have my peace.

Make it through six months. That's all I had to do. It couldn't be that hard.

But the shimmer in his deep green eyes told me that I was in for more than I bargained for.