Page 6 of Shades of You

Brenna

The following afternoon,sunlight filtered through the blind covering the big picture window, throwing slanted beams of light across the floor of my little bookstore. I stood behind the checkout counter, thumbing through the delicate pages of a first edition ofCatcher in the Ryethat smelled faintly of adventure and time. The store was quiet, winding down from another day. After carefully replacing the Steinbeck in my display of treasured books, I reached for a Hemingway. I was admiring its rugged cover—a mirror to the author himself—when the chime above the door jangled.

Glancing up, I froze.

The man who entered was dressed in all black and seemed too large for the cozy confines. Easily six and a half feet tall, he was stunningly handsome, his face a chiseled formation of angles that a trimmed, dark beard perfected. Said face was paired with an alarming amount of muscles on his arms and chest, with tattoos marking his skin. Thesight made my heart race as I considered the cash in my drawer. Was I about to be robbed? Then, with a sharp intake of breath, recognition dawned on me like a switch being flipped. There was no mistaking it.

Hunter Markham stood at the threshold of my store.

As I took him in from the crown of his almost-black hair to the pair of giant feet inside work boots, the differences between the boy who’d left and the man who stood before me were legion. The rumors had done nothing to prepare me for this Hunter. Gone was the near-skeletal, wiry frame that couldn’t take in enough calories. In its place stood a man with shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of any world. His upper arms, visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, were canvases of ink. Elaborate tribal tattoos reached toward his elbows, leaving his forearms unmarked. More ink covered the upper part of his chest, visible where his shirt collar was open.

His frame was bulging with muscle, the result of what had to be countless hours of disciplined physical exertion. Yet, it wasn’t just his physique that was intimidating. It was the aura around him, an almost visible force that spoke of strength and power. My heart continued its wild gallop as shock and fear turned to recognition. Not to mention the barest glimmers of raw attraction.

Good God. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen!

Hunter’s jaw was set, his cheekbones high. His hair, once a rebellious mop, was now cropped short, giving him an older, more martial appearance. His eyes were the same shade of stormy dark brown I remembered, but where they had once looked at me with youthful hope and mischief, now they held secrets, guarded and unreadable.

“Hello, Brenna.” His voice was deeper than I remembered, resonating through the quiet space between us.

I cleared my throat, trying to remember how to speak. “Hunter.” At least my voice came out steadier than I felt.

“Been a while,” he added, his eyes cautiously surveying the shop.

“Years.” My hands involuntarily smoothed the front of my apron. “I… You look different.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt, his posture stiff as he shrugged.

My curiosity got the better of me as I decided to test how much of the bookworm remained. “I’d heard a rumor that you returned. Did moving away give you what you needed?”

A spark of recognition ignited in his eyes, softening them. “You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that.”

That was all it took. I recognized in his voice the boy I had once sat in the library with for hours. My heart leaped, and I couldn’t suppress the smile breaking across my face. Understanding my question, he’d answered with a line fromThe Sun Also Risesby Ernest Hemingway, a book we had both loved.

Without hesitation, I responded with the next one. “Hell. We could have a good life anywhere.”

Hunter’s warm expression slowly morphed into a full smile. The transformation was startling, like watching someone step out of a shadow. The sight of it brought an unexpected warmth to my chest, a soft glow that pushed back against the years apart. It also brought a different kind of flutter in my stomach.

“Still remember your Hemingway, huh?” I observed, my voice lighter now.

“I was told recently it’s part of my DNA.” His smile changed his whole demeanor. For a moment, the imposingfigure before me was just Hunter—the same person who debated literature with me, whose laughter used to fill my ears. Only now he was drop-dead attractive in that imposing, towering body.

“Time does have a way of changing things, though.” My surprise mingled with a sense of relief. My sweet friend hadn’t been completely lost to time and distance after all. Once again, I couldn’t contain my curiosity about him. “So what have you been up to all these years?” I stepped around the counter and leaned back against it, trying to sound casual. But inside, my mind was racing with the rumors that had occasionally trickled back to me.

Hunter’s expression closed off again, the shields coming back up as if by reflex. “I was in the Marines,” he said, voice even but guarded. “After I got out a few years ago, I lived in South Beach. I just moved back here and started my own security agency down the street.”

“Security, huh?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking away before locking back onto mine. There was a coiled readiness in his posture that spoke of experiences being left unsaid. More lurked behind his eyes, utterly unreadable, except for the brief time we’d spoken about books. Books…

“Did you come in for something to read?” The change in topic seemed to catch him off guard, and a hint of shyness crept into his posture, a stark contrast to the confident, intimidating man who had walked in moments ago.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, I did.” He cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed.

Is he here to see me?

“Action and adventure are over there.” I pointed back toward the section that housed tales of daring exploits andheart-pounding suspense. “You always did like books full of thrills.”

“I still do. Thanks.” Hunter’s voice softened at my gesture. He gave me a nod and went toward the back of the store. Walking quietly and softly over the wooden floor despite his bulk, his movements betrayed nothing of the internal currents I sensed swirling within him. He disappeared between the aisles, the set of his shoulders a shadow against the spines of countless adventures.

---