Page 42 of Bloom

I peek up at him, swallowing nervously at the deep furrow between his brows. “No, I’m not.”

Hunter runs his tongue over his teeth. “No?”

I stare at his mouth a second too long before dropping my gaze. “Nope.”

“Bullshit.”

A shocked laugh parts my lips. Not because he swore, but because of his face—namely the goofygrinlighting it up, flashing the most of his straight, white teeth I’ve ever seen. I swear, my poor nervous system takes another hit, short-circuited by the crinkles beside his eyes, the deep, dimpled creases in his cheeks that not even his beard can hide, the damntwinklein his eyes. It’s downright boyish, that grin, and I wasn’texpecting it, wasn’t prepared for it, so distracted by it that I almost miss the next words out of that widely stretched mouth.

“Friends don't lie to friends, Caroline.”

Friends don't lie to friends, Caroline.

I choose to blame my sudden urge to cry on the aftershocks of my breakdown.

Ducking my head in the hopes of hiding the big, dumbass smile stretching my own lips, I shakily promise, “I'm not mad.”

I never was. That comment he made about me and Jackson upset me, sure, but with everything else that happened that night, I all but forgot about it until now. And even if I hadn’t, today surely would’ve erased it from my mind.

Hunter’s gaze lingers, assessing whether or not I'm lying and heating every inch of my skin in the process. It feels like forever passes before he lets out a hum and looks away. “Good.”

Good.Good. Because he doesn’t want me to be mad at him. Because we’re friends.

Friends.

13

He doesn’t have time for pretty girls wearing pretty sundresses and prettier smiles, but he finds himself wanting to make some.

“I think I'm pregnant again.”

“What?!” Mouth agape, I whirl towards the woman sitting beside me with her chin resting in her hand and a dreamy look on her face. Following Lux’s line of sight, I sigh a relieved laugh—ah. I get it. “Which one?”

Lux slants me a look. “All of the above?”

I can’t even blame her.

We didn’t sit on the porch with the specific intention of watching the guys work. Of course, we didn’t—that would be creepy. We just couldn’t possibly stay inside any longer, what with it being, oh, approximately a thousand degrees. I love the remodeled cabin the Jacksons call home, I really do, but I wish the rustic style ended with the architecture. Hell,I’dpaythemto install air conditioning.

Compared to the stifling interior, outside is only marginally better, with the intermittent breeze providing as much relief asthe cold glass of lemonade in my hand; both are welcome, sure, but the impact is minimal.

But boy, do we have a view.

Sweaty, shirtless bodies. Flexing abdominal muscles. Tensed biceps. Rippling backs. Honestly, I think watching the guys lug a delivery of feed from the bed of a truck into the barn is only making us hotter, but we can’t quite find it in us to care.

“All that can’t be natural,” Lux muses through a noisy slurp of homemade lemonade, peering at Hunter over her sunglasses. “You think he has implants?”

I almost spit out my drink. “You're ridiculous.”

“It's not fair,” she whines. “Why does a man need an ass like that?”

“For our viewing pleasure?” Luna adds from my other side—as if she’s viewing anyone but her boyfriend.

Lux snickers. “True.”

“We should stop,” I say, admitting half-heartedly. “We've been staring for too long.”

Luna huffs a noise of vehement disagreement. “They creep on us all the time.”

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