Unafraid (Beachwood Bay) (8 page)

I don’t like those odds.

“What am I going to do?” I turn to Garrett, pleading. “Everyone in this town keeps telling him where I am, there’s nowhere to hide.”

“Way to be dramatic,” Garrett grins, but he doesn’t understand. This is my heart on the line here. I know without a doubt that if I go to dinner with Hunter, and spend a couple of hours talking over candlelight in some romantic restaurant like he promised, gazing into those blue eyes, then I’ll have no choice. I’m going to kiss him again. And if I kiss him again, I know, soon it’s only a matter of time before I tear off his clothes, leap into his arms, and finish the job I started three years ago: falling headlong, heartbreakingly in love with him.

“Relax,” Garrett takes pity on me. “I came to pick you up. There’s a county fair over in Hendersonville. A local brewery I want to check out for the bar has a stand there. You can tag along.”

A way out of Beachwood Bay, with beer?

“I’m in!” I declare, leaping to go grab a sweater and my keys. “Just get me far, far away from this town.”

It’s evening by the time we make it to Hendersonville, and the fair is packed: the huge grounds filled with livestock displays, fairground rides, and all kinds of stalls and games. The crowd bustles, a noisy hum of kids and families and the bursts of music as we pass. The chaos washes over me, and for a moment, I forget all about Hunter and feel like a little kid again.

I make a beeline for the concession stands. “Fairground food is the best junk food,” I say, through a mouthful of cotton candy.

Garrett laughs. “Just don’t barf all over me if you go on the rides.”

“Please.” I give him a haughty look. “I can do six shots of tequila without losing my lunch. This is child’s play.”

We stroll slowly through the crowds. Garrett checks his watch. “You need to be somewhere?” I ask.

“Nope, just, want to catch that guy from the brewery,” he answers, looking around. “It’s this way, I think.” We veer off the main drag, and I follow him through the crowd.

“What’s that smell?” I wrinkle my nose.

“What do you think?” Garrett laughs. “Can’t have horses without a little horseshit.” We’re moving through the livestock section, where ranchers and farmers have their best cattle on display. Kids cluster around a petting pen of baby goats and piglets, and up ahead, there’s a large sand ring getting raked out from the day’s rodeo events.

I drift closer to the paddock. Someone is leading a horse out into the ring, slowly circling in the enclosure. The horse is a young, spirited chestnut: she pulls at the leading rope, and shies, ducking away, but the handler doesn’t seem deterred. His face is hidden by a baseball cap, and I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I watch the way he moves with the horse, walking steadily alongside and carefully unspooling the lead, until she relaxes and is trotting in a circle around him.

I never spent much time with horses. Round here, it’s like a rite of passage for some girls, the way they fall in love with their ponies as a practice run for when they fall in love with boys. Me? I skipped straight to boys. But watching the handler sweet-talk this mare into submitting to him, I can’t help but be amazed by the strange communion between man and beast, like he’s talking a secret language with his words and movements only she can understand.

Whatever he does, the mare seems to be trusting him. Then suddenly, a burst of music blares from a ride nearby.

The horse shies away, dragging the handler forward. I gasp, but he quickly regains his footing. The horse rears up, neighing in distress. There’s a rush of activity near me, men moving into place to go open the paddock gates and get the animal under control, but the handler motions for them to wait.

I expect him to back away from the danger, but instead he moves towards the skittish animal, palms open. The mare is showing the whites of her eyes, snorting and shifting, ready to bolt, but he walks slowly towards it, not slowing for a second. He murmurs words I can’t make out, soothing, certain, until finally the jittery animal calms, snorting and pawing at the ground.

I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding in.

The handler laughs. “She’s a beauty alright,” he calls over to the men watching from the side of the ring. “I’ll take her.”

“There you are.” Garrett circles back. “I wondered where you…” He sees something over my head and brightens. “Right on schedule.”

“What is?” I bite off another huge tuft of candy and turn to see the handler hand off the mare and climb over the paddock fence in an easy motion. He pulls off his baseball cap, and for the first time, I see his face.

Hunter.

My heart leaps. I almost didn’t recognize him without his preppy clothes, but dressed down for the ranch like this in faded jeans and a sky-blue T-shirt, he looks rugged and manly. Drop-dead, panty-twistingly gorgeous.

Fuck.

I spin back to Garrett, who’s watching me with a smirk.

“This is a set-up?” I cry. “What the hell?”

Garrett leaps back, hands up in surrender. “You didn’t give the guy a chance.”

“But I told you—”

“That you like him! I thought I’d help you guys out.” Garrett at least has the decency to look apologetic, but I can’t tell if that’s because he’s sorry about his massive betrayal, or he’s worried I’m going to take my cotton candy and choke him half to death.

“This is so not OK,” I growl, advancing. “I can’t believe you’d just go behind my back and—”

“This is my fault.” Hunter’s voice comes, and then his hands are on my shoulders, holding me back from inflicting serious bodily harm on Garrett. “I asked him to get you here. I can be very persuasive, you know.”

“You mean, annoying.”

I wrench free from him and turn. My breath catches as I take him in, up close: the blue of his old T-shirt bringing out all the bright laughter in his eyes. I feel the shiver of anticipation and attraction rise up in me again, but I fight the pull and muster my best glare. “Other guys would have taken a hint by now.”

Hunter smiles at me. “I’m not other guys.”

Our eyes meet, and I’m caught again in the shock that ripples between us.
Damn
. Why do we have this connection, so strong, that I can’t seem to break? Why does every moment in his presence feel like it’s sending me, inch by inch, closer to the edge?

“Uh, this is probably my cue to go.” Garrett’s voice breaks through the moment. I snap my eyes away from Hunter’s.

“Don’t you dare leave me…!” I protest, but Garrett is already high-tailing it into the crowd.

I’m left alone. With him.

“So, you want to try the Tilt-a-Whirl first, or maybe Tunnel of Love?” Hunter reaches over to break off a tuft of my cotton candy. I slap his hand away.

“Why?” I demand.

“You can tell a lot about a person by their favorite ride.” Hunter replies easily. “Mine’s the Ferris wheel.”

“No, I mean, why are you chasing me like this?” I cry. Ever since I laid eyes on him again, Hunter has been relentless. I’ve given him every chance to walk away—hell, I’ve tried to push him—but he keeps coming after me. Nobody’s ever stuck it out for me like this before.

“Maybe I think you’re worth chasing.” Hunter grins.

“I’m not one of your horses you get to break.” I reply flatly, and start walking. To where, I don’t even know, but sure enough, Hunter falls into step beside me, easily matching my steps with his long, effortless strides.

“I’m serious,” I tell him, my frustration fading. Now I just feel sad and resigned. “Whoever you think I am, whatever you want from me, you’re wrong. I’m not that girl.”

“Hold up a second.” Hunter takes my arm and pulls me to a stop. He frowns. “I never said I wanted anything from you—I just want to get to know you, is that so hard to believe?”

“You already know plenty,” I try to stay sarcastic. “Brittany Ray, wild child of Beachwood Bay, remember?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Hunter says softly. My heart skips, despite myself. “Look, I roped Garrett into getting you here tonight because I knew you’d never come willingly on this date. You’ve got these walls built so high, I can’t even see over, but I’m trying here, Brit. I don’t know what else I can say.”

I hesitate, looking up at him. Hunter gazes down at me, then reaches to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. “One date,” he says, smiling. “Give us that much, at least. Please?”

The word is my undoing—and the look of boyish hope in his eyes.

One date, pretending like this can be something real. One date, having Hunter all to myself.

The promise is intoxicating.

I nod.

Hunter lights up.
“
I promise, this date is going to blow your socks off,” he declares.

I give a rueful smile, still cautious. “It won’t have much competition.” I reply, wondering what the hell I’ve just agreed to. “In fact, make that zero.”

“
What do you mean?” Hunter asks, stealing more of my cotton candy.

I shrug, embarrassed. I wish I hadn’t said anything now, but there I go again: speak first, think later.
“
Just, you know... I haven’t really done this. Date.” I make a vague gesture to the fairground rides and ticker-tape, a picture of wholesome, all-American fun surrounding us.

“
What, ever?” Hunter blinks at me, surprised.

I feel my cheeks flushing. “I’m not really the dinner and a movie type.” I explain, trying to sound flippant.

“That’s a shame.
”

“I wasn’t complaining.” I reply sharply, watching his expression. If I see even a hint of pity, I’m so out of here.
But instead, Hunter shakes his head, exaggerated, like he’s intimidated.

“Wow, way to make a guy feel the pressure,” he jokes. “Now I’ve got to make this the best first date ever. Epic. Unforgettable.”

“
I’d settle for just bearable,” I can’t help but smile at his joking. But that’s the thing about Hunter: even when my stomach is tied up in knots and my heartbeat skips from the nearness of him, he still finds some way to put me at ease at the same time; my insecurity over not dating now just a memory as he slings an arm around my shoulder and steers me through the crowd.

“
OK, the way I see it, a good date is like an extreme sport.” Hunter begins, looking deadly serious.

I giggle, silently thrilling at the touch of his body close to mine. He smells of soap and sweat and horses from his time in the paddock, and the scent is unfamiliar. Intoxicating.

“
What, you could die at any moment?” I reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“
With you, only of happiness,” Hunter quips.

I groan, shoving at him playfully.

Hunter laughs, pulling me back in. “No, seriously though, dating. You’ve got to be prepared. And I’m not thinking of
that
,” he adds quickly, “Although I was captain of my Boy Scout troop, so I’m ready for anything.” He winks, and I can’t help but giggle. Other guys would sound sleazy. Like they’re assuming stuff about me, but to Hunter, it’s all part of his easy charm.

“I’m talking about planning. Options.” he continues. “Like here, for example: I don’t know much about you yet, so I had to make sure there’d be something you liked. Maybe you’re a stroll around chatting kind of girl, or maybe you like to cheat death on the rides, or stuff your pretty face with junk food. Scratch that, you definitely like the junk food.”

“
Hey!”

“
You’re right, I’m sorry, I should have said, stuff your beautiful face.” Hunter corrects himself. I roll my eyes.
“
Point is, all options are open.” Hunter gestures, like this entire fair has been staged for me. “Whatever you want to do.”

Looking at him, the way he’s put so much thought into what I might like, what I want is to drag him behind the nearest stand and kiss him until there’s nothing else in the world, but part of me is curious. What’s it like, to do this––date, be normal––with a man like him?

“
All of it.” I decide. If this is my one glimpse of perfect, then I’m going to make the most of it. “Walking, and rides, and all the junk food. I want to try everything.”

“
As you wish.” Hunter winks.

“
The Princess Bride
!” I exclaim, surprised. “That’s one of my favorite movies.”

“
Really?” Hunter gives me a thoughtful look. “See, I’m learning new things about you already.”

“
You don’t know anything.” I point out.

“
A tragedy which I’m doing my best to rectify.” Hunter drops his arm from around my shoulder, but before I can feel disappointment, he takes my hand instead, and tugs me gently in the direction of a rickety Tilt-a-Whirl. I feel a shiver, a bolt of lightning running up my arm from where our fingers are intertwined. “Come on, you can hold on tight and tell me what you’ve been doing your whole life.”

“
That could take a while,” I point out, still holding fast to my sarcasm in the face of all Hunter’s charm.