Page 29 of Shades of You

Hunter stood there, still as a statue framed by the doorway. His eyes found mine immediately, holding my gaze with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. “Hey.” His voice was tight, betraying the casualness of the greeting.

“Hi.” The room became charged, every nerve ending in my body attuned to his presence. He looked different—a rigidity that seemed to keep him rooted to the spot replacing his usually casual, graceful demeanor.

We stood there for a moment that stretched too long. Awkwardness hung in the air like humidity before a storm. His gaze never wavered from mine, and the memory of our kiss lingered between us, unspoken but omnipresent.

“Smells good,” he finally managed, a forced attempt to bridge the distance. But even as he spoke, his guarded posture screamed of mile-high walls firmly in place. And I knew the answer to my unasked question. This was the third, guarded Hunter and part of my heart cried out.

I placed the steaming dish of pasta on the table, and its comforting aroma wrapped around us like a warm embrace I hoped could thaw the chilly tension in the air. “I made dinner,” I said, attempting to slice through the tension with a cheerfulness I didn’t quite feel. “Baked ziti and a salad.”

“Thanks.” After closing the door, he moved stiffly, almost robotically, to join me at the table. We sat across from each other, initiating a silent ritual of passing plates and utensils. The clinking sounds seemed disproportionately loud in the silence that hung over us.

“Did you hear anything about Knox?” My voice sounded too eager in my ears, but I needed something, anything, to break the ice.

Hunter exhaled a long breath of frustration as he stared at his plate. “No sign of him. Looks like he’s skipped town.”

“Ah.” I nodded, pushing food around my plate, notreally tasting anything. If Knox had left Dove Key, I had no reason to stay here. More pressingly, why wouldn’t Hunter look at me?

“How was your day?” he asked, his tone polite but distant.

“Fine,” I replied tersely, the word feeling like a pebble in my mouth. It was clear he wasn’t going to mention the kiss that had branded itself onto every corner of my mind.

After a few more moments of chewing in silence, I let out a frustrated breath. “Are we going to talk about what happened this morning?”

Hunter dropped his fork, and the metal clattered against the plate. He met my gaze, his eyes clouded with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” His voice was rough and ragged. “I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”

His admission stung, leaving a bitter taste that the savory layers of pasta couldn’t mask. I’d replayed that moment all day. The heat, the urgency. To hear him speak of it with such remorse—had the passion all been on my side?

“Oh. Okay.” My heart sank like a stone in still water.

“I’m sorry,” he added, his eyes dancing over my face as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

“Maybe we’re better off being only friends,” I lied. A part of me wanted to reach across the table and bridge the gap his apology had widened. And I knew Hunter couldn’t be pushed. So friends it was.

“I think that would be best.”

After a few more bites, I pushed my half-eaten plate of ziti away. If this was how he wanted it, fine. I’d adjust, but no way would I do it on his turf. “I should go home. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, butwith Knox out of the picture, there’s no need to stay here.”

Without looking at me, Hunter nodded. His jaw tightened. “You can spend one last night in the guest room, then I’ll set up a security system at your place tomorrow morning. That will alert you in case he decides to come back.”

“Thanks. How much will the system cost?” I wasn’t about to let him think I needed charity, not after everything else that had happened.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hunter, I want to pay for the security system. In fact, I insist on it. You haven’t said a word about billing me for any of this, and I’m not a freeloader.”

He paused, then at last allowed a smile to crack through his stoic façade—a smile that sent a familiar warmth flooding through me. “Brenna, you’re the last person I’d ever think of as a freeloader.”

“Still, I want to pay.”

“All right.” He relented with a slight shake of his head. “Three hundred for a basic system. I’ve got one downstairs. I’ll bill you.”

“That’s more like it.” I matched his smile, relieved as some small measure of normalcy returned to our dynamic. If we weren’t going to be more than friends, we needed to figure out our new dynamic. The tension eased, leaving a fragile peace in its wake. We finished dinner with light conversation that skirted around anything too deep or dangerous. Like the tide retreating from the shore, leaving behind only shades of what could have been.

After dinner, I stood at the sink, rinsing plates as Hunter placed plastic wrap over the casserole dish. “Need a hand?” he asked, his voice casual as if we were just two friends sharing domestic chores instead of two people whohad shared a kiss that had shaken me to my core. And then went back to being friends. Or whatever we were.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” I forced a nonchalant smile. “Why don’t you relax? You look like you could use it.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms folded, and watched me for a moment. I tried not to linger on how the pose made his biceps bulge. His gaze was no longer clouded with the tension that had filled the space between us earlier. Instead, it was softer, as if he was allowing himself to remember that we were once the best of friends—before everything got complicated.

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