CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE Hunter

I ran my hands over my head, testing the spring on my buzz-cut. Half an inch too long and I couldn't manage the cowlicks I had in my hair. My barber pointed out the odd hair growth patterns each and every visit. As a kid, the front of my hair looked exactly like the name implied, like a cow had licked above my forehead. Keeping it tight to the scalp kept the embarrassingly childlike appearance at bay.

A spritz of aftershave, two swipes of antiperspirant, and face moisturizer, because I'd be singing on stage, completed my routine. A routine I'd dropped two years ago. I had no one to impress. Not until the past couple of weeks.

"Are you feeling it?" Jill had asked. "That feeling?"

"I think so," I'd confessed. "If being scared shitless is part of that feeling. Then yes, yes, I am."

Jill and I had met at her place a few nights before and I'd dished about my nerves and the state of Ben and me. What exactly that state was, I wasn't positive. After our initial sexual connection two weeks ago, Ben and I had connected almost every night. Late night rendezvous at either the clinic or at my place.

He was an insatiable lover. He had zero compunction about bringing up sex, was a very involved partner who was good at directions, and always up for multiples most nights. I was turned on like never before, but unlike the wild sex Charlie and I had eighteen months ago, I had caught some serious feelings for Ben.

"Love?" Jill had whispered.

"Fuck!" I'd exhaled. "Probably!"

"Have either of you mentioned love?"

"Not him. That's for sure," I'd complained. "But he is so receptive to me and my physical needs. I just think there is this… block? Or maybe something stops him from expressing himself right before I feel he wants to."

"What about his experiences?" Jill had asked.

"Only one, and according to him, that was a three-year casual hook-up."

"Well, there it is," she'd insisted. "Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he thinks you're likely to be the same thing."

I studied my chin in the mirror, checking to see if the shaving nick had stopped bleeding. Jill's words rang loud and clear in my mind. Should I be the first to expose myself and risk being rejected? Could I survive that after setting my heart on him so prematurely? And then there was the fact that he might leave in ten months.

Our time together was incredible. Ben was incredible. My life was suddenly incredible. All I did was think about shit being incredible . I was acting ridiculous. I woke up each day with something to look forward to after the nightmarish two years that I'd managed to exist through. There was a singular reason for the change. And that was Ben Hawthorne.

"Oh, shit," I sighed, looking at the hopeful man looking back at me from the mirror. "Please love me," I whispered, sending messages to the universe.

Mark used to say, ‘ Manifest those feelings, baby. Put it out there to the universe .' According to him, messages are meant to be received and shared in our universe. Hadn't he recently shared a message with Jennie?

The little that Ben had told me about the consequence of that night, he was certain that Mark had relayed the info to Jennie. I, on the other hand? Let's just say I received the news the same way I'd handled Mark's enthusiasm for the universe. Skeptically. But then again, how would Jennie know about Triple H Ranch and the threat of its sale hurting Plentywood?

My cell phone buzzed on the toilet seat where I'd placed it before showering. The old warm feeling of hope that Ben was texting me settled across my chest, releasing butterflies to my tummy. Having someone to text, speak with, dream about, was nice. Incredibly nice.

I actually giggled at myself and my boyish excitement at seeing Ben's name appear on the screen of my phone.

You going to sing me a song, stud? The text read.

I didn't immediately respond to the message as I soaked up the joy I felt inside.

Keep the song choices short. I'm hungry for some sheriff.

My cock flexed under my towel. "Calm down, boy. Aren't you worn out yet?" I whispered, winking at myself in the mirror. "Never!" I exclaimed, still focused on the nick on my chin.

My cell buzzed again. The pale blue shirt, it read.

Matches your eyes, text two read.

Ben reminded me of Mark in so many ways. Perhaps that was why I was sick to my stomach about as often as I was over the moon. Ben had the same way about him when it came to fussing over me. He recognized I was most likely agonizing over my clothing choices. He was attentive and sweet with me. Ben did what Mark did so abundantly well—he showed he cared for me.

I had a serious weakness for being cared for by my man. It began when I was sixteen and a thirteen-year-old Mark introduced what devotion and caring did for one's soul. Even at Mark's tender age of barely being a teenager, he'd possessed a talent for making me feel like number one. That never changed in the subsequent sixteen years we were together.

You mad at me? Another text asked.

I'd noticed that Ben guarded his emotions. He gave affection willingly. In fact, he was good at that. But he seemed to worry if he was going too far with his caring sometimes. He would check in with me often during a date to make sure he was acting normal. Or he would ask if I thought he was too clingy. Perhaps this was the result of a casual three-year ‘thing.'

I wiped my hands with the towel and responded to his texts. I'd decided several days ago to give as good as he did. A decision that would put my heart at risk. But I'd also decided to manifest. Why not? Any help the universe could offer was accepted and needed.

Just stepped out of the shower, pretty boy.

I watched the bubbles on my screen, hoping he'd text back immediately. Possibly hoping to save myself from digging a bigger hole to fall in into when I texted more words concerning my burgeoning love for him.

"Fuck it!" I said. "I'm manifesting. Right, Girl?" I asked Bella, who was curled up on the rug by the shower.

I decided to go strong with my response. How could I ever be mad at you? I'm crazy about you, doc.

I received an emoji with three hearts around a smiling, yellow face. The surge of warmth invading my heart was almost as good as a confirmed and notarized letter that Ben loved me.

My mind knocked on my heart's door. Do you love him? You'd have to take risks, Hunter. You know how much you love that. Not!

Another text from Ben. Can you pick me up thirty minutes later than I said? I want to look good for you.

You're already perfect for me, I responded .

I sent the text knowing I would be exposed, but I wanted love again. From this day forward, I was going to pursue Ben. I had less than ten months to convince him to stay and I intended to fight for him.

You mean that?

I read his text ten times before responding. Could I go all the way in? Could I voice the words my heart had been singing for the past two weeks? Six weeks, if I admitted I was smitten the day I met him at the clinic. If truth be told, I'd known how I felt the second I saw him that first day. I was just afraid someone like Ben would never happen for me again. But I knew. Deep down, I knew.

I do mean that.