Chapter 13– Lottie

Hunter's family home is stunning in a charming, picturesque way, that I'm learning is standard for Snowberry. It sits on a plot of land that keeps a football field of space between it and the nearest neighbor. The two-story home is reminiscent of the cabin I'm currently staying in. Made of large slats of dark wood with a peeked roof line and dormers. The trim is painted a deep green, allowing the house to blend in with the trees around it.

It only took about five minutes to get here from the cabin, mainly because Hunter drove exactly the speed limit. I suppose that, as mayor, he needs to set a good example. I didn't mind the unhurried drive, enjoying the confined space with Hunter. The smell of fresh-cut pine mixed with a leathery, spicy scent fills the cab of his pick-up truck, which I like.

That burning attraction I've had around him only grows with every interaction. Each minute adding to the strange pull in my chest that developed at some point in our short time together. Luring me to close the distance between us.

It scares me how I react to Hunter. So many years spent around people I can't trust who only want to use me for their advantage has me squashing any growing desire I have for him. Trust doesn't come easy to me anymore, and I shouldn't allow myself to get too close to these people. Even though I want to be their friend, I can be nothing more. My life is too complicated, too messy to drop that nuclear bombshell on their lives.

When we arrive at his parents', Hunter opens the door for me again like a gentleman but doesn't offer his hand to help other than to take the vase from me. Once again, he carefully avoids touching my hand as he grasps it with his much larger one.

Instead of knocking on the front door, he immediately announces our arrival with a loud call into the house.

"Mom, Dad. We're here." His voice booms through the house in a way that feels familiar.

"We're in the kitchen," calls a familiar female voice.

Guiding me through the house, I follow behind Hunter's bulk until we enter a large, spacious kitchen filled with people I know and don't know.

An older woman, who I assume is Hunter's mom, strides towards him, arms open wide to match her happy smile. Embracing Hunter with a veracity I personally haven't felt since my father's last hug. Hunter holds the vase out of the way to avoid dropping it on the floor. Her golden auburn hair clipped up out of her face in a haphazard bun that almost falls in her face when she pulls away from her son. She rearranges it before noticing the flowers in his hand.

"Are those for me?" she asks, kissing her son's cheek, fawning over the flower arrangement, and sniffing the bouquet.

"Yes. But they're not from me. Lottie picked them out for you."

Attentive eyes turn to me beside him, and her smile widens, if that's possible. Hunter's mom is tall like Ginger but not nearly as tall as her son, with a face that looks too young to be a mother of kids as old as hers. Faint wrinkles appear around her eyes as she continues to smile at me and her son.

"Thank you so much, Lottie. I'm Sophie Evans, but you can just call me Sophie. It's so nice to meet you." Sophie grasps my free hand without waiting for me to even lift it, squeezing warmly. "My husband and daughter told me all about you but didn't mention you were so beautiful."

"Oh," I blush, tucking my chin into my chest. There have been thousands of people in my life telling me how beautiful, sexy, and gorgeous I am, but none I ever believed as sincerely as Hunter and his mother complimenting me.

"Thank you." I try to laugh it off and not be totally awkward. "I also brought you this."

Shoving the bottle of wine in her hands, she finally releases mine to take it and inspect the label.

"Oh, my goodness. How thoughtful, thank you."

The wine diverts their attention enough to allow us entry farther into the room, where I'm introduced to Ryder, the oldest brother, the last of the Evans family. A man who has the same striking features and build as Hunter but with eyes so dark grey they're almost black. His hair is just as black but longer and more unkept than his brother's neat cut style, and if possible, his posture stiffer. He doesn't seem unkind just a bit stoic. Not very chatty either, leaving all the talking to his relatives.

Ginger greets me like an old friend with a tight hug and pulls me to a bar lining one wall of the living room. Popping open the bottle of wine with a flourished practice before pouring glasses for everyone except Ryder, claiming he doesn't like the taste and will stick with his beer.

"Wow. Isn't this that fancy expensive bottle they had at the market?" Ginger asks, holding the bottle up to her face to read all the small print.

"It was the best one they had, so, yes? I'm not sure." I sip on my glass of wine, the taste smooth but sharp at the same time. I've never heard of the brand, but it's good.

"This bottle cost like five hundred dollars, Lottie!" she exclaims, tentatively placing the bottle on the wooden bar top.

I hold my breath, waiting for a sneer or the backhanded comments that I'm used to. What I get is quite the opposite.

"You shouldn't have spent so much. We would have been fine with a ten-dollar bottle. You don't need to waste your money trying to impress us. We're easily impressed out here in the sticks."

A giant breath of relief deflates my lungs. They aren't insulted I didn't spend more on a gift for them. They actually seem concerned that I spent so much. Is my perception that skewed due to my glitzy life in a gilded cage?

"It really wasn't a big deal. Sometimes, it's nice to splurge on something to share with others."

My excuse is enough to pacify them, but they seem to sip their wine slower now, appreciating every drop that much more. I take a hearty chug to help ease my nerves. Sitting at the bar, Ginger sits next to me, but Hunter takes up a position standing at the far end, keeping a healthy distance between us, but his eyes are always trained on me, even if it's through his periphery. Every time I bring the glass to my lips, I see his attention flick to me to watch, then instantly look away.

"So, tell me, Lottie," Sophie starts, pulling my attention away from Hunter and his odd behavior. "What brought you to our little town of Snowberry? We're not exactly a tourist destination."

"No, I suppose you're not," I agree, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass, steeling my reserve to answer a plethora of personal questions I may have to lie about.

I don't want to lie to them. They seem like nice people, inviting me into their home and being so welcoming. But there are things I can't tell them, not if I want to retain my secret identity. I wonder if Batman ever felt this guilty lying to his friends.

"A friend of mine suggested it. She knew I wanted to get out of the city and away from everything for a while. Said I would love it here. So, she got in contact with Ginger and arranged for me to rent the cabin."

"That was nice of her. What's her name? Do we know her, Ginger?"

Sophie looks to her daughter for confirmation. I look at her, concerned that this is going to lead somewhere I don't want it to. If anyone knows Luna and what she does, they may guess who I am, or at least that I'm more well-known than I let on.

Ginger side-eyes me, pausing before answering. "Uh, no. No one you know, Mom. Just an online friend of mine."

I can feel my heart beating in my throat and exhale slowly, easing my growing anxiety.

"Oh, I see. Well, we're certainly happy to have you here. How long are you staying?"

"A few months." I sip my wine, hoping she doesn't ask anything about my past.

"And how are you liking town?"

Now, this question I can answer. Anything about town is easy to talk about. It has nothing to do with my past or my future—just my present.

"Town is amazing. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Tobias at the Ugly Mug. I'll drink any coffee he puts in front of me."

"You and everybody else in town. He is a godsend. We're lucky to have him," Sophie gushes.

It's no surprise to me that he's well-liked in town. If he worked in the city, they would always have a line out the door and around the corner. Having a coffee superpower puts him above Superman status. A flying man in a cape is nothing compared to the perfect cup of coffee every single day.

A ding echoes from the kitchen, and Sophie excuses herself to see to dinner. Ginger and I remain at the bar, discussing getting coffee and breakfast together sometime soon. Hunter and his father talk quietly at the opposite end of the bar; Ryder stands nearby but doesn't participate in any conversation.

He's an interesting man, Ryder. His sheriff badge is clipped on his belt next to an empty gun holster, no doubt being careful and professional not having it near while drinking. He may not be talkative, but at least he's responsible.

Ginger shifts topics from coffee to alcohol, specifically drinks served at the bar in town, Blue Moon. I have a sinking feeling I know where this is leading.

"Saturday night is karaoke night. You should come," she holds up her hands in supplication before I can argue. "I promise you won't have to sing. Just come, hang out, play some pool, and have some drinks. It's a great way to get to know the rest of the town. Pretty much everybody goes."

I gnaw on my lip, unsure how to decline politely. Looking up, I see Hunter watching me from down the bar, still conversing with his father but with one ear perked in my direction. He wants to know if I'm going to agree to go.

"Everybody goes?"

"Yup. Everybody . Even grumpy Ryder over there comes in for a few beers and a game of darts. There's more to do than just sing out of tune."

Ginger watches me from over the rim of her glass and then follows my gaze, which keeps lingering in Hunter's direction. She inhales deeply and smiles before taking a sip of wine.

"You know, Hunter usually shows up, too."

"What?" I ask a little too loudly, drawing Hunter and his father's attention.

Ginger waves them back to their own conversation and turns her back to them, ignoring their twin looks of interest.

"I don't know why you think I would care if Hunter attended. He already mentioned it to me before. It didn't sound like he cared much for it. Said he couldn't stand to hear Dottie sing anymore."

My attempt to brush off her keen eye fails, and her expression grows more intrigued. Damn it. Should have feigned ignorance and kept my mouth shut.

"Is that so? Well, I think he might change his mind if you were there."

The wine I was just drinking to cover my blabbering nearly comes out of my nose. I cough to clear my throat of the blockage before trying to speak again.

"Why would you say that?" I finally manage around a horse throat.

"Oh, just a feeling. Plus, he stares at you a lot."

"He does?" I can't hide the astonishment and interest in my voice, but I try to anyway. "I mean, he's just curious about me. Being the new girl in town."

"Sure, he is."

I can tell Ginger doesn't believe me, but she doesn't push it. Thankfully, our conversation is cut short when her mother announces that dinner is ready. We all file into the open dining space connecting to the kitchen, where a spread fit for a Thanksgiving feast covers the large family table.

A roasted chicken is surrounded by mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, macaroni and cheese, grilled Brussels sprouts, and biscuits, each place set and waiting.

The family arranges themselves in their seats while Ginger directs me to sit. I expect her to sit down next to me, but instead, she rounds the table and takes the seat across from me next to Ryder, leaving the one at my side available for Hunter. Ginger gives me a conspiratorial wink, and I glower at her mouthing traitor. She laughs and ignores the telepathic berating I'm giving her.

Hunter sits down next to me, fidgeting and shifting his chair to put a few inches of space between us. Not even allowing for an accidental grazing of our thighs. Bummer. I want to feel that surge of electricity I felt in the flower gardens at Daisy's. It was shocking but extremely pleasurable. Even just thinking about it has my core clenching.

Next to me, Hunter takes a deliberate inhale, and his fists clench where they rest on the table next to his plate. He's facing forward, and I can't get a good look at his expression, but it looks pained.

"Dinner smells delicious, Mom." The words rumble out of his chest, and he clears his throat when Ryder gives him a puzzled expression.

Well, I think it's a puzzled expression. That's my best guess, anyway. It's subtle, the slight raising of one eyebrow and direct glare in his direction. I could be wrong. He could be agreeing with his brother because dinner does smell delicious.

Sophie sits to my right, and she smiles at her son warmly. "Thank you, Hunter. Everybody dig in. Food's only gonna get cold."

Everyone eagerly reaches for dishes and serving spoons to fill their plates. I pick out a biscuit and wait to fill my plate until the others have first.

Hunter turns to me, holding a mac-n-cheese-filled bowl in one hand and a serving spoon in the other, looking down at my single lowly biscuit on my empty plate. "Would you like some mac-n-cheese?"

"Yes, thank you. I was just waiting my turn."

"Nonsense," Sophie chimes in from my side. "Take what you like before these heathens eat it all."

There seems to be plenty of food to have leftovers, in my opinion. Do they really expect to eat everything ? Watching Ryder pile his plate nearly three inches high and Ginger's plate not far behind him, maybe they will.

Shifting my biscuit to the side, Hunter scoops a spoonful of cheese and noodles onto my plate. Not nearly as much as on his, but still a hearty helping that I'm sure I won't be able to finish. Before I can reach for the chicken, Hunter beats me to it, placing a leg and slice of breast on my plate at my instruction.

Once everyone has a full plate, mine completely served by Hunter, there isn't much talking for a few minutes. Everyone enjoying the home-cooked meal with its mouthwateringly amazing flavor, if I do say so myself.

"So, Lottie," Sophie starts, setting down her fork and taking her wine glass in hand. "Tell us about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Oh, um . . ." I stall, trying to come up with a good lie that never comes, so I settle with the only thing I can think of. "I'm in between jobs right now."

"Really? Are you looking for a new career or just taking a break?"

"Uh, maybe both. I'm not sure if I want to stay in the same position, but I love the industry. So, I might try to find something else within the same area."

Keeping my answer vague, I infuse a little truth into my story. I do love music; I love singing, composing, and writing. The part I don't like anymore is the fame. When I was fifteen, my mom told me I was going to be a famous singer, and I was excited about it. It was fun for the first couple of years until it became too much. Too many photo ops, interviews, security details, tour performances, stalkers, and lonely nights alone in my mansion hiding from my mother and her demands. If I could make music without all of that, paving my own path and possibly releasing more records under the guidance of a new manager, I would gladly remain in the music industry.

Most musicians are always looking for the spotlight and record deal with the world tour, but until you've had to do it, you don't realize how demanding it is and how strong you have to be to succeed without losing yourself.

"What industry would that be?"

Ah fuck. Walked right into that one.

As I'm mentally fumbling my emotional football, Ginger picks it up and runs with it in the opposite direction.

"Maybe Lottie will become a photographer. She carries her Polaroid with her everywhere. I'm surprised she doesn't have it with her tonight."

Thank you, oh wise and loving Ginger. If she would let me, I would create a religion around her and build her a neon blue church on a hill to bring her designer shoe offerings every Sunday.

"That's how I met her. She came into the shop looking for more film," Michael tells his wife from his place at the head of the table on the opposite side of Hunter.

His lips stretch into a coy grin as he looks my way. As if we have some sort of secret inside joke I'm unaware of. Maybe because I told him about Hunter?

I'm so curious about that look that I keep silent, wanting to know where this is going.

"She showed me a few of her photos she's taken around town." He pauses to shift his eyes toward Hunter, who has gone extremely still watching his father. "She even took a few around the cabin that I found very beautiful. Great composition. You wouldn't happen to have any of them with you now, would you, Lottie?"

Michael turns his attention back to me, smiling broadly. Since he's smiling and not in a malicious manner, I'm assuming he's not mad about the photos, so I concede.

"Yes. I have a few of them in my purse. I've kinda been collecting them in a notebook and carrying them around."

I dig into my purse hanging on the back of my chair, where I hooked it when we sat down to eat, pulling out a small stack of Polaroids I took around the cabin and town, even though he specifically asked for the others. One by one, I hand them to Sophie, listing off where I was even though I'm sure she knows all of them. The last one is the photo of the wolf in the forest the first time I met him.

"I was honestly shocked I was able to take this one." I hand the photo over to Sophie, and her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. A reaction I myself had when meeting the wild wolf. "I stumbled upon this wolf while taking a walk in the woods by the cabin. He was surprisingly docile and friendly."

Sophie grins and covers her smile with her hand, pinching her lips together. If I didn't know better, I would say she's trying not to laugh. But there's nothing funny about the photo. Is there?

"Oh, yes. He's very docile. . . very friendly. I've never known him to let anyone take his photo, though." Sophie says, then hands the photo over to Ginger, who barks out a loud, sharp laugh before slapping her hand to her mouth.

I frown at her. That's an unusual reaction to a photo of a wolf.

"Oh my. What a handsome wolf." Ginger's eyes stray from the photo in her hand to Hunter sitting next to me, wide and glittering with humor. "Wouldn't you say so, Ryder?"

Holding the photo to the side so he can see it, her gaze remains on Hunter. Her lips are pulled between her teeth, and her shoulders shake with unreleased laughter.

Ryder grunts and returns to his food, shoveling in another bite. "It's just a wolf, Ginger. Nothing exciting about that."

Ginger smacks him on the shoulder, and some of her bubbling humor fades, but not all of it. She still retains her glittering, teasing eyes. When I look around the table, it seems I am being left out of the loop because both her parents also seem to have a knowing look on their faces while trying to cover it up with cups or forks full of food.

Hunter, however, is still as a stone statue next to me and appears to be glaring murderous daggers at his sister, his cheeks turning a flattering shade of pink.

What the actual hell is going on here?

"Am I missing something? Is there something about this wolf that I should know? Because he's come back again since then, and if he's going to start foaming at the mouth and eat me, I'd like to know."

Ginger laughs again and hands the photo back to her mother, who takes another look before passing it on to me. No one but Sophie seems to be able to answer my questioning concerns for my life.

"No, no. He won't eat, bite, or do anything of the sort to you. He's a kind, sweet wolf who will probably be more protective of you than threatening to you."

"He might hump your leg if you let him get too friendly though," Ginger snickers from behind her wine glass. "Ow," she flinches and scowls as if someone just kicked her under the table.

"How come you all seem to know this wolf personally?"

Everyone but Ryder looks at each other waiting to see who will answer. Michael is apparently the chosen one to speak for the family.

"He's lived in this area for many years, and we see him on occasion. Feed him sometimes." He smiles. "Like I told you before, you're completely safe with him. Ignore my daughter's comments she's just pulling your leg."

I turn slightly in my chair to get a better look at Hunter the only one to not make a comment on the wolf and its presence in town. "What about you Hunter? Have you seen the wolf before? He was on your land."

Hunter lets out a slow breath and finally faces me, easing his tight posture just a bit. The pulse in my neck picks up pace when those damn baby blues lock onto me. But before he can open his annoyingly kissable lips to answer, Ginger chimes in from across the table.

"Oh, he sees him the most. They're great friends. Aren't ya big bro?"

Hunter's eased expression pulls tight again, and his mouth puckers in annoyance. I don't have siblings, but from his expression, I can only imagine this isn't the first time he's looked like he wants to ring his sister's neck.

To his credit, he doesn't respond to or acknowledge her jab that I don't understand.

"Yes. I've seen him before. You're perfectly safe with him. Like my mother said, he's a bit protective of humans on his land."

Ginger muffles another giggle. I and Hunter ignore her. I'll have to ask her later why she thought this was so funny.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind when I see him again."

Hunter nods, turns his eyes down, goes back to his plate, and attempts to finish the last couple of bites.

I take one lingering look at the Polaroid of the wolf before slipping it back into my purse.

For the rest of the evening, there's no more talk of the wolf but plenty of talk about the town and, unfortunately, more of myself. At least as much as I'm willing to divulge. Simple things like relationship status and favorite meal I've eaten at Dottie's so far.

They're all entertained by my stories of burnt toast and microwave dinners. I'm invited over for dinner again whenever I'm pining for a home-cooked meal or even cooking lessons. Which I gratefully accept. Planning for a day next week to come back over for Sophie to instruct me on proper oven use and a few simple low-ingredient meals. She also says if I bring my toaster over, she'll explain the settings and see if we can resolve the burnt toast issue.

At the end of a long and wonderful evening, Hunter drives me back to my cabin, walks me to my door, and bids me a quick good night before high-tailing it to his truck.

He may have attempted to seem uninterested and avoided physical contact, but I can still tell he wants to know me better. He just doesn't want to admit it. Even though I know it's a bad idea, and I should also be attempting to keep my distance from the hot mayor, I just can't stop the growing desire that makes my pulse flutter and core clench whenever I get close to him.