22. Lottie

I'd almost forgotten how it felt to have the sun shine on my skin. Warmth prickled my face despite the cold wind as Dana and I walked toward the open doors of the hotel and spa that Hunter's mother had invited us to. I knew damn well it was an effort to get me out of the hospital, but at this point, with the amount of stress and anxiety, it didn't make a difference. I needed it.

Or maybe that's just what Hunter convinced me of.

It had taken him two days to break me down and get me to agree. He was adamant that staying that long in the hospital room with Dad was unhealthy, and slowly but surely, the fear of leaving him for the day became less and less terrifying. It was still a day lost, still a day that I wouldn't get back. But Dad wasn't waking up anytime soon, and that was the only thing that made me feel even the slightest bit okay about it.

I'd fought my demons over abandoning him for a fucking spa day. It felt silly, almost absurd, but considering Hunter and I were "engaged," Dad would be upset if I didn't get to enjoy the festivities that came along with that just because I was holding his hand while he was out cold. And the worst thing, apart from death, had happened with me in the room. Hunter's insistence that my presence wouldn't affect anything was the last little push I needed, even if I felt like shit leaving.

Maybe I'd just drink until the day was over.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me as we stepped inside. It was a good thing they'd requested we show up without makeup, I sure as hell wasn't going to bother and hadn't for weeks. Besides, my eyes were so red and swollen, I wasn't sure makeup would even be able to help.

"Names?"

The woman behind the desk didn't bother to look up as we walked in. "Dana and Charlotte. We're here with the Harris's," Dana said, speaking for me so I didn't have to.

With one hand, the receptionist pointed us to the doors on our left. "Through there."

————

Just inside the doors, two women whom I'd not yet met sat in posh waiting room chairs, deep in conversation with each other. I swallowed down the nerves and anxiety, and impending sense of doom from abandoning my comatose father and plastered a smile across my face.

"You must be Holly," I said to the older of the two women. "I'm Lottie."

The woman flashed me a grin and stood. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back over the plush white robe, not a hint of gray in sight. She had a much friendlier face than her husband, all soft lines and minimal wrinkles. I wondered if she'd gotten any work done—the lack of crow"s feet by her piercing green eyes was more than surprising. That must be where Hunter gets it from.

"It's so nice to meet you, Lottie. This is Penelope, Fred's wife," Holly said, motioning toward the brunette woman on her left. I was relieved she hadn't said the name Annie. "This must be your maid of honor?"

Oh my God. He already told them. "Uh, y-yes," I stammered, stepping to the side to allow Dana to step forward. "This is Dana."

"Lovely to meet you," Dana grinned, holding out one hand toward the two women. Both hesitated before giving it a shake. "I've heard literally nothing about either of you."

I shot her a glare as my face heated.

"I'm not surprised," Holly laughed. "I doubt my son has spoken much about his family."

"Nor your husband," Dana joked, looking in Penelope's direction.

Please shut up.

"Do you work for us?" Holly asked, her brows raising. There wasn't a hint of irritation at Dana's remarks, and I thanked my lucky stars for that.

"Yeah, I work in the stables. Stable Four to be exact," Dana said.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea! It's so nice to meet you. I'm not around as often as I used to be but I'll have to make a point to drop by soon." Holly was a difficult woman to read. She seemed happy, although in the way someone would if they'd spent years in business and knew how to come across with a mask on their face.

But maybe that was just my intense cynicism regarding the situation.

"There's a changing room just over there," Penelope said, pointing behind us. "Why don't you girls get changed so we can actually start to relax?"

Relax. That word had long become foreign to me.

————

The warm bubbles and jets of the hot tub would have been a hell of a lot more relaxing if I wasn't entirely nude and surrounded by three other naked women.

"Honestly, Lottie, the best piece of advice I can give you is to never let Hunter overshadow you. Harris men tend to do that," Holly laughed. She leaned back against the side of the jacuzzi, both elbows pitched up on the edge. The water barely covered her breasts. "They're great, but they have a God complex."

Penelope snorted and sunk a little further into the water, nearly up to her chin. "I remember when you told me that. Still came as shock down the road."

"This explains so much," Dana laughed.

"Just keep your dreams and goals intact," Holly continued, dropping one of her hands onto my exposed shoulder. I tried not to jump. "Hunter especially tends to steamroll."

I chuckled. She wasn't wrong—Hunter did have an innate ability to make everything about him. Even taking over my thoughts. "I'll keep it in mind. But I've never changed my goals for a guy before, so I doubt I'll let that happen," I said, giving Holly a half-hearted wink.

A woman in a light pink uniform carrying a tray of mimosas stepped up to the hot tub, slowly lowering onto one knee before holding the tray out to us silently. Holly lifted up from the water, baring herself entirely to the three of us and the attendant, plucking the drinks from the tray one by one and handing them out to us.

I hadn't planned on drinking, but, when in Rome.

"To Lottie and Hunter," Holly grinned, her far too perky, silicone breasts not moving as she reached her glass into the center.

"To Lottie and Hunter," Penelope and Dana parroted in unison, the four of us clinking our glasses before taking a sip of the bubbly orange concoction.

————

Holly could handle her drink a hell of a lot better than I could.

I was thankful for the lack of inhibition and how easy it was to stop worrying as much as I had been, even if it made me a little looser-lipped. And in my defense, I managed to keep the counterfeit relationship under wraps. Mostly thanks to Dana, really. She reminded me to shut my mouth multiple times.

"You okay, Lottie?" Holly asked, one robed arm around my shoulders as we walked back into the changing room.

I could hardly keep my bare feet pointing in the right direction. "Peachy," I hiccupped.

Dana snorted. "Hunter's gonna kill me for letting you drink this much."

"I'll vouch for you," Penelope cut in. "She did it all herself, we swear!" she added with a giggle.

Holly plopped me down on the bench. My vision blurred in between the movements, as if I'd blinked and I was suddenly somewhere else. "That's so weird," I said to no one in particular, the words sounding odd, muffled as if they weren't my own, and I couldn't help but giggle at the idea of someone else speaking with my voice.

"You can dress yourself, right?" Holly laughed. She grabbed my pile of clothes and set it next to me.

"Oh, absolutely," I lied.

I'd worn all black clothing, and everything looked exactly the same. By the time I managed to get my shirt on, Dana had already pointed out that it was backward and inside out.

The door opened and one of the staff members stepped through. "Your rides are here, ladies."

"Shit," Dana swore, her grin hard to hide as she slipped her jacket over her shoulders. "Lottie, come on, get your pants on. Hunter's here."

"Shouldn't I keep my pants off then?" I giggled, the fit being cut short with a round of hiccups.

"Oh my God, Lots, don't say that in front of his mom," she whispered. She couldn't stop her own fit of giggles as warmth spread across my cheeks.

"It's okay. I'm sure she'll forget about it by morning," Holly said with a small smile. Her fingers slid around the back of her neck, pulling her long hair out of her jacket. "It's not the first time I've heard someone talk about having sex with my son."

Without registering anything in between, I was on my feet and my pants were on, a scarf that wasn't mine wrapped around my neck. Holly and Penelope were gone and only the faintest memory of bear-hugging them in my underwear remained. Dana leaned back against the lockers, her arms crossed over her chest. Beneath me, the floor spun.

"Can we go now? Hunter's getting annoyed," she said, her eyes narrowing at me.

"Hunter's out there?" I whispered, my eyes aching from being open too wide. I lowered my lids and immediately felt the irritation and dryness dissipate. "Can I see him?"

"So you've changed your mind?"

Changed my mind?

"You said you didn't want to see him. That he was bad juju. Whatever the hell that means."

"Why did I say that?"

"Hell if I know."

"How are you reading my thoughts?" I asked, taking a step back from her and nearly falling over the bench that ran down the center of the room.

"What? I'm not. You were talking."

————

We were in Hunter's truck. I sat in the passenger seat, a blanket around my shoulders. Muffled sounds of Hunter and Dana talking slowly filtered in, along with the faint hum of the engine and the easy notes of something playing through the speakers.

Do we drive on the right side of the road?

"…just don't understand why you let her drink this much."

"I didn't. She did it on her own," Dana snapped. Why is Dana mad at Hunter?

"Shhh," I hushed, fighting the stupid fucking strap across my chest to turn around and look at her. "Don't yell at him. I want him to like me."

Dana's face was only barely illuminated by the passing headlights, but I could see the little grin she bit back. "Sorry, Lottie. Thought you were asleep."

"Sleep is for the weak." The words echoed in my mind, a memory of them being some sort of song lyric playing over and over. Sleep is for the weak. Sleep is for the weak. Sleep is for the weak.

"We get it," Hunter grumbled.

Shit, was that out loud again?

"Yes," Dana deadpanned.

I spun back around in my seat and slumped into it the right way forward. "Your mom is weird," I said, turning my gaze to Hunter. In the flickering light and the ambiance of the dashboard, he looked far more attractive than usual. Hard lines, creased brows, eyes trained on the road to keep us alive.

A true gentleman.

"What? How?"

"How what?"

"How is she weird, Lots?" he asked, his fingers snaking across the center console to wrap around my knee. Little electric shots stemmed up from it, making that spot between my thighs tingle.

So fucking hot.

"You think my mom is hot?"

"What? No, you."

"I don't think my mom is hot," he said, patience dripping from every word.

"No, no, I mean you're hot," I giggled. My mind was a heavy haze of alcohol and I was absolutely not thinking straight when I wrapped my fingers around his hand and dragged it up my thigh. "Touch me."

"Oh my God, Charlotte, I'm still here!" Dana laughed.

Hunter's hand lowered on my thigh, meeting me halfway and stopping in the center. "Sorry, Dana," Hunter said, his gaze flicking to the mirror. "Do you know why she thinks my mom is weird?"

"Her boobs," I answered, dragging out the word for far too long. "They're like… massive. Cement. Perky."

He did his absolute best to keep his composure. "She got them done last year."

"Hunter?" I turned to him again, wrapping my fingers tighter around his. "Can you take Dana home?"

The truck shifted into park a second later, his headlights illuminating an apartment complex. It looked oddly familiar, the staircase to the right, the curtains hanging from the second floor…

"Oh! It's Dana's house!"

Dana's door kicked open. "Sorry to leave you with this mess," she laughed. "Good luck with that one."

"It's alright. Drink lots of water," Hunter told her.

"I think she's the one you need to worry about with that." She grabbed her bag from the back and reached around my seat, patting me on the head. "Bye, Lottie."

"Bye."

The door shut behind me, cutting off the freezing air. Dana jogged up the steps of her apartment, flashing a quick wave before she disappeared into the warmth of the building.

I pulled Hunter's hand back up to the crotch of my jeans. "Please."

He shifted into reverse and slowly backed out of the complex, his cheeks turning pink. "You're drunk," he chuckled. But he didn't move his hand.

"I'm horny." I grabbed the blanket around my shoulders and pulled it off. My skin felt too warm, almost like I was suffocating under the layers of my jacket and shirt. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter between my thighs at just the thought of being fully naked in the car beside him, with one of his hands on my clit and the other on the wheel. "Please."

"Do you want me to take you back to the hospital or your house?"

His words barely registered as I moved myself around in my seat, squirming out of my jacket. I chucked it into the back. "I wanna go to your place." The words came out in a jumbled mess, all at the same time.

"You can't even speak," he sighed, letting his head fall back against the headrest as we stopped at a traffic light. I fought with my shirt next, trying to work out which way my arms needed to go to get it off. "Please stop trying to take off your clothes."

"I. Want. To. Go. To. Your. Place," I said, enunciating every single word so he understood this time. Finally, I got my shirt off, setting my breasts free. "Touch me."

"Lottie."

I reached across the center console, inhibitions completely gone and wrapped my fingers around the shape of his cock over his pants. I was met with rigidness, his desire giving him away. "You want to," I giggled. Another hiccup came out with it.

"Of course I want to," he grumbled. "But you're drunk, and I'm driving."

The truck began to slow down. I blinked a few times, looking to see where we were at. We were parked outside of a three-story home built out of wood, a warm glow coming from the massive windows that formed a large triangle at the center. It was at least ten times bigger than my family home but it was warm and inviting, and so stereotypically Hunter. Even through my drunken haze, I knew instantly that it was his house.

I turned to him. His seatbelt was off, his gaze directed at me as the truck idled in park. I couldn't remember the last thing that was said, all I could think about was how perfect he looked, how much he felt like home, how pretty his lips were, and how long his hair had grown. I wanted to drag my fingers through it.

"Lottie?"

I shoved the blanket off me that had somehow reappeared, baring my chest to him again.

"For fuck's sake."

I didn't care. I unbuttoned my jeans, forcing them and my underwear down my thighs, kicking off my shoes in the process. I pulled everything off. Heat was burning me from the inside out, and within a second, I'd lifted the center console between us to reveal the hidden seat beneath and wiggled my way out of the seatbelt. I crawled across to him, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me into his lap to straddle him.

"You're drunk," he whispered, his cool hand sliding across my cheek. "So very drunk."

"I don't care." I pressed my lips to his and he welcomed the kiss, humming his satisfaction against my mouth. Deepening it, I kissed him greedily, exploring every inch of his mouth and committing his taste to memory. My hips pressed against his stomach, seeking friction, seeking any kind of touch, but he didn't give it. Only kisses, only gentleness.

I didn't want gentle.

"Fuck me," I begged, breathing the words into his mouth. "Please, Hunter."

Images flashed in my mind of the things I wanted him to do to me. Bending me over, holding my hands behind my back, fucking me relentlessly until I was a sobbing mess on the floor. Pulling my hair, wrapping those perfect fucking hands around my throat, calling me a good girl. Telling me how well I take him. How perfectly I fit his cock. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Fuck me," I said again, more urgently, the words slurring together. "I need it. I need you," I whined.

"You need water and greasy food," he growled, his fingers tightening around my waist and the back of my neck. "And a shower. You smell wrong."

I smelled wrong?

"You smell like…," He pressed his nose to my neck, breathing me in, leaving little kisses everywhere he sniffed. "…like lavender."

"Massage oil." It came out as one jumbled, unintelligible word.

"What?"

"Massage… oil." My eyelids felt heavy. So, so heavy, like cinderblocks were attached to each eyelash and were dragging them down. I let my forehead fall onto his shoulder and braced my hands against his hardened chest. Those images flashed in my mind again, taunting me, making me wetter, needier. "Fuck."

"Lottie?"